Sarah refrained from admitting that, in fact, no, she did not know men at all.
“I made an extra batch of meaty noodle casserole and thought I’d bring it over for your dinner.”
“That was very kind of you,” Sarah said. “I was going to make a list this afternoon. Nick is taking me to Denver for supplies tomorrow. He has been most accommodating.”
“Pleased to hear that,” Sandy said. “Listening to Jethro, you’d swear the man didn’t have a brain in his head.” She cupped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude. Sometimes my upbringing charges in with unnecessary cattiness that I am attempting to curtail as a married woman.” She studied Sarah. “Yesterday, I sensed an air of sophistication—for lack of a better word—in you. Do you come from affluent society?”
“I lived amongst them if that counts for anything,” Sarah said, acknowledging that the woman likely expected a more detailed answer. However, she was not willing to spill the details of her life to everyone just yet. It was enough to invite one stranger—her husband—into that realm. “Apparently, I have picked up some of their habits without realizing it. I do hope to trample shallowness underfoot quickly, for it is not in my heart’s desire to see myself as anything other than a pioneer’s wife.”
“If you’d like to get into some dry clothes, I’ll put a pot of coffee on. Will Nick be coming in?”
“Yes. He’s in the barn but should be here in a minute.”
While she was changing in her bedroom, she heard the front door open and close. She hurriedly buttoned her blouse and headed for the door. Sarah opened it a crack to hear voices raised from the adjoining room.
“Jethro send you to check up on his squatters?”
“Don’t be silly. And no, I came on my own,” Sandy said. “I like your wife, and I don’t want you to mess it up.”
“We’re doing fine.”
“Is she all right with you running off when the farm gets too demanding?”
“I won’t be running, and you weren’t here when I left in the beginning,” Nick said. “Don’t try to pretend you know what happened after my father died, and I’d only believe half of what your husband says.”
“Don’t try to turn me against Jethro, Nicolas Trafton.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “Just the same as I don’t expect you to turn my wife against me.”
“You like her, don’t you?”
“What’s it to you?” Nick asked.
“If you must know, it makes me happy to see you getting along. As I said, I’m fond of your wife, and this whole mail order bride thing sounds scary to me.”
Sarah chose that moment to reveal her presence by jingling the loose handle and opening her door wide. She moved into the kitchen and lifted three cups off the shelf. “You’re staying for coffee, aren’t you, Sandy?”
She glanced at Nick. It seemed to Sarah as if it were almost to ask her brother-in-law’s permission.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Makes no never-mind to me. I need to change, and then chores are waiting. You ladies have a nice chit-chat.”
Sarah did not miss the flash warning he cast his sister-in-law’s way before closing the door to his bedroom.
Sandy stared at the closed door before turning to face Sarah. “He doesn’t share your room?”
“We wanted to get to know one another better,” Sarah said, blushing. “It was his idea.”
“That’s admirable. I may have to re-think my evaluation of my brother-in-law.”
“So far, things are good between us,” Sarah said. “You don’t need to worry.” Sarah bit her bottom lip because when she finished confronting Nick about the discussion she’d overheard, there may indeed be a cause to worry.
Chapter Six
“You’re sitting over there stewing,” Nick said.
“I thought I’d let you get your supper down before I tell you what’s on my mind.”
“Got your list ready for town tomorrow?”
“I do. Mostly food and some kitchen aids for cooking.”
Nick studied Sarah. She was indeed smoldering on the inside. It was probably due to Sandy wagging her tongue and stirring up trouble after he’d left the house earlier.
“Did you have a good visit with Sandy?”
“She seems nice enough,” Sarah said, “but if you’re fishing to see if she told me some deep dark secret you’re holding back, you can relax. One thing you can count on with me is that I will not be discussing our relationship with anyone—family included.”
“That’s nice to know. Some hold grudges.”
“Like your brother, Jethro, the one who did not see fit to attend our wedding?”
“Yeah, he’d be the one that stands out in my fight to regain a place in the Trafton clan.”
She dropped the napkin on the table and cleared her voice. “Seems you are in a hurry to get this discussion over with.”
“Don’t want to let things pile up between us.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve seen and overheard in my short time here; the fact that you refer to yourself and me as squatters begs an explanation; the fact that Sandy suspects you will desert me at the first chance and the fact that you were not a part of the planting this spring. Are you not part-owner of this family farmstead, or did you lie to me and mislead the matchmaker concerning your line of work?”
“That’s a heap-load of questions.”
“We have all evening, and you will find I am a good listener and impartial in judgment.”
“Why do you assume I lied to you or the matchmaker?”
“Because of the ad she placed in the newspaper,” Sarah said. “She mentions successful men seeking good-hearted women to move to Denver. The notion of a squatter does not imply success on any level. And in our correspondence, she mentioned you were preparing a cabin on the family farm for your bride.”
“I suppose that last part is true enough,” Nick said.
“And the rest?” Sarah asked.
“Let’s take our coffee and sit on the porch,” Nick said. “I always think better outside.”
He stood and marched out the door, his heart somewhere in the pit of his stomach. It mattered that Sarah thought well of him, and unfortunately, he’d done some things he wasn’t proud to admit.
When she joined him, she brought the hot beverages and a plate of cookies, some baking she’d somehow managed to squeeze into her day.
He’d spill it all out and let the pieces fall as they may. Thus far, she’d made it abundantly clear that up-front honesty was the main requirement in her idea of a marital relationship. At least she wasn’t a gossiper, ready to cry the blues to anyone that came knocking, including family. He could appreciate that kind of loyalty.
He gazed off across the fields and started to tell his story in small doses. “First off, most of the large fields for growing crops are for the Trafton enterprise as a whole, to sell or put up for winter feed for the animals. Day after tomorrow, I’ll turn the soil on a smaller plot where you can plant some vegetables for us.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said. “I’d love to dig in the garden. In the past, I’ve purchased all the food for the Cranston house at the marketplace.”
That part was received well. Now, to tackle the more serious subjects.
“I am the eldest, and on paper, I’m the rightful owner of the farm,” he began. “A couple of years back, I got a burr under my saddle and took off, without so much as a goodbye to the family. Left all the work for Jethro and Saul, so I understand they have the right to be mad at me. I’ll give them that.”
“Why did you leave? More importantly, why did you come back?”
“My pa and I had an on-and-off kind of relationship. I did my work all right, but never as good as Jethro, or in looking back, probably not with half the heart either. Jethro was the fair-haired boy in the family, a gleam in his father’s eye. Me? I was the speck he wanted to pluck out.”
“I’m sure that was a child’s perception,” Sarah s
aid, attempting to soften the condemnation he spewed from his voice.
“To be fair, I always had a wild streak in me, and it shames me to say that when Jethro started courting that uppity Sandy St. Claire, I figured I could do one better. Latched onto a debutant of my own, Andrea Friskin, and suffice it to say, made a fool of myself.”
“A man can be a fool in love—once in his lifetime. I will not hold that against you,” Sarah said.
“You are a gracious woman, one I hardly deserve and almost missed.”
“How so?”
“I was not as eager as my sister, Genevieve, in chasing down a bride,” Nick said. “I was quite content to continue roaming and sighting out the bigger game.”
“Bigger game? Bigger than a wife?”
“Now, don’t go putting words into my mouth,” Nick said, tiring of all the explanations and not pleased to have so much to own up to in a couple of short days. “You were right to assume I have done little around the farm in a long time. After I helped my Pinkerton sister and her husband on a job, I kind of got the itch to start my own business.”
“You have a business other than farming?”
“Nothing that will please you, I’m sure. The final rejection from dearest Andrea happened around the same time, and I just needed to get clear of here.”
“I can understand running,” Sarah said.
Nick took a deep breath and let the worst of it fly. “My running cost me money, so I started bounty hunting. I make a good living at it,” he hurried to explain.
“Bounty hunting? As in chasing the bad guys? With guns? Men who don’t care whether they live or die, and who they take with them to the great beyond?” Sarah said, her large, brown eyes rounding more with each clarification of the job description. “That job?”
“You make it sound worse than it is,” he said, trying to downplay it.
“It’s far worse than my imagination could conjure up, Nick Trafton, and of all these revelations, this one I refuse to tolerate.” Sarah was near tears.
Nick grabbed her hands and clasped them tightly within his. “I tried to get back into Jethro’s good-graces, but he spat on me like I was dirt.”
“Your brother has some forgiveness issues—that is God’s department, not ours. If you are serious about leaving gunslinging in your past, Jethro will grow to believe in you again as you prove yourself worthy. The results will reap healing for Jethro’s eternal soul, and you will regain a brother’s love.”
“It’s not that black and white,” Nick said. “I have a wife to feed now. Where do you think your grocery money will come from?”
“From my garden, if need be,” Sarah said, her voice rising to meet his. “You will not use me as an excuse to continue down this foolhardy path.”
“It’s not foolhardy!”
Sarah stood and picked up the dishes. “It’s not my wish to become a widow before we even consummate our marriage, Nicolas Trafton. We will not discuss this again, hear me?” She took a moment to ponder, then continued, “I’ve brought my savings, which will cover tomorrow’s bill at the store. After we return home, we will start the garden. With your blood-money, you can splurge and buy us some laying hens, a milking cow, perhaps even a pig or a meat cow for us to start our own food-bin in the barn.” She faced him with a no-nonsense glare. “Figure it out, husband. Beg forgiveness at your brother’s feet for your job back if you have to, but don’t you dare desert me.”
Sarah turned and fled. The screen door slammed behind her. She could be a spit-fire when she wanted to be. To her, it all seemed black and white, but it would be a frosty day in July when he went begging at his brother’s feet.
By the time he got up the nerve to go back inside, he saw that the door to her room was closed tightly, and the dim lantern light under the door revealed her shadow as she paced back and forth. He figured she’d be better after a good night’s sleep.
The woman seemed resilient enough to handle the worst of storms, and he felt sure she’d see the practical side of his occupation soon enough. He always hit his target and prided himself in following a workable plan. Never once had he been on the backside of an outlaw, but in all fairness, Nick had been ready to give up the wandering, stay at home with his wife, and work the farm. If only Jethro weren’t acting so pig-headed. He left Nick little choice. A man had to supply bread for his table, and he would not be letting Sarah use the saved wages she’d brought into their marriage.
He was the man of the house, and Sarah would come alongside or go back to Texas, pure and simple. Maybe she wasn’t born wealthy, but in many ways, she thought like them.
The next day, Sarah served up a big breakfast before retreating into her room to prepare for the trip to town. Nick went to the barn and hitched the team to the wagon, throwing empty wooden crates into the back to hold the load on the return trip home. He’d glimpsed her lengthy list, and he’d make sure she bought absolutely everything without playing the poor-farmer tune. He didn’t suspect they’d be starving anytime soon.
When Sarah emerged from the house, he swallowed the lump that caught in his throat. The woman was getting under his skin. What more could a fellow ask for? She was an excellent cook, a jaw-dropping beauty by any man’s standards, and that quiet confidence she wore like a crown made him incredibly proud to call her his own. She donned a green dress, styled modestly, befitting the classy smile he yearned to see. That day, she hid it, but he determined to let loose that playful spirit he knew lay just beyond her protective façade. It wasn’t even like she was deliberating playing on her feminine whiles to make a point—the lady seemed incapable of such deception. Had he married a saint? That was enough to scare even the noblest of characters.
Just before they hit Denver’s business section, Sarah turned to him. “I must apologize, Nick, for being so blunt yesterday. I am far too outspoken and will work on my temper. It seems neither of us is perfect.”
Now, if Sarah were any other gal, he’d consider that apology to possess a double meaning, one that put his character to question as much as hers, but he knew her apology did not hint at his failings, only her own. Even his wife’s bad traits hid blanketed under the good. He wondered how she achieved that and still left a man panting for more.
At Crane’s Mercantile and Hardware, he followed Ignacious around as he picked the items from Sarah’s list. They loaded the larger sacks of flour and sugar onto the wagon before returning for the spices, canned goods, and many baking and cooking ingredients Nick had never seen before, let alone used.
“You got yourself a winner there,” Crane announced after he’d checked off the last item. “Not many cooks know what to do with all those flavorings. Expect when I see you next that you’ll be carrying around a lot of extra weight.”
“Sarah does know her way around the kitchen, that’s for sure.” Nick had said it loudly so she’d hear him praise her publicly. He felt humbled every time she offhandedly made him sound like the husband of the year, and he secretly hoped she believed it to be true. In his entire lifetime, no one had shown him such respect. Nick immediately deflated his ego. Most likely her attitude would change when she got to know him better. The hammer would surely fall, as it always did. He wasn’t good enough for her, and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand her decision to come to Colorado, let alone stay married to a wretched fellow like him.
She never argued when he pushed her aside at the counter to pay the bill. He saw her nibble on her bottom lip and wondered if he’d hear about it on the way home. She’d been right to say they’d never hang their dirty laundry in public, and he admired her for her discipline.
Just as they were finishing, the sheriff popped his head in the door. “Nick, ol’ boy, I thought I recognized that bossy beast of yours in front of the wagon.” Nick sucked in a deep breath, knowing the encounter would stir up trouble. “Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your Misses.”
“Sarah, this here is the finest lawman in all of Denver, Sheriff Bewdley. And Pike, meet t
he wife the Good Lord has blessed me with, Mrs. Sarah Trafton.”
Sarah reached her hand out in greeting, but instead of shaking it, the lawman brought it to his lips. “Looks like a right fine catch, Nick.”
Sarah laughed, apparently finding it funny. “You make it sound as if Nick has gone fishing and pulled in the catch of the day. I hope I live up to your compliment.”
“You already have, my dear,” Nick said. “We’re headed to the diner for some lunch. Would you care to join us, Sheriff?”
“No, I won’t be meddling in your love life so soon, but when you’re interested in some work, drop by the jailhouse. Got some new flyers in, and their trails are still hot.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Sarah said. “The storekeeper might need some direction as to where to place our supplies.” She stared intently at Nick before disappearing out the door, but he couldn’t read her for the life of him. Had she come to grips with his bounty hunting, or was she allowing him an opportunity to set the sheriff straight about his being a farmer now?
When out of sight, Pike pulled him over to the side. “Glad to speak to you in private. I didn’t want to worry your bride straight off, but Clancy’s brother has been making threats to get vengeance for your bringing his kin in to be hung. I told him rustling was a hanging offense, but he didn’t pay no mind to it. Cretis is drinking and causing mischief at the saloon. Had to lock him up last night. I’d watch my back if I were you.”
“Isn’t he on the wanted list? That family is rotten to the core. Surely there’s something you can convict him with.”
“Not now. All misdemeanors. But there’s word the rest of the clan is on the way to Denver. No sidestepping this trouble, Nick,” Pike said. “Cretis is keeping his nose clean, so he can come to get you. How do you want to play this?”
Nick fanned his fingers through his hair as he gazed out the window at his wife, who was giving directions for loading the wagon. “I certainly don’t want that bunch showing up on my doorstep, not with Sarah there. Keep me informed,” Nick said. “Give me a couple of days to think of some excuse to ride off for a bit.”
A Match for Sarah Page 5
