Heart of the Rockies Collection

by Kathleen Morgan

  “Nor nearly as many either,” Sarah said, mentally counting. “Actually, Danny’s done the best ever since he came to live here. And I’ve got you to thank for that.”

  His guarded expression softened. “For a long while now, I haven’t begrudged either you or Danny a place here. You know that, Sarah.”

  The same generosity, she well knew, wouldn’t be extended to her father and other two brothers. Indeed, Cord seemed intent on never offering any help to them. But why should he? All they’d ever done was try to harm him in some way or another, slapping aside any and all overtures he’d made to ease the tension and hard feelings.

  Yet something about his unwillingness to forgive nagged at her . . .

  “I know, and I’ve always appreciated your kindness to us, Cord,” Sarah said, forcing the uneasy thoughts back into the recesses of her mind. “Truly, I have.”

  His gaze warmed. “I’m sorry for yesterday’s outburst. It didn’t have to come out quite so angry and hard.”

  “You were tired. I should’ve waited to speak about it till later.”

  Cord’s hands, lifting to take her by the arms, fell back at his sides. “Maybe so, but waiting would’ve only spared you my anger. It wouldn’t have changed my decision.”

  Somehow, Sarah had known that. Still, having it confirmed hurt. The sense of pending reconciliation faded. The chasm forming between them widened yet a bit more.

  “Well, be that as it may,” she forced herself to say, “I do have another favor to ask of you.”

  “And that favor is?” By the look on his face, Sarah knew he was girding himself for yet another refusal.

  “When were you planning on going next to town?”

  “This afternoon. It looks like the sun is about to peek through the clouds, and the snow is starting to let up too. Why?”

  “I’d like to go with you, if you don’t mind.” She paused, gathering all her courage for the next part of her request. “I need to see my father and brother.”

  Cord’s expression hardened. She could feel him emotionally withdraw even as he stepped back from her.

  “Please, Cord. I can’t just turn my back on them, no matter what they’ve done. Please try and understand.”

  “And I’ve no right or desire to keep you from them, if that’s what you want. It’s always been your choice, Sarah. Just know that you’re not the only one stretched pretty thin right about now. Just remember that.”

  “I know, Cord.” Pain twisted in her breast. “I know.”

  He eyed her intently for a long moment. “Do you?” he softly asked. “Do you really?”

  Not awaiting her reply, Cord turned and walked away.

  14

  Heart pounding, Sarah paused outside Ashton’s jail. She shot Cord, standing beside her, a quick, sideways glance. His expression was hard, his jaw set.

  He’s not looking forward to this visit any more than I am, if for perhaps different reasons.

  For a fleeting instant, Sarah considered asking him to take her home. Back to the safe, secure life she’d been building at the ranch. A part of her—a big part—dreaded what was next to come, and the impact it might have on what seemed to be their rapidly shredding relationship.

  But another part impelled her to forge ahead. The part of her that still cared for her father and brothers. The part that still clung to the faint hope of reconciliation and, somehow, some way, reparation.

  “Nothing good can come of this, Sarah,” Cord said just then, turning to look at her. “Your father’s beyond saving.”

  Her gaze narrowed. Anger filled her. “No one’s beyond saving. If God wills it—”

  “Even God can’t save your father from his well-deserved punishment!” he spat out, fury burning now in his eyes. “Leastwise, not while he’s still on this earth anyway.”

  He says that because of what happened to his own father. A father he seemed to hate until just a short while before his death.

  An impulse to point out the contradiction in Cord’s sudden change of heart swept through Sarah, and she almost uttered the words. But something held her back.

  What purpose was served heaping pain upon pain? Someone had to be merciful, to see past all the anger and hatred to what truly mattered. To find Christ and His love somewhere in all of this.

  A sense of peace flooded her. She reached out, laid a hand on Cord’s arm.

  “I just need to do this. Maybe it won’t accomplish anything, won’t make any difference to my father or Noah. But I need to do it. Please, just stand by me.”

  His dark gaze bored into her, and she saw myriad emotions flash by. Doubt, love, confusion, and fear.

  But fear of what? she wondered. Why is a simple visit to my father and brother a source of fear for him? Does he also sense the rift widening between us? Is he equally as terrified that he might lose me as I am of losing him?

  With all her heart, Sarah wanted to reassure him that nothing would ever come between them and their love. But right now she wasn’t so sure anymore. Gazing up at him, she felt like she was almost with a stranger.

  “Fine.” Cord clipped out the word. “If you’re so set on making yourself even more miserable, who am I to get in your way?” He turned from her, gripped the doorknob, and twisted it, shoving open the door. “Ladies first,” he said, indicating she should enter before him.

  It wasn’t the response she’d been hoping for, but Sarah decided this wasn’t the time or place to belabor the details. She squared her shoulders and walked inside.

  Gabe looked up from the woodstove in the far corner, where, pot in hand, he was pouring himself a mug of coffee. Sam Hayden sat nearby at his desk, reading a book. The warmth of the room felt good after the frigid cold outside. As Cord entered behind her and closed the door, Sarah removed her gloves, wool coat, and hat.

  “I figured you’d be paying a visit sooner or later,” the lawman said. He lifted his mug. “Want some coffee to warm you up?”

  “No, thank you.” Sarah glanced to the door that led to the back room and jail cells. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather just see my father and brother.”

  “Sure.” He paused, eyeing her. “I’m assuming you don’t have any knives or a gun hidden on you?”

  She blushed. She hadn’t considered the possibility that her motives for visiting her family might be suspected.

  “No, I don’t.” Sarah firmly shook her head. “Nor any files or dynamite to break them out either.”

  Gabe gestured in the direction of the cells. “Then have at it.”

  She nodded in wordless gratitude, then headed across the room.

  “How about you, Cord?” she heard Gabe ask as she opened the door and walked inside, taking care to leave the door partially askew so Gabe and Cord would know she had nothing to hide in her visit with her father and brother. “Care for some coffee?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” was Cord’s reply.

  Sarah found her father and Noah in the farthest of the four cells in the long, narrow room. At her entrance, both men looked up. Surprise registered on Noah’s bruised and battered face. Strangely, though, her father’s glance was calm, almost as if he’d fully expected her to come.

  A small stool stood in the corner outside their cell, and Sarah pulled it over and sat. For a long moment, she shifted her gaze from her father to her brother, then back again.

  Her father looked ill, his skin a pasty color, his lips blue-tinged, his breathing ragged. He had become increasingly short of breath in the past year or so, and suffered at times from swollen feet and ankles, but Sarah had never seen him look this bad. Fear clutched her heart, squeezing it in a painful grip.

  “Papa, what’s wrong with you? Have you been to see Doc—”

  “Is it true?” her father asked of a sudden, cutting her off. “Are you engaged to that tinhorn Wainwright’s younger son?”

  Of all the things she might have expected her father to say, this was the last question she would’ve anticipated.

 
“Yes, I am engaged to Cord,” Sarah replied, realizing there was no point served in prevarication. “He’s been very kind to Danny and me and, in time, I found myself falling in love with him.”

  Noah sighed loudly and shook his head. “I never would’ve thought that of you, Sarah. Selling yourself to the highest bidder, I mean.” He looked to his father. “We should’ve never involved her in that robbery, Pa. We’ve gone and lost our sweet, innocent little Sarah.”

  “Now, wait just one minute.” This conversation was veering far off course. She wasn’t here to defend her actions but to get them to change and repent of theirs. “For one thing, I haven’t sold myself to the Wainwrights, and I’m just as innocent as I was that day I came into town with you, Papa, to get that medicine for Danny. The Wainwrights have treated me with respect and kindness”—since it really didn’t add to the essential truth of her story, she decided to omit the first few days of her captivity—“and Cord and his brother Nick have always, always been the perfect gentlemen.

  “But I didn’t come here to discuss my choice of a husband,” Sarah then continued, “nor is it what really matters right now. You’re both in jail and soon to stand trial for robbing the Wainwrights, not to mention cattle rustling. And you’re my family and I love you. I came to see how you were, if you need anything.”

  Jacob Caldwell once more stirred to life. “What do you have of your own, girl, that hasn’t been given to you by the Wainwrights? And do you think we’d ever accept anything from those cheating, thieving varmints?”

  Exasperation filled her. “It’s long past time, Papa, that you stop calling the Wainwrights thieves and cheats. What you and my brothers have been doing of late is far, far more serious. So serious that you, especially, might suffer far worse than just going to prison.”

  Her father shrugged. “Well, then you’d be well rid of me, wouldn’t you? You could forget you ever were a Caldwell, up in that fine house on that fine ranch that was stolen from your papa.”

  “Don’t say that!” Sarah leaned forward and clasped the iron cell bars separating her from them. “I love you, and I always will. But you’ve got to stop this crazy vendetta before it destroys us all.”

  “Destroys your chances of marrying into the Wainwrights, you mean,” he said with a derisive snort.

  “No.” She fixed her gaze on him. “Whether Cord and I can get past all this hatred and turmoil isn’t what matters here. What matters is what you’re doing to our family. Rather than return the money you stole, you chose instead to desert Danny and me. If anyone sold anyone out, that’s what you did to us. And look what’s become of Caleb and Noah. You’ve turned them into robbers and cattle rustlers, with Noah now facing prison and Caleb all alone and on the run. Not to mention what this life did to Mama, aging her beyond her years until she finally sickened and died!”

  “Don’t you ever speak so of your mother!” Jacob screamed, lunging at her.

  In her effort to evade her father’s hands, curved into claws, stretching toward her through the cell bars, Sarah toppled off her stool. Cord, followed by Gabe, rushed into the room.

  His face dark with fury, Cord stalked down the aisle and helped Sarah to her feet. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, he didn’t hurt me. I’m fine. Papa just startled me, and I tipped over the stool.” She managed a lame little smile. “Guess I wasn’t sitting on it as squarely as I should’ve.”

  “Yeah, maybe not,” Cord replied, not appearing at all convinced. He turned to face Jacob, who was still standing there looking as if he wanted nothing more than to throttle Cord if he could’ve only reached him. “Just keep the shouting and threats down, Caldwell. There’s no cause to treat Sarah that way.”

  “You’re right,” the older man snarled. “I should save it for you, corrupter of innocent young women.”

  Gabe walked over and took Cord by the arm. “Come on. It’s best you not be in here right now.”

  “Or ever,” Cord said, his eyes glittering. “Old man or not, I don’t know what I’d do if I got my hands on him.” He looked to Sarah. “One more outburst like that from your father, and I’m taking you home.”

  She knew he was only saying that because he was upset with how her father had yelled at her, not to mention all the pent-up anger he must feel toward her father for all the trouble he’d caused. Some part of her, though, didn’t like being talked to as if she were some child who needed protecting. Still, Sarah bit back a sharp reply and nodded.

  “It was my fault. I said some hurtful things. But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Cord gave a curt nod, then wheeled about and followed Gabe from the room. Sarah waited a minute or two, then again faced her father and brother.

  “Papa, if there’s any of the Wainwrights’ money left, telling me where it is might buy you, Noah, and Caleb some goodwill with the judge.” She swung her glance from her father to Noah—who was now thoughtfully studying her—before locking gazes with her father. “Please, Papa. It’s not too late to try to make amends. Do it for your children, if you won’t do it for yourself.”

  “It won’t do any good, girl,” her father said, the deranged sheen fading briefly from his eyes. “You saw and heard Wainwright just now. He hates us and means to see Noah and me hang. Even if he got his money back, he’s not going to lift a finger to help us. He’s as hungry for revenge as his father and I ever were.”

  Though Sarah wanted to refute his assertions, she couldn’t find the conviction to do so. She had seen and heard the fury, the thinly veiled threat in Cord’s voice and words just a few minutes ago. It was an aspect of him that she’d never before experienced, even in his times of greatest anger with her when he’d first captured her. This went far, far deeper, and felt ice cold and ruthless.

  “It doesn’t matter what Cord does or doesn’t do on your behalf,” she whispered, her voice gone hoarse and raw. “What matters in the end, before God, is that you do the right thing. Do it, and then ask forgiveness. Of the Lord, the Wainwrights, and anyone else you may have offended. It’s the only way to finally make something good come of this miserable, endless, heart-wrenching feud.”

  He stared at her for a long, long while. Finally he gave a sharp, strident laugh. The man she had once known disappeared, and the wild, fevered look flared anew in his eyes.

  “They’ve been filling your head with all sorts of crazy notions, haven’t they, girl?” he asked, his voice taking on a high, strained pitch. “And turned you, once and for all, against your own kin.” He shrugged. “Well, it’s your choice, I guess. Whether you believe your own papa or some strangers. One thing’s for sure. Save the sermon for the Wainwrights. Not that it’ll do you any good. That man you think you want to marry? Well, take another look at him. Take a real good look. For all his fine manners and money, deep down where it matters, he’s no better a man than me.”

  Thanksgiving, two days later, was a far more somber affair than usual. Though the spread of food on the big dining room table was as generous as always, from roasted wild turkey, creamy mashed potatoes, cornbread stuffing, canned green beans from their long-gone summer garden, and, of course, pumpkin pie with real whipped cream, the only people stuffing themselves and exclaiming over the delicious food were Danny and Pedro. The adults tried their best, for the sake of the boys, to smile and make conversation, however stilted it frequently ended up being, but at times the flow of talk around the table faded, and the silence grew strained.

  His father’s absence was partly to blame, Cord mused as he sat alone in the kitchen, nursing a now tepid mug of coffee that evening after everyone had gone to bed. The rising tension between him and Sarah, however, had only intensified the problem. Since her visit with her father and brother the day before yesterday, she’d been uncharacteristically subdued, avoiding him whenever possible. And, if the truth were told, he hadn’t particularly wanted to seek her out either.

  Indeed, what could he say to improve the situation? He’d never lift a finger
to help Jacob Caldwell. And his two sons needed a good lesson fast, before they permanently sank into that inescapable quagmire their father had dug himself into over the years.

  A part of him was also annoyed with Sarah for even putting him into such an unfair and untenable position. How had he ever contributed to this insufferable feud, until the Caldwells had finally crossed the line with the robbery and cattle rustling? Then, all he’d done was what any man would do to protect his property—demand that justice be served.

  Sarah had most definitely backed him into a corner. Until she gave ground on her demands, they were at a stalemate. It was an unfortunate battle of wills, and one that he intended—

  The kitchen door erratically inched open, propelled along by Nick’s wheelchair. Cord rose and hurried over to hold the door for his brother.

  “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Cord asked, managing a welcoming smile.

  “That, and a case of mild indigestion from that third piece of pumpkin pie, I’m thinking,” his brother replied. “Could you get me a glass of milk?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Cord retrieved a glass from the cupboard, then pulled the milk pitcher from the small icebox that, in winter, served as a far more convenient substitute for the springhouse that was a good distance away. He carried the glass and pitcher to the table, poured a full glass for his brother, then put the pitcher back in the icebox. Finally, Cord again took his own seat.

  Minutes ticked by without either of them speaking. Nick sipped his milk until it was finally gone. Then, with a contented sigh, he set down the empty glass.

  “I feel better already. Still, I think I’ll stay sitting up for a while until the indigestion totally subsides.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.” Cord shot him an amused glance. “You’d think, after all these years, you’d learn not to overindulge on Thanksgiving.”

  Nick shrugged. “Well, someone besides the boys needed to show some appreciation for all the work that went into making the meal. You and Sarah, I noted, hardly ate enough to keep a . . . a mouse alive.”