Falling into Your Arms (Love in the Old West Book 3)

by Bess McBride

  Sarah spoke softly when he disappeared from sight.

  “Does he have enough to pay?”

  Jeremiah cleared his throat. “He has credit here. Someday when he makes his fortune, he’ll settle up his bill.”

  Sarah lifted an eyebrow. “Not really,” she said.

  “Not really,” Jeremiah agreed with a rueful smile. “Do you need anything? Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I was supposed to be helping you out, not the other way around. You know, to pay for my keep. I’m not sure how you stay in business like this.”

  “The hotel does very well,” he said. “And Nancy’s cooking is legendary around these parts.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I’ll leave you to it then,” Jeremiah said reluctantly. It made no sense to loiter about the counter. Sarah was helping out at the counter while he purportedly had things to do. In truth, he had finished his paperwork and wanted nothing more than to linger and talk to Sarah, learning as much about her as he could.

  “Okay,” she said.

  He returned to his office and studied his accounts. He had only worked for about forty-five minutes, when he heard a bit of a commotion.

  “Wait! Let me ask if you can go in there.” Sarah’s voice was sharp.

  Jeremiah looked up to see Serena standing in his doorway.

  “He will not mind,” she said over her shoulder.

  The truth was that he did mind.

  Sarah appeared behind her, as small as Serena was tall. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he replied, rising and approaching the doorway. He had planned to escort Serena out of his office, but she blocked the doorway.

  “Could I speak to you for a moment? Father and Tabitha are waiting for me outside.”

  Jeremiah had no choice but to step back and allow her to enter. She closed the door behind her, an action that made him unhappy. He waited to hear what she wanted. He did not invite her to sit, nor did he take a seat himself.

  “Who is this young woman, Jeremiah?” she asked. “She seems a bit odd. I cannot describe how.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Jeremiah took offense.

  “My father seems quite taken with her. I think we should know who she is before he makes a fool of himself, don’t you?”

  “Your father?” Jeremiah could only repeat. “Taken with Sarah?”

  “Yes, taken, enamored, besotted. I never knew he enjoyed young women.”

  “Does he?”

  “Apparently so.” Only by a faint lift of her dark eyebrow did she show dislike of the idea.

  Jeremiah himself was appalled. Samuel was entitled to show interest in any sort of lady to whom he felt attracted. Jeremiah wished that it wasn’t Sarah to whom the man wished to bestow his affections. Jeremiah wanted to tell Serena that it hardly mattered, as Sarah intended to leave as soon as possible.

  “It hardly matters—” He stopped short. Sarah’s plans were not his to share.

  “Do you really think so, Jeremiah?” Her eyebrow lifted again. “It matters a great deal to me. I do not wish to be crass, but I am not interested in acquiring a stepmother who may be younger than me.”

  “That is perfectly understandable, Serena. You have been in charge of your household for many years.”

  “I have. I had hoped to marry and take over another house, but not to become the stepchild of another woman.”

  “Perhaps your father is not serious about Sarah.” Perversely, Jeremiah did not like to think that Samuel would toy with Sarah.

  “That would be cruel, Jeremiah. Father is not a cruel man. I think he is very taken with Sarah. She is unique. Which begs my original question—who is she and where did she come from?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “That is not for me to say, Serena. You might ask her yourself tonight at dinner.”

  “Yes, of course, but there are certain questions I cannot ask. Such as, is she working for you? Is she destitute? I cannot very well ask her that sort of question.”

  “Nor can I answer those questions, except to say that no, Miss Chilton is not working for me. She volunteered to help this morning, and I accepted her help.”

  “Why?”

  “Why did I accept her help?”

  “Why did she volunteer to help? Has she no business in Benson? Why is she here? I cannot believe in this story that she missed her train. Does she intend to stay?”

  “Serena, I cannot and would not discuss Miss Chilton’s private affairs.”

  “Jeremiah, how long have we known each other? Why do you feel you cannot confide in me? This does affect my family.”

  “We have known each other for upward of fifteen years. I cannot confide a guest’s personal plans to anyone, even if I knew them. And I understand that you feel Miss Chilton’s plans and her background affect your family.” He shook his head. “I simply cannot help you with that.”

  Serena sighed and turned for the door. Jeremiah jumped forward to open it for her.

  “Good day, Jeremiah.” She left the office, and he followed her.

  Sarah stared at them, her cheeks red, as if she had overheard them. He doubted that she had heard anything, however, as his office door was solid.

  Serena nodded at Sarah and sailed out of the lobby.

  “Is everything okay?” Sarah asked.

  Jeremiah nodded. “Yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course!”

  “Did my being here behind the counter cause a problem?”

  “No, why would you think so?”

  “Serena has a crush on you.”

  “What nonsense!” Jeremiah responded quickly. “That is not at all true.”

  “It is,” Sarah said. “She’s pretty laid back about it, elegant, I guess, but she is definitely into you.”

  “Into me indeed,” he protested, his cheeks quite red.

  “Do you think you’ll marry her?”

  “Why on earth would you ask that? Good grief! What a question!”

  “I know, but do you think you will?”

  “Sarah! Please.” He pulled his pocket watch out of his vest. As much as he wanted to linger in Sarah’s company, he wanted to steer clear of that sort of conversation. He was fully aware of Serena’s aspirations, had always been aware of them.

  “I must get back to work,” he said. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He returned to his office, leaving the door open once again, and stared out the window at the silent train station. What was Sarah doing in Benson? Was her appearance nothing more than a fluke? He understood why she might have left the train to stretch her legs and even why she might have ventured into what appeared to be an abandoned hotel. Why, though, had she materialized in his arms in a different time? For what purpose? To what end? Why his hotel? Had she come to him?

  Chapter Eleven

  With Jeremiah’s help, Sarah climbed into the open-air carriage that evening. Dressed in clean clothing brought by Faith and Agnes that afternoon, she felt much fresher than she had earlier. Faith and Agnes had stopped by to discuss the recent train track explosion and provide her with another set of clothing they had rummaged up. They had declined tea, stating they had just finished tea at their boardinghouse.

  Despite Sarah’s protestations, Faith and Agnes had taken her soiled clothing in their satchel with them, stating that the following day was washing day at the boardinghouse and not to expect such service every day. Sarah was not surprised to hear that she was expected to wear her outer clothing several days in a row. Although the sisters had brought clean undergarments, Sarah continued to wear her own, vowing that she would wash them out before going to bed. The desert air would dry them overnight.

  “You look very nice,” Jeremiah said, climbing in after her.

  Sarah smoothed her dark-blue skirt. The sisters had paired it with a soft-blue cotton blouse with a bow tie. As a surprise, they had brought her a blue-and-red pai
sley fringed shawl in case of cool evenings. She wore that around her shoulders to dress up her outfit for dinner.

  “Thank you! Faith and Agnes came by this afternoon and brought this to me. They’ve been so good to me.”

  “That is very kind of them.” He seemed about to speak again.

  “What is it?”

  The driver, a small, silent fellow, called out to the two horses, and the carriage moved forward.

  “I was only about to say that if you were staying, I would help you purchase clothing, that is all.”

  Sarah, enjoying the coolness of the evening air, the rumbling of the wheels underneath and the rhythmic noise of the horses hooves and livery, blinked.

  “Jeremiah!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

  “The point is moot though, is it not?”

  “It is,” she said with a nod. “But it was a very nice thought. Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me. I did nothing.”

  “You have though! You put me up in the hotel, fed me, knowing I can probably never pay you back. Not if I leave.”

  “Not if you leave,” Jeremiah repeated.

  The carriage rumbled along as the last buildings of Benson disappeared behind them.

  “How far is Samuel’s place?” Sarah asked.

  “About six miles. He has quite a large ranch in the valley, along the river.”

  “The San Pedro Valley? My mother used to talk about that.”

  “Yes, that’s right. The San Pedro River runs through it. You see the mountains to the left, the Dragoon Mountains, and the mountains to the right, the Whetsone Mountains. There are other mountain ranges bordering the valley, but those are nearest to us.”

  Sarah could see the outlines of the mountains as the sun set behind the Whetstone Mountains to the west. Golden light shone on the craggy Dragoon Mountains to the east.

  “My mom talked about these mountains too. I remember the name Dragoon Mountains. She loved them.”

  They seemed to be on a well-graded road as the carriage moved without a great deal of bounce. Several riders on horseback passed them, two dusty travelers who raised fingers to their hats as they journeyed on their way to Benson or parts north.

  “Is this a busy road?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, it is the main road north from the mining towns of Bisbee and Tombstone, and the agricultural town of St. David. But it is early evening, and most commercial traffic has settled for the day. Those fellows are probably ranch hands on their way to town for a drink. It is Saturday night.”

  “Is it?” Sarah murmured. “I’ve lost track of time...in more ways than one.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  They traveled in silence for a while, Sarah enjoying the rhythmic feel of the carriage. The peace of the moment was broken by a thunderous sound that approached from behind. Their driver shouted.

  “Dang thieves! Can’t outrun them, but I’ll try! Hold on!”

  Sarah twisted in her seat to see two riders galloping toward them. She wasn’t sure, but she thought they were the two men who had passed some time ago. The horses were both brown.

  “What’s happening?” she shrieked.

  “A highway robbery,” Jeremiah shouted out over the noise of the carriage and racing horses. He wrapped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders protectively, as if to keep her from flying out of the carriage.

  The riders each waved an arm in the air while holding on to their horses’ reins with the other. Sara saw pistols in their hands. They had pulled scarves over the lower half of their faces.

  “Oh my gosh!” she cried out. “Is this really happening?”

  “It is,” Jeremiah yelled. “We can’t outrun them.”

  One rider reached them and raced around to the carriage horses to grab one of the leads. Just like Sarah had seen in films, he slowed the horses and brought them to a standstill.

  “Hands up!” he shouted, pointing his pistol at their driver. The bandit behind the carriage shouted at the same time.

  “Hold ’em up!”

  Sarah couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might have been drunk. His arm wavered as he held his pistol on them.

  “Whaddya want?” their driver called out, half standing, his hands in the air.

  “Whatever ya got!” the man in front called out. His scarf slipped down over his chin, and he pulled it back up over his nose. Yes, they were definitely the same men who had passed them earlier.

  “We ain’t got nothing,” the driver called out.

  “They do!” the bandit in front said, waving his gun in Sarah and Jeremiah’s direction. “They look like they’ve got money.”

  “Take what you want,” Jeremiah called out. He pulled his wallet from his coat pocket and held it in the air. The rider in the back maneuvered his horse closer to the carriage and snatched it.

  “What’s the take?” the bandit in front called out.

  The rider in the back rummaged through Jeremiah’s wallet.

  “About sixty-five dollars.”

  “That’ll get us a decent night in town,” the man in front said.

  “You never saw us,” the man with the wallet said.

  “I know who you two are!” the driver called out. “I recognize you now. You’re those two new hands Mr. Treadwell hired. Don’t think I’m not gonna tell him.”

  “You ain’t gonna tell him nothing.”

  Sarah screamed when the bandit reached up and smacked the driver on the side of his head with his pistol. The driver fell off the wagon and lay in a heap on the ground.

  Jeremiah jumped up and shouted. “You got what you want. Why did you do that?”

  “He was mouthy,” the one in the front called out. “You are too. You want the same? Sit down!”

  Jeremiah continued standing until Sarah grabbed his hand and pulled him down.

  “What else you got on ya?” the bandit in back asked. “Watch? Jewelry? Rings? What’s the pretty lady got on her?”

  Jeremiah pulled Sarah into his arms again.

  “Nothing,” he called out.

  The rider in the rear brought the horse around to Jeremiah’s side of the carriage. To Sarah’s shock, he pointed his pistol directly at Jeremiah’s head.

  “You look like a well-off gentleman, the kind that carries a pocket watch.”

  Jeremiah pulled his pocket watch from his vest and handed it over. Sarah wondered if it was a family heirloom.

  “Now the lady. What ya got on ya, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing,” Sarah whispered. “I don’t have anything.”

  “You got something,” the man in front said, having moved his horse to her side of the carriage.

  “I don’t,” she said, shaking her head. Jeremiah’s tight hold on her shoulders hurt.

  “Don’t you dare touch her,” Jeremiah ground out.

  Personally, Sarah would have backed off at the menace in his deep voice, but the two bandits did little more than laugh.

  The one nearest her grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him in a sloppy fashion. Everything happened so fast that Sarah barely knew what was happening. Her face hit the horse’s flank while she felt hands pull at her waist, and she heard Jeremiah shouting. The bandit let loose of her, and she fell out of the wagon, bumping and scraping along the sides as she went down. Thankfully, her clothing broke her landing. Horses’ hooves stomped dangerously near her face, and she rolled under the carriage.

  “Look what you made me do,” the bandit yelled.

  Sarah heard a thud from overhead.

  “Come out of there,” he yelled.

  She pulled her knees to her stomach and huddled for a moment, hoping they would just go away. She didn’t know where Jeremiah was and wondered why she couldn’t hear him.

  “Well, don’t hurt her,” the other man called out. “She’s no good to us dead.”

  Sarah worried even further when she heard nothing from Jeremiah. Had they killed him? She saw the driver’s body nearby but couldn’t tell if he b
reathed.

  “Come out of there, little lady,” one of them said. Both horses’ hooves circled the wagon, shuffling dust as they moved. Sarah pulled her shawl over her face to keep from sneezing.

  “Larry, let’s just take what we got and get something in town.”

  “She’s pretty, Del.”

  Sarah swallowed hard. No, no, no. Their words sounded like at least one of them wanted more than just money.

  “We can’t keep hanging around here. If you think she’s hiding something, get down and drag her out from under the wagon. If not, let’s go.”

  “I don’t think I can get down, Del. Had too much to drink. If I do, I can’t get back up.”

  “Criminy sakes, Larry! I’ll do it!” Booted feet hit the ground, and then the man who had clubbed the driver dropped down to his knees and looked under the wagon. Sarah, her eyes all that peeped out from her shawl, bit her balled-up fist.

  “Come out of there, or I’ll haul you out.”

  The smell of alcohol wafted in Sarah’s direction. She didn’t move.

  “Lady? Can you hear me? Come here.”

  Still, Sarah refused to move. When she saw him flatten himself and reach in to grab her, she squeaked, rolled out from under the wagon and almost under the other horse’s hooves. Hearing several shouts behind her, she jumped to her feet, hitched her skirt to her knees and ran across the road, expecting to feel a gunshot in her back at any moment.

  “Go get her!” someone shouted.

  “I can’t see her. Where’d she go?”

  “I don’t know. It’s dark now. Forget it. Let’s just go. Unharness the horses. We don’t want anyone following us.”

  Sarah ran through brush and thickets that pulled at her skirts and slowed her down. She dropped down behind a bush and huddled, listening to the sounds from the road. Hooves stomped, livery jingled, the bandits shouted.

  “Get! Get!” she heard one of them say, followed by thundering hooves that faded away down the road. She supposed those were the carriage horses.

  “Let’s go spend that money in town,” one of them said loud enough to carry. “You know we can’t go back to the ranch now, right? This was a dumb idea of yours.”