Stay With Me (21 page)

“What the…? Fred sputtered, his eyes wide
open. “What the hell is going on, John?

“Get up,” John said. “Get up so that I can
kick your ass proper.”

Fred sat up, then scrambled back on his hands
and feet like a giant crab, until his back rammed up against the
stone fireplace. “You’re a crazy man,” he said.

John took his hat off and carefully laid it
on the table. “Get up,” he repeated.

“No,” Fred yelled back. “Not until I know why
you’re so intent on beating my brains in.”

“You slept with Sarah.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open. “Who told you
that?”

“It doesn’t matter. By now, half the town
knows. The other half will know by supper time.” John took three
steps, leaned over Fred, and yanked up on the big man’s shirt.

Fred didn’t resist. Nor did he when John had
him upright and pushed him back against the wall, cracking his head
again. “Damn you,” John said. “Fight back.”

Fred shook his head. John stared at him for a
full minute his hands full of Fred’s shirt, holding the material
tight up against Fred’s windpipe. Fred didn’t so much as blink.
Without a word, John let go and walked away.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about?”
Fred said, sucking in air.

John raised an eyebrow. “Really? So you
didn’t ride into town last night and spend hours at the hotel? In
Sarah’s room?”

Fred let out a big sigh. “I did,” he
said.

“How could you?” With that simple question,
John felt his emotions, the ones he’d kept so carefully controlled
all morning, flood to the surface.

“It’s not what you think?”

“Funny. That’s not what Sarah said.”

Fred’s face lost all its color. “You’ve
already been to see Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“Is she all right? You didn’t hurt her, did
you?” Fred accused, taking two steps toward John.

John held up a hand. “So you’ll fight for
her, will you? That’s sweet.”

“You’re a fool, John Beckett.”

“I’m a fool?” John could hardly believe his
ears. “You’re the one who slept with her.”

“You’re jealous,” Fred said. “You’re a
jealous fool.”

“Why would I be jealous?” John asked. The
whole idea was ludicrous. “I don’t even like her. I’ve never liked
her.”

Fred shook his head. “You might not have
liked her once. But I saw you, remember. You want her.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m not.”

John paced around the room. “Well, I guess it
doesn’t matter since you’ve already had her. How was it, by the
way? She always was a little whore.”

Fred hit him, his big fist slamming into
John’s cheekbone, sending him crashing into a chair.

John staggered to his feet and lunged at
Fred. The two of them hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
They rolled over and over, fists flying, sending chairs skidding.
Material ripped, bone cracked, and blood spilled.

“Uncle John? Father?”

Both men looked up. Helen, her small hand
over her mouth, stood in the doorway. Missy and Thomas peeked
around her skirt. “What are you doing?”

Fred and John jerked apart. John looked at
Fred. Fred looked at the blood on his hands. He’d cracked the skin
across his knuckles on his right hand. “Damn you, John,” Fred said.
“Do you have to have a face as hard as granite?”

Thomas pushed around his sister and walked up
to the two men. “You broke a chair,” he said, his voice filled with
awe.

“I’m ashamed of both of you,” Helen said,
hands on her hips. John expected her to ask for the hickory switch
to be brought forth.

Not that they both didn’t deserve it. He
didn’t regret the fight but he’d have preferred not to have the
children as an audience. John stood up, wincing a little. Fred had
landed a couple strong punches. He’d be very surprised if he didn’t
have a cracked rib and the rolling on the wood floor hadn’t helped
the barely-healed cut on his head. “I’ve got to be going,” he said,
picking up his hat. “Goodbye, children.”

Fred lifted his big frame off the wooden
floor. “I’ll walk out with you.”

“No more fighting,” Helen called after
them.

They walked the first ten feet in silence. “I
don’t think she’s going to let you forget this for a long time,”
John said, giving Fred a quick glance.

“Nope. I imagine the next time she and Thomas
quarrel, it will come up.”

“I’m sorry about that,” John said.

Fred nodded, looking back over his shoulder,
probably to verify that they remained without an audience. “There’s
something you need to know,” he said.

John scratched his head. He didn’t want to
know. He didn’t want to hear any details about Fred and Sarah. He
didn’t need that kind of pain. “I think we’ve said enough
today.”

“I haven’t said nearly enough,” Fred replied.
“You’re not getting on your horse until I do.”

John picked up his horse’s reins. “Fred,
please don’t tell me that you’ve fallen in love with her.”

“I have.”

A rush of emotions flooded John. He tried to
sort them out. Disappointment. Rage. Jealously. How could that be?
How could he be jealous of Fred and Sarah?

“I’m in a hell of a mess,” Fred said.

John’s gut churned. How bad could it be? “You
asked her to marry you?”

Fred shook his head.

What could be worse? She’d only been in town
for less than a week. That he knew of. Perhaps she and Fred had
been together longer. “She’s with child?” he asked, barely able to
say the words.

Fred jerked his head back, looking visibly
shaken. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She said she took care of
those things.”

He didn’t want to hear about Fred and Sarah’s
conversations about such intimate topics. Words like that should be
kept between a man and his woman.

“I’ve got to go,” John said, grabbing his
saddle horn.

Fred put his hand on John’s arm. “Wait.
Please?”

John gritted his teeth and nodded.

“I want to the hotel last night,” Fred said.
“I told myself that I should stay away but I just couldn’t. It’s
not what you think, John. I went to see Suzanne. Not Sarah.”

“Suzanne?”

“I’ve been seeing her for several
months.”

“Define seeing.”

“Damn it man, you know exactly what I mean.
I’ve been sharing her bed.”

John rubbed his temples. “Let me get this
straight,” he said. “You spent several hours in that hotel room,
not with Sarah, but with Suzanne. Where was Sarah during this?”

“Sleeping. On the steps. Before I left, I sat
down with her for a few minutes. I wanted to thank her for taking
such good care of Suzanne and for giving us some privacy. That’s
how Turnip found us. I knew what he thought and I still wasn’t man
enough to say the truth.”

Every one of the angry words he uttered to
Sarah echoed in John’s head. He closed his eyes and he could see
her face, the hurt, the pain he’d caused. She must hate him.

“Sarah knew about you and Suzanne?”

“When Sarah stayed with the children, Suzanne
visited. They talked. Sarah figured it out pretty quickly. She
asked me about it and I didn’t deny it. It was a relief to finally
tell someone. I asked her not to say anything to you.”

“Why? Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.
You’re my best friend, John. I know you’d do about anything for me
and I feel the same way about you. I care what you think.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“That I’m not true to Franny’s memory. That
I’m weak. I didn’t think you’d be as weak, John.”

Weak? He’d be relieved to have such weakness.
His sin loomed much greater. He coveted his dead brother’s wife.
John bent over his saddle, resting his pounding forehead on the
hard leather. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I had to tell you. I didn’t want Sarah to
leave with you thinking bad of her.”

Sarah to leave?
The stage leaves tomorrow.
You’re going to be on it. You’re a selfish bitch
. He’d all but
run her out of town. She’d leave tomorrow and he’d never see her
again.

How could he let that happen?

***

John knocked on Sarah’s hotel room door at
just a few minutes after one.

“Who is it?”

Suzanne, not Sarah. “Suzanne, its John
Beckett. I’m looking for Sarah.”

He heard footsteps and then the door opened.
She looked better but it still made his heart hurt to see her
battered face. “How are you?” he asked.

“Better,” she said, her face solemn. “Thank
you for asking.”

“Is Sarah here?”

“No.”

John swallowed. “I want to talk to her.”

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you.
After the two of you conversed this morning, she spent the next
hour curled up in a ball on the bed, sobbing.”

John swallowed. He hadn’t thought he could
feel worse. He wanted to tell Suzanne that he’d been to Fred’s and
that he knew the truth. He couldn’t. Those words needed to come
from Fred.

“I won’t upset her again,” he said. “I
promise. I just need to talk to her. Please.”

Suzanne assessed him. “If you hurt her, I’ll
come find you, and make you regret it.”

John had no doubt she meant it. This woman
would be good for Fred.

“I won’t. Where is she?”

“At Hooper’s Mercantile. Said she needed a
few things for tomorrow’s trip.”

“She’s planning to go on tomorrow’s
stage?”

“I think so.”

His chest hurt. “I’ll see you later,” he
said.

“Remember what I said.”

He nodded. Mostly all he could remember was
the vile words he’d said to Sarah and the look in her eyes.

When he got to Hooper’s, he slipped quietly
in the door, ducking behind the sewing materials. A woman, a small
baby in her arms, frowned at him. He nodded at her and then focused
on Sarah.

She had her back to him. She had on Franny’s
skirt, rolled at the waist. She stood in front of the glass case
where they kept the candy. She had one of Hooper’s wicker shopping
baskets looped over one arm. He watched as she leaned closer and
looked at the red licorice. She straightened up, pulled her money
out of her skirt pocket, counted it, and with a slight shake of her
head, walked over to the front counter.

“I heard you were back.” Alice Hooper stood
behind the counter, her eyes narrowed, assessing Sarah, taking in
her plain skirt and threadbare blouse. “Looks like you’ve fallen on
hard times.”

“You might say that. How are you, Alice?”
Sarah pulled her purchases out of the basket. She had soap, tooth
powder, a comb, a small towel, and a water canteen. “I’d like
these, please.”

Alice wrote down the prices on an invoice.
“Turnip has coffee here every morning,” she said, looking up at
Sarah.

“Good for Turnip. He should put an extra lump
or two of sugar in it. He’s a little low on sweetness.”

Alice Hooper smiled. “He’s a snake. I don’t
see why my husband gives him the time of day. Men in this town
think they can do whatever they want but women always pay the price
with their reputations. It ain’t fair.”

Sarah chuckled. “You always were a forward
thinker, Alice. A little ahead of your time.”

“I don’t know about that. You sticking around
this time?”

“No. I’m leaving on tomorrow’s stage.”

“Where you going?”

“Home.”

“Where’s that?”

“California.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “Have you seen the
ocean?”

“I have.”

“Is it as beautiful as they say?”

“More beautiful than that even.”

Alice Hooper nodded. “I bet they wear pretty
dresses in California.”

“About the same as here,” Sarah said. “I took
a look at the things on your rack. I can tell you’re staying up on
the fashions.”

Alice Hooper beamed. “I try.”

Sarah smiled in return.

“That will be three dollars and fifty-seven
cents.”

Sarah stopped smiling. “I’m a little short,”
she said. “I’ve got three dollars and twenty-five cents. I’ll put
the comb back.”

John reached in his pocket.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alice Hooper said.
“What you have is fine.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to short
yourself.”

“It’s no problem.” Alice handed her the sack.
“Take care, Sarah Beckett. Have a good journey.”

John squatted down as Sarah walked past. The
woman next to him cuddled her baby closer to her breast and edged
away.

When Sarah got out the door, John made a
beeline for the counter. “Morning, Alice,” he said. “I’d like a
pound of that red licorice.”

She nodded. “I thought maybe you planned to
pick up a nice calico this morning.”

John could feel the heat rise in his face.
“It’s complicated,” he said.

“Always is. That will be twenty cents,” she
said, packaging up the candy.

He handed her a dollar. “Keep the change.
Thanks for helping Sarah.”

“She seems different.”

“I know.”

John left and caught up with Sarah, just
outside the hotel. She had her hand on the doorknob. “Sarah,” he
called out.

She whirled around.

Her eyes and nose were pink, evidence of the
tears Suzanne had witnessed. It made him sick to think he’d caused
such heartache. To think that he’d hurt her so.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

Her tears had caused her voice to be a little
hoarse. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to comfort her. He
kept his arms stiff at his sides, afraid that she might run if he
tried to touch her.

“I need to talk to you, Sarah.”

“No.” Tears filled her pretty blue eyes and
he had to look away. “You surely must have said everything that you
needed to say this morning.”

He’d said horrible things. He had to make her
understand why. “Can we just walk a little?”

“No.”