Never had Sarah known such terror, not even when she faced down the saloon owner in Denver with Seth’s wooden pistol. Her slender frame was no match for the hulking cowhand.
Earlier that afternoon Matt Sterling and Seth Anderson rode in from the range and dropped into comfortable chairs on the shady ranch house porch. Seth grinned. “Sure feels good to sit on something softer than Copper!”
“Or Chase.” Matt stretched and yawned, glad for the chance to relax. “We rode farther than we’d planned.” He glanced toward the west. “Sun’s going down in a hurry this evening.”
Seth bounded to his feet.
“What’s the trouble?” Matt asked, suppressing another yawn.
“I promised Sarah I’d ride in and see her today.” Seth replied, shamefaced. “I’ve gotta clean up and get to town.”
Matt searched for an excuse to go along and fell back on the tried and true. He stood up and said, “Think I’ll mosey along with you and get the mail.”
“Glad for the company.” A grin spread across Seth’s face. “Won’t be surprised if Sarah will be, too.” With a mocking laugh he headed off to get ready, leaving Matt with his mind miles away.
When Matt and Seth reached town, they watered their horses and hitched them to the rail in front of the Yosemite Hotel. Matt shook his head in amusement at the crowd of folks gawking at the medicine show.
“Nice weather brings the hawkers out more than usual,” he commented. He fell in step with Seth as they climbed the porch stairs to the hotel.
“I thought you were going for the mail,” Seth reminded him.
“Plenty of time for that,” Matt replied sheepishly.
The two men stepped into the hotel’s dining room and stopped short. The room looked like it had come through a war. Overturned tables, cutlery, smashed dishes, and glasses littered the floor.
“What’s carrying on in here?” Matt thundered, scanning the debris.
A muffled shriek drew his attention across the room. His eyes widened in horror. Sarah! And Red! The rough cowhand had Sarah backed against the far wall and was shaking the living daylights out of her.
Seth gave a low groan and leaped for the pair.
Matt yanked Seth back. Roaring, he flew over the tables and dealt a hard left to Red’s jaw. Then he tossed him halfway across the room with one powerful heave. Red lay unmoving where he landed. Was the ruffian dead? At that moment Matt didn’t care.
“Oh Matt, thank God you’re here!”
Sarah’s agonized cry sent an arrow straight to Matt’s heart. He reached her in a single bound and knelt beside her, wishing he had the right to hold her close.
The thud of heavy boots heralded Seth’s approach. “Sarah, are you all right? Did that lowdown skunk hurt you?” Without waiting for an answer he jerked his chin at Red. “Is he dead?”
“Naw, I ain’t dead.” Red groggily sat up and rubbed his jaw.
Blue murder flashed in Seth’s eyes. “If you’ve hurt my sister, you will be!” He sprang toward Red, hands balled into fists.
Matt leaped up and restrained the young man for the second time. “Let’s leave Red for the law.” His quiet command halted Seth’s progress, but it didn’t restrain Seth’s tongue.
“Red Fallon, I’m gonna nail your ugly hide to the barn door if you ever get near Sarah again,” he threatened.
“And I’ll hand him the hammer and nails!” Matt paused. “That’s not all. One more stunt like this, and we’ll sic the Diamond S on you. Brett and the boys think a powerful lot of Sarah. They’ve had a craw full of you and your shenanigans. Some of the outfit’s already rarin’ to take a piece out of your hide.” Matt’s voice grew deadly. “I can’t rightly say I could stop them if they made up their minds to have a necktie party—with you as the guest of honor.”
“Yeah,” Seth Anderson put in. “There’s this big ol’ cottonwood just out of town. A great place for a hanging.”
Red’s face turned a sickly yellow. He reached for his gun, but Matt nimbly kicked it out of his hand. “Seth, go fetch Sheriff Meade.” Matt knew he’d better keep his young friend as far away from Red Fallon as he could for now.
From her position across the disturbed room, Sarah felt torn between relief that the sheriff would come soon and a horrid fascination with the explosive situation. Did Matt and Seth mean the cowboys would hang Red? Seeing their wrath, she believed it could happen. Even in the short time she had been in Madera, Sarah had learned about the code of the West. The unwritten law carried harsh consequences. According to articles in the Expositor newspaper, it could even mean a death sentence for men who insulted decent girls and women as Red had insulted her.
“Not all the varmints out here are four-legged,” Abby had warned. “The code of the West is what protects girls like you and me from the two-legged kind.”
A new thought struck Sarah. Would Matt and Seth’s Christian principles, especially the commandment “Thou shalt not kill,” be able to deter the two men she loved if Red transgressed again?
Will yours, an inner voice demanded, when the pain Red inflicted and the fear of it sometime happening again make you want to shout, “Hang him! I’ll get the rope!”
Sarah had been angry and helpless when Gus ill-treated her, but she’d never wished him dead. Now the realization of what she was capable of thinking appalled her. For the first time she realized the wickedness of feelings generated by hate. Feelings she wouldn’t have dreamed possible lurked beneath her calico gown.
Jesus, forgive me. You said, “Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and… no murderer hath eternal life abiding in him.” I am so sorry!
Sick at heart from learning what lay hidden in her soul, Sarah was still aware when Sheriff Meade arrived and handcuffed Red. She roused from her misery when the sheriff said, “You can cool your heels in jail, Red. This time you’ve gone too far.” He wheeled toward the distraught girl. “I’ll need you to sign a statement, Miss Sarah. Once you do, this skunk won’t bother you again. There’s not a jury in the state that won’t hand down a guilty verdict when they hear how he roughed you up.”
The vision of a lifeless figure hanging from the limb of a cottonwood tree made Sarah shudder. She licked suddenly dry lips. If a jury sentenced Red to death, he would leave this world and enter into a greater punishment than she could bear, no matter how much he deserved it. “Just make him go away,” she whispered. “I don’t want his blood on my hands.”
Seth gave a murmur of protest, and Sheriff Meade’s eyebrows shot skyward. “You won’t press charges?”
She mutely shook her head.
“But Sarah—”
“No, Seth. Let him go.” She looked from her brother to Matt, who stood as if turned to stone. His dark blue gaze bored into Sarah. She unflinchingly met it, knowing he held Red’s life in his hands. Even if she didn’t press charges, Matt’s testimony of what he had seen would condemn the cowboy. A minute passed. Two. Sarah’s heart pounded like cannon fire.
What felt like an eternity later, Matt took a ragged breath and whirled toward Red. “She’s saved your bacon, Fallon. Get out of the valley, and don’t come back.”
Some of the color returned to Red’s face. He rubbed the darkening bruise on his jaw and silently stalked out past the sheriff, leaving Sarah haunted by his venomous look. It shouted more clearly than words: This ain’t over. Not by a long shot.
Summer passed, then September. Although vigilant as ever, Sarah began to relax. There had been no sign that Gus or Tice was anywhere in the area. Red had mercifully disappeared, at least for the time being. Sarah liked her job, her co-workers, and especially the warmhearted Captain Mace. She felt she had found a home in Madera.
Matt Sterling dined at the hotel more often than he did at home. Soon the entire town suspected he had fallen for pretty Sarah Anderson. She endured the teasing from her fellow workers, yet the blush that colored her cheeks each time the faithful customer entered the dining room was more than mere embarrassment. So was the swi
ft beating of her heart when Matt sat down at her table. The only real embarrassment was the size of his tips. Sarah finally accepted an invitation from Matt to walk her home from church services one Sunday. Just maybe it would be God’s plan that she become part of Matt’s life.
Late that fall while the Diamond S crew was out rounding up strays, shots rang out and Seth slumped over in his saddle. He had been seriously wounded by an unknown assailant. Matt thought his heart would break when Brett and the boys packed Seth in. Oh God, please save him, Matt prayed. This is like losing Robbie all over again. How can I tell Sarah? I’m responsible for her brother. She trusted me to take care of him. Now Seth may die because he’s working for me. Even if this is Red Fallon’s revenge, it can’t be proved. No one’s seen hide nor hair of Red in weeks.
Seth’s injuries were so dangerous that when Doc Brown arrived from Madera and examined the young man, he flatly stated, “He’s in no condition to be moved to town. The trip would kill him. Go get his sister. He needs to be cared for here.”
Dreading the confrontation with Sarah, Matt rode as he had never ridden before. When he reached the Yosemite Hotel, he told Captain Mace what had happened and asked him to summon Sarah. Her puzzled expression when she entered the office quickly changed to fear when Matt said, “I have some bad news. Seth has been…” He paused and considered his words. “Hurt,” he finished.
Her lips quivered then set in a straight line. “How badly?”
“Enough for you to take a leave of absence and come out to the Diamond S to help Solita and me care for him,” he told her bluntly.
Captain Mace wholeheartedly agreed. “The road to Yosemite will be closing soon for the winter, so I won’t need you. Take good care of Seth. Your job will be waiting for you when you return in the spring.”
If she returns, Matt thought. If I have my way, Sarah Joy Anderson will be Mrs. Matthew Sterling by the time the road opens again. He wisely kept his thoughts to himself. With Seth so badly hurt, this was no time to openly pursue Sarah.
“It won’t take me long to pack,” she said. “I can’t wait to see Seth. He’s not going to die, is he?” Terror darkened her blue eyes.
Matt wouldn’t lie, so he merely said, “He’s sure to get better when he sees you,” and let it go at that.
On the way to the ranch Sarah hunkered down in the carriage and announced, “I will earn my keep by helping Solita when I’m not needed to nurse Seth. That’s how it’s going to be. Period.” The tilt of her sturdy chin showed she meant what she said.
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re as stubborn as a mule?” Matt asked. To his amazement Sarah burst out in a chime of laughter that made the high-stepping horses’ ears prick up.
“Oh yes—a Missouri mule!”
Matt grinned, outwitted and more in love than ever. God willing, that was where she would always be: close beside him for the rest of their lives.
Chapter 16
Apall lay over the Diamond S equal to when first the elder Sterlings then young Robbie died. Now Seth Anderson’s life hung in the balance. Everyone on the ranch had learned to admire and respect the plucky tenderfoot who made good. Under the capable direction of Brett Owen, life went on but not as usual. The outfit walked softly, hoping and praying for Seth but knowing how little likelihood there was of him recovering. One of the bullets that felled Seth had lodged close to his heart. The ranch held its collective breath until Doc Brown dug it out.
The rejoicing was brief. The operation took far longer than even Doc Brown expected. Seth pulled through but remained unconscious. The shock of the surgery to his body and the loss of blood he’d sustained had left him so weak even Sarah wondered if he would live. Once the doctor operated—ably assisted by Matt and Solita, with Sarah hovering outside the bedroom-turned-operating room—Sarah refused to leave Seth’s side. Only when her body refused to keep vigil and forced her to her room for a few hours of uneasy sleep would she desert her post.
Haggard from worry, Matt faithfully remained on duty as well. He and Sarah spent hours with Seth, asking God to spare the life of the boy they loved. They soon noticed Seth’s fingers stopped plucking the sheets at the sound of their voices in prayer. “Try quoting scripture to him,” Matt suggested.
Sarah again blessed her parents for instilling in their children the truths of the Bible. If Seth could hear her voice, he would surely recognize the verses, perhaps even receive comfort from them. Besides, Doc Brown admitted no one knew how much an unconscious person grasped.
“I’ve read about cases where patients came out of a coma and repeated things they’d heard, even when they couldn’t speak,” he gruffly told them. “Anything that quiets Seth is good.”
So while her brother hovered close to death’s door, Sarah held his hand and quoted scriptures, praying they would reach through the curtain that kept Seth from awakening.
“ ‘In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’
“ ‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.’
“ ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you….’ ”
When Sarah’s voice threatened to give out, Matt took over. The weary girl rested her head on one hand and let the stories of those whom Jesus had made whole flow over her like a healing stream. She prayed for Seth to hear them—especially the story where Jesus commanded the man with the palsy to take up his bed and walk.
Matt finished reading, bowed his head, and said, “Lord, we know that You love Seth even more than we do.” He reached across the bed and took Sarah’s hand in one of his own. “We ask You to spare our brother’s life.” He paused, as if struggling to go on. When he did, his voice broke. “Nevertheless, Thy will, not ours, be done.” The last word was barely audible.
Sarah felt a lump the size of a windmill leap to her throat. The agony in Matt’s voice showed how much it cost him to relinquish Seth into God’s care. Matt is stronger than I am, she thought. Seth is my sole remaining link to our once-happy home. I’m sorry, God, but I just don’t want You to take Seth. He’s all I have left.
Sarah’s confession brought relief, but she added, If it is Your will, Lord, please make me willing to accept it. That’s as far as I can go right now.
Seth lingered between life and death for several more days. Then one afternoon, the overworked Doc Brown told Matt, Sarah, and Solita, “He’s going to make it. His fever’s gone, and he shows signs of regaining consciousness. Don’t thank me,” he barked when Sarah started to speak. “I’m just a rough old sawbones. The Almighty had a hand on Seth, or he wouldn’t still be alive. I’ve a sneakin’ hunch all the prayin’ and readin’ from the Good Book did their part, too.”
Doc cleared his throat and shook a bony finger at the three. “Once awake, Seth will want to get up. Keep him in bed if you have to hog-tie him! He’s going to need the same watchin’ over he’s been getting.”
Too overcome with hope and joy to reply, Sarah felt tears of relief spill down her cheeks.
Not so for Matt and Solita. Matt’s quick “Don’t worry, he’ll get it” was drowned out by the Mexican housekeeper’s fervent “Dios be praised! I will care for Senor Seth the way I cared for Matelito and Dolores.” A flood made glistening tracks down her round brown face.
“You’ll probably spoil him rotten,” Matt told Solita. His obvious attempt to lighten the moment and drive away the shadows that lurked in Sarah’s eyes brought a look of gratitude and a small smile. How would she have lived through the ordeal without him?
“No wonder Seth idolizes Matt,” she told herself after Doc Brown ordered her away for a sorely needed rest. She fell into the deepest, most refreshing sleep she had known since she arrived at the Diamond S and didn’t awake until Solita shook her hours later.
“Come quickly, senorita.” The housekeeper’s face shone like a brown full moon. “Dios is good. Senor Seth is awake!”
Sarah sprang from her bed and barreled into Seth’s room. Ma
tt stood by the bed, one hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Don’t try to talk,” he advised the groggy young man. “You were shot. God and Doc took care of you. Now you need to rest. There’s plenty of time to talk later. ”
Seth looked from Matt to Sarah. A wan smile crossed his pale face, and his eyes closed again. But Sarah dropped to her knees beside his bed and thanked God.
With the good news about Seth, joy descended on the ranch like rain from heaven. The Mexican workers played their guitars and sang again. The cowboys let off steam in a dozen different ways: playing tricks on one another and bragging, “Sho, we knew all along that Seth wouldn’t die from any ol’ bullet. He’s too tough to let a little thing like that get him down.”
Their antics delighted Sarah and showed better than anything else could have done in what high esteem the outfit held her brother.
Seth grew stronger with each day. For the first time, Sarah had time to appreciate the ranch. Compared with life in St. Louis, Sarah had considered living in Madera close to heaven. Now she discovered life on the Diamond S was even better. She fell in love with everything about the ranch: the grinning cowboys who surreptitiously eyed her then blushed when she caught them; the dark-eyed vaqueros; the horses in the corral; the distant Sierra Nevada. Most of all, Solita. Sarah loved listening to the housekeeper’s warm tales of Matt’s little sister, Dori, and his brother, Robbie.
One day Solita rolled her expressive eyes and pounded down a huge mound of bread dough. “Dolores means sorrowful. She brings sorrow to those who displease her or stand in the way of what she wants. She is not bad,” Solita hastily added, “just filled with mischief. I am to blame. She is like my own muchacha and so beautiful it is hard to deny her anything.” She sighed, and her hands stilled. “Dori saw an advertisement in a magazine for Brookside Finishing School for Young Ladies in Boston. She pleaded and cried. I reminded Senor Mateo that Senora Sterling would be glad for her daughter to attend such a school.” Solita sighed. “He spent much money getting a place for her, and I almost wished I had not urged him to do so. Our casa seemed empty until Senor Seth came. Then Senor Mateo and I, we laugh again.” She shot a keen look at Sarah and innocently added, “He also laughs much now that you come to California, senorita.”
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