Sterling's Way (Lawmen & Outlaws)

by Leone, Sarita

  “Ain’t he—uh, doesn’t he have a grandson?” Julia asked.

  Geraldine’s curls bounced against her shoulders as she spun around and beamed a smile at Kristen. “A baby! How sweet! Why, you must have had a whole lot of fun taking turns holding the little feller, and bouncing him on your lap, cuddling him close and watching him sleep. Oh, I just love babies…Mamma always had a young one for us to coddle. I miss that, you know. Not many babies out here, not that I come in contact with, leastways.”

  Julia stopped embroidering. She stuck her needle into the corner edge of her fabric, dropped the hoop onto her lap and sat back. Waving her hand before her reddened face, she said, “Mercy, it’s hot in here.”

  No reply seemed in order, so Kristen just smiled. Geraldine was engrossed in her sewing and didn’t even look up from her fabric.

  Julia had something on her mind, and wasted no time getting to the point.

  “The preacher’s grandson isn’t a babe, is he?”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “He was—no, he is that handsome feller who came calling on you, isn’t he?” Julia’s fingers tightened on the arms of her chair, her interest in the topic clear.

  “Yes, my gentleman caller was Patrick Godsend, Pastor Godsend’s grandson. You spoke briefly with him, didn’t you?”

  With a long sigh and a gentle hum, Julia nodded. Her gaze was dreamy as she stared at the far corner of the room. “Mmm hmm…I sure did. Oh, what a fine speaker he is. Why, he never said one improper or impolite word! It was a true pleasure to have a word with him—even if the word was just a short one. My oh my, I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to get to know that feller a little bit better—”

  Julia’s eyes widened, looking like half-dollar coins in her pretty face. Color rose in her cheeks as she whirled to face Kristen.

  “I didn’t mean—I, uh, I just meant—it ain’t—no, it isn’t—oh! Why oh why don’t I know enough to keep my big mouth shut when it shouldn’t be open? My mama always said if anything got me in trouble it would be my mouth and by God she was right, wasn’t she? Oh, Kristen, I didn’t mean no disrespect or…” Julia’s words trailed off helplessly in the face of the laughter that greeted them.

  Kristen waved away the dancer’s apology. “Stop it, you’re fine. Just fine, really. Your mother would be wrong in this case, my friend. You’re not in trouble, not by your mouth or anything else. Why, there’s no need to apologize for saying what’s on your mind. And what woman wouldn’t want the chance to spend time conversing with a polite, intelligent man—especially one who’s as handsome as Patrick?”

  Julia’s brow creased. “You mean you don’t mind my being interested in the preacher’s grandson? But I thought he was interested in you. I could see it plainly in his face, that he holds you…that he, uh, that he…”

  There was no stopping the mirth that bubbled to the surface, so Kristen didn’t try. Besides, it felt good to laugh.

  Geraldine watched the exchange over her needlework with raised eyebrows and a big grin. She looked from one woman to the other, shaking her head so hard her thick, shiny curls bounced with each quick movement. The scent of the rosewater she used to rinse her hair filled the room. It made Kristen think, yet again, of her mother’s rose garden.

  But laughter forestalled any homesick feelings she might have had otherwise. The confusion on Julia’s face made her laugh still harder, though she knew she shouldn’t. Since she had no romantic leanings whatsoever for Patrick, it seemed wholly ridiculous that anyone would ever imagine she did.

  Finally she caught control of her funny bone. Kristen sucked in a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly. “You think I have an interest in Patrick, don’t you?”

  Julia nodded.

  “Well, put the notion right out of your head. I don’t have any interest in the man—other than as a friend, of course. He’s smart and kind, and good company, but we aren’t romantically involved.” There. That should put the other woman’s mind to rest.

  It should have done so, but apparently it didn’t, because Julia asked, “But how could you not?”

  “I just don’t fancy him in that way.” It seemed obvious, and logical, and the words slipped easily from her tongue.

  “But he’s sweet on you. It was real clear when he asked for you at the door that he holds you in high regard. Very high regard. “

  Julia pulled her needle through fabric with less attention than she had earlier. It was almost a given that the stitch would need to be pulled out, but Kristen kept quiet.

  So many aspects of life were different here in the west. The whole concept of courting and romance seemed miles apart from what she was used to. However could she hope to find a husband when she so patently didn’t understand the rituals and rules associated with keeping company here?

  She didn’t want to insult the other woman. It was clear Julia was very interested in Patrick and saw him as relationship-worthy. Still, she had to make it equally clear that he held no romantic attraction for her.

  “I know that Patrick thinks he’s sweet on me, but that doesn’t mean we’re well suited for each other,” she explained with as much diplomacy as she could conjure on such short notice. “Just because a man likes a woman, it doesn’t mean she holds the same feelings for him, does it? I mean, you must have felt the admiring glances of many men, especially while you’re dancing in the show. It doesn’t mean you fancy every man who looks your way or smiles at you, does it?”

  “It most certainly does not.” Geraldine pulled a face, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Blech! Half of the men who hoot and holler at me just give me a case of the heebie-jeebies, that’s what they do. Julia knows as well as anyone that just because a feller ogles you, or even sees you as more than a gal on stage in a pretty costume, it doesn’t mean he’s your destiny. Right, Julia?”

  “Right. But the men who pay to watch us dance…well, Patrick’s not like any of them.” Kristen heard the catch in her friend’s voice when she said the man’s name, and it pulled at her heartstrings. Somehow Julia had fallen hard, and fast, for the preacher’s grandson.

  “Patrick’s just a man,” Kristen said. She didn’t want Julia to get hurt if Patrick didn’t return her feelings, so she wasn’t about to build him up any higher than Julia had already done. “He’s the same as all men are, more or less. My Aunt Irene used to say that men are like gloves and every woman’s hand is built for a certain glove. The hard part is finding a pair to fit every finger on your hand.” She looked down at her own hands. “I know it’s not romantic, and may even be a bit silly, but I loved my aunt and keep the image firmly in my mind. I believe my heart will know when I’ve located the gloves made for my hands… I promise you, Julia, that Patrick Godsend isn’t my pair of gloves. He’s certainly well-made and of superior quality, but he’s not for me.”

  “You sure about that?” Julia asked breathlessly. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  Kristen shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you—or to Patrick. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sure that Patrick and I are not hand-and-glove suited for each other. So, he’s a free man, open to any and all women interested in him.”

  “Thank goodness!” Julia swept a hand across her brow, wiping away the sheen of perspiration that had gathered on her smooth skin. She smiled so broadly every dazzling white tooth came into view. “I was afraid you took to him as much as he takes to you.” Suddenly her expression turned sober. “Ohh…”

  “What’s wrong?” Geraldine was busy embellishing her flower but the sound of the woman’s moan brought her gaze up. “Julia? Are you ill?”

  “No, I ain’t—ah, I am not ill. I’m just…well, I just remembered that even though Kristen doesn’t favor Patrick in a romantic way, he still has it in his mind that he cottons to her. And what chance do I have against a mind that’s already made up, especially when the lady in mind is so elegant and I’m so ordinary?” Her lower lip quivered.

  Kristen rushe
d to think of something to soothe Julia’s emotions but Geraldine spoke before anything came to mind.

  Geraldine snorted, the. sound cutting the tension. “Aw, honey, don’t give one ounce of concern to a man who says he knows his mind. Take it from me, sister…men know their own minds only when we tell them what they know. Until then, it’s all a muddle for them. Really, I’ve seen it before…a woman holds much more power over a man than even she knows.” She dropped her embroidery onto her lap and wiggled her fingers to work out the stiffness. “And a smart, pretty, cheerful gal like you? Shucks, any man would be lucky to have you tell him his mind. Believe me, Julia—that Patrick will come around to seeing who you are as soon as the stars fall out of his eyes. Then, his eyes, his mind and his heart will belong to you.”

  “You really believe that?” Julia asked.

  Geraldine nodded. “I do. That is, if the two of you are each other’s destiny. Then, he’s all yours—and, for better or worse, you’re his. That’s the way love works.”

  “Amen,” Kristen whispered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun hung low but Jack wasn’t going to be deterred by the hour. He had a mind to see Kristen, and one way or another he was going to do so. There was still plenty of time for a short walk along the creek, at least an hour or two before dusk crept out of its hiding spot and covered the land.

  He strode along the sidewalk. Morning shoppers had given way to early saloon-goers and tired miners, so he dodged dirty men dragging packs instead of young women with babies.

  It weighed heavy on his mind that once his business with Brown was done, he would head back to Kansas and leave her here by herself. Oh, sure, she seemed to have made friends with some of the revue girls, the lady who ran the boardinghouse and, of course, the preacher’s grandson but were they enough? A bunch of women and a Bible-carrying drifter—how could they possibly provide the type of protection a woman might need in such a rough environment?

  Jack chuckled. He had forgotten that Kristen was no ordinary woman, and seemed perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Why, he had never met a woman with such an independent streak before. It was a quality he had never considered attractive in women but it suited Kristen well.

  She hid something. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. But what? What could she keep so close to her heart that she wouldn’t confide in him?

  A man. It had to be a man. What else would she try to hide?

  The boardinghouse lay just on the other side of the road. He waited while a buckboard passed, then stepped out into the wide street. He had only gotten a foot from the walkway when he heard his name called from behind him.

  Had he been a swearing man, he would have sworn. Twice he’d tried to take Kristen walking by the creek, and both times his plan was thwarted—by someone calling him. For a man who was new in town, and knew hardly anyone at all, he sure spent a whole pant load of time answering to folks.

  Jack stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  Great. Just the person I didn’t want to see.

  He stepped back onto the walk and nodded. “Godsend.”

  “Sterling.” Patrick tipped his hat.

  He shifted the bundle to his left hand and held out his right. Grudgingly Jack shook it, a tense up-and-down snap that lasted scant seconds but it seemed to satisfy Patrick.

  “Just the man I hoped to see.” Patrick’s voice was friendly but there was an undercurrent to his words.

  Jack couldn’t believe his misfortune. He’d already dealt with Brown this morning. It seemed completely unfair to have to wrangle with Godsend in the same day.

  Life isn’t fair. Granddad had hammered the words into Jack’s head from childhood, and he recalled them now.

  He’d always realized that Granddad was right, but he had never liked unfairness in any situation. It seemed to him that if a man did the right thing—or tried his best to do what he knew was proper—then everything else connected with the issue should be fair and equitable. He spent his adult life trying to be just in his personal and business dealings but, as he was reminded yet again, doing the right thing didn’t insure the fairness of a situation—or of life.

  There was an expression in Patrick’s eyes…something new that gave the man an exaggerated air of confidence. Jack couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, was different but, as he stared into Patrick’s eyes, he was pretty sure he didn’t care for it.

  When he got right down to it, it wasn’t Patrick Godsend, the man, who annoyed Jack. Rather, it was Patrick Godsend, Kristen’s suitor, who rubbed him the wrong way. He had no claim on Kristen, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to claim her. And this preacher’s grandson? Instinct told him he wasn’t the right man for Kristen—not by any stretch of the imagination.

  The surest way to get something out of the way was to tackle it head on, and the faster he and Patrick concluded their little sidewalk meeting the sooner Jack could see Kristen.

  He plastered a smile on his face, and asked, “Oh, really? Why is that?”

  “I thought we should have a…well, let’s just say I think it’s high time you and I have a little chat.” Patrick motioned to a vacant spot beneath the sundry shop’s awning. It provided just enough shade for the two of them to step into, so they did.

  “I don’t know what you and I have to discuss, and I’ll be quite frank…I’ve got a pressing engagement so my time is limited.” Jack forced himself to remain cordial, although the command performance discussion rankled him. Even a polite man has a breaking point, and Patrick was edging dangerously close to pushing Jack to his. “I’ll give you a few minutes, but that’s all I can spare. What’s so all-fired important that you hijack me on a public street?”

  A muscle worked in Patrick’s jaw. Jack noticed the man was freshly shaved, and scented with aftershave lotion.

  He swept a palm across his own cheek. It, too, had been shaved by the barber earlier in the day but all traces of the lotion the man had slapped onto his cheeks had dissipated hours earlier. The bathing facilities in the back of the stable, where he rented a cot, were rudimentary. Standing beside Patrick he realized just how far down his standards of hygiene had fallen since he’d been in town. He was bathed, and somewhat freshly shaven, but the fastidiousness about his person he took for granted back in Kansas had vanished in the rough-and-tumble reality of life in the western frontier.

  It irked him that the other man looked better than he did, and was more presentable. It especially bothered him that Patrick smelled good.

  When he didn’t get an immediate response, Jack asked, “Well? You’ve got me here. What do you want to talk about? Make it quick, won’t you? What is it, man?”

  “Kristen.”

  The word silenced the bustling world around them. Miners’ boot steps scuffling along the walk, donkeys and horses clip-clopping on the street and even the sound of raucous laughter coming from the saloon doorway dropped away.

  Her name, spoken in the other man’s voice, made Jack’s world stand still.

  Jack had no trouble finding his footing in business affairs. Never had, and hopefully never would. But the affairs of the heart were an entirely different matter. Not only did his feet feel like the world beneath them was as uncertain and slippery as a half-frozen stream, the legs attached to them felt nothing like the sturdy tree trunks he’d grown up on.

  A good bluff worked well in certain situations. Jack decided to try one now.

  “Kristen? I hardly think there’s anything to discuss on that front.”

  Patrick eyed him suspiciously. “Are you saying you don’t have any interest in Miss Marsh? Is that it?”

  Jack shrugged. “I’m not saying anything one way or the other about her, my man. All I’m saying is that you and I don’t have anything to discuss where she’s concerned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to.”

  The hand on his forearm surprised him. Not only had the other man reached for him with lightning-fast speed, his grip
was tight and firm. Jack looked down at the hand, saw the way its veins stood out clearly and wondered where a preacher’s kin could have learned to be this assertive—or move so quickly.

  He looked up. Their gazes locked. They stayed that way for several heartbeats, neither one willing to blink or break contact.

  “I suggest you remove your hand, Godsend. Now.”

  The hand fell away. “We need to talk, Sterling. Now.”

  The man’s gutsiness impressed Jack, even though he didn’t want anything about Godsend to make an impact on him. He would have greatly preferred to walk away, find Kristen and continue his day but that was, obviously, not going to happen until he put this small detour in its place.

  Calling on his reserves of patience, Jack leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your granddaddy must have taught you about tolerance. A man only has so much tolerance for anything—or anyone. I’ll be honest, you’re pushing me to the limit, so you’d best say whatever it is you’re all fired-up to say and have done with it.”

  Jack saw the man’s Adam apple bob up and down. Then he noticed the lines radiating from the corners of Patrick’s eyes, the straight line his lips formed while he contemplated his words and the serious, almost deadly, stare in his eyes.

  It hit Jack all at once. Patrick Godsend wasn’t merely infatuated with Kristen—he loved her.

  He would have lost the contents of his stomach had he been another, less proud and self-controlled, man. He swallowed harder than Patrick had, and tasted the sting of bile on his tongue.

  “My granddaddy taught me a lot of things. I’ve heard him preach from the time I was a baby, so I’ve had more than enough lessons about life drilled into my head. Endless lessons on tolerance…faith…the evils of sin and the rewards of righteous behavior…” He stared into Jack’s eyes and finished, “…and love. Granddad taught me about love, and about how to treat a lady.”

  Jack hardly knew what to say. The man spoke with his mouth but the words came from his heart.