Stay With Me (15 page)

Unless she could suddenly bench-press three
hundred pounds, Sarah didn’t know how to guarantee that. She would
do her best. She understood Suzanne’s reluctance. The woman’s nose
was swollen to almost twice its normal size, she had two black
eyes, her lips were cut and bruised, and with her hair chopped off
on one side, she looked lopsided.

“I don’t have time now,” Sarah said, “but
when I get back, we’ll fix your hair.”

Now the tears spilled down Suzanne’s cheeks.
“I know it’s vain,” she said, “but I loved my hair.”

Sarah rubbed a hand over her own blonde,
shoulder-length hair. What wasn’t to love about thick, shiny,
naturally wavy, auburn hair? In the twenty-first century, women
spent a fortune to have hair like that.

“You still have beautiful hair,” Sarah said.
“It’s just different.”

“When Fred and I were together,” Suzanne
said, a deep blush spreading across her face, “he used to wind it
around his…his manhood.”

Oh, boy. Fred had a hair thing. That was way
more information than she needed. She wanted to laugh but couldn’t,
not when Suzanne looked so miserable. “Don’t worry,” Sarah said, as
if she actually had experience to back up her theory, “he’ll be
just as happy with a can of whipped cream.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Sarah said, thinking that a
twenty-eight-year-old virgin had absolutely no business even
talking about sex, yet alone giving instruction on the fine
mechanics of it. “Look, I better get going. I’ll bring you back
some soup.”

“I’m not really very hungry,” Suzanne
said.

“You need to eat.”

“I will,” Suzanne answered, closing her eyes.
“Tomorrow, I’ll eat.”

Sarah quietly left the room and walked down
the stairs. She waved to Freedom who was cleaning the lobby
windows.

“Miss Sarah,” Freedom acknowledged her. “How
is Miss Suzanne?”

“She’s sleeping. I’m going outside for a
while. Can you keep an eye on the room?”

“Freedom will keep two eyes on Miss
Suzanne.”

“Perfect.” Sarah walked outside, blinking at
the bright spring sunshine. While it almost blinded her, it didn’t
seem to give off much heat. The crisp April air blew right through
her thin cotton blouse. She wrapped her arms around herself,
thinking once again of how much she missed the warm heat of
southern California.

She sat down on the bench in front of the
hotel. Fred would ride by on his way to the church. The street
seemed quieter, no doubt due to the fact that the saloon hadn’t
opened for the day. Each person that did walk by, whether on their
way into the hotel or on their way past, made no effort to hide
their interest. She didn’t know if they knew Sarah One or whether
they just thought it odd that a lone woman sat in front of the
hotel. Either way, she ignored them all, keeping her eyes focused
on the narrow dirt road that led through town.

However, when one woman stopped directly in
front of her, Sarah felt compelled to say something. “Hello.” She
smiled at the woman.

“Hello,” the woman replied. When she didn’t
move on, Sarah got nervous. Playing Sarah One was tough enough when
there was someone around to take the lead from. Now, she was
completely on her own.

“Nice day,” Sarah said. If in doubt, she
thought, talk about the weather.

“It’s been an early spring,” the woman
replied.

“It’s good to have a break from the rain,”
Sarah said, remembering what John had said about wet fields.

“Yes, it’s good.”

Sarah looked around the woman, down the long
stretch of dirt road, wishing Fred would suddenly materialize.
Small talk had never been her strong suit.

The woman sat down on the bench, so close
that her wide skirt brushed against Sarah’s. “That’s it, Sarah?
After all this time, we’re going to talk about the weather?”

Uh oh. Trouble ahead. “Of course not,” Sarah
said. “How have you been?”

“As well as could be expected.”

“Right.” Not much of a clue. Sarah stood up.
She’d just walk a bit, maybe meet Fred outside of town. “I’ll see
you around,” she said.

“I doubt that,” the woman answered. “John
said you’re leaving on Wednesday’s stage.”

“John?”

“Yes. He stopped by early this morning. He
didn’t want me to find out by chance that you’d come back. He’s a
good son.”

Sarah took a closer look. Now that the woman
had identified the connection, Sarah could see where John got his
broad forehead and his chocolate brown eyes. Mrs. Beckett, who had
raised boys into men and had survived the death of both her husband
and one of those precious sons, was still a very attractive woman,
although the scowl didn’t do much for her.

Pain blossomed deep inside Sarah. John had
felt it necessary to cushion the blow, to protect his mother from
the ugly eventuality of meeting up with her.

Sarah One, she reminded herself. Not you.

It didn’t matter. She’d hoped John would be
able to see she wasn’t a threat to his mother, regardless of what
had transpired in the past. Just more proof that he would never be
able to see her as anything other than his awful sister-in-law.

“I never expected to see you again,” Mrs.
Beckett said.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be
here either,” Sarah said, wishing she’d had more than two hours of
sleep. Her brain felt fuzzy, as if she’d had too many glasses of
wine.

“John said you’ve been caring for Fred
Goodie’s children.”

“Great kids,” Sarah said.

“I loved Franny Goodie like a daughter. I
loved her the way I wanted to love you.”

That was certainly clear enough. Not sure how
to respond, Sarah lowered her gaze and tried to keep her eyes
focused on Franny Goodie’s ugly button-up shoes.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” Mrs. Beckett
continued. “All I can say is that you better be on that stage come
Wednesday. I won’t sit back and let you hurt people I care about.
Not again.”

“I don’t have any intention of hurting
anyone,” Sarah said.

“Maybe not. But somehow, you always manage
to.” Mrs. Beckett stood up, casting a shadow over her. “You fooled
me once. I won’t let it happen again.”

Sarah waited until she felt the full warmth
of the sun before lifting her head. Mrs. Beckett, her head held
high, her shoulders back, walked with purpose, obviously trying to
put as much distance as quickly as possible between the two of
them. Wow. John’s worry about protecting his mother seemed a bit
unfounded. Give that woman a whip and a chair and she could tame
lions.

“Father, there’s Sarah.”

Sarah turned, just in time to see Fred pull
up sharply on his horse. Thomas waved at her. She got up off the
bench and walked over to the group. She signed hello to Missy and
gave all three kids a quick hug. When she got to Fred, she had a
tough time keeping a smile on her face.

“What’s wrong, Sarah?” Fred got off his horse
with one smooth movement. He reached out and caught both her
shoulders. “Did something happen?”

“Can I speak to you privately?”

Fred nodded. He looked at Helen. “Take your
brother and sister up to the church. I’ll be there in a few
minutes.”

Sarah waited until they’d ridden a safe
distance away before speaking again. “I have some news about
Suzanne.”

Fred’s ears turned pink. “She left town,” he
said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

Sarah shook her head. “No. She’s had a bit of
bad luck.”

Fred looked over at the saloon, his eyes on
Suzanne’s second story window.

“She’s not there,” Sarah said. “She got beat
up last night. When Fred’s face turned absolutely white, Sarah
added, “She’s okay.

“Where is she?”

“At the hotel. With me.”

“How bad?”

He deserved to know. It might help him later.
“He broke her nose and loosened some teeth. She’s bruised up pretty
bad and she’s got some cuts and welts on her breasts where he
whipped her with a belt. He cut her hair.”

“Her hair?” Fred’s face went from white to
bright red. “Why the hell would he do that?”

Sarah shrugged.

Fred rubbed a big hand over his jaw. “Who was
the son of a bitch that did it?”

“Mitchell Dority.”

“Where is he? Where the hell is he?”

“He’s gone. He left last night.” She could
see frustration and fear and some emotion she couldn’t quite
identify cross Fred’s face.

Fred looked down the main street of
Cedarbrook, all the way to the end where the white church, with its
high steeple, sat on a small hill. His children were just getting
off their horses. “I’ll stop by,” he said, his voice cracking,
“after dinner. Around two.”

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a
good idea.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, looking very
determined.

Oh, boy. She really regretted not having used
the free weights at the gym. “I’m sorry, Fred. She doesn’t want
company.”

“I’m not company. We’re…I…”

“Fred,” she said, keeping her tone gentle
because she knew the words would be harsh and ugly. “She
specifically mentioned you. She doesn’t want to see you.”

He stood there, his mouth hanging open. He
shook his head, like he didn’t believe her. “Damn it, Sarah. I…I
care for that woman.”

He looked so miserable that her heart ached
for him.

He rubbed his forehead and dug the toe of his
boot into the soft dirt. “She doesn’t deserve this,” he said.
“She’s a good woman.”

“She’s a strong woman, too. She’s got an
inner strength. I can see it. I’m sure she’ll bounce back.”

Fred looked up at the windows of the hotel.
“If she needs anything, I mean anything, will you tell me?”

“I will. I promise. I think she’s going to be
fine. Really, I do. She just needs a few days.”

It took Sarah less than twenty-four hours to
realize that everything wouldn’t be fine. In fact, if she had to
pin a label to it, she’d say everything pretty much sucked.

Suzanne had gotten out of bed only to use the
privy at the end of the hall and had eaten less than five bites of
every meal that Freedom had brought to her. She’d sat up dutifully
while Sarah cut the still-long side of her hair. It had been a
quiet, intense half-hour while Sarah did her best to repair
Dority’s damage. In the end, she’d been pretty satisfied with the
soft curls and wisps that framed Suzanne’s face.

Suzanne had thanked her, lain back down, and
closed her eyes. She’d never even looked in the mirror.

“Suzanne,” Sarah said. “It’s a beautiful
spring day. Let’s take a walk. It would do us both good.”

Suzanne shook her head. “I’m a little tired.
You go ahead.”

Sarah had been put off long enough. “You’ve
been sleeping since yesterday morning. You need fresh air.”

“I don’t want people seeing me like
this.”

“Fine. No town walking. We’ll head out to the
country.”

“No.” Suzanne rolled over in bed and pulled
the blanket up to her chin. “I’m really tired.”

Frustrated and scared that she might not be
able to shake Suzanne out of her malaise, Sarah quietly left the
room and walked down the stairs, ignoring the disapproving look
from the man behind the desk. She stepped outside and gulped in
fresh air. That simple action calmed her until she heard a noise.
She turned around. The desk clerk had left his hole and now stood
behind her. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he tapped
one foot.

“Things like this don’t happen in this hotel.
At least not until you and your friend came to stay.”

Sarah flexed her fingers. If she couldn’t
beat the crap out of Dority, then maybe slugging this guy would
have to do.

“I don’t know what women like that
expect.”

Sarah took a step toward him.

“Over the years, Mr. Dority has spent a lot
of money here.”

She pulled back her arm.

“Miss Sarah!”

Sarah whirled to see Freedom. He held a plate
in each hand. She lowered her arm.

Freedom smiled at her. “Freedom got you and
Miss Suzanne some lunch. Mr. Brickstone paid for it. When I was
sweeping out his store, I told him about poor Miss Suzanne. He
looked right concerned.”

“Mr. Brickstone?”

The desk clerk stopped tapping his foot. He
frowned at her. “Myron and Rosie Brickstone own the café. They’ve
owned it for years.”

“He gave me a dollar,” Freedom said, “and
told me to make sure that Miss Suzanne had something to eat. He
seemed very concerned about Miss Suzanne.”

Sarah wondered exactly how many men in
Cedarbrook would have reason to look concerned about Suzanne and
her unexpected hiatus.

“Freedom had enough to buy both of you a good
lunch and a stick of candy for Freedom. Mr. Brickstone is a kind
and generous man.”

Sarah suspected Mrs. Brickstone had no idea
about the depths of her husband’s giving.

“You people make me sick,” said the desk
clerk. He turned around and walked back into the hotel.

“Freedom wants to know why it is that you was
about to hit Mr. Turnip?”

Mr. Turnip
? That didn’t excuse the
chip on the little man’s shoulder but it did make it a bit easier
to understand. “I wasn’t going to hit him,” she lied. “I was waving
goodbye. I’m going for a walk. You can have my lunch.”

She took off, barely keeping her pace at a
fast walk. She yearned for her beach, where she could throw off her
shoes and run on the hard wet sand, pounding out her frustrations.
Instead she took long, deliberate steps on the wooden sidewalk,
covering ground as fast as she could.

When she had walked the entire length of the
town and had reached the church at the top of the hill, she stopped
and looked up to the sky. White, puffy clouds dotted the pale blue
canvas. As beautiful as California had been, she didn’t recall ever
seeing the sky so clear and clean.