Walker's Wedding (27 page)

His eyes locked with hers. “Feels like a strong, healthy boy.”

“Or a feisty, healthy daughter.”

“Like her mother.”

He kept his hand in place, smiling when the baby made its presence known. The moment was special. Mother, father, child. His touch held everything Sarah ever wanted, except for one missing ingredient. A man who loved and trusted her, a man with whom she could share these babies instead of relinquishing them to him in a few months. Would he allow her to see the children through the years? She longed to see them grow, experience their first tentative steps, first everything. Though she had said she would stay out of their lives, she knew she would be willing to travel day and night to reach them as often as Walker might allow.

“Sarah.” Walker's features sobered.

“Yes?”

“Exactly what happened this morning in town? Flo said you thought Caleb was responsible for the accident.”

She looked away. “I don't want to argue, Walker.”

“I don't want to argue either. I want you to tell me what happened.”

“I was crossing the street and a wagon started toward me. A moment earlier, it was driverless.”

“Caleb was driving the wagon?”

“No, of course not. I didn't see who was driving it.”

“But you think Caleb is responsible for the accident?”

“I…don't know, Walker. Yes, I think he is, but I have no proof. I know he's your close friend, but the way he speaks to me…the way he looks at me…I know he resents my presence here at Spring Grass.”

Walker shook his head, sitting back and reaching for a cup.

“You don't believe me, do you?”

His gaze moved back to hers. “I want to.”

“You…want to?” Her heart tripped.

“Give me the proof, Sarah. Produce the second set of books you accused Caleb of keeping. Show me the evidence that says he was driving the wagon this morning. Caleb has been a close and trusted friend all these years. It's hard to imagine otherwise. I'm not disputing your claim, but I cannot agree until you can show me positive proof that he's cheating me.”

“I can't,” she admitted.

“What would you have me do then? Throw away years of friendship on speculation? You're a fair woman, Sarah. You tell me. I don't profess to be good with numbers. I can only rely on people whom I trust, and without evidence, I'm left with conjecture.”

He was right, of course, but she had no evidence, just a growing conviction. She would bet her life that the books she saw were not the ones she'd seen months ago. Caleb was too smart for her. He could look her in the eye and lie, and she was powerless to do anything about it.

“He's not your friend,” she said, getting up from the bed. “He…threatened me, Walker.”

“In what way?”

She could see she was only making it worse, heaping accusation upon accusation.

“Sarah, he saved your life.”

“If it weren't for him, my life wouldn't have needed saving.” Her
cheeks burned. They had made too much progress to allow this conversation to turn into a quarrel. Both had grown in the past weeks, and Sarah wanted to continue the progress, but today had only proved she was a dreamer. Walker would never trust her—not the way a man trusts a woman that he loves. She bit back hot tears of defeat.

Sighing, he got up. “The tea's cold. Come downstairs and eat. You'll feel better.”

She reached for the hairbrush, and jerked it through her hair.

“Are you coming?”

“I'm leaving, Walker.” The impasse was too difficult; she couldn't go on. It was upsetting her and the babies.

“What?” His features darkened.

“I'm returning to Boston for a visit. I miss Papa and Wadsy and Abe. I've been rethinking the matter, and I feel it's best that I have the baby there. Wadsy will be there to help with the delivery. And Papa will be there with me.”

His features closed. “What about our bargain?”

“The bargain is sealed.” Her eyes met his in the mirror. “If that's your only concern.”

“No, the bargain is that you stay and have the baby in this house.”

“I will send the child to you, Walker.”

“I want my child born in this house, Sarah.”

She turned, meeting his gaze. “Do I get nothing in return?”

“That's what you agreed to.”

“I was upset. I hadn't felt the child move inside me. I love this baby, Walker.”

“If you stay, I'll grant you visitation rights.”

Her heart sprang to her throat. “You'll allow me to see the baby?”

He conceded. “Visitation rights. The child can see you once or twice a year.”

“How gracious of you. Twice.”

“Agreed, if you have the baby here.”

She laid the brush on the dresser.

“Well?”

“I hope Flo's fixed chicken and dumplings for supper.”

He walked to the door and opened it. “And I will expect you to be at supper tomorrow night. Is that understood?”

She shrugged. “If you insist.”

When the door closed a moment later, she muttered, “Not that you're going to like it.”

T
he next morning Sarah dressed early, eager to begin the day. Caleb Vanhooser was lower than a snake, but she was smarter than he and she was going to prove it. After breakfast, she pulled out the good silver and began to polish it. Flo watched the activity with raised brows.

“All this work for Caleb's benefit?”

“I've been thinking, and I realize how foolish I've been acting toward Caleb. I should be thanking him instead of persecuting him.” She glanced up, smiling. “It's my condition, you know. And I want supper tonight to be special, a celebration.”

Flo eyed her skeptically. “Then don't forget the soup bowl—we're having Caleb's favorite cheese soup.”

Naturally.
Sarah polished a knife and then held it up to view her reflection.
What else do you feed a rat?

“You been reading your Scripture lately?”

“Every night.”

“Have you got to the part about wives being submissive to their husbands? You plan to behave?”

Sarah glanced up and smiled. “I've been reading the Song of Solomon.”

Flo tsked. “Walker has his hands full now.”

When Sarah came downstairs that evening, Walker's and Caleb's voices drifted from the study. S.H. and Flo were in the kitchen, banging pans. Sarah could hear S.H.'s teasing banter as the housekeeper dished up potatoes.

The study door opened and Sarah watched as Walker and Caleb appeared. “Caleb. So glad you could join us.”

Caleb glanced at Walker before addressing her. “I hope you have no ill effects from yesterday's unfortunate incident? I've been worried sick that you wouldn't be able to eat with us.”

She smiled. “I wouldn't miss it.”

“Very good. I thought the near tragedy might have left you too shaken.” There it was again. That cold smile.

“Goodness, no. Everyone's made too much of the whole incident. I see you aren't carrying your briefcase—that's encouraging. Tonight is social only, no thoughts of work?”

“No. The briefcase is in the buggy.”

“Good. I hope you're hungry.”

Caleb gave Walker an inquiring look when Sarah drew him into the dining room. Flo appeared from the kitchen with the silver soup tureen. When she saw Caleb, she smiled. “Perfect timing.”

S.H. blessed the food. Then the men picked up their napkins as Flo spooned soup into Walker's bowl.

“Oh—before we start.” Sarah cleared her throat. “Caleb I must apologize for my atrocious behavior of late. I've made unforgivable accusations recently, statements that I don't fully understand myself. But as you know, I'm not myself these days.”

Caleb glanced again at Walker. “No apologies necessary. All is forgiven. As I've said, I will be only too happy to go over the books with you to ease your concerns—”

“That won't be necessary.” She snapped her napkin open, smiling. “Walker has complete trust in you. And since you saved my life yesterday, how could I feel otherwise? Please forgive me if I have cast doubt on your character in any way.”

Caleb nodded pleasantly to Flo as she filled his bowl. “Ah, cheese soup. Flo, you're the greatest.”

Sarah reached for a roll and butter. “I don't even like myself. I have all these odd feelings that S.H. and Flo and even the doctor assure me are normal, but still, they're there, and sometimes I'm unpleasant. Isn't that true, Walker?”

She met Walker's guarded look with a warm and friendly smile.

Caleb seemed embarrassed by the subject. “Don't worry about it. Everyone has bad days.” He accepted the basket of rolls from S.H. “Did you ever find that lost heifer, S.H.?”

As they ate their soup, conversation circled around issues at the ranch, but eventually returned to the puzzling near accident.

Sarah picked up the butter dish and offered it to the accountant. “You didn't happen to see who was driving that wagon, did you, Caleb? It was so strange—when I looked a moment earlier, the wagon was sitting in front of the blacksmith's with not a driver to be seen.”

“No. I'm afraid I didn't.”

“Why, you could have been killed yourself,” Sarah said.

Caleb looked relieved when Flo served the roast.

“Isn't it strange that wagon was coming at such a fast clip the very moment I was trying to cross the street? Don't you find that just the oddest thing? Usually there are hardly any wagons—and if there are, they mainly belong to families coming to town for supplies. But lo and behold, here comes that wagon out of nowhere, clipping along so fast. Why, it was almost as if the driver had deliberately set out to run me over. Me—an expectant mother! You'd think the person responsible had no shame.” Cutting a piece of roast, she met Caleb's eyes.

“Sarah.” Walker frowned. “Caleb isn't able to eat his supper for all the chatter.”

“Really strange.” Sarah slipped a piece of meat into her mouth. “As you said, a person needs to be careful. Why, I could have been killed.”

“Sarah.” Walker laid his fork aside. “We're indeed grateful that you are still among us. Now, will you please let our guest enjoy his meal?”

“Oh, certainly.” She took a bite of potatoes, her eyes going back to Caleb. “But don't you find it peculiar?”

Murmuring a vague agreement, Caleb struck up a conversation with Walker, and the diners made it through the remainder of the meal with idle talk.

Flo was serving dessert when S.H. turned in his seat as he cocked an ear toward the barn. “It's Diamond again. She's been restless all day.”

Walker pushed back from the table. “I'll check on her before she hurts herself.”

Caleb half rose from his chair. “Do you need my help?”

“No, S.H. and I can handle it. Enjoy your cake and coffee.”

The two men left and Flo started gathering up dirty plates. When she disappeared through the kitchen doorway, Sarah looked at Caleb.

“Really odd. Don't you think?”

His eyes met hers now with no attempt to conceal his animosity. “I've heard of more bizarre things.”

“In this town? An expectant mother being nearly run down? It's almost as if someone wanted me out of the way. As though I might be getting too close to something—but what that is, I can't imagine. What could I possibly know?” She handed him the pitcher of cream for his coffee.

The anger in his face chilled her blood, yet the desire to reveal his ugly nature was stronger than common sense.

“Your condition, Sarah, not only has left you delusional, but you're in dire need of a straitjacket.”

“Do you think so?” She took the last bite of cake, removing remnants of fudge frosting with the tip of her fork. Rising from the table, she picked up her plate and bent close to his ear on her way to the kitchen. “Don't suppose for one moment, Mr. Vanhooser, that you can mess with me,” she said in a voice as sweet as honey. “I know what you're doing, and I will expose you.” Patting his shoulder, she moved on.

When she heard Walker and S.H. come in from the barn a few minutes later, she lifted the pot of fresh coffee. “I'll refill the cups, Flo.” She
entered the dining room and, after serving the men, sat down and listened to Walker and S.H.'s discussion

Walker finished his cake and shoved the plate back. He looked at Sarah. “There's a full moon tonight. Why don't we get a breath of fresh air? S.H. and Caleb can enjoy a smoke while we're out.”

She wanted nothing more than a walk in the moonlight with him, but she knew it was merely fresh air that he desired. Meeting his eyes, she declined softly. “Thank you, but I'm going to retire early.” Her heart tripped a beat when she saw the disappointment on his face.

“Caleb?” She turned to smile at their guest. “Why don't you accompany Walker.”

“It's warm in here, Flo. Can you open a window?” Caleb mopped his brow and then absently returned the hankie to his pocket.

Flo glanced over her shoulder. “It feels about right. Must be that hot coffee making you sweat.”

Walker got up, glancing at Caleb. “If the lady prefers her bed to my company, I guess I'm stuck with you. My new plow came this week. Are you interested in seeing it?”

“I'd love to.”

Sarah excused herself and slipped through the kitchen. Flo was busy at the sink and didn't notice her entry. Tiptoeing to the open window, she lifted the curtain and watched Walker and Caleb leave the house and walk toward the shed.

Flo glanced over her shoulder. “Why don't you go with them? S.H. will help me clean up.”

“Thanks, Flo, but I think I'll sit on the porch for a few minutes and then go upstairs.”

“Go right ahead, but take a wrap. It's a bit cool.”

Sarah grabbed her cloak and went out to the swing. She sat until she heard Walker's and Caleb's voices in the shed. Slipping off the porch, she hurried around the corner of the house. Caleb's polished surrey glistened in the moonlight.

Running her hand under the interior seat, she found nothing. It
had to
be here. Caleb had said he'd left his briefcase in the buggy. She
noticed he never went anywhere without it. She stepped into the carriage and groped around the pleated upholstery, searching for openings. The buggy must have cost a handsome price. Had Walker's money bought it?

Nothing. The briefcase wasn't here. She sat back on the seat, breathing hard and thinking. Papa hid things in secret compartments. Tapping her feet along the floorboard, Sarah noticed that the thud that her left foot made was hollower sounding than that of her right foot. She leaned down in the semidarkness and felt along the floorboard, her pulse thumping when her fingers encountered a leather latch. She lifted it up—and inside was the briefcase! Pulling it out of the hole, she eased from the carriage.

Walking swiftly to the bunkhouse, she knocked softly at Potster's kitchen door. It seemed an eternity before he let her in, taking the case from her immediately and holding it up to the candlelight.

“I haven't seen one of these in years,” he whispered.

“You can pick its lock, right?”

“I'd remember how to do this in my sleep.” The old cook chuckled. “Spent my share of time behind bars to prove it.”

He located his tools, and Sarah held the briefcase steady as he went to work on the lock. Uneasy, she glanced out the window, praying that Walker wouldn't see the light and come to investigate. If Walker caught them breaking into Caleb's briefcase, she could forget about a truce. He would have her on the next train to Boston.

“What is it you're looking for?” Potster fiddled with the lock, and they finally heard it click and the latch opened.

Sarah unfastened the case and hurriedly shuffled through papers. “I'll know it when I see it,” she said, opening a contract, scanning it, and folding it back exactly as it had been.

“You think Caleb's stealing from Walker?”

“I'm sure that he is, but if I can't find the evidence, I have no way to prove it.” She picked up a small book wrapped in a leather band. When she untied the strap, the ledger fell open. In the flickering light she could see numbers written out. A depositor's book! The dates went
back several years and the notations showed both deposits and withdrawals.