Stay With Me (7 page)

“I’m not much of a seamstress either,”
Suzanne interrupted, her voice soft. “And I haven’t ever done much
in the way of cooking. But I know a woman in town who can do both.
Problem is, she can’t read.”

“I’m a good reader. Pa is always saying
so.”

Suzanne walked over to Helen. “You don’t
suppose you’d be willing to spend a couple hours helping her learn
to read? Maybe she’d be willing to share some cooking and sewing
secrets with you.”

Helen’s eyes lit up. “I’ll ask my Pa.”

“You do that. If he says its fine, then I’ll
make the arrangements.” Suzanne patted the girl’s shoulder. “You go
on outside now. Who knows what Thomas is in to?”

“Ma used to say that trouble followed Thomas
around.”

“Your mother was a very wise woman,” Suzanne
said.

“And pretty too,” Helen added.

“Pretty, too,” Suzanne agreed.

“Not as pretty as you,” Helen said, as she
opened the door. Halfway down the steps, she turned. “You’re
beautiful.”

Sarah waited until Helen got out of hearing
range before turning to Suzanne. “That was brilliant. She loves
books.”

“I know. Her father told me.”

“Oh. Are you and Fred friends?”

“We’re…” Suzanne looked around the room as if
the answer was written on the walls. “We’re sort of friendly. Look,
I really do have to be going.” She reached for her purse but Sarah
grabbed it first.

“Please stay,” she said. “I like you, and
right now, I could use a friend.”

Suzanne shook her head. “It’s not in your
best interest to be friends with me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Sarah waved her hand. “I used to live here
but it’s been a while.”

Playing with her ear lobe, Suzanne looked at
Sarah. “I came to Cedarbrook about two months ago.”

Wonderful. She wouldn’t have known the
dastardly Sarah One. “Do you live in town?” Sarah asked.

Suzanne nodded, looking frustrated. “I live
above the saloon.”

Those silly puzzle pieces started to line up
their irregular edges. Low self-esteem. A room over the saloon.

“Fred was one of my first…acquaintances.”

Click. Corner piece just slid home. Sarah
didn’t have to wonder any longer about that pained look in Fred’s
eyes earlier when he’d confessed his weakness.

“I gather his father-in-law doesn’t know,”
Sarah said.

Suzanne looked alarmed. “That would be
horrible for Fred.”

So that’s the way it was. She didn’t care
about her own reputation but she didn’t want Fred’s to be maligned.
“Just how long did it take before you knew Fred wasn’t just another
acquaintance?” Sarah asked.

Suzanne blushed, her fair skin turning a
bright pink. “The second time,” she whispered. “He brought me a
flower. Nobody had ever done that before.”

“He’ll be sorry he missed you. He’s in the
field.”

“I heard that Missy scared off the Indian
woman.”

For a world without e-mail or cell phones,
word sure did travel fast. “When did you hear that?”

“Last night, at the saloon. The woman must
have run right from here to the next place east, the Wainright’s.
Homer Wainright sent her away, much to the dismay of his wife who
spends all her time raising their seven children.”

“Bad for Mrs. Wainright but good for Fred.
Maybe he can convince the woman to come back here,” Sarah said.

“I don’t think so. She told Mrs. Wainright
she had a vision that the same evil spirit who took Missy’s hearing
and voice is coming back. Anyone in the house is at risk.”

A couple of days ago Sarah would have scoffed
at the idea of evil spirits. Funny how a little time travel
expanded the belief system. “What do you think about that?” she
asked.

“I think its nonsense.”

Sarah relaxed, grateful for Suzanne’s easy
dismissal. She hadn’t just found a friend, she’d found a voice of
reason.

“I really do have to be getting back to
town.” Suzanne smiled at Sarah. “I have to work tonight.”

Sarah resisted the urge to ask her to
reconsider, knowing that her modern-day indignity over Suzanne’s
chosen profession didn’t align all that well with the cold reality
of 1888. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “Please come
back.”

Suzanne’s cheeks turned even pinker. “I’ll
try. I’m a bit embarrassed though. I was too busy hating you for
being here. I think I missed why you said you were only going to be
here for a couple days.”

The urge for self-protection smothered out
the urge to confide. “John Beckett is my brother-in-law. I’m just
here for a short visit.”

“Oh.” Suzanne’s eyes got even bigger. “You’re
that
Sarah?”

“I guess you’ve heard of me.”

Suzanne ran her tongue over her teeth.
“You’re different that I would have expected. Nicer.”

“I’m mellowing in my old age.”

“Your brother-in-law is a very handsome man.
He has all that wonderful hair and those muscles.”

Suzanne knew John. Oh, my.

He probably went to the saloon. Of course, he
would. What else did single men have to do in Wyoming? He probably
played cards and had a couple beers with the guys. Maybe he’d even
made a trip or two up the old saloon stairs himself.

Sarah felt sick. “Is he one of your
acquaintances, too?”

Suzanne chuckled. “Not mine. He’s Fred’s best
friend.”

“I suppose that would be awkward.”

“Even if I was interested, he wouldn’t be.
Most every girl there has tried one time or another. He always
smiles that sexy little smile and refuses right politely, like
they’d offered him a piece of peach pie but he was too full for
dessert.”

You had to like a man who watched his calorie
intake.

“I’ll make sure Fred knows you stopped.”

“Thanks. And,” Suzanne hesitated, “could you
let him know that I hope he can make it on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Fred and his father-in-law are
having lunch with you?”

“After lunch,” Suzanne added, clearly
understanding Sarah’s confusion. “The children love getting to
spend a couple hours with Grandpa.”

“Where does dear old dad think Fred is
spending his afternoons?”

“Playing cards. He never says much to Fred
about it. By the way, where are you headed when you leave
here?”

“California.”

“That’s a long way,” Suzanne said. “You going
to catch the train in Cheyenne?”

“Train? Please, please, do not be teasing me.
There really is a train? I thought I’d have to take a stage the
whole way.”

Suzanne frowned at her. “Of course there’s a
train. Just where have you been living the last ten years?”

“Under a rock, obviously,” Sarah teased,
hoping the woman wouldn’t probe. A train meant that she’d be back
in California before she had hoped.

“It would be nice if you could stay around,”
Suzanne said. “I’ve enjoyed today.”

Sarah nodded. “Me, too. But there are people
waiting for me in California. I can’t stay.” Not that she wanted
to. She wanted to be back to the land of running water and flush
toilets.

“But you’ve barely had any time to spend with
your brother-in-law.”

“Trust me on this one. He’ll help me pack,”
Sarah said, trying to lighten the mood. It hurt that John Beckett
hadn’t given her a chance. He’d taken one look at her and her fate
had been sealed. He hadn’t bothered to look deeper.

“I hope to see you before you go,” Suzanne
said.

“Definitely. I’ll stop by the saloon.”

***

Fred, who seemed barely able to drag his
tired body into the house, perked up when he heard about Suzanne’s
visit. He had his mouth full of a ham sandwich that Sarah had made
for him. He took a big swig of water to wash it down.

“What did she have to say?” he asked.

“She was worried about the children.”

“Anything else?”

“She said she looked forward to seeing you on
Sunday.”

Fred smiled and folded his big arms across
his chest. “What else?”

“That’s about it.”

Fred looked over his shoulder. Missy slept
while Thomas and Helen played dominoes at the corner table. He
leaned forward. “Do you think she likes me?”

Good grief. She’d time traveled back to
seventh grade. “We didn’t have time to pass notes.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Why don’t you ask her
yourself?”

He looked shocked. “I can’t do that. I barely
know her.”

Right. They’d been too busy screwing to get
properly introduced. “I guess there’s knowing and then there’s
knowing. By the way, she smells like violets, too.”

“I don’t smell like violets.”

She nodded.

He looked horrified, then a ghost of a smile
crossed his lips. “She’s got this lotion,” he said. “She gave me
some one day. When I use a little, it reminds me of her.”

Sarah took a deep breath. She didn’t know if
she wanted to smack Fred upside the head or hug him silly. “Take my
advice. On Sunday, spend a couple minutes talking. She’s nice.”

“I know that,” he snapped. “It’s
just…difficult. I’ve got the children to consider. It would kill
Pastor Dan.”

“Pastor Dan?”

“My father-in-law. He’s a good man. And John
wouldn’t like this at all.”

“What’s John got to do with this?”

“He’s my best friend. I’d trust him with my
life. I’ve known him for fourteen years and this is the only secret
I’ve ever kept from him.”

“You don’t think he’d approve? What right
does he have to judge you or your life?”

“It’s not a matter of approving and he’s
certainly not the type to make judgments about anybody else’s life.
He knows that I loved Franny. He wouldn’t doubt that. However, I
suspect he’d think I’m not honoring her memory by sneaking up the
saloon stairs on Sunday afternoons. I don’t think it’s what he’d
do. He’d be stronger. He’d want me to be stronger. I just don’t
want to disappoint him.”

“Maybe he’d understand if he knew that you
cared for Suzanne, that she wasn’t just any woman who lived above
the saloon.”

He looked surprised. “I didn’t say I cared
for her.”

“Trust me, you did.” Sarah winked at him.

Fred stared at her for a long minute before a
smile crossed his weathered face. “I’m in a hell of a mess, aren’t
I?”

Sarah nodded. “It’s a bit of a pickle.”

Fred snorted. “Come on. I need to get you
home. John’s probably pacing a rut outside his front door.”

John wasn’t but his horse, still saddled,
was.

“I’m worried,” Fred said, after a quick
search didn’t turn up his friend.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t know. My guess is that John’s
hurt.”

Hurt? “Maybe his horse just ran away. Maybe
he got off and forgot to tie it to a tree.”

Fred shook his head. “John’s horses are
ground tied, same as mine. You just let their reins go to the
ground and the horse stays put.”

“How did this horse end up here, then?”

“I’m not sure. John has only been working
with this colt for a week or so. My guess is something scared him
and he took off. Horses always head back to the barn.”

“So John’s walking home?”

“Maybe. I doubt it. John’s got a real way
with horses. Even if the horse got scared, it John had been able,
he’d have calmed him down. There’s another thing. Morton isn’t
here. My guess is he stayed with John.”

She hadn’t even thought about the dog. “What
do we do?”

“I’ll go look for him. He said he had fence
to fix up in the north pasture. I’ll go there first. I’ll take his
horse with me so he’ll have something to ride home.”

“It’s dark. How will you find him?”

“When I get close, I’ll fire a couple shots.
If he’s able, he’ll respond the same way.”

If he’s able
. Yikes. “How badly do you
think he’s hurt?”

Fred shook his head. “Bad enough that he
couldn’t get on a horse. I’ve seen John bale hay with a sprained
arm, brand cattle with broken ribs, and ride a horse all day and
not bother to tell the rest of us he’d snapped his collarbone. He’s
a tough son of a bitch.”

“I’m going, too,” Sarah said, putting her
foot back up in the stirrup.

“No,” Fred said. “You’ll slow me down and
there’s no telling what I’m going to find.”

“But—”

At that exact moment, the howl of a coyote
echoed from the hills. Sarah wrapped her arms around her middle.
“What exactly might have scared the horse?” she asked.

Fred shrugged. “Mountain lion. Bear.
Rattlesnake.”

“Go,” Sarah said. “Find him and bring him
home.”

***

Call 911. Since she’d been a toddler, that’s
what she’d been trained to do in an emergency. Now what was she
supposed to do?

Fumbling with the wick on the lantern, Sarah
cursed the good old days. When she finally managed to get the
lantern lit, she set it down on the table next to the stove. Think.
You have to think, she lectured herself.

She’d read
Little House on the Prairie
a hundred times as a girl. What would Ma Ingalls have done?

She’d have comforted the children.

No need. Skip to step two.

She’d have boiled water.

Perfect. Something to do. Sarah filled her
arms with kindling from next to the stove. She lifted the burner
plate and dropped the wood inside. In less than a minute, she had a
fire started. Then she grabbed the biggest pot from the shelf.
Carrying that in one hand and the lantern in the other, she went
outside to get water.

She was halfway back from the pump when she
heard the gunshots—just two sharp taps. She stopped, her breath
coming in short gasps from lugging the heavy pot. Less than five
seconds went by and she heard two more taps, fainter, like they
came from farther away.

John Beckett had answered. He was alive.
Sarah tightened her grip on the pot handle and hurried into the
house. She lifted the big pot onto the stove.