Song of My Heart

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  His teasing response pleased Sadie more than a show of indignation would have. She stepped forward and took his elbow. “I suppose so.”

  He gestured for her to precede him through the gap between the buildings, but the moment they reached the boardwalk he offered his elbow again. Considering Cora’s sat right next door to the mercantile, she hardly needed escorting, but she took his elbow nonetheless. Inside the café, Thad led her to an empty table on the far side of the dining area and pulled out the stamped-back chair. She offered a smile of thanks as she slid into the seat, then watched him round the table in two long strides before sitting directly across from her.

  He’d seated her with her back to the café and its other patrons, providing her with an unobstructed view of himself. Had he done it deliberately so she would focus solely on him? Although it seemed vain to consider it, she hoped he’d placed her in the chair by design rather than chance.

  Thad raised his hand and waved at someone, and Sadie glanced over her shoulder in time to see Cora give a nod before scurrying through the kitchen doorway. She looked at Thad again, puzzled. “Isn’t she coming to take our order?”

  A bashful smile curved Thad’s lips. “Well . . . I already told her what we’d want.”

  She recalled his comment about asking Cora to save two pieces of peach pie. As much as she loved peach pie, she hoped their supper would consist of more than dessert. Lunch—a bowl of ham-and-cabbage soup and two biscuits—was long past, and her stomach rumbled in hunger. But she said, “That’s fine.”

  To her great relief, Cora bustled toward them balancing two plates overflowing with succulent slices of beef, mounds of creamy potatoes swimming in gravy, and round green peas dotted with translucent onions. She placed the plates in front of them and whirled, calling over her shoulder, “I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee brewin’—I’ll bring you cups as quick as I can.”

  Thad held out his hand, palm up. “Let’s go ahead an’ pray so we can eat while this food’s still hot.”

  Bowing her head, Sadie took his hand. She thrilled at the feel of his firm, callused fingers closing around hers. Strength emanated from his grip, and then he began to pray, giving her a glimpse of the Source of his inner strength. He offered a simple, straightforward prayer of gratitude for the food and a blessing on the woman who’d prepared it. Then he added, “An’ please bless our time together, Lord. May our conversation be pleasing to Your ears. Amen.”

  His hand slipped away, and he shot her a grin as he held his fork aloft. “Don’t know how many times you’ve eaten here at Cora’s, but I can tell you that meat’ll be tender. You won’t need your knife.”

  Sadie discovered the truth of his words as she pressed the tines of her fork through the beef and lifted a bite. The well-seasoned meat nearly melted on her tongue, and she released a sigh of satisfaction. The Baxters were good cooks, but nothing she’d eaten at their table compared to the meal set before her by Cora. “Oh . . . this is wonderful.”

  Thad nodded, forking up a bite of meat dipped in potatoes and gravy. “I have yet to come away from Cora’s left wanting.”

  Diners behind Sadie engaged in conversation, their voices a hum that rose and fell in accompaniment to chair legs scraping on the floor and silverware clanking on plates, but she and Thad ate in silence. She didn’t mind not speaking. Somehow just sitting across the table from him, observing his enjoyment of the meal, exchanging smiles and the occasional murmur of appreciation was enough.

  Sadie ate every bit of food on her plate, finishing at the same time as Thad. Cora rushed over to whisk away their empty plates, and moments later returned with two huge slices of pie. Plump peaches oozed between layers of flaky crust well dusted with sugar crystals. Sadie groaned, holding her stomach. “Oh my, Cora . . . That is the most beautiful pie I’ve ever seen, but I don’t think I have room for a single bite.”

  The woman laughed, her eyes crinkling. “You just sit for a bit, let your supper settle. I reckon you’ll find room for that pie.” She refilled their cups with fresh coffee and hurried off to take care of other customers.

  Sadie turned to Thad. “Cora has more energy than two women half her age.”

  Thad dug into his pie. “Reckon she doesn’t have a choice, seeing as how she runs this café on her own. She aims to please her customers with prompt, cheerful service.”

  She watched Cora buzz from table to table, refilling coffee mugs, swishing a cloth to remove crumbs, carrying empty plates to the kitchen. Her feet never slowed, and her smile never dimmed. “It must be hard for her sometimes, though, keeping up with everything all by herself.” Sadie frowned, puzzled. “I wonder why she doesn’t hire someone to help her.”

  Thad swallowed and swiped his mouth with his napkin. “I asked her that myself. Seems as though she could use a second pair of hands in here. But she said she doesn’t make enough to pay someone a fair wage an’ still earn a decent income. So she does it all on her own.” He paused, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watched Cora for a few moments. Then he leaned toward Sadie, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, if you promise not to tell.”

  Although his tone was light rather than menacing, the comment reminded her of Mr. Baxter’s warning to keep the door behind the curtains a secret. A little chill crept up her spine as she gave a jerky nod.

  “I hired a couple of local young’uns to keep an eye on her woodpile in the back. When it starts looking low, they’re to restock it an’ bring me the bill.”

  Warmth flooded Sadie. “That’s a very kind thing to do.”

  He shrugged, scooping up another bite of pie. “Least I can do for the woman who bakes the best peach pie this side of the Mississippi.”

  Sadie laughed. The desire to know everything about this kindhearted man washed over her. Resting her chin on her linked hands, she asked, “What’s your favorite part of being a sheriff?”

  He paused mid-bite. “Hmm. I don’t guess I’ve thought too much about that.” He lowered his fork, his expression pensive. “But if I had to say, it’d be helping folks. Whether it’s figuring out what happened to the milk bucket that disappeared from their back porch or offering a hand in fixing a loose window. Just . . . helping out.” He poked the bite of pie into his mouth.

  Sadie smiled. She liked his answer. “I always thought a lawman’s only task was to arrest people who did wrong. But I suppose being a sheriff gives you lots of chances to help folks.”

  “Sure does.” He forked up another bite, then added, “Leastways, for now.”

  She puzzled at the strange comment. “For now?”

  He put his fork on the edge of the pie plate and fixed Sadie with a serious look. “I don’t intend to be a sheriff forever, Sadie. I’ve got a . . . a job to do here, which I plan to do as best I can, but when it’s done? I’m going to be a preacher.”

  “You are?” Sadie hunched her shoulders, envisioning him in a black suit with a Bible draped over his hand. As attractive a picture as her imagination painted, it couldn’t compare to his rugged handsomeness in the leather vest, tan cowboy hat, and faded trousers.

  “Yep.” Sadness crept across Thad’s features. “Back where I grew up—in Fairmount, a town not far from Kansas City—folks didn’t look kindly on me. My pa . . . he didn’t have a good reputation.” He stroked the corner of his mustache with one finger, pain flashing in his green-flecked eyes. “I figure if I’m a preacher, then the people in Fairmount’ll change how they think about the name McKane. It’ll mean something honorable instead of shameful. I’ll be able to make amends for my pa’s sins, so to speak.”

  Sadie listened carefully, intrigued by his story. The description of his father hurt her heart. Thad’s pa and her own dear papa were nothing alike. But something he’d said bothered her. Tipping her head, she tried to erase Thad’s haunted expression with a soft smile. “I think it’s a fine thing to want to preach, but can you make amends for someone else’s sins? Isn’t each person accountable for himself?”

>   Thad looked at her, his brow furrowed slightly. Then he released a light chuckle. “I think that’s a question I’ll be better suited to answer when I’m behind a pulpit. Right now”—he picked up his fork again—“I’m just a small-town lawman enjoying supper with the prettiest girl in town.”

  Heat flooded Sadie’s face.

  Thad laughed and pointed at her fork. “Eat up. Don’t want to waste that pie, now.”

  With a giggle, Sadie picked up her fork and dug in. The mingled flavors of peaches, cinnamon, and nutmeg exploded on her tongue. Even though her stomach already ached from the hearty supper, she consumed every bite of the pie and even tamped up the leftover pastry crumbs with the back of the fork’s tines. Licking the fork clean, she glanced at Thad and caught his amused grin.

  Mortified, she lowered the fork and ducked her head. Hadn’t Mama taught her better manners? What must Thad think, witnessing her childish display? He reached across the table and cupped her hand. Her face flaming, she peeked at him through her lashes.

  “Don’t hide from me, Sadie Wagner.” His deep voice, kind yet resolute, sent her heart to thudding against her rib cage. His hand tightened on hers. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, she raised her head, but her cheeks blazed so hot it took all of her effort to meet his gaze rather than looking past his shoulder to the flowered wallpaper behind him.

  His eyes smiled even while he maintained a serious expression. “You never have to be ashamed around me. You enjoyed the pie—what’s wrong with that?” He gave her hand a little tug, his brows briefly coming together. “Too many people hunker behind a shield of indifference instead of letting folks know what they really think. I call that putting on airs, and it isn’t honest.” His face relaxed, his smile enfolding her in a blanketing contentment unlike anything she’d experienced before in a man’s company. “So you just be yourself. Always be honest with me, Sadie, no matter what. All right?”

  She nodded, but her conscience pricked. Could she really find the courage to be honest with him about everything . . . including her growing affection for him? How would he react if she blurted out he might be a lawman rather than a burglar, but he was stealing her heart? She gulped. “Thad, I—”

  “Well, Sheriff an’ Miss Sadie . . .” Cora stopped at their table, hands on hips and face wreathed in cheerfulness, even though her shoulders sagged with weariness. “I hate to chase you off, but I’m needin’ to clean up in here.”

  Sadie glanced around, surprised by the empty tables. Why hadn’t she realized how quiet it had become in the café? She bounced up, her chair legs screeching against the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

  Cora chuckled. “No need for bein’ sorry.” Her words closely echoed Thad’s earlier statement. “Kinda nice to see folks enjoyin’ themselves. Like I said, I hate to make you leave, but . . .” She swished a dripping cloth at her side, obviously eager to clean their table. “I already put your dinner on your account, Sheriff.”

  “Not this time, Cora,” Thad said. “This one’s on me.” He dug in his pocket and withdrew several silver coins. He placed two large and three smaller ones in Cora’s palm. “Thanks for making that pie up special.” Then he tipped forward and deposited a kiss on the woman’s round cheek.

  Cora blushed crimson and waved her hand at the pair of them. “Out with you now, but you come back anytime. I’ll keep a peach pie coolin’ on the windowsill for you.”

  Thad touched Sadie’s spine, aiming her for the door. They stepped out on the boardwalk, and Sadie immediately headed for the gap between the café and the mercantile. But Thad caught her elbow, drawing her to a halt. He smiled down at her, his face sweetly attentive in the pinkish glow of dusk. “You were starting to say something before Cora shooed us out.”

  Sadie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Y-yes. I was going to—I meant to say—” She licked her lips and started again. “You said be honest, so—”

  Like an apparition stepping from shadows, Sid appeared at Sadie’s side. “You all done with supper? Can we talk now?”

  Sadie nearly wilted. She wanted to resent Sid’s intrusion, but a part of her welcomed the rescue. Mama would surely swoon if she knew how close Sadie had come to proclaiming she was falling in love with Goldtree’s lawman.

  18

  Sid, watching out of the corner of his eye as the sheriff leaned in to bid Sadie farewell, ground his teeth. Did the man need to touch her arm to say good night? He bit down on the end of his tongue to keep from protesting when Sadie smiled sweetly into McKane’s face and whispered, “Thank you for supper. I had a pleasant time.”

  The sheriff responded, “The pleasure was all mine, Sadie.”

  And Sadie nearly simpered in reply.

  The moment Thad McKane strode up the boardwalk toward his office, Sid pointed to the bench that sat in front of one of the mercantile’s windows. “Let’s get comfortable; then we can talk.”

  But Sadie didn’t budge. “Sid, I’m sorry, but our talk is going to have to wait. I haven’t practiced yet today. Mr. Baxter gave me three new songs to learn by Friday. I really must work on them.”

  Irritation tried to rise from Sid’s middle. She’d had plenty of time for the sheriff, but now she had none for him? He resolutely pushed the aggravation aside. He would not speak harshly to Sadie. “Would’ja mind if I came down an’ listened in?” He gave her his best smile. “Then we could talk . . . after.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, clearly uncertain. Finally, she nodded. “All right.”

  “Good!” He tried not to sound too eager, but when the word blasted out, he knew he’d failed. Placing his palm on the small of her back, he hurried her through the gap and to the back door of the mercantile. A wall lantern glowed inside the door, illuminating their way down the hallway. They entered the main part of the store where the light didn’t reach. Shadows loomed, making the room appear menacing.

  Their feet echoed on the floorboards as they inched forward, feeling their way, and Sadie shivered. “It’s always so creepy in here at night.”

  Sid squinted through the shadows and located a darker gray square ahead—the doorway to the storeroom. “Stay here. I’ll fetch the lantern an’ come back for you.” He let his hand slide from her waist. “No need to be scared—I’m here.”

  Scuffing his way to the storeroom, he wondered if she remembered how many times he’d played protector for her in childhood. He’d fought school-yard bullies who dared pull her pigtails, and he’d escorted her home on moonlit nights when she’d stayed too late studying with the piano teacher in Dalton. If she’d let him, he’d spend the rest of his life protecting her.

  He fumbled on the shelf for the lantern and matches. A flick of a match on the underside of the shelf brought a welcoming glow. He quickly lit the lamp and hurried back to the doorway. “All right, Sadie—here you go.”

  She joined him, and together they moved down the back stairway to the cellar and on into the singing room. Sadie headed immediately to the piano on the stage, and Sid followed with the lamp held high. He set the lamp in one of the brass holders attached to the piano’s smooth face. Then, stepping behind the piano, he rested both arms on its top and watched Sadie pull out the stool and lay out several loose sheets of music. The pages, all marked with lines and dots, meant nothing to him. But somehow Sadie found a melody hiding in the strange scratchings.

  He remained very quiet while she practiced, hiding a smile when she huffed at misplayed notes or closed her eyes to repeat a certain phrase until it pleased her. He watched her face change as she sang, mesmerized by the transformation. Somehow singing made Sadie glow from within, magnifying her natural beauty. I love you, Sadie. I want you to be mine. The words quivered on the tip of his tongue, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to hold them inside.

  Time slipped by, and Sid’s feet began to complain about standing still, but he didn’t budge. He wouldn’t disturb her. At last she closed the cover over the keys, restacked the pages, and lifted her face to hi
m. “I’m done. For now.” She yawned, holding her dainty hand over her mouth, and then she stretched both arms over her head. “Oh my, I’m tired.”

  Was she hinting she wanted to turn in? But they hadn’t talked yet. In the lantern’s glow, her yellow hair shone like morning sunlight. He wished he had the courage to coil one of the loose strands dangling from her temple around his finger. “You coulda been done a lot sooner if you hadn’t gone to the café with McKane.” He hadn’t intended to sound accusatory, but it came out that way anyway.

  She shot him a frown. “Sid . . .”

  He held up both hands in surrender. Then he rounded the piano and braced one hand on his knee, leaning close to her. “But I’m hopin’, in the future, you’ll be goin’ out to supper with me instead o’ him.”

  Her gaze zinged away, and she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

  Gathering all his courage, Sid caught her chin in his hand and lifted her face to him. He wished his fingers would stop trembling, but the glory of her soft skin nearly undid him. “Did’ja like the little present I left for you today?” With her face caught in his fingers, she couldn’t nod. But he saw a soft look creep into her eyes. She liked it. He smiled. “Y’know, Sadie, I loved you even back then. You’ve always been important to me.”

  She swallowed, the sound loud in the silent room. She leaned back slightly, removing herself from his quivering grasp. “I . . . I know, Sid. And you’ve been important to me, too. Always my favorite—”

  He covered her lips with his fingers. “Don’t say ‘cousin.’ ’Cause we aren’t.”

  She shook her head, giving him a pleading look. “But, Sid, I’ve always thought of you as my cousin. How can I just set that aside after all these years?”

  “By rememberin’ we aren’t really related.”

  Hurt flickered in her eyes. “But then I have to remember Papa isn’t really my father. And I want to think of him as mine.”

  Sid sighed. Why’d she have to be so stubborn? He reached for her again, but she leaned away. Sid bolted upright, jealousy straightening his spine. “I didn’t notice you actin’ all shy when McKane cozied up to you.”