River had stood helplessly as the mother dragged her child away. The pain he read in Sarah’s face held him in shocked silence as the full implications of what she was confronting cut into his heart. Prudence with all her bluster was easier to dismiss. Who cared what that old bat thought, anyway?
A short time ago he had tried to warn Rice away from her the way the young mother had warned her daughter. He thought he knew Sarah to be a thief and a deceiver, but for some odd reason he couldn’t convince himself she deserved this. He was more than a little tempted to go to her, to offer her comfort.
His attention was drawn away from Sarah as the boy beside him turned and ran. River wanted to call out to him, but the silence seemed too heavy to break. He took one last look at Sarah’s stiff profile before following Rice. He caught up with him where the horses were picketed. Rice had gone straight to Milburn’s black. River noticed the boy’s slumped shoulders. “You hiding from something?”
River was surprised to see him jump. Rice had been so engrossed in his own misery, he hadn’t realized his friend had followed. “Naw,” he said, trying to sound casual.
River stepped forward and caught the halter, rubbing the black’s nose. “I know how it is. Sometimes you just need to come see your horse.”
He watched Rice out of the corner of his eye and thought he saw the ghost of a smile. Finally Rice spoke. “You heard what that woman said. She tried to pretend, but she wasn’t a bit nice. And that fat old Prudence wanted to send Miss Sarah away with the buffalo hunters.”
“I feel bad for Sarah, too,” River admitted.
“But I don’t want to feel bad for her. I want to be mad at her.”
“Maybe you’ve been mad long enough.” The horse tossed his head, and River let the halter go. In the distance he could see the small hunting party returning. He clapped Rice on the back and pointed. “Want to go meet them?”
Rice shook his head. River watched the boy turn his full attention to the black. After a moment he said, “I have work to do. Don’t wait too long before you see if Eli needs you.”
A slight nod was the only indication that Rice had heard. River smiled as he left him. Sarah would be riding with Rice again. He wondered momentarily why that thought should make him happy. He tried to put her out of his mind and concentrate on the business at hand. He had to meet the hunters and see that the game was equitably divided among the families.
At the wagon, Sarah had seen the hunters come in. She tried to distract Eli by pointing them out, but he wasn’t interested. “Ya ask me, yer better off. Didn’t never need that mouthy little gal hanging around, anyhow,” he was saying. “`Go home!’ I’d say. Didn’t I have to say it all the time?”
Sarah took a deep breath. Eli, she had learned, had been within earshot when Martha had come for her daughter. He had wanted her to have some time to herself, he told her, and had left her alone until he had to rescue the bread.
While Eli put the loaves into pans and set them in the sun and Sarah cleaned up from mixing, he told her the opinions of the other travelers shouldn’t bother her. In the process, he pointed out several slights Sarah hadn’t noticed. She knew he was trying to reassure her, but it was making her more depressed. As he talked, it occurred to her that Eli always acted as if the rest of the train disliked him.
“And old Mrs. Prude,” he continued. “Ya didn’t want her as a friend, nohow.”
Eli’s name for Mrs. Carroll startled Sarah into glancing at him. From the corner of her eye she could see Rice approaching and turned quickly back to her work. She didn’t want to embarrass the boy by staring at him.
Eli caught the reaction, looked around to find the cause and grunted. “Ya shouldn’t make it so easy for him to ignore ya,” he grumbled, not quite under his breath.
Sarah cast him a reproving look, afraid Rice might have heard.
Rice went straight to the supply wagon and in a moment came to stand beside Sarah. She didn’t look up, certain he was only after something in the wagon. Finally he set the volume of King Arthur on the tailboard in front of her. “Could I read to you this evening, Miss Sarah?”
Sarah laid a hand gently on the book, resisting the urge to rest it on the boy’s arm instead. “Of course, Rice,” she said, barely daring to look at him, afraid tears would come to her eyes. He smiled and hurried away.
“That weren’t no apology,” Eli grumbled loudly.
“Hush!” Sarah glared at him. Her reaction seemed to tickle him, and he chuckled and muttered as he got the fire ready for the bread.
A short time later, River brought over their camp’s share of the meat. Eli set about carving off a large chunk to roast for supper. “Show Sarie how ta jerk the rest,” he said.
Sarah had no idea what he meant, but she joined River obediently. He set two cutting boards on the tailboard and pulled the bone-handled knife from its sheath on his thigh.
“Wash up,” Eli said. Sarah bit her lip to keep from laughing at River’s expression, but they both complied.
“Cut a chunk you can handle,” River said, demonstrating. “Then slice it in thin strips about an inch wide.” He cut a chunk for her and handed her the knife. Sarah did as he instructed, amazed at how sharp the knife was.
Once he had seen that she knew what to do, she expected him to go on to some other job. Instead he pulled a thin knife from the top of his left boot and stayed beside her, skillfully slicing the meat. She worked more slowly, uncertain about both the task and her companion.
As he finished with one large chunk, he looked at her. “Did Rice come by?” His tone was low enough to exclude Eli.
She nodded, giving him a slight smile. He flashed his broad grin in return.
The grin confused her. He already made her nervous, standing so close; now she was afraid she would cut herself. He had gone back to work, but she could only watch her hands shake.
After a moment he spoke again. “I’m sorry about what’s happened.”
Sarah held the knife firmly against the cutting board. If it didn’t shake, her voice wouldn’t. Or so she hoped. She met his eyes. “I don’t blame you,” she said.
“I know. But I’m sorry just the same.”
She tried to pull her eyes away from his, but he stared at her with an intensity that held her. Finally a nervous laugh allowed her to break free. “You’re forgiven,” she said, and went back to work.
She knew River was still looking at her. She tried to watch what she was doing and not his hands, which were suspiciously idle. When he grabbed another chunk of meat, she sighed with relief. In a moment she was cutting the last piece; they were almost done. She would be able to wash her sticky hands and ease the tension building in her shoulders.
River hollered at Eli to get the line to hang the meat on.
“Get it yerself,” Eli returned.
“Go get it, old man, unless you want blood all over the insides of your wagon. I don’t want to wash my hands twice.”
Eli grumbled, but he went to the supply wagon, and River cast Sarah his easy grin. In a moment Eli returned with the line and moved a crate for River to stand on while he hung the string high on the side of the wagon. When he was ready, Sarah handed the strips of meat to him, and he draped them over the line.
“How long will these take to dry?” Sarah asked.
“Three or four days,” River replied, laughing when she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like a little fringe on your wagon?”
Sarah smiled, and River found himself staring at her again. He forced his eyes away. If he wasn’t careful, he would be gaping at her and fall off the crate.
Sarah was surprised to discover she was enjoying herself. Her hands were sticky with blood, Eli was grumbling in the background, but River was teasing her like the old days. Her mind was too slow to tease back the way she used to. Or maybe it was fear that stopped her, the same fear that made her think twice before she spoke and dread being inside the wagon.
River must have rea
d something of her thoughts on her face because he watched her intently. She forced a quick smile. “What do we do if it rains?”
River wasn’t fooled into thinking that was what worried her, but he played along. “Then we yell at Eli for not letting us dry it over the fire tonight.”
Eli’s grumblings increased in volume. When River hung the last strip of meat, he said, “I’ll help you clean up.”
Sarah grabbed the bucket and soap and followed him. He didn’t head straight for the river but led her at an angle toward a plum thicket on the bank. Sarah’s mind was so filled with conflicting emotions she didn’t think to question why he chose this particular spot. Yellowing petals on the ground gave evidence that the bushes had recently been in full bloom. Sarah wished she might have seen the blossoms when they were snowy white. It seemed a shame to step on the petals, which had once been so pure.
River led her to the bank on the far side of the thicket. He filled the bucket for her but was content to wash his own hands in the slowly flowing stream. When she handed him the soap, he caught her hand, as well. Sarah couldn’t free it for fear of dropping the slippery soap. River used both hands, and she drew away, hoping he hadn’t seen what so simple a contact did to her.
“I’m finished,” she said, emptying the bucket into the thicket. She meant to go back without him, but he was on his feet in an instant.
“Wait,” he said. “You’ve got some on your face.”
His cool hand rubbed gently at her cheek. “There.” He smiled down at her but didn’t draw away. In a moment his lips were warming the spot his damp fingers had cooled.
Sarah felt her knees tremble and dropped the bucket to steady herself against his strong chest. His lips trailed across her cheek to claim her lips. The feel of his cool, damp hands on her back brought Sarah to her senses. The purpose of the plum thicket suddenly became clear.
She tried to break away, but he caught her arm. “Sarah, please. I need to talk to you.”
“Talk?” She eyed him accusingly.
“I know. I’m sorry.” She tried again to break free, and he talked faster. “Sarah, meet me here tonight. Please. Do you think you can find it in the dark?”
“No.”
He released her arm and watched her hurry away. The bucket lay on its side at his feet. He bent to retrieve it and turned to find the soap. “What gets into me?” he muttered. “I’m letting that woman drive me crazy. Again.”
He was thinking much the same thing when the stars came out, and he paced beside the plum thicket. I must be crazy. She isn’t coming. She had told him she wouldn’t come; there was no reason to be here losing sleep. Yet if there was any chance she might change her mind, he wanted to be waiting.
What was it he hoped to tell her, anyway? How much he still wanted her? No doubt she could guess. That the past didn’t matter? He would be lying if he told her that.
Maybe he just needed to tell her he knew she had changed, that he wanted to start over. He took off his hat and raked his hand through his hair. Most of the changes he could see he didn’t like. He had been delighted the few times her behavior reminded him of the past. In the past, he reminded himself, she had robbed his father’s store.
He shoved his hat back on his head and paced. He had lied to her. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to get her alone, as far from the others as he could, and make love to her. If he told her that, it ought to earn him a good slap in the face.
It doesn’t matter what I wanted to tell her. She isn’t coming. Resigned, he started around the plum thicket and froze midstride. She was coming. He could barely see her, picking her way in the dark. He moved to meet her and led her to the far side of the little thicket.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” she said.
“You said you weren’t coming.” He still held her arm; he didn’t want to let go any sooner than he had to. Her hair was loose, and the breeze blew a lock across the back of his hand.
“I reconsidered,” she admitted.
River grinned and started to pull her toward him and felt her stiffen. He dropped her arm and watched her back away a step.
“Daniel,” she warned.
Coax her back, he thought. “I love it when you call me that.”
Sarah couldn’t see his face but heard a hint of humor in his voice.
“It brings back memories,” he added softly. He began to close the distance between them.
“You said you wanted to talk. I thought it might be my chance to explain.”
River took a deep breath. “Sarah, you’ve already told me you weren’t there, but I know what I saw.”
“But you’ve never listened to me.”
“Shh.” He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “I don’t want to hear your lies. I have other memories of your lips.”
He moved toward her so slowly Sarah felt hypnotized. His lips had claimed hers in a slow, gentle kiss, and his arms had drawn her body against his before she could pull herself out of the spell. And it was a powerful spell. It made her lips go soft under his. The gentle intrusion of his tongue brought Sarah to her senses.
As soon as he felt her stiffen, he let her go. The disappointment and frustration didn’t surprise him. The longing and regret did.
Sarah struggled to catch her breath. “How can you want to kiss me when you still think the worst of me?” she gasped.
River shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
Sarah felt a moment of desperation. She couldn’t make him listen, but maybe she had time to plant one idea in his head. “Do you remember Linda Neff?”
It was too dark to tell if the question surprised him. He took his time answering. “Yeah, I remember her.”
Sarah bit her lip. Why was it so hard to talk about it? He said he didn’t want to listen, but he was here with her; why couldn’t she blurt out the truth? She even had proof! She ought to wave it under his nose!
Suddenly she knew why she didn’t. She wanted him to believe her, trust her, without the proof. Foolish as it seemed, she wanted him to believe in her without having to hear her tell it. If he couldn’t, he didn’t love her. Not the way she loved him.
River was curious about her mention of Linda. She had been one of their group of friends, but neither of them had particularly liked her, as he recalled. It irritated him more than it should have. He was having difficulty carrying on a conversation with her while the moonlight and breeze played in her hair. How was he supposed to stand here so close to her and not touch her? Her long silence made him want to fidget.
Finally Sarah spoke. “She’s dead.” It wasn’t what she had intended to say, but none of that mattered now. She turned and started away.
River caught her arm. He felt a surge of anger at her for being so unmoved by the setting, the moonlight, the nearness of their bodies. And anger at himself for being nearly overpowered by it. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “She was more than willing to offer me comfort after your betrayal.”
Sarah’s steps faltered, but only for a moment. She hurried toward the wagons. It had been a mistake to come. She should have followed her instincts and stayed as far away from him as possible. Now she would have to try to sleep with the memory of his kiss and the knowledge that he held her in such low regard.
He admitted to going to Linda when she was arrested, or Linda had gone to him. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it explained a few things. But for him to brag about it now and to suggest he wanted her even as he called her a liar was too much to bear.
She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. After six years, after all he had said and done, when he had moved to kiss her, she had wanted him, as well.
From the riverbank River had watched her go, reaching a hand out toward her then letting it fall helplessly at his side. Why couldn’t he hold his tongue?
He paced the little area beside the plum thicket again, cursing himself. She was the one who always brought up the past. Why mention Linda Neff now?
She had been easy to forget until Sarah reminded him. Sarah, he would never forget.
He took a deep breath and started back. He knew where he had gone wrong. He had lost his temper. He and Sarah would get along fine, he decided, if they just didn’t talk.
* * *
Monday morning Sarah was in the wagon seat, enjoying Rice’s chatter. It was barely midmorning, and she had already heard how the von Schiller girls were improving their English, their father still had a toothache, and maybe their mother liked him after all.
When they decided to walk for a while, Rice helped Sarah down and started the team moving again. “I saw you walking by Eli’s wagon,” he said.
Sarah nodded; she had thought of that at the time. Wanting to put Rice at ease, she said in a loud whisper, “It’s a little boring riding with Eli.”
Rice remained serious. “I kept wishin’ you’d fall behind and have to ride with me.”
“But, Rice, I thought you didn’t want me around.”
The boy shrugged, keeping his eyes on the team. “I did, and I didn’t.”
Sarah laughed. “Don’t feel bad about it now. I’m just glad we can be friends again in spite of my past.”
“Your past don’t bother me none,” he said. “I just thought you would have told me something that important.”
Sarah watched the young profile for a moment. “There are lots of reasons people keep secrets. I wanted to pretend that part of my life never happened. I’ll bet there are some things you don’t want to talk about.” At his skeptical look she added, “Or there will be. What if one of the von Schiller girls kisses you? Will you come tell me first thing?”
Cassandra Austin Page 12
