Unbroken Hearts

by Anna Murray

  "He surely does," Roy's blue eyes twinkled, "and a man never knows as when he might be gaining more valuable property. Like a family."

  Cal's jaw dropped. "You got something to tell about Ella?"

  Roy laughed heartily. "Nope, not me." His eyes shone.

  Cal looked as excited as the day he'd broken his first horse. Roy held the rifle and gave it a going over, proclaiming it a fine piece.

  Cal carefully wrapped the rifle in a blanket and stowed it at the foot of the wagon box. Then they climbed in. Roy took hold of the reins, and slapped the horses into motion.

  As the rig creaked up the hill Cal spotted two lone figures sitting outside Miss Lola's. His breath drew in as they neared, for he recognized Sarah sitting with a young blond-haired girl, out front on the porch swing. Sarah, dressed in a faded blue dress, was clutching a bag and a worn wooden box. Her hair was pulled up into a knot, yet a few sections had broken loose in the breeze, and even from a distance Cal could see these were blowing lazily, caressing her smooth neck.

  The girls stood up and moved to the edge of the porch when the Eastons approached. Roy waved to them as if they were dear old friends, while Cal, feeling a twinge of something he couldn't define, let alone explain, simply nodded in their direction.

  "Here's my good news." Roy yanked at the reins and halted the horses. "Ready ladies?"

  Sarah and her sister waved in unison and jumped off the porch. They made for the back of the wagon, heads bent and skirts swishing. Cal flashed his brother a silent inquiry. He felt his temper rising.

  "What in blazes – "

  "It's ok, Cal. Heck, I won the bid all fair-like. Ask Miss Lola if --"

  "You what?" Cal shouted.

  "Hush up!" Roy tried to calm him, but he was sinking farther into quicksand.

  "What did you do?" Cal yelled hoarsely.

  "Honest Cal, it's not a big deal." Roy thrust his hands forward. "Lola said we can bring Sarah and Emily back tomorrow afternoon."

  Cal's face was a mask of rage. If not for the fact that ladies were present he'd have landed a whallop on the smirk plastered across Roy's face.

  "Let me get this straight." He spat the words through his clenched jaw. "You bought, you bought . . . and now you are taking her home . . . and you plan to seduce her in our mother's house?"

  Roy had the smug expression of a man about to show a royal flush. "No, Cal. You got it all wrong! She's for you! Happy Birthday, brother!" Roy tossed his head back and snorted. "Golly, I'll bet you thought I forgot! Well, I didn't," he sputtered. "But if I'd known you'd gone and bought the repeater, well, I'm not sure I'd have stuck my neck out for this extra fine gift."

  Cal seethed. "You stuck your neck out all right! You'll be sticking it right into the noose Jack Dullen will string up when he finds out! Don't he have the winning bid locked on every new girl at Lola's?"

  "Not this time." Roy heaved an exasperated sigh and thrust his hands onto his hips. "Seems he missed the bidding deadline." He waved a hand. "I happened to mention to Ned that a three o'clock deadline for offers made plenty more sense, owing as to after three o'clock a man can't get his cash from the bank to pony up."

  "Ned yapped Lola into this?" Cal slapped a palm to his forehead.

  "Yep! Of course Ned agreed with my thinkin', and he sweet-talked Lola into changing the rules so as to stop bidding just afore three. Anyway, Lola thinks she might get more money with this new rule."

  "You know I don't –"

  "Brother -- I know -- do I ever know! But hear me out! I reckon it was your good fortune they changed the rule today, seeing as it came on your birthday, and this pretty gal come to town on your birthday no less, and it was amazing how the rules changed just after I placed my bid . . . which happened to be just before three o'clock. Brother, it's a sign! And Ned sure is one smart businessman!" Roy prattled.

  Cal groaned inwardly. Lola must have lost her mind to let "talk-a-cow-out-of-her-calf" Roy work his charms on her. Sometimes he just couldn't believe they were related.

  Roy wouldn't let up. "Heck, give the lady a chance! Miss Anders is scared, but she's takin' a chance cause she's got nothin' to lose!"

  Cal swallowed. His brother had a point, but Cal veered from thinking on it. "OK, OK, but do we have to bring the younger one?"

  Roy's eyebrows shot up. "You mean Emily? Of course! She never leaves her sister. She's as sweet as they come, Cal. She's invited me to a game of checkers after supper." His blue eyes sparkled. "She's been playing with the girls at Lola's all afternoon, and she beat all of them." Roy puffed up and crowed the fact like a proud father.

  Cal rolled his eyes. "Well maybe you could write a story about that for the Wounded Colt Dispatch. You might suggest that everyone send their kids over to Lola's house to play checkers."

  "That's not a bad idea, Cal."

  Roy grinned triumphantly.

  Chapter 6

  Sarah frowned, stared at her hands with burning eyes, and tried to ignore the Easton brother's quarrel.

  Emily was already clambering into the bed of the wagon; she amused herself with humming and counting the sacks and packages stowed there.

  So the younger brother hadn't consulted Mr. Caleb Easton about his birthday "surprise". Without a doubt Mr. Easton couldn't be much interested in her, at least not in her present condition.

  Yet by her own reckoning she had good teeth and strong hands. What's more, she was honest and hard working. Sarah could read and write, work a garden, cook, tend livestock, and keep a house. But these weren't likely to be the traits a man desired in a "birthday surprise" woman.

  Sarah was wearing one of two dresses she owned. Like the other, it was old and faded, and because she'd lost weight on the trip from Illinois, it fit her like a burlap sack. Sarah had always fancied herself plain, with straight mud colored hair and hips too small to fit the popular model of feminine beauty. Once a man at church said she had pretty eyes, just before he commented on how beautiful Emily would be when she grew up. But handsome Mr. Caleb Easton could likely set his cap for any girl and get her, she thought.

  Perhaps Mr. Roy Easton had lower standards when it came to women. Most likely women were scarce, as she'd noted in the town. Sarah sighed. She truly didn't know anything at all about how a man considered a woman. She frowned. Was Cal Easton a gentleman? It seemed possible. After all, he hadn't requested this "birthday gift."

  Sarah wasn't a woman who garnered heaps of male interest, unless one counted the widower, twice her age and mildly interested in her, back in Illinois. In her heart, she knew it was only because he needed someone to cook for him and raise his pack of six children. Uncle Orv had waved the man off when he came near the farm, and those were the only times Sarah was grateful for her uncle looking out for her -- even if he was thinking only of his own comforts.

  Mr. Caleb Easton stole quick glances at her all the while he argued with his brother. No doubt he was thinking on how to quit himself of her and Emily. Sarah instinctively knew she'd drawn better than Mr. Dullen, but how much better?

  At last Cal Easton strode to the back of the wagon, reached out with his good right arm, and wrapped his large hand around Sarah's waist. He felt her startle at the gesture. Indeed, he might have been surprised to learn this was the first time a man had ever helped to lift her into a wagon. His touch stayed at her waist a moment longer than was necessary, and Sarah felt a warm aching sensation in her stomach. When he released his hold he carelessly trailed his fingers along her middle. Sarah gratefully collapsed into the wagon bed.

  Heat crept high in her cheeks, and she made an attempt at light conversation. "Sir, how'd you hurt your arm?"

  Cal frowned uncomfortably. "It's nothin', just a nick in my shoulder." His voice was low and hoarse. His eyes flickered to her soft dark hair, now tumbling down her back. He scanned the length of her skirt, and his eyes caught a spot of dried blood.

  He frowned. This woman stirred thoughts. Dammit, Roy, you need a good whupping. he thought. Why couldn't his broth
er leave well enough alone?

  Cal reached down and took Sarah's worldly possessions -- the satchel, which held what remained of their clothing, and the wooden box. He handed them up to Sarah, who dug deep into the bag, found a bonnet, and tried to tie it on Emily. Her lithe fingers chased after the strings in the blustery breeze as she managed the task. Then she pulled her own bonnet from the bag, and battled another wind gust.

  "Does the wind blow this way all the time?" she asked, to break the silence.

  Roy turned. "Heck no. It blows from the other direction most of the time."

  Sarah groaned, and settled onto the tarp Roy had laid down for them in the back of the wagon. The pleasant odors of apples and bread drifted up from the packages.

  "Hmmm, seein' as we're talkin' on the weather, I can tell you ladies just how cold it gets in these parts," quipped Roy. "Gets downright cold. Why last winter it was so cold our beeves lowing froze soon as it come out of their mouths. Those baws hung like icicles in the air all winter. Come the spring thaw they made such a racket! It was heard all the way to St. Paul." He grinned at Sarah and Emily. "Even made the Missouri run over its banks."

  "Those must be special cows you have, Mr. Easton." Sarah smiled back.

  Emily covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. She whispered a bit too loudly, "He's a funny man but he lies! And his brother is mean-like!"

  Sarah shushed Emily. Roy laughed heartily, and Cal scowled.

  "Yes, miss, I expect I do." Roy was pleased his story put the ladies at ease, yet he was embarrassed they'd overheard him arguing with Cal. Clay-brained Cal! Roy was sure his brother wouldn't recognize a thoroughbred mare if she stared him straight in the face.

  Cal rolled his eyes, and tugged on his wide brimmed hat to shade his dark eyes from the sun.

  "We're going to Mineral Creek, about six miles. It'll be slow driving with the wagon loaded heavy as it is." Cal looked back at the ladies. "Er, give a holler if you, um, need to stop for a rest, or anything."

  "Thank you, Mr. Easton. We're used traveling all day." Sarah winced as she recalled how much her feet hurt at the end of each day on the trail.

  "Sit on the sacks of flour," he added, "you can rest there."

  "Yes, we'll rest a bit. Thank you, Mr. Easton."

  By now Sarah had noted that Cal wore just two distinct expressions: stoic and annoyed. Everything else was somewhere between. At that moment he was wearing his annoyed, frowning face again.

  "Call me Cal," he grunted.

  On his next inhale Cal caught the pleasing scent of honeysuckle. The scent lingered on his palm and fingertips, and now as he moved his hand to adjust his hat he carried along the woman's odor. He thought about how he might smell to her.

  While Cal was oddly obsessed with thoughts about personal hygiene, Sarah was remembering Ned's words about the Easton brothers and their "square" dealings.

  "You do this sort of thing often?" she wondered aloud. Quickly realizing her error she blushed and stammered "I-I didn't m-mean it like—"

  Cal shot a glare over his shoulder.

  Roy shifted his weight on the seat. "Cal's a lucky man. It's his first time. That is, the first time two lovely angels drifted into town for his birthday."

  Cal grunted.

  Roy turned, slapped the horses into motion, and they rumbled away from Lola's and out onto the prairie. Silence reigned as they traveled across a flat land with gently rolling hills, dotted with bright fireweed. Sarah was still amazed by the lack of trees and the dry harshness of this territory. The sky was so big it seemed it might swallow a person whole.

  But suddenly she felt as weary and empty as that flat prairie. Her old life forever lost, thoughts turned to embarking on a new journey in a strange place with these new faces. She thought it great irony when she considered how often she'd lamented her life of tedium back in Illinois. In the space of one day she'd witnessed the murder of two family members, had been cruelly attacked herself, landed in a town where she was auctioned off to the highest bidder, and now she was traveling to the home of two strangers, men who were ranchers. The frightful memory of this morning came creeping back into her consciousness, and she wondered if the sheriff would capture the outlaws.

  She thought about Sheriff Aiken's probing questions. Had she gotten a good look at the outlaws? She'd replied that she couldn't remember anything, and she'd told the truth. It was as if her mind had constructed a wall to protect her from dwelling on the tragedy.

  Exhausted, Sarah nodded and jerked, and nodded and jerked, and finally her body slackened, surrendered, and fell across the sacks. She dozed in twilight mindlessness, and she dreamed she had wandered to a safe haven, a warm home, food, and clothing.

  "We're almost home," Cal called out, interrupting Sarah's nap.

  Home? A few buildings were now visible on the horizon. As they drew closer, Sarah could make out the house, barn, bunkhouse, a couple of sheds and a corral that fenced mules and horses.

  The ranch house was a white two-story structure wrapped with a porch around two sides, nestled into a low hill to furnish protection from harsh winds. The bunkhouse was on flat ground, some thirty yards from the house, and a larger barn was situated nearby. A winding creek, which could easily be followed by tracing the clumps of cottonwoods along the banks, ran along to the east of the ranch buildings. Beyond was the awesome vastness of prairie spread as far as the eye could see; in some places the grasses were as high as a horse's back, billowing under summer sun.

  Emily squirmed restlessly and threw off her bonnet. "Oh Sarah, look at all the horses!" Her blonde curls were bouncing. "Do you think we can ride them? Oh, look at the fine house and the barn! Sarah, see the garden patch! It's not as pretty as yours back home."

  Sarah had noticed the neglected garden near the house. Her garden had been the only part of her uncle's farm that was hers alone. She'd nurtured a sweet satisfaction, watching the plants grow each day, slowly becoming sturdy and then bearing fruit. Rarely did she feel as content as when she harvested and laid in the vegetables for the winter. It had been comfort and consolation, the one place where she had complete control in her life. She looked back over her shoulder at the a few spindly rows of snap beans, squash, and carrots, and she wondered who planted it, and why they didn't care for it now.

  Roy turned in his seat, and he looked at the child who'd been quiet for most of the trip. "We have lots of horses. More than a hundred. You know how to ride?"

  Emily's eyes were enormous. "A little. We rode sometimes at our uncle's farm. My cousin let me ride his pony, but only if I brushed him first. He was black with a white patch on his nose and his name was Patch. Uncle Orv sold him when we left. I miss Patch." Emily's small voice withered and she looked downcast.

  Roy and Cal exchanged a look, and Roy spoke. "After we get unloaded I can show you some of our horses. Perty sure we have one like your Patch."

  "Thank you, Mr. Easton! My, you have lots of horses." A ray of sunshine had fallen upon her, and she bantered once again with delight.

  Roy saw a dimple form in her cheek and smiled. "Ranch hands ride from sunup to sundown to tend the herd, and night herders bed the hooves down, then doze on the range with the cattle. Each man needs a string of horses, one to ride and some to rest. We have around thirty brood mares. The men ride geldings."

  "Geldings?" Emily's eyes were wide with curiosity.

  Roy looked befuddled.

  Cal actually cracked a grin. "Uh, it's a gentler stallion."

  "Oh, I understand," Emily nodded. "Like you and Mr. Roy."

  Roy snorted. He considered teasing Cal about it, but quickly bit back the urge. The man was already in a foul mood, and Roy'd likely find himself in the dirt nursing a black eye. Instead he turned his head and nodded at Emily. "Well, that's a dandy compliment . . . I think."

  Cal turned halfway around and saw the corners of Sarah's mouth edge up.

  As they drew closer they saw cowhands, busy rough breaking a horse in the corral. They paused and wa
ved. Roy and Cal waved back, and Roy yelled something about taking it easy on the new man. Sarah saw a tall older woman, with dark hair pulled into knot at the back of her head, coming around the front of the house. Another woman sat on the porch, leaning forward slightly in a chair crowded with pillows. The men waved enthusiastically at the duo.

  "Howdy Mama! Howdy Nettie!" Smiles lit the men's faces.

  The older woman yelled 'hello' and waved back, but the woman in the chair was silent, and didn't even turn her head toward them as they passed.

  "That's Mama," Roy called back to Sarah and Emily with a reverent tone. Sarah thought it odd that their mother didn't offer a greeting to her own sons.

  They drew up in front of the house. Roy and Cal swung down and came to the back of the wagon. Again, Roy chose to help Emily, and quickly stepped aside for Cal, who wrapped his sound arm around Sarah's waist as she debarked. Nettie sashayed off the porch to meet them.

  Roy made the introductions. "Nettie, this is Sarah and her sister Emily. They're new in town and staying with us this evening." He turned back to the sisters. "And this is our neighbor Mrs. Nettie Newman, who came to tend Mama while we were in town."

  Nettie smiled and offered her hand to each sister.

  A couple of ranch hands drifted over to unhitch the horses. Cal ushered the girls onto the porch and away from the curious cowpuncher's eyes. Then he sauntered to his mother, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  He squatted down until his face was even with hers. "Mama, we met these girls today in town." He paused, swallowed. "The older one is Sarah Anders and that's her younger sister, Emily. They'll be staying for supper and sleeping here this evening. And that's all," he added.

  Cal's mother didn't reply, but only nodded so slightly as to be barely perceptible. Sarah tried to smile at the expressionless woman. Mrs. Easton slumped in spite of the pillows propping up her body. She realized the woman must be sick, perhaps suffering from dementia.

  "Pleased to meet you ma'am." She touched the woman's hand lightly.