by Anna Murray
"Be glad to," replied Sarah easily. "Emily and I can read although Emily is still working through McGuffey's Reader. My uncle let me finish my education so I could teach his son during the winter -- the times when we couldn't get to the schoolhouse."
They rose, and Emily and Sarah pushed Mrs. Easton's chair into the parlor, and they timidly seated themselves on the edge of the sofa. Taking turns they read news from the local paper. After a while the men joined them, and Roy accepted Emily's offer to play checkers. Cal took a seat near Sarah and listened as she read news to Mama, her pleasing voice occasionally punctuated by Emily's gleeful "King me!" followed by the rumble of Roy's groaning from across the room.
Sarah read an article on the miner's use of dynamite, invented just a couple years back by Mr. Nobel. In another column it was noted that several merchants, including Earl Watkins, William Dunlap, Jake Farrel, and Jack Dullen, were interested in building a schoolhouse in Wounded Colt to educate the growing number of children in the area. Cal noted Sarah's disdain as she read Dullen's name.
"You met Dullen?"
She nodded. Her lips formed a tight line. "The man is terribly rude. I can't believe he'd help start up a school."
Cal nodded. "He doesn't care one way or the next. But he knows he needs to keep up appearances." A frown carved out lines around his mouth and between his eyes.
Before long the twilight cast long shadows across the dim parlor. Emily beat Roy at checkers for the third time. Roy threw up his hands in a dramatic surrender.
"I've met my match," he grumbled. Roy stacked the checkers and put them into a box. "I'll get Mama ready for bed. I'll sleep in the extra bed in her room tonight. Emily can have my room." He caught Emily's serious blue eyes and held them. "Come with me now and I'll show you where to put your things. Cal needs to talk to your sister." Roy winked knowingly at Cal. Sarah colored fiercely, but remained silent, her hands twisting nervously in her lap as she pretended to look carelessly out the window. Roy turned and pushed his mother down the hallway. Emily dutifully tagged along behind.
Sarah's eyes scanned the room and came to rest on a handsome oak cupboard which held a gleaming silver service, the most beautiful table wares she'd ever laid eyes on, and likely among Mrs. Easton's most cherished possessions. The polished surfaces, with their smooth curves, reflected a world of elegance, laughter, and the love of a close-knit family. Sarah bit her lip and speculated on the value of the pieces. Would they be missed by the men if she borrowed them? Could she light out with Emily in the dead of night, when the vast ranch was sleeping? These men would barely miss a pair of horses, and, truth be told, their mother was in no condition to use the silver anyway. They could get established in a little town, she thought. Would these men follow them? And if she were caught? Surely they wouldn't hang a woman for stealing--
"A wedding gift to my parents," explained Cal, breaking into her ruminations. His dark eyes had followed hers to the silver tea set.
Sarah blushed, ashamed of her scheme, and at the same time shocked that the man had read her mind.
Cal's expression darkened, and he ran the palms of his hands over the buckskin pants pulled tautly across his muscular thighs. An uneasy silence ensued and lengthened until Sarah was ready to do just about anything to break the tension growing between them.
Finally a nervous cough rose from Sarah's throat. She took a deep breath and held it. She couldn't bring her eyes to meet his, so instead she looked at the braided rug that covered the floor. "I s-still can't believe all that has happened today," she stammered, her voice breaking. "I need to tell you I've never, um, done this --"
"Sarah, I know and it's all right," he interrupted. Cal, equally flustered, sputtered the words he'd rehearsed twenty times in the stillness between day and dusk.
"This was my brother's fool idea of a birthday surprise. I've never forced any woman, and I'd sooner burn in hell as start tonight." He looked into her eyes to drive his point. "Roy won't ever know." His words were gruff.
Sarah worked it over in her mind, wary of believing in his display of gentlemanly compassion. But there it was, his kindness spoken plainly and directly. Roy had handed Lola cash money for him to take her but he wouldn't. It was like being a child and believing in St. Nick, even though you suspected he wasn't real, but the presents showed up on Christmas all the same. This man gave his gift freely. She berated herself for her earlier thieving thoughts, looked up at him wide-eyed and bewildered.
"I have to go back to Lola's anyway, so I 'spose it doesn't much matter." Sarah's voice was just above a whisper.
Cal looked into the green pools threatening to spill over. You aren't ever going back to Lola's. As he struggled inwardly to shake off the vile image of Sarah's body being defiled at the local brothel an overwhelming urge to protect her took root. If not for Roy's interference, the woman would have been suffering a horror at the hands of Jack Dullen. As if losing her uncle wasn't enough grief for one day.
Suddenly Cal reached out, took her hands and drew Sarah close, and set her gently on his knee. His rough palm gently stroked her cheek. "Don't go back. Stay here."
Sarah hadn't felt such a comforting touch since her father died. His simple gesture was the final assault on her frail emotional state. She sobbed and poured forth her pain.
"You don't understand," she choked. "I must go back until the end of the week to get my share of what Roy spent, because I owe all of it and more to Lola. She's paid all the funeral fees so my uncle and cousin can be buried. She said it was advance on the pay I'll collect for working the rest of the week." She slumped her shoulders forward and hung her head.
Cal nodded, listened, and slid his arm lightly around her waist. For a few moments he thought about offering to pay her debt to Lola. Would she refuse such charity? She'd accepted a brief friendship, but he would have to earn her trust. He was so tired, and sorely needed time to think.
"Don't worry about it." He plowed his hand through his dark hair. "You look tired," he added. "Sleep in Roy's room with Emily. Everything will work out in the morning." He murmured the advice soothingly as he kicked down the urge to caress the length of her back.
Cal was stunned at his sudden feelings for the young woman. Slow down. I'd be helping anyone in her predicament. It's the right thing to do, he told himself, figuring on how it was natural to kindle a small fondness, owing to how, like him, she had lost so much and still kept forging ahead. And he was suddenly struck by the irony of his fear of having someone to cherish and losing that someone, set against Sarah simply not expecting it to happen for her at all. She'd lived a life of need for so long she likely didn't know how to want.
Something about that touched a vacant place inside Cal. Could it be time to want for himself, to reach for something he'd abandoned long ago back on the trail? If she had the fortitude to do whatever it took to survive, then should he find the courage to confront his own demons, to let his heart desire a woman again?
Slowly Sarah slid off of Cal's knee, stood, and walked to the doorway. She hesitated just a moment before she turned. "Good night. And thank you for your kindness. I hope to return the favor some day."
"You already have," Cal whispered hoarsely.
Sarah was halfway up the stairs and didn't hear his words.
Chapter 8
Cal slept restlessly, his body weary, but his mind racing, as he worked to solve Sarah's dilemma. Tossing and coming up empty, he thought instead about eager young women he'd met at a recent social. It had been a kissing party, where Roy convinced him to stand in the middle of the "pond" while young women swarmed all over him in their attempts to be the first to kiss his cheek. Feminine smiles and 'accidental' touches had stroked his ego, but now all their flirtations faded as his thoughts went back to Sarah sitting on his knee in the parlor.
Cal was finally drifting off to sleep before dawn when he heard the church bell, furiously ringing in town. Cal bolted upright. Only one good reason existed to ring the bell during the night. Cal rapidly p
ulled on his pants, hastened down the stairs, strode out onto the porch. A dim glow burned on the horizon, and instantly he knew. Fire. He ran back through the house and knocked on mama's door.
"Roy, wake up. Fire!"
Roy opened the door, rubbing his eyes. "Huh?" The bell rang again. Roy's eyes widened. "Where?"
"In town. I'll meet you at the barn."
As he flew back down the hallway, Cal ran right into Sarah. She'd also heard the bell and had descended the stairs, wearing a thin, faded white night gown, which covered her primly from neck to toe. Cal put his hands to her shoulders to set her back a respectable distance, but not before he'd felt her softness pressing against the length of him, and not before she felt his raw whiskered cheek graze against her face.
"What is it?" she asked breathlessly. She gawked at Cal, who was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of buckskin pants. In the dim light she could make out powerful shoulders carved with muscles. Dark hair was sprinkled across his chest, and this tapered to a thin line where it met the waist of his pants. Her flush deepened and her hand flew to her throat.
"A fire somewhere in town. I'm going. Don't know how much use I'll be with one good arm, but there must be something I can do. You keep an eye on Mama? I don't know when we'll be back."
She nodded, and by force of will kept her eyes on his face. "Yes, of course. B-be careful."
"Always." Cal spun and headed back into his room to finish getting dressed.
A steady hum came from the bunkhouse, where some of the ranch hands had also woken. Five men were already saddling up to go along.
Minutes later Sarah watched from the parlor window as they all rode away, men slapping their horses to a full gallop, the hooves beating a fast tempo as they dug up the dark prairie.
* * *
Ned Kingman cursed. Wiping night sweat from his bare head, he wiggled out of his twisted bedroll on the tack room floor.
They were back. He'd gone two months without the terrors, and he'd dared to hope he'd licked the problem. His heart pounding, he stumbled out into the darkness.
Just minutes earlier the low drone of men talking outside the stable had interrupted Ned's sleep. Except for the thick smell of smoke and kerosene, he might have waved it off as just a couple of drunks staggering out of Lola's.
He was grateful he didn't.
He saw men running from the brothel. Flames licked the side of the house, and steadily they climbed higher. Despite grave danger and a throbbing leg Ned ran. Straight into the burning house he loped, shouting at the top of his lungs like a crazy man.
"Fire! Fire! Git out!" Ned banged on doors and yelled over and over again until his throat was sore from smoke and yelling and his fist was raw from slamming it against the heavy oak doors.
As he proceeded down halls women came flying out and down the stairs in various states of dress, some in nightgowns or robes, all fighting against the heavy stinging smoke which left tears running down their faces. A few barefoot miners were in the fray, clutching boots, shirts, and britches and women.
Miss Lola stood ramrod stiff at the front door, clad in a red robe, moccasins, and tense lines carved into her face. She hastily told the girls to assemble across the street. Everyone yelled to roust the town.
Someone rang the church bell. Mr. Watkins was summoned, and he opened his store and handed buckets to passers by.
A chain of men soon formed; they stretched from Lola's backyard pump up to the edge of the flames. The buckets were passed from one man to the next and water was thrown against the building.
Miss Lola looked across the street to count noses. It appeared all of her girls had escaped safely, thanks to Ned.
Then a knot formed in her stomach. December.
"Where's December?" Her shout reached the women. Assembled in a tight circle, they consoled each other.
"Not here. Haven't seen her," they wrung their hands and shouted back.
Lola's heart lurched. December had the room farthest from the stairs. Without another thought Lola hitched up her skirts and ran back to the house.
"Don't you go in there!" Jake Farrel shouted above the roar of the fire. He moved to block the woman.
But quick Miss Lola skirted his warning. As Jake Farrel was a man built for lifting, not speed, she easily flitted past his girth and rushed through the doorway and up the stairs, holding a handkerchief to her mouth.
"December! December!"
Lola felt a searing sensation across her back. The smoke was thick as pie filling. Breathing was nearly impossible; her cries quickly turned into feeble croaking. Lola fought her way to the top of the stairs, where she stood choking. Cracks sounded, and she felt a beam hit her right shoulder. She looked up and saw her collection of painted porcelain dolls staring down at her from their fancy cabinet in the hallway. Their smooth china faces were the last image in her mind when she fell lifelessly to the floor.
* * *
Cal and Roy galloped in on lather-covered horses. They jumped from their mounts and ran to Jake and Earl, the men leading the firefighting efforts.
"What can we do?" shouted Cal. He stared helplessly at the growing blaze.
"Your men can relieve some on the water chain!" shouted Jake.
Roy looked at the clutch of robed women. "Lola's inside?"
Jake's rage was nearly out of control. "Bloody hell! The woman went back to find a girl! She never came back out. Over my dead body is anybody else going in there, so don't get any ideas. They'd all be goners if not for Ned Kingman."
As he spoke the roof collapsed onto the second floor.
"Get back!" Earl Watkins yelled.
The women wailed at the sight; one doubled over and vomited and another dropped to her knees.
Lumber cracked and tumbled, driving the bucket brigade back to a safer distance from the house.
Mr. Jack Dullen drove up to the frightful scene. He took one look at the inferno and pounded his fist on the side of his carriage. Then he straightened up and strode over to Jake and Earl, shook their hands furiously, and spoke with them briefly, as he made a good show of thanking them for their efforts to save his building. When he spotted Roy his lip curled contemptuously.
Roy had also spied Dullen from the corner of his eye, and he strode over to where the man was stationed.
"A shame you lost your house, Mr. Dullen. Even worse that lives were lost." Roy's voice was tinged with anger.
Dullen lunged forward slightly as his glare struck.
"I don't like being cheated, Easton!" He growled. "The new whore was mine."
Roy frowned.
Dullen studied Roy carefully; the leather cowboy appeared detached and unaffected. Dullen stoked up the heat.
"I'll overlook your little indiscretion this time Easton, since the girl was killed in the fire. Hell, you probably saved my neck."
Roy opened his mouth to speak, and then he closed it and opened it again.
"Yes." Thank God, Sarah and Emily are safe. "An' don't you forget it Jack." Roy's gaze was granite.
Satisfied he'd hit his mark, Dullen turned on his heel and loped away.
* * * *
Two hours after the first alarm sounded the fire was extinguished.
All that remained of Lola's was a massive stone chimney amidst smoldering ashes. The merchants, miners, and cowboys hauled their heavy hearts home.
Chapter 9
The Easton men were riding back to the ranch amidst smoke-laced mid-morning sunshine.
Two miles passed, and Roy spoke.
"Lola's gals will stay at the hotel," he pondered aloud. "You reckon Sarah and Emily should stay on at our place?" His indigo eyes surveyed Cal from beneath his lowered hat. "We'd best hire Sarah on to nurse for Mama."
Cal had, of course, been grazing on the same thoughts, but it would be a hard day's ride before he admitted it to Roy. He shifted awkwardly in his saddle.
"Maybe she won't take the offer. Maybe by her it ain't right to live alone with men." He frowned, tugged h
is hat lower on his head. Prickly social rules hog-tied a soul, and it was worst for women.
Roy let loose a guffaw before Cal could form an argument on behalf of relieving the girls' predicament.
"Brother, you think it matters a lick after yesterday? Everybody saw her riding the pony!" Roy paused before letting all his horses out of the barn. "Oh, hell, Cal. I know nothing happened between you two last night. Don't deny it," he continued, "I went to check on Emily not an hour after I packed her off, and Sarah was sleeping right there next to her!"
Roy glanced over at Cal, and he saw his brother's eyes locked to his saddle horn.
"Don't you be dallying with her none!"
Roy's hands flew up in the air. "Fine! She's your territory. Your birthday present!"
"That isn't what I meant," Cal retorted angrily.
"Sure sounded like it to me," muttered Roy. "Hell," he softened, "I think she's sweet on you, Cal."
There was a moment of disbelieving silence.
"You think so?"
"Heck yes. She's right for you Cal. The woman can cook," he added. "After all that's happened, and now knowin' that she and Emily might've been hurt or worse in the fire, heck, I figure biddin' on Sarah was the best money I ever spent." He wiped the palm of his hand across his thigh. "What's more," Roy grinned, "Dullen actually thanked me for saving his life."
They could have been killed in the fire. Cal quickly thought about the last prairie fire, started by lightening three years ago. He stole a glance at Roy.
"The fire strip around the place is grown over. It ain't right, not being looked after. I'll put men on plowing it straight away."
Roy nodded agreement.
Cal swallowed and quickened the pace, thinking about the strange twist of fate that brought the Anders sisters into their lives, and of course the worse tragedy that might have been. Silently he thanked his brother for meddling in things this time.
When they arrived at the ranch, Sarah and Emily were watering the overgrown garden. Mama was sitting in their sight on the shady side of the porch. Upon seeing the men the girls abandoned their task and walked up to the house to get ready for their uncle's burial. It was scheduled for that afternoon.
