Stay With Me (31 page)

“I want you to leave town,” Mrs. Beckett
said. “I want you to leave and this time, I don’t want you to come
back.”

Looked like Mrs. Beckett was going to get her
wish. “I’ll be on the Wednesday stage.”

“That’s not soon enough. I don’t want you to
spend any more time bewitching my son.”

“Bewitching?”

“What else could it be? You’ve got him
talking crazy. He plans to go with you on the Wednesday stage.”

“What? That’s not true?”

“It is? I think he thinks he can convince you
to stay if he has time alone with you.”

She couldn’t let John go with her. It would
make it all the harder to say goodbye. She couldn’t bear to hurt
him like that. “You’re his mother. He respects you. You need to
convince him that would be a mistake.”

“I tried. He won’t listen. Says he’s owes it
to Peter.”

Pain speared her tender heart. Did it always
come back to Peter? “Owes it to Peter? What?”

“That’s what he told me. Everything he does
for you, he does for his brother. In a way, he’s a lot like Fred.
He can’t say goodbye to the dead.”

“That’s not true.”

“You know it’s true. Through you, he touches
Peter. That’s what’s important to him.”

“You’re lying.”

Mrs. Beckett pulled an envelope out of skirt
pocket. “Read this.”

Sarah opened the envelope with shaking
fingers. She pulled out a single sheet of paper.

Dear Mother. I’ll be gone for several weeks.
Need to clean up another one of Peter’s messes. It’s too late for
him to appreciate it but it makes me feel like I’m doing something.
Love, John.

She recognized the bold, slanted writing.
She
was another one of Peter’s messes.

Mrs. Beckett took the letter from her. “I
have two hundred dollars in my purse. I’ll consider it money well
spent if you’ll take it and leave. Tonight. You ride out of town
tonight.”

Two hundred dollars. Enough that she could
get to California. Enough that Suzanne could get a fresh start in a
new place.
It makes me feel like I’m doing something
.

She held out her hand and Mrs. Beckett
slapped the envelope of money into her hand.

“I’ve arranged for Deputy Lewis to take you
to Morgansville. It’s on the way to Cheyenne and it’s no more than
a three-hour trip. You can spend the night there at the hotel. In
the morning, it will be easy enough for you to find someone to take
you to Cheyenne. Then I want you on the first train west to
California.”

She was going home. She should have been
thrilled.

“What if I can’t find someone to take me on
to Cheyenne?”

Mrs. Beckett shrugged. “You’re a smart woman,
Sarah. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I imagine that for the right
price, there’s always someone willing to take a job. You’ll have
plenty of money to buy your way there.”

“I’m not sure I like the sounds of this,”
Sarah said.

“Listen, Sarah. Deputy Lewis and his wife are
my good friends. He’s doing it as a personal favor to me. He’ll
take care of it. Just be ready to leave in an hour.”

An hour
? “Ninety minutes,” Sarah said.
“I can’t be ready before then. I’ve still got an hour’s worth of
work to do.”

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. You’re never
going to see Thomas Jefferson again.”

“It matters to me. I gave him my word.”

Mrs. Beckett stared at her. “Fine. Just
remember, you’ve given me your word, too. He’ll bring the carriage
around back of the hotel.”

“Fine. Makes sure there is room for two. I’m
taking Suzanne with me.”

***

Deputy Lewis drove, Suzanne cried, and Sarah
simply stared out into the dark night, not seeing much, trying
awfully hard not to feel much or to remember much.

Especially not the feel of John Beckett’s
strong arms or his warm mouth. Every time her thoughts had the
audacity to run that direction, she concentrated on the cramps in
her legs or how Suzanne’s trunk, wedged up behind her in the back
of the buggy, wore a shallow ridge into her spine.

Deputy Lewis had loaded them without
ceremony. He’d pulled up behind the hotel and within minutes
Suzanne, Sarah and their respective luggage had been thrown in the
back of the flat-bed buggy. Deputy Lewis sat up front, chewing and
spitting tobacco like a crazy man, and had driven like the hounds
of Hell were after him. He hadn’t said a word the entire way.

Now, as they pulled into Morgansville, he
shifted in his seat. “Get ready to get out,” he said.

Suzanne sat up straighter and started to
gather her bags. Sarah put a hand on her leg and looked around.
Morgansville looked a lot like Cedarbrook. The hotel that Deputy
Lewis had pulled in front of actually looked a little bigger, a
little fancier. It looked pretty dark, however.

“Deputy, I hope you don’t intend to just dump
us in the middle of the street?”

“Damn mess,” Deputy Lewis muttered. He jerked
on the reins and the horses whined in response. The gas
streetlights showed the sneer on the deputy’s face.

“Pardon me.” What did she have to lose? She’d
already lost everything that mattered. “Were you talking to
us?”

Deputy Lewis didn’t answer. He shoved the
wheel brake forward and the wagon jerked to a stop. “I’ll go check
on a room,” he said, climbing down. “When I get back, you better
both be off my wagon with your things next to you on the street.
I’m sorry I ever agreed to this.”

He spun around on his heel and walked up to
the hotel door. Neither woman moved. Once he disappeared inside,
Suzanne sighed. “You know,” she said, “I’m not sure he likes
us.”

Sarah laughed and hugged her friend. “That’s
okay. I don’t much like him either.” She hiked up her skirt,
climbed out of the wagon, then turned to help Suzanne. When Susanne
stood up, she swayed, and would have fallen if Sarah hadn’t reached
up and grabbed her waist, steadying her.

“Suzanne. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Really.”

Suzanne proceeded to get out of the wagon and
stand next to it for about five seconds before she clapped her hand
over her mouth. She turned and took seven steps before bending over
and vomiting.

“Oh, sweetie,” Sarah said, gently pulling her
upright after Suzanne finished. She handed her the handkerchief
from her skirt pocket. “Here. Wipe your mouth.”

Suzanne dabbed. “Sorry about that,” she
said.

“You should have said something. Do you have
the flu?”

“Flu?” Suzanne tilted her head.

“The…um…the influenza?”

Suzanne gave her a sweet smile. “If I do,
then I’ve got the nine-month variety.”

“Nine months?” Sarah put two fingers under
Suzanne’s chin and lifted her face. “You’re pregnant?”

Suzanne nodded and her lower lip trembled. “I
should have begun my monthly last week.”

“Last week?” Sarah waved her free hand.
“That’s nothing. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You’re probably
just late.”

“I’ve been having my monthly every
twenty-eight days since I was thirteen years old. Not twenty-six
and not thirty. Always twenty-eight.”

“What day would today be exactly?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Shit.” Sarah looked up and down the dark
street. “What we need is a Walgreens. A twenty-four hour
Walgreens.”

“A wall what?”

Sarah threw her hands up in the air. “A drug
store. We need a damn drug store and one of those tests. You get a
little stick and you pee on it. It turns pink or blue or I’m not
sure what color, but we need one.”

Suzanne looked at her like she’d lost her
mind. “I already did my own test.”

Sarah stopped pacing. “What?”

“I asked Freedom to bring me some fresh
ground raw beef.”

“And?”

“He got about three feet away and I had to
stop him from coming closer. The smell made me sicker than a dog
eating grass.”

“That’s your test?”

“That’s how my sister knew.”

Sarah resisted the urge to knock her head
against the wooden sidewalk. “Okay. Let’s assume you’re right. Do
you…do you know who the father is?”

Suzanne nodded, not looking offended. If
anything, her face brightened and little twitch danced across her
lips. “It’s Fred’s. I’m going to get to hold on to a little piece
of Fred.”

Sarah didn’t know any other way to ask it.
“How can you be sure?”

“Fred’s the only one I’ve lain with the past
month.”

“It’s only been the last week or so that you
haven’t been working?”

“I’ve had customers. I let them take their
pleasure with my mouth. I swear, if a woman’s good at that, I think
a man actually prefers it over the other.”

“Oh. Really?”

When Deputy Lewis approached the wagon
several minutes later, both women stood in the same place, lost in
their own thoughts. “What the hell are you doing just standing
there? Get your things out of my rig.”

“Do we have a room?” Sarah asked.

Deputy Lewis held out a key. “Here. Now get
going.”

Sarah took the key, being careful not to
touch the Deputy. “You’re the reason,” she said, “that police are
called pigs. It’s all your fault.” Sarah picked up her bag and
grabbed the handle of Suzanne’s trunk. She walked, dragging the
heavy case behind her.

“Let me help,” Suzanne said.

“Just open the door,” Sarah said. Suzanne ran
a couple steps ahead and threw open the heavy brown door. Inside,
the hotel looked much the same as the one in Cedarbrook with the
exception that rather than fat Morton Turnip behind the desk, a
pretty young woman, no more than eighteen, sat behind the
counter.

“Evening, Ladies,” she said. “Your room is
number four. Up the stairs, to the left.”

Sarah dragged the case another six steps.
“Let me help you with that,” the girl said, coming out from behind
the desk. “I’m Mary Beth, by the way.”

Sarah stopped to catch her breath. The girl,
broad shouldered and wide-hipped, wrapped her fingers around the
handles on each end, and picked the case up. She took off for the
stairs as if the case barely weighed anything.

Sarah smiled at Suzanne and skipped to catch
up. “You always work the night shift?”

“My pa runs this hotel,” the girl said. “I’m
just filling in for him while he catches a nap. He’s in the room
right next door to you.”

When they got to number four, Sarah unlocked
the door and pushed it open. Mary Beth walked in first. “Let me get
you ladies a light,” she said. Within seconds, Sarah heard the
sound of a match and the room was bathed in soft light from the oil
lamp on the dresser. “There you go,” she said, turning to look at
both Sarah and Suzanne. “Pretty late to be traveling, isn’t it?”
the girl asked.

“Kind of a spur-of-the-moment trip,” Sarah
said.

“Your man just left you here?”

“He’s not our man,” Suzanne said. “He’s
nobody’s man. He’s a weasel dressed in trousers.”

The big girl laughed, a deep, hearty sound.
“We got some of them two-legged weasels in this town, too. You two
fine ladies have a good night. Pa will have a pot of coffee made
before the sun rises. Guests are welcome to help themselves to a
cup and a warm muffin.”

“How nice. A B and B. I love B and B’s,”
Sarah said, sinking down on the bed. She flopped back, hitting the
thin mattress with a thud. “Last summer I stayed in the nicest B
and B in Napa Valley—practically had grape vines outside my window.
Had the prettiest yellow comforter, too.”

“What?” Suzanne asked.

Sarah opened one eye. A frowning Suzanne and
an openly curious Mary Beth stared at her.

She needed to get some sleep before she did
some real damage. She sat up. “Just listen to me rattle on. I
suppose we better call it a night. I could use some sleep.”

“Sleep cures most worries,” Mary Beth said,
moving toward the door. “That’s what my pa always says. By the way,
chamber pots are under the bed.”

The girl closed the door behind her. Suzanne
sat on one of the single beds, facing Sarah, who sat on the other.
“You’re acting odd, Sarah.”

Sarah reached out for Suzanne’s hand. “I’m
sorry, Suzanne. It’s just been a really long day. I’ll be fine in
the morning.”

“Maybe she’s right that sleep cures most
worries.”

“Great.” Sarah smiled at her friend. “Maybe
you’ll wake up not pregnant.”

Suzanne laughed but then looked very serious.
“I’m glad I’m carrying Fred’s baby.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. I know it’s going to be hard and
I’m already worried about how I’ll provide for my child. But I
will. I will do everything in my power to be the best mother I can
be. I’ll do it for the baby. I’ll do it for Fred.”

Sarah hugged her friend. “I wish I could do
more to help you,” she said.

“More? You’ve already given me all that
money. Are you sure you won’t need it yourself?”

“I kept a little. I just need enough to pay
someone to take me to Cheyenne. Once I’m there, I’ll need train
fare to California.”

“What happens when you get back to
California?”

“Everything. Nothing. It’s hard to explain.
Let’s just say that I go back to my life.”

“Like I said, you’re sounding odd.”

“Trust me. Not nearly as odd as I could.”
Sarah stood up next to the bed and unbuttoned her blouse and skirt.
She took off her clothes, leaving just her camisole and petticoat.
“Come on, let’s get some sleep. Pregnant women need their rest. How
are you feeling now?”

“Better. Just in case,” Suzanne said,
reaching over the side of the bed, “I’ll keep this little pot
handy.”

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. Lord, she
was tired. “If you get sick,” she said, “wake me up. I mean
it.”

Suzanne nodded and leaned closer to Sarah.
“You don’t look so good yourself. Are you terribly sorry about
leaving John?”

John. Solid, sensible, John Beckett. She
would miss him forever. “I’m just tired,” Sarah said. She didn’t
want to talk about John. Didn’t want to think about him. Certainly
didn’t want to remember the look in his eyes when she’d unbuttoned
her camisole, his gaze almost burning through the thin
material.