Restless Hearts

by Mona Ingram

  She nodded.

  “As far as I know, they enjoyed their childhood. My grandfather talked about horses when he came to New York, and I pestered my father for riding lessons until he finally gave in.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I wanted to be ready when I went to visit Grandfather.”

  “But you never did.” It was a statement.

  “No.” He shrugged. “But it was good of my father to indulge me. As for how the ranch supports itself, I don’t know the details. My grandfather had a trusted foreman – Mexican of course – who has stayed on. I expect he’ll fill me in.” He turned thoughtful. “He’ll probably want to know what I intend to do with the place, since his own future is at stake.”

  “That’s quite a decision. The ranch plus this man’s livelihood. What’s his name?”

  Jamie dragged himself back to the present. “Diego. He speaks English well enough, and I understand that his wife’s name is Teresa. When I first got to San Francisco, I wrote to tell him that I’d be arriving within the month, and he gave me instructions on how to get there. He says it’s about half an hour from the wharf and he told me where to hire a horse and buggy. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since we sailed into San Francisco harbor.”

  Sarah laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I asked you to wait.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said, looking into her eyes. He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, the gesture at once tender and intimate. “Even before we got here, I knew I wanted you with me when I see it for the first time.”

  Sarah’s heart felt like it would leap out of her chest. “Thank you, Jamie. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “You’ve said it all just by being here.” He covered her hand with his, and they sat peacefully for several moments, content with each other’s company.

  Sarah’s head jerked upright as she caught herself nodding off. “I’m sorry,” she said, stifling a yawn, “but maybe I’ll make use of that cabin and rest for a while. What time will we get there?”

  “It’ll be late afternoon when we dock. By the time we arrange for the buggy and drive to the ranch, the sun should be almost setting. A beautiful time of day.”

  “Then I’ll want to appreciate it.” They rose and he walked her to their cabin. “Where will you be?” she asked. “I hate to leave you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll either be out here or in the grand salon. Rest well.”

  Sarah scarcely noticed the luxuriously appointed cabin. The moment she put her head down she fell into a much-needed sleep.

  The whistle woke her some time later and she lay there, rocked by the movement of the boat. Judging by the light slanting through the window, she had slept for several hours. She relaxed for a moment longer, recapturing the warm glow she’d felt at Jamie’s words. He’d made it clear that he wanted her with him, confirming that she’d been right to make the trip. She rose and checked her appearance in the ornate mirror over the dressing table. Satisfied that she looked respectable, she stepped outside.

  “Hello there.” Jamie stood outside the cabin door on the promenade, lounging casually against a support pillar. He was smoking one of his cigarillos, and the smoke streamed away in a lazy trail as the paddle wheeler cut through the water. He was so handsome her heart ached.

  She sauntered up to him, swishing her skirt like a femme fatale. “For a moment there, you looked just like I’ve always imagined a riverboat gambler would look.”

  “How is that?” he asked, adjusting to her playful mood.

  “Handsome,” she said, her breath catching in her throat. “And decidedly dangerous.”

  He looked both ways, but they were alone. “I like the handsome part,” he said, sweeping her into his arms for a brief kiss. “But I’d never want you to look on me as dangerous.”

  “Oh, you’re dangerous,” she murmured. “If only you knew how much.”

  “In that case...” he kissed her again, and she clung to him like some helpless female. She hated to admit it, but it felt good.

  The boat’s whistle blew again and they both winced.

  “It’s hard to get away from,” he said, moving her along the promenade. “Let’s go inside. We only have another hour to go.”

  “So soon?” she asked. “I’d hoped to see the gambling salon.”

  “Why Mrs. Howard,” he said with a devilish grin. “Does that mean the lady wants to try her luck?”

  “Oh, no,” she said with a slight shiver. “It’s just that I’ve never been in a gambling salon before, and since this is a day of firsts...” She looked at him. “Indulge me?”

  “Why not?” he took one last draw on his cigarillo and tossed it into the river. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  Several men looked up when they entered the salon, dismissing them as potential players with one glance. At a table set off to the side of the room, a group of men studied each other through a fog of smoke, their eyes red as though they’d been playing for a long time.

  “What are they playing?” she whispered, drawing closer to Jamie. The tension in the room was palpable.

  “Five card draw,” he said, his breath disturbing the loose hair by her ear. As he spoke, a man threw down his cards and stood up, knocking his chair over backwards.

  “Evidently not his best day,” he murmured in her ear.

  The dealer shuffled the cards, his hands deft. “Straight draw,” he announced. “Two draws of two.” He spun the cards out to the remaining players.

  The hair on the back of Sarah’s neck stood up as she watched the game progress, and she wasn’t sure if it was because Jamie was standing so close, or the excitement of the game.

  “Seen enough?” he asked after several hands.

  She nodded, aware that nobody noticed them leave as they slipped out the door.

  “It’s so intense,” she said, still whispering. “Did you ever play?”

  Jamie let out a breath of air. “Once,” he said with a wry grin. “When I was young and foolish. I made the mistake of thinking that I could hold my own with some much older players. I suppose most young bucks do something similar at one time or another, but I was sure I was different.” He looked down at her. “Believe me, I’m not. I was telegraphing my hands so everyone at the table could see.” He chuckled. “I might as well have been holding my cards backwards.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He took a breath. “It’s a rare poker player who doesn’t exhibit some sort of a sign when he has a good hand... or a bad hand, for that matter. Apparently mine was rolling my cigarillo from one side of my mouth to the other when I had a good hand.”

  She laughed. “I think even I would have seen that.”

  “Exactly. As did everyone at the table. I haven’t gambled since.”

  “Just as well,” she said, slipping her hand through his arm again. “Did I just feel the boat slow down? I think we’re getting close.”

  The paddle wheeler eased up to the dock and was tied fast within minutes. With three trips a week, it was clear the crew had plenty of practice. They were soon down on the dock amid the noisy throng. Men started unloading the steamer right away, and Sarah noted the stacks of goods ready to be shipped in the other direction.

  “I didn’t realize it was such a thriving city,” she said after they’d broken through the crowd.

  Jamie agreed. “I’d heard it was like this, but it’s impressive to see it. Sam Brannan had his first store here, and he’s a smart man.” He led her away from the wharf and down a side street to a livery stable. He chatted with the owner for a few moments and they were on their way.

  Golden light bathed the countryside as they left the city behind. Even the horse seemed to shake off the tumult of the city, and settled into a comfortable gait.

  “Another thing I didn’t realize,” she said, trying to take in everything around her. “As we get farther away from the river, it’s dry, but it’s also beautiful.”

  Jamie nodded. “Keep in mind
it’s October.” He gazed into the distance. “I would imagine those hills are green in the spring. And I understand a small river winds through the ranch. My grandfather knew what he was doing.”

  The horse slowed as they crested a rise, and Sarah’s fingers dug into Jamie’s arm as she gasped with pleasure. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, noting the way the setting sun sent long fingers of shadow across the idyllic landscape. She glanced at Jamie, and the expression on his face mirrored her enthusiasm.

  The main house, partly obscured by a large tree in the center of the courtyard, glowed with an inviting warmth that beckoned them closer. Built of adobe, it had been well maintained, and as they started forward again, Sarah made out a large garden beyond the house, and several slightly smaller adobe structures partially hidden among the trees.

  Sarah was grateful for the silence that greeted them as they pulled up to the front entrance. It gave her time to take in the carefully tended flower beds on either side of the front entrance, and the chickens scratching industriously in the side yard. Contentment washed over her, and for a moment she felt like she’d arrived home after a long voyage.

  “Whoa.” Jamie pulled up under the tree and stepped down. “I’ll see if I can find...”

  “Hola! Senor Thompson.”

  A short, dark man hurried toward them, a broad smile on his face.

  “You must be Diego.” Jamie greeted him warmly, his hand extended.

  “Si.” A brief frown furrowed Diego’s brow, then he smiled again. “Excuse me, Senor, but you look very much like your grandfather.”

  “I do?” No-one had ever told Jamie that before. “Thank you, but please call me Jamie.”

  “Your grandfather was a good man.” He smiled at Sarah. “Welcome to Rancho Agua Dulce.”

  “And please call me Sarah,” she said. “Sweetwater. What a lovely name.”

  “Senor Thompson named it.” Diego shrugged, and Sarah wondered if perhaps the Mexican considered it a fanciful name.

  Jamie came around to her side of the buggy and offered his hand. “You know Spanish?”

  “Only a few words.” She offered the Mexican an easy smile. “Thank you, Diego. I’m glad to be here.”

  The foreman led them into the house and was quick to explain that his wife Teresa had maintained it the same as she had during the last few years of Jamie’s grandfather’s life. Simple leather chairs clustered around an open fireplace in the living room, and brightly colored throws were tossed over the backs of comfortably padded chairs. A large, well-oiled slab of wood served as a dining table, and Sarah allowed her imagination to run rampant, imagining herself and Jamie surrounded by several children.

  She dragged herself back to reality as Diego led them through to the kitchen. “Senora Thompson loved to look out over the vegetable gardens,” Diego was saying, gesturing out to the large cultivated patch of land visible beside one of the outbuildings. “She was a good gardener. She taught Teresa how to grow flowers and Teresa taught her how to dry beans.”

  Sarah laughed. “A fair trade.”

  He shot her a bewildered look. “That’s what Senora Thompson used to say.”

  “Is that corn?” Jamie’s eyes lit up. “I love fresh corn.”

  “Si, senor. That corn is for eating. The corn for the animals is out in the field.”

  “There’s more?” Jamie looked from Diego to Sarah.

  “Yes, senor. I can show you now, if you like, but Teresa has your meal ready.” He paused. “Chicken and roasted potatoes, the way Mr. Thompson liked them, but she can make some corn as well.”

  Sarah intervened. “We’d enjoy that, Diego, but we don’t expect Teresa to cook for us.” She gave him a curious look. “How did she know we were coming?”

  The foreman lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know. She just knows these things. She also said you would be tired after travelling all day.” He turned to Jamie. “I can show you the animals tomorrow, if you like.”

  The scent of roasted chicken wafted across the compound and Jamie’s mouth started to water. “That will be fine,” he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Now let’s go pick some of that corn.”

  Sarah watched Jamie stride across the compound, bending his head to listen to Diego as they headed toward the corn. At this time of year even a late harvest corn would be far beyond its prime, but somehow she didn’t think that mattered to Jamie. She’d noticed a change in him the moment they drove onto the property. In the space of a few moments, he’d relaxed, the tension that had been building since he arrived in San Francisco magically falling away.

  He was in his element here, she realized, and a shiver of foreboding tiptoed down her spine. Would she lose him to the ranch? Would he want to stay? He disappeared from view, but she continued to stare out the window, deep in thought. She’d known from the very beginning that he’d inherited this property, but until now it hadn’t seemed real... it hadn’t been imprinted on her mind. Now that she’d seen the beauty of the ranch, and been enveloped by its peaceful atmosphere, she would understand if Jamie wanted to live here. After all, he had a right to his dreams, in the same way she had a right to hers.

  And if their dreams took them in separate directions? She shuddered, finding that she didn’t want to think about that. Jamie came into sight again, holding up three ears of corn as though he’d just won first prize at the fall fair. For now, this was the only dream she needed. The rest would sort itself out later.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Is this heaven?” Jamie pushed his plate away. “If not, don’t tell me. I don’t want to break the spell.” He reached for his cigarillos and raised his eyebrows, silently asking for permission.

  Sarah smiled her approval. “But let’s go outside,” she said, blowing out the candles on the candelabra, leaving just one flickering flame. “I saw some comfortable looking leather chairs out there.”

  Jamie got to his feet and patted his stomach, groaning with pleasure. “Roast chicken, roast potatoes and corn.” He stopped to light his cigarillo. “And a good smoke. Yes, I really am in heaven.”

  “I could make you a cup of tea. I put a pot of water on the back of the stove.”

  “They have tea?” He sounded surprised.

  “No, I brought it with me.” Sarah started to rise, but he restrained her with a hand on her arm. “Not tonight, Sarah.” His fingers trailed down her arm and intertwined with hers. They sat silently for several minutes, watching the fireflies danced across the yard. “What do you think?” he asked finally, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “It’s...” she struggled to find the right words. “It’s so much more than I dreamed it would be.” A sigh escaped her lips, but she didn’t care. “It’s perfect, and I haven’t seen it all yet.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way.” He released her hand and released a lazy stream of smoke up into the leaves of the tree. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was smiling. “I feel like I’ve come home.”

  “Maybe you have.” He didn’t respond, so she carried on. “I don’t mean that in a spiritual sense, but maybe you’ve finally found where you belong.”

  He stared, unseeing, out into the darkness. “I think you’re right,” he said finally. “Odd, isn’t it? I’ve only just arrived and I feel as though my entire life is about to change.”

  “In a good way?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

  “Definitely,” he said, rising and offering his hand. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  He pulled her close. “I’m tired of pretending, Sarah. I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you, standing there on the deck of WindSprite.” Their breaths mingled for a moment before his mouth settled over hers. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she felt the evidence of his desire, rampant and demanding attention.

  “I wanted you, too,” she said, gazing up into his eyes. “Every time you touched me. Every time you brushed the hair back from my face. I wanted to be in your arms,
in your bed.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Make love to me, Jamie. Let’s not waste another day.”

  He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. “Are you sure, Sarah?” He paused outside the door. “Because once we go through that door, you’re mine.”

  “I’m already yours,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck. “Love me, Jamie.”

  * * *

  Sarah awoke with Jamie’s name on her lips. They had made love several times during the night, even though it had been her first time. One started, she couldn’t get enough of him, and assured him that she was ready for more.

  She tried to stretch and found that she couldn’t move; he’d thrown a leg over hers, effectively pinning her to the bed. A large hand cupped her breast, and as she closed her eyes, recalling everything they’d done last night. They’d explored each other’s bodies boldly, as though needing to make up for lost time; as though these precious hours might be snatched away.

  Relaxing back into the bed, she waited to be engulfed by shame, but it eluded her. She turned and found him watching her, his expression unreadable. Was he disgusted by her eager responses last night? Did he think less of her for rising up to meet him, matching his ardor with a passion of her own? He hadn’t at the time, but now, in the clear light of day, would he reject her as used goods?

  The truth was, no matter what his reaction this morning, it had been worth it. She’d waited her entire life to be loved the way he’d loved her last night, taking her to the heights of passion, showing her the stars and then calling her name as he joined her in the ultimate pleasure.

  Her insecurities must have been writ large on her face, because with one strong arm he pulled her toward him, moulding her to his body. “Sarah, my love” he said, pushing back her hair and planting a series of kisses on her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips, “thank you for last night.” His fingertips brushed her cheek, where his beard had abraded her skin. “I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”