Who would have thought the frightened girl who fled from St. Louis would be teaching school on a cattle ranch in California a few months later?
Sarah smiled to herself. Her original ten students had grown to sixteen. After the first few sessions, Carmelita’s mother had shyly asked Senor Mateo if “the good Senorita Sarah, who so kindly teaches the muchachos, will also teach the senoras English?” Sarah was aghast. Teaching children was one thing. Teaching their mothers was a different story. Yet the eagerness in the brown-skinned faces awaiting her answer went straight to Sarah’s tender heart. These Mexican women were God’s children, too. How could she deny them the joy of learning?
She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. “Sí.” All the electric lights that glowed in St. Louis couldn’t match the brightness in the women’s faces—but the greater reward was Sarah’s. The scripture from Luke 6 rang in her ears each time she saw the women struggling to master English and saw their toil-worn fingers painstakingly copying words on the extra slates Matt provided: “Give, and it shall be given unto you….For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again.”
When she mentioned it to Matt, he quietly said, “We can never out give God, Sarah.” He smiled with such obvious approval and love that Sarah felt warmed through and through.
Now as the buggy neared Madera, she silently prayed, Lord, I am so glad I was able to sow seeds of Christianity during the time I worked at the Yosemite Hotel. I pray they will begin to bear good fruit in the lives of my new friends. She reflected on how much she had learned to love the country and how much Matt had come to mean in her life. A small smile crept up from her heart. Thank You, God, for bringing me to California. She turned to Curly with a bright remark, and they visited the rest of the way to Madera.
Once there, Sarah could hardly wait to see her friends. They left the buggy in a shady grove at the edge of town and agreed to start home around noon.
The din of the metal bar drumming on the triangle announcing the midday meal sounded shortly after Matt rode in from several hours of checking fences.
“About time,” Seth complained. “My stomach feels so empty it thinks my throat’s been cut.”
“Good sign.” Matt slapped his dusty Stetson against his boot tops. “If I don’t get cleaned up before dinner, Solita will clean my clock.” He strode up the wide steps. “Sarah back yet?”
“Naw.” Seth raised one eyebrow. “She probably couldn’t get away from the girls at the Yosemite Hotel.”
“Probably,” Matt agreed. But when two o’clock came, he lounged on the shady porch and stared at the road to Madera, nervous as a Mexican jumping bean. Seth had long since settled down for an afternoon siesta, obviously untroubled by his sister’s absence.
“Don’t be stupid,” Matt told himself. “Nothing can happen to Sarah when Curly’s with her.” It didn’t help. And when a lathered horse and wild-eyed rider charged into the yard, Matt cleared the porch steps in one leap.
“Doc Brown says you gotta come quick!” Freckle-faced Johnny Foster gasped for breath. “Curly’s hurt bad. He was found knocked out cold in an alley. Nobody knows how long he’d been there.”
Heart thundering, Matt grabbed Johnny’s shoulder. “What about Sarah?”
“Seth’s sister?” Johnny looked surprised. “I don’t know anything about her.”
In the time it took to saddle Chase and a fresh horse for Johnny, something inside Matt died.
Every pound of the horses’ hooves on the way to Madera echoed the beat of his worried heart. “Lord,” he prayed, low enough that Johnny couldn’t hear, “You know my life will be meaningless without Sarah. Please be with her, wherever she is.”
It seemed like a century before they reached Madera and Doc Brown. Curly had just regained consciousness, face pale beneath a heavy bandage around his head.
“Where’s Sarah?” Matt challenged.
“Sarah?” Curly groggily shook his head and winced. “Probably still at the hotel. I remember starting to meet her before noon. I passed an alley and woke up here in Doc’s office….”
Matt was already rushing for the door, heart in his throat. God, is Sarah at the hotel? If so, surely she would have heard about Curly and gotten word to me! Fortunately Abby was on duty.
“Sarah? She went to meet Curly just before noon,” Abby said. “Maybe they stopped off to see someone.”
Fear spurted. “Who does Sarah know?” Matt demanded.
Abby laughed. “Everyone knows and loves Sarah. She could be at the post office or the minister’s or—”
“Thanks,” Matt cut in. He forced a smile over the rising suspicion that something was terribly wrong. Not everyone loved Sarah. He could name three without thinking: Gus Stoddard, Tice Edwards, Red Fallon. Well, Stoddard and Edwards were far away, but Red might still be around.
Matt felt sick. He turned on his heel and headed for the sheriff ’s office. “Whoever knocked Curly out did it for a reason,” he told Sheriff Meade. “I’m dead sure that reason is Sarah.”
A thorough search of the small town turned up no sign of the young woman or the buggy. The sheriff hastily organized a posse. The questioning of citizens began in earnest. No one had seen or heard a thing about Sarah.
Helplessness fell on Matt like a saddle blanket on Chase’s back. There were no clues to Sarah’s disappearance. Matt only knew she hadn’t taken the road back to the ranch. He would have passed her on his way to Madera. Sick at heart, he bowed his head. His anguish-filled mind repeated over and over, Where is Sarah?
Sarah had a wonderful time visiting with her friends at the Yosemite Hotel, including Captain Russell Perry Mace. The captain’s hints about what an exemplary man Matthew Sterling was and the assurance her job would be open in the spring “if she needed it” failed to get a commitment from Sarah. His words did, however, make her anxious to get back to the ranch. Her reflections during her ride into town had helped Sarah realize her feelings for Matt were genuine and did not spring from a desire to escape from Tice. Her prayers had led her to believe that Matt was the man with whom God wanted her to spend the rest of her life. Matthew had patiently given her the time she requested to be sure, but now she couldn’t wait to tell him she had never been more certain of anything in her life. Her heart felt lighter than a spring morning. Was any woman ever so blessed as she?
When Curly didn’t come for her at the appointed time, Sarah figured he must have misunderstood their meeting place and would be waiting for her at the buggy. She strolled to the grove of shade trees at the edge of town. The buggy sat waiting. The carriage horse, tethered so he could graze, nickered a welcome, but there was no sign of Curly.
Sarah laughed and hitched the horse to the buggy. “Curly probably ran into a friend and lost track of time,” she mused. “He will be along soon.” She sat down in the shade and closed her eyes, lost in anticipation of seeing Matt soon.
Her joy was short-lived. All too soon, a coarse voice interrupted her reverie.
“Well, lookee who’s here.”
Sarah’s eyes jerked open. Red Fallon grinned down at her from atop his black horse. There was no mistaking his coarse red hair, beard, and leering face.
Sarah’s ballooning spirits fell to the ground as if punctured.
“I want a word with you.”
A spurt of fear shot through Sarah. She looked around for help, but no one was in sight. “I have nothing to say to you.” She stood then sprang into the buggy. Lightly flicking the horse with the reins, she urged him forward.
Her attempt to escape was futile. Red vaulted to the ground and onto the buggy seat in two gigantic leaps. Then he pulled a pistol. “None of that, missy. I’d as soon knock you out as look at you.” He snatched up the reins with his free hand, leaving his mount to follow behind. “I reckon I’ll ride a piece with you.”
Red whipped the horse, and they sped away from town—at far too fast a pace for Sarah to risk jumping from the rig.
When Sarah c
ould find her voice, she summoned her iciest manner. “I demand an explanation. Why are you doing this?”
Red smiled wickedly. “Just doing my job,” he mumbled.
Doing his job? A horrid feeling engulfed Sarah. It couldn’t be! Surely Gus and Tice were not involved in her abduction. Here? After all these months? It seemed impossible that they would have followed her all the way to Madera and then been able to keep their presence a secret.
Determined to learn the worst, Sarah pushed for the truth. “And just what is this job?” she demanded.
“I met some men from St. Louis, old friends of your’n, in Fresno,” he bragged. “Yore daddy and your heartbroken fiancé—Edwards, isn’t it? What’d you mean runnin’ off like that?” He didn’t wait for a reply but rambled on, obviously getting perverse pleasure from the situation. Every word from his cruel mouth brought despair.
“No one makes a fool outa Red Fallon,” he sneered. “I alwuz git even.” He whipped the horse into a dead run, and his eyes gleamed.
A few miles south of Madera, Red halted the buggy. Standing in the middle of the road was a horse-drawn coach and two men: Gus Stoddard and Tice Edwards smiling in a way that curdled Sarah’s blood.
Tice yanked her out of the buggy. “I’ve lost a lot of time and money tracking you down,” he shouted, “more than you’re worth.”
Sarah felt sick. Her heart fluttered in fear. “How did you find me?” she whispered.
He sneered. “Gus found a barely legible letter from Seth under your bed.” Sarah gasped. Seth’s missing letter!
Tice cursed. “Unfortunately there were no clues to his whereabouts. Worse, the postmark was so blurred that all we could make out was M-a-something, California.”
Tice shook his fist in Sarah’s face. “Have you any idea how much it costs to send telegrams to ‘Seth Anderson,’ in care of every post office in California that starts with the letters M and a?”
He blew out a breath as putrid as himself. “None of them did any good. We’ve spent weeks crisscrossing this rotten state. If we hadn’t run across Fallon when we stopped at a saloon in Fresno on our way here, we’d still be looking for you. When we’re back in St. Louis, you’ll pay, Sarah Anderson!”
She shuddered. Any true feelings the man might have had for her had clearly worn away over the past months. Only Tice’s pride and Gus’s outstanding gambling debt had kept them searching for the ungrateful girl. Clenching her fingers until the nails bit into the palms of her hands, Sarah defied them. “I am not going back to St. Louis. And I will never be your wife.”
“Oh, I think you will,” Tice said silkily. He reached into his waistcoat, brought out a goodly amount of money, and thrust it at Red. “Here you are. If anyone asks what’s become of Sarah, tell them her father and her husband came to get her.”
Red’s jaw dropped. “Husband! And her carryin’ on with Matt Sterling? Well, whadda you know!”
“Oh yes.” Tice took out a paper and flourished it before Red’s amazed eyes. “See? A marriage certificate, all signed and proper. Wonder what your Matt Sterling’s going to say when he hears he’s been courting a married woman?”
Chapter 20
Tice Edwards waved the sham marriage certificate under Sarah’s nose. Triumph and hatred made his eyes more snakelike than ever. “Did you hear that, Mrs. Edwards? You think you’re such a high and mighty Christian, better than honest men like your daddy and me. Bah!” He spat in the dusty road. “According to Fallon here, you’ve been acting all sweet and available, all the while being my wife.” He donned a pious expression that made Sarah’s stomach lurch. “Good thing Gus and I found you when we did. Sounds like we got here just before you up and married this Sterling in spite of already having a husband.”
Gus Stoddard let out a coarse “haw haw.” The delight in Red Fallon’s gloating face was enough to send arrows of fear winging into Sarah’s heart. Never in her life had she encountered such evil. Yet part of her wanted to shriek with laughter at Tice’s hypocrisy, although the knowledge that his slick tongue could charm a den of rattlesnakes added terror to her situation. What should she do? She was no match for even one of these wicked men, let alone the three together in cahoots against her.
A heavily marked verse in Virginia Anderson’s Bible flashed into Sarah’s mind: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” It was so strong it swept away some of Sarah’s fear. Isaiah 54:17 quickly followed, the beloved verse Sarah had relied on in her wild flight from St. Louis to Madera: “No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper….This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord.”
A silent prayer shot skyward. God, I have submitted myself to You. I am Your servant. I claim Your promise, which is my heritage. I don’t know how You are going to free me, but I trust that You will. Perhaps even now Matthew and the outfit are looking for me. In the meantime…
Tice roughly grabbed Sarah’s shoulder. “Well?” The word cracked like a rifle shot. “What have you to say for yourself?”
Red Fallon cackled. “More like a mountain lion when you get her riled.” He rubbed the cheek that had worn the prints of Sarah’s fingers.
Tice’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “All the better. More fun to tame her that way.”
The men’s suggestive laughter sent fury cascading through Sarah. She tore herself away from Tice’s painful grip, opened her mouth to shrivel them with words then stopped. A plan had popped into her head with the speed of a bullet. There was a far better way. She turned her back on Tice and Red. If the idea were to work, it must be through Gus. He loved money more than anything in the world. Could she play on his greed?
“I know I’ve caused you a lot of trouble,” she told him.
Gus’s mouth gaped, disclosing his stained teeth, but she rushed on.
“I can make it up to you, Gus.”
Her stepfather’s disbelieving snort boded no good for Sarah’s plan. “You can make it up to me by marryin’ Tice. You shoulda done it in the first place ’nsteada runnin’ off out here.”
Sarah drew herself to her full height. “Matthew Sterling is the owner of the Diamond S Ranch, the biggest spread in the valley. He’s rich and the most respected man in this part of the state. If you release me, he will pay you far more than Tice will ever give you. I promise you that.”
Tice bellowed with rage, but Sarah saw the telltale avarice spring to Gus’s eyes. “What makes you think this rancher would do that for the likes o’ you?” he said suspiciously.
“Matt will do whatever it takes to get me back.” Knowledge it was true rang in every word. If it took everything Matt Sterling possessed, he would gladly give it away to free her.
Gus turned to Tice. “If he’s that rich, it might not be a bad idee,” he tentatively said. “You can get any woman you want, and we wouldn’t have a kidnapping charge hangin’ over our heads.”
“Kidnapping!” Red Fallon cursed. “You didn’t say anythin’ about this bein’ a kidnapping. Is she your wife or ain’t she?”
“Sure she is,” Tice lied. “Can’t you tell she’s just trying to work us against each other? She’s having pipe dreams about Sterling. Besides, if he’s all that respectable and looked up to, he’s not going to pay out good money when he finds it’s for another man’s wife.”
A surge of courage caused Sarah to say, “Don’t believe him, Red. It’s a wicked lie. I am not his wife, and Gus Stoddard isn’t my father. He sold me to Tice to pay his gambling debts.”
Her hopes of enlisting Red’s aid died aborning. He raised one eyebrow and said, “I reckon I’ll believe the feller what paid me for helpin’ him.” He held out a soiled paw and solemnly shook Tice’s smooth hand then smirked at Sarah. He quickly mounted the black horse that had followed behind Matt’s horse and buggy. “So long, Sarah Anderson Edwards. I’ll make sure to announce yore marriage,” he mockingly called as he rode back the way he had brought Sarah.
Sarah was aghast. With him went all hope f
or escape. Even if Gus believed Matt would pay a ransom for her, he was too weak to stand up against Tice. Once they got to Fresno, Gus and Tice would hustle her aboard the train. All would be lost. If she tried to enlist help, they would produce the forged marriage certificate and make up some plausible story about her not being well and unable to know what she was saying.
“We better get outa here,” Gus muttered, peering fearfully into the rapidly falling shadows. “If Sarah ain’t lyin’ about Sterling, we may have a posse on our trail.”
Tice shoved Sarah inside the coach, waited for Gus to climb aboard, then jumped to the driver’s seat and urged the horses faster and faster through the darkening evening. The two lighted lanterns barely gave enough light to penetrate the growing gloom that hovered between sunset and the appearance of moon or stars, but Tice didn’t slow the horses. He whipped them unmercifully and swore when they could run no faster.
Sarah clung to the side of the rocking coach to keep from being tossed about. Where would it all end? They rounded a sharp turn. Sarah screamed.
A deer stood in the middle of the road, transfixed by the lantern light.
The horses whinnied and reared. “Get out of the way, you—” A string of curses followed. Tice lost control of the carriage. It slammed into a boulder at the side of the road and overturned.
Sarah’s last conscious thought as she was hurled from the coach was a silent cry: This is the end, God. At least You saved me from Tice. I’m just sorry I never got to tell Matt how much I care for him.
Earlier that day Matt and Sheriff Meade and his posse had conducted a thorough search for Sarah. It was no use. She had vanished as if spirited away by the wind. Tired and discouraged they turned back to town.
While they were riding down the street, Evan Moore rushed into the street and waved them down.
“Red Fallon’s in the saloon. He’s spinning a yarn about getting even with you and the tenderfoot you took in.” Dread etched deep lines in the postmaster’s face. “I’m afraid it might have something to do with Miss Sarah being missing.”
California Romance Page 14
