For a Sister's Love

by Paty Jager

  “Wow, there,” Sam said, pushing her shoulders back onto the bed. “Not so fast. How does your head feel?”

  Everything came back like a spring flood. The trappers, Sam’s rescue, riding through the night, the pain in her head. “Where are we?”

  “A hotel in Rock Creek. How’s your head? You’ve been asleep since yesterday morning.”

  Afternoon sun shined through a window draped with white, lacy curtains. With a thick tongue she moistened her dry, cracked lips.

  Instantly a glass was pressed to her mouth, and Sam tugged on her shoulders, aiding her rise to take a drink. The water, cool and refreshing, washed away the traces of sleep coating her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she said, after drinking her fill.

  He set the glass on a small table beside the bed. There was also a dresser, with a pink pitcher and bowl, along the side wall. A single door was stationed on the end wall, and the bed was positioned in the corner of the other walls. The open window beside the bed allowed the soft breeze to blow across the covers.

  “How’s your head?” he asked again, as if she hadn’t heard him the other times.

  Security filled her insides. “Fine. My head is fine. I just needed to sleep it off.”

  He brushed a hand over her cheek. “That’s what the doctor said.”

  “The doctor?” She smoothed hair away from her face. “When was the doctor here?”

  “I hired one as soon as we got to town. He said you had a good sized bump. Sleep was the best thing. He said I’m supposed to get him if you have blurred vision or pain.” Sam grasped her face, gazing deeply into her eyes. “How’s your eyesight? Am I blurry? Is anything blurry?”

  She stared back, taking in every bit of his handsome face. His blue eyes seemed darker, looking at her with such intensity she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold on forever.

  He cupped her cheeks. “Loralei, am I blurry to you?”

  A smile fluttered over her lips. “No, Sam. You’re not blurry, you’re crystal clear.”

  The next instant, his arms wrapped around her. “Thank God.” He pressed his cheek upon her head. “I was so worried.”

  She snuggled in deeper. “It was just a little head bump.”

  He held her close for several minutes, and then his hands slipped away to plump the covers around her waist. It was at that moment she realized nothing but her shift covered her torso.

  “Oh,” she squeaked as heat flashed on her cheeks. With both hands she pulled the sheet up to her chin.

  Sam chuckled, but didn’t say anything as he rose and walked to the dresser. From the top drawer he pulled out her dress. “It’s been washed.” He laid it on the patch-work quilt covering the bed. “If you want to get dressed we can go downstairs and have something to eat.” He tossed her a serious look. “Or I can bring something up to you.”

  For some reason she couldn’t meet his gaze, just kept her eyes on the dress. “I’d like to go down. I feel fine.”

  “I’ll step out of the room for a moment.”

  When the door clicked shut, Loralei let out a loud groan and flopped onto the pillow. Not even the slight pain shooting up her scalp chased away her embarrassment. Had he seen how old and worn her shift was? It shouldn’t matter this much, Sam knew how meager her funds were, but she didn’t want to appear downright pitiful. Especially not to him. To him she wanted to be attractive and appealing. Someone he could be proud of.

  Sam paced the hallway, part of him relieved Loralei was awake and feeling better, the other half on fire from holding her—wanting her. His heart, how he felt about her, he’d come to terms with, but he needed to do something about the way his body responded to her slightest touch. Gall-darn-it, it was hard. She was so beautiful, and he’d never wanted something so badly in his life.

  It had been hell, watching her sleep, not knowing if she’d wake or not. He hadn’t told her, but the doctor said it was a nasty blow she’d taken, and that she might never wake up. Sam had sat beside her bed all day and night. Not daring to take his eyes off her chest. Afraid if he did, the slow rise and fall might cease.

  He’d had plenty of time to think, plenty of time to decide what to do. The decision had been relatively easy. Ty Bancroft didn’t matter, family obligations didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Loralei. He’d help her find her sister, and then, whether Loralei wanted to stay and live with her sister or go back to Timberland to claim her property, she’d be doing so as Mrs. Sam McDonald. He’d live wherever she wanted to. Forever.

  The creak of the door drew his attention, and he quickly made his way back to the entrance to their room. A twinge of guilt tugged at his throat. Should he tell her he registered them as a married couple when he checked in? He’d never have been allowed to stay in her room—ill or not—if he checked them in as unmarried. Hell and damnation, when had he gotten so good at lying?

  He held the door as she walked out, taking a moment to admire how charming and pretty she was, and accepting the fact simply looking at her increased his heart rate to the point he became breathless.

  Snatching her arm, he tugged her back into the room. He could lie to others, but not to her. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  With a confused frown, Loralei walked to the edge of the bed, and sat down as he indicated she should. “Are you doing all right? How’s your head?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “What is it, Sam?”

  He moved to the dresser, filled the glass with water, and took a long drink. It didn’t cool the heat in his throat.

  “You seem awfully nervous all of sudden,” she said.

  He spun about, noting how deep the frown on her forehead had become, how solemn her eyes looked. “I-uh—” he started, but paused to clear the log plugging his airway.

  “Yes? You what?”

  “I told you I lied to those trappers,” he started.

  “Yes, about the permits and such.”

  He nodded. Years ago, when New Orleans was captured in the war, his father had been the center of the foray. He’d lied to both the North and the South, used the events to his advantage. The entire family was expected to go along with whatever side his father played at the time. And of course they had—no one ever defied Myles McDonald. The memories curdled in his stomach. He’d hated the lying, hated his father for making them all participate in his deception. With a heavy sigh, he plopped onto the chair. “I lied when we got to Rock Creek, too.”

  “You ran into more trappers?”

  He frowned.

  “You told them they needed permits, too?”

  “No,” he waved a hand. “No. It has nothing to do with trappers.”

  “Who’d you lie to then?”

  “The hotel proprietors.”

  “Why did you lie to them?” Her eyes grew wide. “Oh. Did you need money for the room?” She glanced around. “Where’s Ruth? There’s money in her bag. We can use that.”

  He’d forgotten Ruth’s pouch held money. The hotel owner said the dog couldn’t be in the room, but had said she could stay in the back yard. He hadn’t thought about the poor animal all night. How could he have forgotten about Ruth? If it hadn’t been for her, he’d never have found Loralei.

  “Sam? Where’s Ruth?”

  He stood, and walked around the foot of the bed to glance out the window. A sigh left his chest. “She’s sitting in the backyard.” Pouch and all, he added to himself.

  Loralei squeezed beside him and stuck her head out the window. “Hey you!”

  The dog barked, tail wagging.

  “We’ll be right down,” Loralei assured. When she pulled her head in, she said, “I’m sure there’s enough to pay for the room.”

  “I have plenty of money, that’s not what…”

  She crossed her arms and gave him a stern stare. “Sam McDonald, you tell me what’s got you so flustered. Tell me this very minute.”

  God she was adorable.

  “I’m waiting,” she said, toe tappin
g.

  “I told them we’re married,” he said in one quick gush.

  “Married?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  Sam sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her down beside him. “Because it was the only way we both could stay in one room. I didn’t want to leave you when you were…hurt. And—”

  “But we aren’t really married. I mean, I didn’t sleep through a preacher’s visit like I did the doctor’s visit. Did I?”

  “No, we aren’t really married. There wasn’t a preacher.”

  “So folks just think we’re married.”

  “Yeah.” He huffed out a breath of air.

  She sat there, quiet, and rubbing her chin for some time. He’d give anything to know what was going on inside that little mind of hers. Did she hate him? Find him utterly despicable?

  He could no longer take the silence. “Loralei?”

  She slapped her knees with both hands. “I think that was a good idea, Sam. Could we go get something to eat now? My stomach is rumbling and Ruth is waiting.”

  “Sure,” he agreed, and since he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he stood.

  “Where’s Raindrop and King?” she wanted to know as they walked to the door.

  “At the livery down the street.” He pulled the door open.

  “You didn’t say they were married, too, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Good, since they’re both boys,” she giggled and slipped out the door.

  “I know that,” he said for no particular reason.

  Loralei took in the hallway as they meandered to the staircase. The hotel reminded her of the one the Sutherland’s owned back in Timberland. Her giggle lodged in her throat. Mrs. Sutherland would not be happy if someone had duped her by saying they were married when they weren’t.

  She understood why Sam had lied. Hotel rooms were expensive, and they certainly could share one, after all they shared the little alcove which was much smaller than the room. However, it was not proper, for an unmarried couple to share the same room, whether they were traveling partners or not.

  Yet, she surmised as they began to step down the staircase, traveling as a married couple would be a lot less complicated. She’d known folks who claimed to be married while traveling and once they got to Timberland, they had Reverend Jones marry them in secret ceremonies. She herself had gone and found the preacher more than once for such couples—a couple times after delivering a baby. Besides, if they pretended to be married, Sam couldn’t leave as soon as he found Ty Bancroft. Or could he? They were just pretending.

  Her mind became a jumbled mess, and when they stepped off the stairs, Sam had to steer her toward the door.

  As soon as Sam opened the door, Ruth dashed in with a delighted yip. Loralei bent down to hug the dog. “How are you? No injuries or sores?” After checking the dog and the stitches of her little pouch, Loralei kissed the top of the Ruth’s head.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. McDonald,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  Loralei peered at the woman walking across the foyer of the hotel.

  “I’m sorry I said your little dog couldn’t be in the room with you.” The matronly woman, with gray hair wound in a floppy bun knelt down beside Ruth. “She is such a good dog. She sat on the back porch all day and night. Even after I told her she could come in.” Scratching Ruth’s ears, the woman turned to talk to the dog. “You minded your master, didn’t you girl. When he said stay, you stayed put.”

  Ruth’s big, brown eyes gazed at Sam. He bent to pat her head. “Yes, she is a very good dog.”

  “Well, tonight, rules or no rules, she can stay in your room.” The woman rose. “Hello, Mrs. McDonald. I’m Ester Lyons. My husband and I own the Road House. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  It took Loralei a moment to answer. Being called Mrs. McDonald was quite perplexing and not unpleasant in anyway. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Well, you must be starving. I have a pot of chicken and dumplings bubbling on the stove. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” Mrs. Lyons took Loralei’s elbow. “Come along. Doc Murray is so smart. He said you’d be fine. But that young husband of yours was worried sick. I was up to check on you several times and tried to get him to eat something, but he just shooed me out the door.”

  Loralei glanced over the woman’s head. Sam shrugged his shoulders. Was he that worried about her head bump, or was he worried Mrs. Lyons would discover they weren’t really married? A glob swelled in her throat.

  “Here, now, you sit down, and I’ll get your plates,” Mrs. Lyons said, after leading them into a small dining area.

  Moments later, Loralei and Sam had barely settled themselves at a table when Mrs. Lyons bounded back into the room, plates in hand.

  “Here now, start with this, and I’ll get you some bread and butter.” She set plates wafting a wondrous scent before them and dashed a quizzical look at Loralei before she said, “Milk. I’ll get you some milk to drink, don’t you agree, Mr. McDonald?” Sam didn’t have a chance to answer as the woman continued, “Yes, I thought you’d agree. I’ll get you some coffee, though. You look like you could use it.”

  Loralei frowned. Now that the woman mentioned it, Sam did look extremely tired—like he hadn’t slept in sometime.

  When the swinging door closed, he glanced at his plate.

  “You should eat,” Loralei encouraged, picking up her fork. The food tasted as good as it smelled, and they were both engrossed in eating when Mrs. Lyons returned with a tray bearing bread, butter, her milk, and Sam’s coffee.

  A minute later the woman was back, again, this time with a bowl for Ruth, who sat between Sam and Loralei’s chairs. After setting the dish down, Mrs. Lyons settled herself on the chair across from Loralei and started to ask questions.

  “So, where are you two headed? Or are you thinking of settling down here in Rock Creek?”

  Sam answered, “No, we’re headed to Idaho.”

  “Oh, Idaho.” Mrs. Lyons nodded and continued, “So where’re you from?”

  “I’m from New Orleans, L—my wife is from Colorado,” Sam answered.

  “Oh, New Orleans and Colorado.” Mrs. Lyons nodded again and didn’t even take a breath before asking, “So why are you headed to Idaho?”

  “My wife’s sister lives there,” Sam offered.

  “Oh. So what’s the dog’s name?”

  Loralei didn’t even attempt to respond, Sam seemed content to answer. Besides, she liked the way he said my wife.

  “Ruth,” he said.

  “Oh, Ruth. So how long have you two been married?”

  Loralei’s hand trembled. She squeezed her fork to keep the food from dropping off. Sam leaned toward Mrs. Lyons and crooked a finger. The woman leaned closer, and he whispered something in her ear.

  “Of course!” The woman jumped to her feet and scrambled for the swinging door.

  Loralei gapped at him.

  He pointed towards his plate. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Wh—”

  “Eat up before it grows cold,” he said, stopping her question.

  Mrs. Lyons, the door slapping shut behind her, all but ran to the table to set a bowl down.

  Heat flooded Lorlei’s cheeks. She glanced from the bowl to Sam.

  He winked at her, nodding to the dish that held two large, green pickles. “Eat up.”

  “I made them myself. They’re the best around. Everyone says so.” Mrs. Lyons once again made herself comfortable at the table.

  Chapter Eleven

  Refreshed and ready to travel, they left town the next morning. Loralei had slept like a baby in the comfortable bed, while Sam had taken one of the pillows and propped himself in the chair for the night. She’d said he could sleep on the far side of the bed, but Sam insisted he slept better in a chair. Ruth had spied the opening and without an invitation had jumped onto the bed.

  Loralei watched Sam twi
st his neck and shoulders this way and that, wondering if the chair had been as comfortable as he proclaimed. She nudged Raindrop until the pony walked beside King. “Thank you.”

  He glanced her way. “For what?”

  “For rescuing me from the trappers. I haven’t had a chance to say it before now.”

  “A person didn’t have a chance to get a word in edgewise with Mrs. Lyons around.” A smile filled his face.

  She liked it. It made him look even more handsome. “That’s true,” she agreed. “But thank you, nonetheless.”

  “You’re welcome.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It was the least I could do.”

  She glanced at him, somewhat confused.

  With a very serious gaze, he said, “You saved me from the Indians.”

  “Oh.” Was that the only reason he saved her? Because she’d save him?

  A smile overtook his face again. He reached over and tugged on the brim of her hat. “I’m teasing,” he said. “I’d gladly save you any day, from trappers, or Indian’s or whatever trouble you get yourself into.”

  “Get myself into?” she huffed, a touch miffed. “I’ll have you know I’ve never gotten myself into to trouble. I—”

  He’d pulled on Raindrop’s reins. Both horses stopped. He leaned over, so close their noses almost touched. “I said I was teasing.”

  His eyes sparkled like the North Star. Then he leaned closer, and all she could do was watch as his face met hers. His lips, warm and soft, brushed against hers. She sucked in air, and it was a good thing she did, because when his mouth touched hers again, it took her breath away. Her eyes fluttered shut as overwhelming sensations rippled her body. When Raindrop resettled a foot, Loralei would have fallen out of the saddle if Sam hadn’t grabbed her arm.

  Head reeling, she caught her balance by gripping the saddle horn.

  Sam kissed the tip of her nose, and then settled her hat back on her head. “You’re welcome, Loralei.”

  Had she thanked him for kissing her? She wanted to, but had she? A hive of bees buzzed in her head when she looked up and realized he and King, and Ruth, were several yards ahead of her.

  She nudged Raindrop and caught up with them. He glanced her way, smiling. Happiness rang through her. Content and grinning, they rode down the trail. Her, her horse, her dog, and her traveling companion. Life was good.