“My arm’s ready to fall off.”
Sara passed her and started up the porch steps. Hetty’s words stopped her.
“Somethin’ wrong, Sara?”
She turned. “What makes you ask?”
“You look a little peaked, that’s all. Somethin’ happen in town?”
“No, I. . .I expect I’m just a little worn out from the walk.”
“Mmm. That can happen. It’s a good ways to town, and sometimes that sun beatin’ down on ya can feel like fire on your skin.”
“That must be it.”
“Well, the house is good ’n’ cool. Why don’t ya go rest a spell.”
“I think I’ll do that, Hetty.”
She put the flour on the kitchen shelf and went to her room. Some time alone to collect her thoughts was just what she needed.
❧
Later that afternoon, Sara wandered out to the stables. She wasn’t in the frame of mind for human companionship, but horses, she’d found when she was just a little girl, are good company when one is troubled. They’d let you talk until you solved your problem, with nary a word of advice. And if you weren’t in the mood to talk, well, that was all right, too.
The stable was empty, save for a palomino, all the others having been put to pasture. Sara retrieved a currycomb and advanced slowly upon the mare so as not to spook her. Her front hoof was wrapped, giving evidence of a recent injury, but even so, the horse showed no signs of distress upon Sara’s approach. Sara reached out and let the horse nuzzle her hand.
“Hello there, girl. What a beauty you are.”
The mare’s tan hide and ivory mane reminded Sara of the horse her mother had favored when they lived on the horse farm. Pepper. A smile lit her face when she remembered her mother’s confusion over the name. “I can’t imagine why they named such a fair-colored horse Pepper!” Later, they found out when they went off for a ride. It seemed Pepper was known for his frequent fits of sneezing. Sara and her mother had had a good laugh together. They had been so happy then. If only her father hadn’t died.
Everything had spiraled downhill after that. They had to leave the farm, and her mother had to take in sewing to earn a meager living for the two of them. When things got quite bad, Sara offered to quit school and find a job, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it. “No daughter of mine is going to be uneducated. School is important. We’ll manage somehow.”
And they had. Until her mother lost two of her regular customers.
It had seemed that Pete came along at just the right time. He’d been so kind and considerate, and Sara was glad to have someone taking a little of the burden off her mother. They’d had a whirlwind courtship, and when money grew impossibly tight, Pete offered to marry Sara’s mother.
It was a move of desperation, Sara knew now. Her mother had not loved him, but had simply married him for security. It was ironic, really. The marriage had caused an upheaval in their lives the likes of which they’d never known. In her mind Pete was to blame, not only for his horrible treatment of her mother, but for the illness that robbed her young mother of life.
The horse nickered and tossed her head. “So you want some attention, do you?”
Sara pulled the metal-toothed comb through the horse’s mane. If it weren’t for her father, Sara would be tempted to think that all men were vermin. First Pete and now Nathan. How did she get herself into such a mess? More importantly, how would she get herself out?
ten
“How’s your new wife workin’ out?” Luke Reiley asked. He and Nathan were sitting on Luke’s porch the next day, drinking lemonade and resting from a long afternoon in the sun.
“Fine, just fine.”
“She’s a little bit of a thing, ain’t she? Saw ya standin’ together in church. Reminded me of David ’n’ Goliath!”
“It’s about time for me to be getting back.”
“Hetty said some awful nice things about her. You’ve really been blessed, Nathan. No tellin’ what kinda woman you coulda got from that ad.” Luke’s face formed a wide grin, causing his one dimple to show.
Nathan’s head whipped around. Luke was the closest thing he had to a best friend, but he hadn’t told him about the ad. His eyes searched Luke’s face. “Who told you that?”
“Mara Lawton.” His eyes twinkled. “Is it true?”
Nathan’s jaw set. “Where’d Mara hear a thing like that?”
“Didn’t say. She’s mighty jealous, though! I think she hoped to snag ya herself!”
“You know my feelings on that,” Nathan said.
“Yeah, well, now it’s my problem. Yesterday she started battin’ those lashes at me and drapin’ herself all over my arm!”
“Serves you right, after needling me about it all this time.”
Luke laughed. “I s’pose you’re right.” His face sobered. “Anyway, thought you’d wanna know what Mara told me. If she told me, I expect she’s fixin’ to tell anyone who’ll stop to listen. Half the town prob’ly knows by now.”
“Great.” Nathan stood and handed his glass to Luke. “Gotta be going. It’s getting close to suppertime.”
“Thanks for the help today, Nate.”
Nathan waved and mounted his stallion.
“Say, Nathan. . .I was just wonderin’. . .when ya order a bride, is she delivered all wrapped in parcel, or do ya have to go an’ get her?”
Nathan scowled and nudged his horse to a walk.
“Aw, come on, Nate! I’m only joshin’!” Luke chortled and shook his head as he watched his surly friend ride away.
❧
Nathan slammed the stall door shut, yanked off his hat, and flung it to the floor. He had a feeling he’d be better off skipping what was left of the evening.
First he’d found out about Mara’s gossiping, then he’d endured Luke’s badgering. How had Mara found out about the advertisement, anyhow? To top it off, Mr. Murphy’s steers busted the fence again, and he’d spent the last hour rounding them up.
He was late for supper, and his rumbling stomach and foul mood gave evidence of his hunger. He marched to the house and entered, shutting the door with more force than he’d intended.
Sara, Hetty, and Gus were finishing their supper when Nathan came in. He closed the door with a bang, and Sara jumped.
As he stomped over to the table, Hetty fetched his plate from the black stove. “What’s wrong, Nathan?”
“Mr. Murphy’s steers busted through the fence again.”
Gus lowered his fork. “Did ya get ’em back?”
“They’re back. Didn’t have time to fix the fence. I just strung some wire.”
“We’ll get to it tomorrow.”
Hetty helped Sara clear the table while Nathan finished eating. Sara had insisted on taking over the cleanup duty after supper, so she shooed Hetty out of the kitchen.
When Sara returned to the table for more dishes, Hetty said, “Did ya know we got a birthday comin’ up, Sara?”
“Whose?”
“Gus’s. He’s gonna be fifty on Tuesday!”
“Now, woman, why’d ya have to go an’ bring that up for?”
“Well, I just thought we’d wanna make it right special—it bein’ your fiftieth an’ all.”
Hetty talked of plans, while she and Gus prepared to leave. Nathan was still eating, his brooding silence betraying his foul mood.
Hetty turned just before she slipped out the door. “Oh! Sara—I been meanin’ to ask ya when your birthday is. Wouldn’t wanna skip right over it without knowin’!”
Sara turned from the basin. “It’s not until July. The fifteenth.”
“How old ya gonna be?”
“Twenty.” As soon as she uttered the word, her eyes darted toward Nathan. His fork paused on his plate, and he slowly turned his head. His eyes pierced her, and she froze in place.
Hetty and Gus were saying good-bye, oblivious to the strained silence. The slam of the door was echoed as Nathan’s fist came down on the table.
Sara jumped. Her muscles were taut with apprehension.
His chair grated across the floor, and her eyes swung to his face. He wore a fearsome expression—his muscles tight and clenched. Angry brows formed a line over his squinty eyes.
He stood and rose to his full height. “You lied to me.” His voice was low and scratchy. He advanced.
“I. . .I. . .” She shook her head and retreated. One step. Two steps. Three. Her body hit the wood wall with a thud. She was breathing rapidly, and her mouth was parched. Her lips moved vainly, the words not coming.
Her gaze was bolted to his, and she heard his feet shuffle to a stop—saw his arm fly up. . . She spun to the wall, cradling her head with an arm, cringing in anticipation of the coming blow.
Nathan stopped his arm in midair and watched in confusion as Sara huddled against the wall, her arm thrown up for. . .protection?
Dear God in heaven! She couldn’t think. . . ? He heard a whimper and released the breath he held. All the rage he’d embraced just moments before gushed out of his body, replaced by something quite different.
He reached out a tentative hand and touched her raised arm. “Sara?”
He heard a pitiful squeak as she flinched and drew her body up tighter. He withdrew his hand.
“Sara, I’m sorry. . .I’d never. . .I just lost my temper. . .” He knew he wasn’t making any sense. He’d never been good with words and never regretted it as much as now.
He reached out again and took her arm, this time determined to convince her that he was harmless. She fought, pushing at him and hitting him. He captured her flailing arms and pulled her to him. She struggled against him, but he put his arms around her, pinning her body to his. She continued to writhe, but he held her easily. Her chest heaved from her exertion, and he could feel her heart thumping like that of a hunted squirrel.
At some point she stopped fighting him, although she remained rigid in his arms. He talked to her, crooning gentle words, coaxing her to relax. Slowly, he loosened his hold on her and stroked her back with awkward hands.
Later he wouldn’t remember what he’d said, but it had the desired effect. Before long, Sara hung limp in his arms, spent from her efforts.
Nathan released her and held her away from him. Her eyes were closed, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks. Never had he felt like such a savage! He’d scared her to the point of fearing he would hurt her. His hands looked huge against her tiny shoulders and he felt ashamed.
“Sara?”
She felt Nathan’s knuckle on her chin, tipping it up, and she opened her eyes to meet his. Confusion was reflected in their gray depths. Her eyes fell to a small stain on his shirt, as color suffused her face. Her lip trembled, and she bit down in order to still it.
Nathan drew a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her face, his strong hands gentle in their task. She blinked, and another tear was released.
“You keep that up and I’m gonna be here all night,” he said.
He finished his ministrations and guided her to the settee, seating himself beside her. There was a fire to ward off the chill during the night, and its orange flames licked the logs.
Nathan turned toward her. “Do you want to talk about it? About who did this to you?”
She fingered the folds in her dress. “I—it was my step-father. . .Pete.”
Nathan looked at the fire and seemed to be weighing this piece of information. “And your mother?”
“She died. . .last year.”
“What about before? Did he hit her, too?”
“Yes.” It was spoken so softly, she wondered if he heard her. She cleared her throat. “He. . .he never hit me until she died. He drank. . . It made him crazy.” Her eyes filled with tears, and the fire blurred into a hazy image.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. . . It was just me after Mama died. Just me and Pete.” A tear spilled over her lashes and traveled down her cheek. Sara kept her eyes in her lap, but she felt Nathan’s gaze on her, studying her profile. The popping of the fire seemed unnaturally loud.
Nathan drew in a long breath and exhaled loudly. She wondered what he was thinking and she was tempted to meet his gaze, but she couldn’t. She was embarrassed. Ashamed.
“That’s the reason you married me.”
At these words, her eyes swung to his. His face was void of expression. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it again when she thought of nothing to say.
“You answered my ad, hoping to get away from your stepfather.” It was a statement, not a question.
Her lips trembled. “Yes.” She watched her hand as it traced the piping on the edge of the cushion.
She didn’t know what she expected next: anger, disappointment, something. But he surprised her again.
His large, rough hand covered hers. “It’s okay.”
She stared at their hands, his so dark next to hers, and fought the emotion that welled up in her.
“I’m glad I could offer you a way out. I’m glad you’re not with him anymore.”
Their eyes melded and, for the first time, she saw kindness in them. When he withdrew his hand and looked away, she realized he was as uncomfortable as she was.
Sara suddenly realized how weary she was, and her shoulders slumped. She remembered the dishes soaking in the basin, but she didn’t have the energy to do them.
“I–I think I’ll turn in now.” She pulled herself up to standing.
Nathan rose, too. “Good night, Sara.”
“Good night.”
She walked to the stairs and started up. On the third step she heard him call her name and turned to look over her shoulder. “Yes?”
Nathan stood by the settee, his hands in his pockets. “You’re safe here. I just wanted you to know.”
Sara nodded once, then turned quickly and climbed the stairs. She didn’t want him to see the tears that had gathered in her eyes again.
eleven
A bird’s tune roused Sara from a deep sleep. Her lids felt puffy and swollen as she cracked them open. Then she remembered—the lie. . .the fear. . .the crying. Nathan had been so gentle with her. She’d never thought him capable of such tenderness. She snuggled deeper into the covers, relishing for a moment the feelings that washed over her. How wonderful it had felt to be held and comforted by a man! It felt so different than when her mama or Helen had held her. So delightfully different!
Sara noticed the light flooding through the window. Hetty would be well into breakfast preparations by now, and she’d left the supper dishes in the basin! She dressed quickly in her calico dress and scurried downstairs.
Sure enough, Hetty was flipping pancakes and the table was set. The basin, however, was empty.
“Good morning, Hetty. Sorry to be late.” Sara tied on an apron.
“No trouble at all, Sara. It’s just pancakes and bacon this mornin’.”
“Thank you for doing the dishes. I intended to do them before you came, but I overslept.”
“What dishes are you talkin’ about, dear?”
“Why, the supper dishes. The ones I left in the basin last night.”
“There were no dishes there when I came in.” Hetty turned the sizzling bacon.
Sara frowned. If Hetty hadn’t done them, who had. . . ?
Oh, surely not! She had never in all her life seen a man wash dishes! But, it must have been him—there was no one else. Who was this man she’d married?
Sara pulled herself out of her stupor. She had to help get breakfast on the table before the men finished their morning chores.
Gus came in shortly after, followed by Nathan.
“Good mornin’, ladies,” Gus said. Sara
and Hetty returned his greeting.
Nathan took off his hat and tossed it on a chair. “Morning, Hetty. Sara.”
Sara’s face flushed. “Good morning.” Hetty watched the exchange and cocked a brow.
During the meal, conversation flowed in a newly relaxed manner. Even Sara took part in the discourse. Nathan was treating her with kindness, and she was beginning to see him in a new light. Breakfast passed quickly, and the men set out for the south pasture.
Sara and Hetty began some rigorous housework. The carpets on the floor were overdue for a good beating. Dust was caked in the crevices of all the carpets, a result of the dry spring. The work was exhausting, and Sara’s back and arms ached by midmorning. Next, they worked on Gus and Hetty’s featherbed, which had developed an odor. Together they emptied the feathers and washed them in a tub of suds.
Sara had been waiting all day for Hetty to ask about Nathan. She was a perceptive woman and had no doubt noticed the absence of tension at the breakfast table. The feathers were spread to dry before she broached the subject.
“I couldn’t help but notice a change in you an’ Nathan this mornin’. You two gettin’ on better?”
Sara wiped the perspiration from her brow. “I guess you could say we came to an understanding.” She paused and Hetty remained silent, waiting for her to finish. “I’ve been very. . .cautious around Nathan. I guess I was afraid of him.”
“Why is that, Sara? Oh, I know he’s been gruff around ya, but he’s a kind man. He certainly wouldn’t hurt ya.” They made their way in to the kitchen.
“I know that now. We worked it out.” Sara poured them each a glass of lemonade and sank onto a chair. “You’ve never asked me why I answered Nathan’s ad.”
“Well, I didn’t figure it was any of my business. A woman has her reasons.”
“I did have my reasons, Hetty, but they weren’t the usual ones.” She tipped her glass up. “I needed to get away from Boston. My mama died last year, and there was just me and my stepfather. He was. . .well, he wasn’t a kind man. He was a drinker, and he got terribly mean when he drank.”
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