“Just one?” He pursed his lips.
Sarah nodded. She’d had another one, but she could hardly tell him that she’d cut it down to make Beth a dress. Her husband turned and walked away. Sarah stood where she was, watching the townsfolk watching her. A few people gathered outside a building across the street, glaring at her. A man riding a horse stopped in the middle of the road and stared. Sarah wiped her sweaty hands on her pants, and peered over her shoulder at the sheriff, who stood a few feet away. Were these people still bent on lynching her?
Mr. McFarland glanced back, spun around, and stalked toward her. She flinched as he stopped in front of her. Had she upset him already? He studied her and then scanned the crowd of townsfolk. He offered her his arm. “May I assist you, ma’am?”
Grateful for the protection he offered, Sarah looped her hand around his arm. It was rock hard, and her hand shook at his overpowering nearness. The sheriff walked on her right side, and she felt cocooned between them. Other than her pa, she’d never had a man stand up for her. This was something she could easily get used to. She alone had borne the burden these past months of finding shelter and food and caring for her siblings after their farmhouse had burned with their parents inside. It was nice to have someone watching out for her again.
They walked into the mercantile and all talk stopped. Her husband strode to the counter, all but dragging her along. “Are my supplies ready to go?”
The plump, white-haired woman behind the counter nodded her head and looked Sarah up and down. Mr. McFarland’s jaw tightened. He turned to Sarah. “I want you to pick out a new dress, and some fabric to make several more.” His eyes narrowed. “You can sew, can’t you?”
Sarah nodded, grateful for his generosity but anxious to be on her way. She needed to know her brother and sister were all right. He leaned toward her. “Be sure to get any, uh”—he leaned closer, his warm breath tickling her ear—“unmentionables that you might need. We don’t get to town all that often.”
He stepped away, his ears and neck as red as she was sure her cheeks were, and looked back at the clerk. “Make sure she gets a sturdy pair of shoes, too. I’m going to fetch my wagon. I want her ready to go when I get back.” He strode out of the store without a backward glance.
“I’ll just rest here while you shop.” The sheriff smiled and leaned his hip against the countertop.
The clerk nodded, but Quinn was already gone. Sarah was sure he didn’t often shop for ladies’ clothing and couldn’t help grinning at his embarrassment.
The sheriff chuckled. “Quinn lit out of here like his britches was on fire. What a day he’s had. First he gets married, then he has to buy a lady’s unmentionables.”
The clerk twisted her mouth. “Maybe such unmentionables should remain unmentioned, Sheriff.”
Will Jones grinned. “Maybe so, ma’am. I’ll just stay here by the counter while you two do the shopping.”
Sarah looked around the store. It was smaller than the ones she’d been in before, but most everything anyone would need was crammed on a shelf or cabinet or stuffed in a corner.
“I don’t know where to start.” She’d never been able to buy whatever she wanted before. Her parents’ farm had provided most of the things her family had needed, and they had traded for other necessities. A man and woman to her left eyed Sarah with speculation, the man whispered something, and then they hurried out the door.
“Our ready-made dresses are in the back. We don’t have too many since most folks in these parts make their own.” The clerk didn’t seem fazed in the least that her customer had just gotten out of jail. She was probably counting up the big sale she was about to make.
Sarah held her breath as she looked at the four dresses hanging on a narrow rod—one blue, one dark green, and two brown calicos. She’d never had a store-bought dress before. She loved green and reached out to touch the garment but then looked down at her dirty palm. Her hand dropped to her side. Tears blurred her view of the dresses. After all she’d been through, why should something so small make her cry?
“You know, I’ve got a room in back where you could freshen up if you’ve a mind to.”
Sarah smiled at the woman’s gracious offer. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
She followed the clerk to the back of the store. As they walked toward a curtain separating the store from another room, the sheriff pushed off the counter and strode toward her.
The clerk sashayed around Sarah and stopped in front of her, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “Now, Sheriff, the lady would like to freshen up. Surely you can’t deny her that after all she’s been through.”
Sheriff Jones studied both women as if he thought they were up to something.
“I’m not going anywhere. I just want to get this layer of grime off me. Please.” Sarah begged with her eyes for him to grant her this one little favor.
He flung the curtain aside and glanced at the store’s closed back door that she’d have access to once the curtain was shut again. Finally, he nodded. “Just don’t forget there’s a town full of men out there who were ready to lynch you yesterday.” He strode back toward the counter. “Or marry you.”
Had she heard correctly? She shook her head. Surely there hadn’t been more than one man willing to marry her.
The clerk slid the floral curtain shut, blocking Sarah’s view of the sheriff. A colorful ceramic pitcher with painted flowers sat in a matching basin on a worktable next to the wall. The older woman poured water into the basin and laid a washcloth and a bar of scented soap on the table.
“This is a special soap. I only carry a few bars, but I want you to have it.”
Sarah batted back tears. After being jailed, this small kindness just about destroyed her composure. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m sure you deserve it. I don’t know what this world is coming to when they put girls in jail. No sir.” She shook her head. “Now go ahead and strip down. I’ll get some fresh under things and that green dress you were eyeing. It might be a tad long, but you can hem it once you get a chance. My man is gone on a delivery and won’t be back until this afternoon, so no one will bother you back here. I’m Mrs. Johnson, by the way.”
She dashed away before Sarah could utter another thank-you. The scent of leather mixed with the odor of spices, pickles, and coffee made her stomach rumble. An abundance of canned items were stocked on shelves that went all the way up to the ceiling of the storage room. It looked as if Mrs. Johnson had already stocked up for winter, even though it was still months away.
Sarah wiped away the grime that had collected over the past two days. She slipped out of her uncle’s smelly clothes, grateful to be rid of them. They’d make good fuel for someone’s fire.
Standing in her frayed undergarments, Sarah flinched when the curtain moved, and she stepped back beside a cabinet, lest the sheriff see her. Mrs. Johnson slipped through the curtain, taking care to keep it closed around her. “Here you go.”
On her arm were stockings, a chemise and drawers with eyelet trim, and a pretty petticoat. Sarah reached out and rubbed the soft cotton fabric between her fingers. The unmentionables she and her mother had made were from rough flour sacks. “I’ve never had anything so beautiful.”
Mrs Johnson smiled congenially. “Most men won’t say so, but they love seeing their woman in pretty things.”
Sarah’s eyes widened at the thought of Mr. McFarland seeing her half dressed. “I suppose I’d better hurry. My. . .uh. . .husband will be back any minute.”
Mrs. Johnson chuckled as she laid the green dress on a chair. “I’ll gather up another three sets of undergarments for you, if that’s all right. Two for warm weather and two for when it gets colder.”
“Don’t you think that’s too much? One or two would be sufficient.”
“We have some long winters here, and it’s hard for the ranchers to get to town. It’s better that you have too much than too little.”
Sarah shrugged. “I suppose you’
re right.”
Mrs. Johnson slipped around the floral curtain again. Sarah dressed quickly, enjoying the feel of the fresh cotton dress and soft undergarments. She could only hope her husband wouldn’t be angry at her for buying so many things. But he did say to get whatever she needed.
She smoothed down her dress, wishing it didn’t drag on the floor. She picked up the front of her skirt and peeked around the curtain for Mrs. Johnson. Sheriff Jones craned his neck as if checking to see if she was still there. She couldn’t resist waving. He shook his head, and a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“Try these on. I think they’re your size.”
Sarah stared at the lovely boots Mrs. Johnson passed to her. The soft black leather was cool to the touch. “I can’t buy these. They’re too much.” Reluctantly, she handed them back.
“Nonsense. Your husband said to get you a sturdy pair, and these are the best we’ve got. Go ahead and try them on.”
Sarah sighed and slipped on the new boots. They fit as if they were made for her.
“You look lovely, my dear. Let me do something with your hair. I’m sure you’d like to wash it, but this cornmeal will have to do for now.” She sprinkled on some cornmeal and brushed it through Sarah’s tresses. In a manner of minutes, Mrs. Johnson had coiled Sarah’s hair and pinned it up. The woman handed her a mirror. “Have a look.”
Sarah held it up, staring at herself. Melancholy battled with delight. Not since before her parents died had she looked so nice. If only her mother could see her. Would she be angered at how Sarah had left her brother and sister alone? Or would she be proud of Sarah’s efforts to keep the children together?
“That husband of yours won’t know what hit him when he sees how lovely you are.”
Sarah smiled and checked the mirror again. Would Quinn think she was pretty?
“Now, let’s hurry and pick out some fabric before your Mr. McFarland returns. He seemed anxious to be on his way.”
The sheriff’s brows lifted and a low whistle escaped his lips. “Wow. If I’d have known you’d clean up so well, I’d have married you myself.”
Heat rushed to Sarah’s cheeks. “Why, Sheriff, I do believe that was a compliment.”
The rogue grinned and pushed his hat back on his forehead as if to get a better look.
Ten minutes later, Sarah had enough fabric to make two more dresses, as well as clothes and undergarments for both Ryan and Beth. She added a brush and comb and some hair ribbons to the pile. She wished she could get new shoes for her siblings, but how could she explain that? She hoped Mr. McFarland wouldn’t question why she’d purchased so much fabric, because she wasn’t ready to let the cat out of the bag quite yet.
Boots clomped on the boardwalk, and Sarah spun around to face her husband. He stopped a few feet into the doorway. His gaze moved past her then rushed back. His mouth dropped open. Quickly enough, he slammed it shut, but his gaze traveled her length from head to toe. A slow smile tugged at his lips. “Well. . .that’s an improvement.”
Sarah pressed her hands against her chest, embarrassed at his perusal. She’d never had a man look as if he was so pleased with her appearance. “I was hoping that you meant for me to wear the store-bought dress so that I’d look nicer when I meet your grandmother.”
“Honestly, I just didn’t want you to have to wear those filthy duds any longer.”
“More likely, he didn’t want to have to smell them all the way to the Rocking M.” The sheriff grinned.
Mrs. Johnson gasped, grabbed a nearby broom, and swatted the sheriff’s boots. “What an awful thing to say. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Will Jones.”
Chuckling, the sheriff danced out of her way. He grabbed the two large packages that Mrs. Johnson had wrapped in brown paper and hurried out of the store with the clerk at his heels. Mr. McFarland pulled some paper dollars from his pocket and paid the woman when she returned. He glanced at Sarah with one brow lifted when the woman quoted the exorbitant total. Sarah tried to soothe herself with the thought that her husband had purchased several crates of supplies himself, too, but it wasn’t working. She cringed at the thought of spending so much of his money and for deceiving him about the children. But would he have married her if he’d known about Ryan and Beth ahead of time?
“Ready to go?”
Sarah avoided his gaze and nodded. The sheriff might have been joking about how she smelled, but what he’d said was true. She’d cleaned up some and the rose-scented soap helped, but she still needed a bath.
Mr. McFarland took her elbow and steered her toward the door. “Don’t let what Will said bother you. You can have all the baths you want when we get home. I’ve been in that jail before, so I know what it’s like.”
She peeked up at him. Why in the world had he been in jail? Was that why he’d been so willing to marry her?
He lifted her up onto a solid buckboard with a padded seat and back rest. “Are you all set? Did you get everything you needed?”
“Yes. That was very generous of you to allow me to purchase so many things. Thank you.” Sarah was grateful that Sheriff Jones’s comment had distracted her husband from the large packages that the sheriff had set among the crates of supplies he helped load.
Mr. McFarland grunted a response as if uncomfortable with her gratitude. The wagon swayed as he climbed in. His big body took up much of the bench. Sarah scooted to the right, bumping the edge of the seat.
He clicked to the horses, and they started forward. The townsfolk gathered on the boardwalk, a few waving, but most grumbling and glaring. Mr. McFarland and the sheriff had spoiled their lynching. Sarah reached up, her hand touching her throat.
Her husband turned the wagon in the opposite direction of the Little Missouri River and the big smokestack that had guided her to town. Away from Ryan and Beth.
Five
Quinn slapped the reins on the horses’ rumps, and they walked faster. He rubbed the back of his neck, as he considered how he’d explain Sarah to his grandmother.
“No, wait.” Sarah clutched Quinn’s arm, and he looked down.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to go the other way—to collect my belongings.”
“I just bought you two parcels of things. I thought you realized that I purchased those items so you wouldn’t have to return for your other dress.” Was that so hard to understand? He needed to get home. Work was waiting. He couldn’t be traveling all over the Badlands to pick up an old dress.
Sarah sputtered then glared at him. “There are other things I need besides my dress.”
“Can’t you get them at the store?”
“Um. . .no, I can’t. They’re things especially dear to me. All I have left of my parents.”
Quinn stared out the corner of his eye at her then sighed. Pulling tight on the left rein, he turned the buckboard in a wide arc then snapped the reins again. “Just where are these belongings of yours?”
“A little ways across the river. It’s not too far.” She nibbled her lip and clenched her hands so tightly together in her lap that her knuckles turned white.
They rode back through town, receiving stares again, as they headed toward the river. Quinn shook his head. He hadn’t been the center of so much attention since he and Anna had been jailed.
“Thank you for what you did—marrying me, I mean. I want you to know that I truly am innocent. This has all been a horrible mistake.”
Quinn stared again at his wife, unable to believe how pretty she looked once she’d cleaned up. She seemed as if she was struggling not to squirm. His heart jolted. She had blue eyes. In the dimness of the jail, he’d thought they were gray or even brown. He’d always hoped if he married that he’d wed a woman with eyes the color of the summer sky. A tiny flame deep within him sparked to life.
Her long black hair was pinned up in a womanly fashion, but he’d seen it down, hanging clear to her waist, and that’s the picture that remained in his mind. Her skin wasn’t porcelain white like one of
Anna’s dolls but had been kissed by the sun into a light brown. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he’d done all right for himself.
Still, she couldn’t be anywhere near his age. “Just how old are you, ma’am?”
“Nineteen.”
He scowled. There was nearly a decade difference in their ages. “You’re mighty young.”
“What about you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
She raised a hand to her chest. “My, but you’re positively ancient.”
Her teasing made him grin; then he sobered. “That a problem for you?”
“No. Is it a problem for you?”
He pursed his lips. She was young enough to take care of him in his old age. He nearly chuckled out loud. “I reckon not.”
In her efforts to stay away from him, she’d scooted clear over to the right of the seat. She’d seemed apprehensive of the men in town who’d watched her outside the general store. Did he frighten her? “You can relax. I won’t hurt you.”
Her gaze darted to his, and he could read the questions in her eyes. Eyes that he could get used to staring into. He focused on the trail ahead. They passed the old meat processing plant that the Marquis de Mores had closed nearly a decade earlier. The giant building with its sky-high smokestack was a sad reminder of a failed dream.
“What is that place? It looks empty.”
“It is. A French marquis came here back in ’83 when the big cattle bonanza was still in full swing. He had a vision to butcher cattle here and ship refrigerated beef back East.” He looked over his left shoulder. “Don’t know if you can still see it, but that big two-story building up there in the hills was his home.”
Sarah glanced in the direction he pointed. “So, what happened?”
Quinn shrugged. “Two bad winters all but destroyed the herds of cattle around here. And with the competition from other beef producers, the marquis went bust and took his family back to New York, or wherever it was they came from.”
Straight For The Heart Page 5
