Sarah Sunshine: A Montana Romance Novella

by Merry Farmer

  Sarah would have giggled at the dizzy suggestion that Mr. Sutcliffe was her father, but both Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Sutcliffe looked so serious about it that she gulped instead.

  “If you wanted kids,” Mrs. Reynolds went on, “you shoulda married Viola! Let the boy help her.”

  Mr. Sutcliffe bristled. “Sarah’s a sweetheart,” he argued, “and she ain’t got a father. She needs someone to look out for her, keep her safe and happy.”

  “Well, Paul, on that we are agreed.” Mrs. Reynolds arched an eyebrow. “I’ll send Roy over at eleven-thirty.”

  She turned and walked back to the hotel door, heels clicking on the porch boards and skirt swishing. Sarah watched her until she disappeared into the hotel, admiration warring with anxiety.

  “I’ll be there at eleven-thirty sharp,” Roy said, his back straight in imitation of Mrs. Reynolds. He marched off to the other side of the porch to retrieve his broom and returned to work.

  Mr. Sutcliffe sighed. “Bunch of meddling know-it-alls,” he muttered. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s make sure all your things are packed and ready.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sutcliffe.”

  Mr. Sutcliffe put an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and led her back towards the saloon door. The ladies on their errands were still staring at them and whispering. The thought of what they must be saying was a dark cloud over Sarah’s otherwise sunny day.

  She glanced over her shoulder for one last peek at Roy before entering the saloon. He caught her eye across the porches and winked. It was almost enough to set her heart to rights.

  Chapter Two

  “Thank you so much for carrying my things,” Sarah said as Roy escorted her along the road leading out of town, toward the boarding house. “I know you’ve got important hotel business.”

  “You’re important too,” Roy replied, full to the brim with pride at walking by her side.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She turned away and smiled that bashful little grin that no true saloon girl could pull off. Her brown eyes were too bright and the flush on her perfect skin too sweet. Roy’s heart expanded to twice its size in his chest.

  The autumn air was crisp and filled his lungs with chills and hope as they walked. A flock of geese on their way south honked in the clear sky above. The sun beamed down on the two of them, Roy carrying one of Sarah’s suitcases in each hand. They were heavy, but he took his time. He was in heaven.

  “What made Mr. Sutcliffe think to set you up in a boarding house all the way out here?” he asked.

  “Everybody knows Miss Jones runs the most respectable boarding house in Cold Springs,” Sarah answered. “When we came out to talk to Miss Jones about the possibility of me living and working with her, Mr. Sutcliffe said that Miss Jones should do it to make up for something. He said she could atone by teaching me to be god-fearing and ladylike.”

  “What’s she atoning for?”

  “I don’t rightly know.” Sarah shrugged. “And I don’t think it’s my place to guess. Gossip is a sin, you know.”

  Her answer spread the smile on Roy’s face from ear to ear. That was his Sarah, always wanting to do the right thing. Even when she was working, she’d never once laughed too loud or kicked up her skirts like some of the other girls. She’d been a pearl in a pile of sharp diamonds since the day he first saw her. She’d been cleaning the windows at the station when he’d stepped off the train. He’d been as surprised then as he was every day since then that she had a contract at the saloon. At least he’d been surprised until he was alone with her behind closed doors. Sarah had a singular talent in a horizontal position.

  A talent he didn’t intend to let any other man but him experience for the rest of their days.

  As they walked on in breathless silence, he snuck a peek at the rise of her bosom over the pink corset he was certain she still had on under her plain blouse. She had the nicest breasts, round and full with rose-pink nipples that stood out like the ringer of the bell on the hotel’s front desk when he kissed them. She had long legs that made a man feel like he’d died and gone to heaven when they were wrapped ‘round his waist. That was his Sarah too.

  She caught him staring—probably caught what he was thinking too—and giggled. Her cheeks were bright and the sunlight spun gold through her brown hair. She sent him a sideways look that was both innocent and naughty. A man could lay down his life for a look like that.

  Before his heart and other organs could jumble his brain too much, Roy cleared his throat and said, “I’m surprised Mr. Sutcliffe let me take your bags. I kept expecting him to meet me at the saloon door with a shotgun.”

  “Well,” Sarah shone with mischief, “it turned out he was a right bit busy this morning. Can’t seem to find the shipment of whiskey that we just got in, and a couple of the girls ran into trouble with some rats in their rooms. And then Gertie and Josie got into a fight. So he was too busy to notice when I slipped out,” she finished with a prideful grin.

  “Why Sarah Sunshine, you didn’t!”

  “Maybe I did,” she admitted with a saucy tilt of her head.

  Roy laughed and swayed closer to her. The back of his hand swept near hers. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient little thing.”

  “I am good and obedient!” she protested as seriously as if he’d insulted her mother.

  “You sure about that?” He winked.

  The concern in her eyes dissolved into warm pools of mischief. She chewed her lip and twisted the fringe of her shawl. “I just wouldn’t want you to think that I was, you know, the wrong sort of girl.”

  “The wrong sort of girl?” He grinned at the idea. “Sunshine, you’re exactly the right sort as far as I’m concerned.” He itched to put her suitcases down and take her in his arms to prove it.

  She giggled, but there was something behind her smile that hinted at a heap of worry.

  “I shouldn’t’ve caused so much trouble for Mr. Sutcliffe,” she sighed. “He’s a kind, honest man who’s been good to me.”

  Roy puffed out a breath, losing his grin. “I don’t know how you can say Mr. Sutcliffe has been kind to you, Sarah. Why, the things he’s made you do, the company he’s made you keep….”

  “Oh, but he has been good to me,” she rushed to reassure him. “Since I first came to Cold Springs he was always real choosy about the fellows he’d let me entertain.”

  A prickle of jealousy raced down Roy’s spine at the thought.

  “He only let me go with fellows he thought were ‘worthy’, as he said,” she continued. “He never made me dance or make a scene.” She sucked in a breath. “I would have died of shame if he’d made me stand out front and holler at folks like some of the other girls.”

  “I dunno,” Roy said with a sly look. “It might’ve been a sight to see you hollering.”

  She didn’t share his humor. “Never.” She shook her head. “All those people looking at me? Judging me? I couldn’t stand it!”

  “Anyone who tries to judge you is gonna have to get through me,” Roy declared, the conviction of the statement filling his chest. “You’re a good person, no matter what life has thrown at you.”

  “Thank you, Roy.” She brightened. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that, almost like….”

  “Like?”

  “Well, never mind.”

  The way she tilted her head away, a mysterious smile on her rosy lips, answered every question he could have asked. She was his, no doubt about it.

  “I’m just sayin’,” he went on, ready to take on the world for her, “that Mr. Sutcliffe isn’t the best sort, the way he’s been putting men in your bed night after night.”

  “How was I supposed to make my way if he didn’t?” Sarah scoffed. Before he could answer, she said, “I’m not a freeloader, like some girls, Roy. I would never think to catch a man just so I could have a roof over my head. I did what I had to do to pay my own way through life.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded reluctantly. “But still. You can’t b
lame me for not liking a man who put other men in your bed.”

  “Oh, Roy!” She laughed, looking for all the world like Delilah in a mood all of a sudden. “Mr. Sutcliffe put you in my bed, didn’t he?”

  He blinked, a prickly feeling at the back of his neck. “Well….”

  “And he only did that with the best of the best, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but I-”

  “So maybe you might consider that Mr. Sutcliffe actually does know what he’s doing and has been very kind to me indeed.”

  Roy would have argued, but he couldn’t find a single way to do it.

  They reached the shrub-lined path leading up to Miss Viola Jones’s boarding house. He paused to set Sarah’s bags down for a moment, to roll his shoulders and flex his hands to get some blood back into them. Sarah skipped off to pick a late-blooming flower from the front garden. She plucked it, twirled around, and swished back to tuck the flower into one of the buttonholes of Roy’s shirt.

  “There,” she said, laying a hand on his chest and glancing up at him through her lashes. “Feel better?”

  She was so close and smelled like soap and roses. He would have been a fool not to put his arms around her while he could.

  She gasped when he pulled her close, as if his move was unexpected. He dipped down to capture her mouth with his. Her lips were warm and soft, and even though she gave in to him with a happy sigh of abandon, there was something different about kissing Sarah without paying for the privilege first, something wonderful.

  She slid her arms up his shoulders and around his neck, her fingers playing in his hair as their tongues twined. His hands splayed across her sides. He itched to handle more of her, to squeeze and tickle and fondle the way he liked—the way she liked—but he kept himself in check. The woman in his arms was not a saloon girl anymore, she was a delightful woman.

  The front door of the boarding house banged open like a shot being fired.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing!” Miss Viola Jones shouted.

  Sarah squeaked and jumped away from him as Miss Jones shot out onto the porch. Her naturally tight face was pinched even tighter in fury. Tall, like her brother Lewis who ran the train station, and standing up on her porch while Roy and Sarah stood in the lane below, she seemed like a monument at a courthouse, gray and imposing.

  “Good morning, Miss Jones,” Sarah ventured, her sunshine smile bright in spite of the awe she clearly felt facing the woman.

  “Sarah,” Miss Jones replied. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. It struck Roy that she might have once been considered handsome, but the strong bones of her face were covered with thin, pale skin, and her gray hair was fixed in a tight bun. She didn’t move or open her arms to welcome Sarah as she stood above them.

  “I … Mr. Sutcliffe reminded you I was coming out here today, didn’t he?” Sarah said.

  “He said you were coming,” Miss Jones answered. “He did not say anything about him.”

  Sarah’s shoulders relaxed as she let out a relieved breath. She smiled and walked closer to the porch stairs.

  “That’s just Roy,” she said. “He was carrying my things for me.”

  “That wasn’t all he was doing.” Miss Jones’s mouth tightened.

  “Oh.” Sarah faltered. She touched her fingers to her lips. “Well, that-”

  “You’re that man who works for Delilah Reynolds, aren’t you.” Miss Jones snapped at Roy.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.” He stood a little straighter, brushed the lapels of his coat.

  Roy thought he caught Miss Jones muttering, “Everything that woman touches is spoilt.” She looked him up and down like she’d swallowed a lemon. “Figures. Don’t think I didn’t see you just then. He told you to do that, didn’t he? Right on my doorstep.” She sniffed. “Thinks he can humiliate me all over again, doesn’t he? Or maybe she put you up to it.”

  Roy cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. Before he could think of a reply, Sarah said, “Miss Jones, I’ve come to move into the boarding house.”

  Miss Jones planted her bony fists on her hips, eyes never leaving Roy. “Who said I want you to?”

  “Um, Mr. Sutcliffe?”

  Miss Jones huffed, turning her eyes to Sarah. “If Paul Sutcliffe thinks I’ll dance to his little tune while you go on consorting with one of her employees, then he’s got another thing coming!”

  Sarah shuffled in her spot. “Oh. I thought-”

  “Why would a good Christian woman like me accept a hussy like you under my roof?”

  Sarah’s jaw went slack. Roy took half a step forward.

  “Looky here, Miss Jones. I mean no disrespect, but Sarah is no hussy. She’s a good, fine woman looking to start a new life now that the world’s being a bit kinder to her.”

  Miss Jones stared down her long nose at Roy, which was a long way indeed as far up on the porch as she was.

  “Don’t you lie to me, boy! I saw you kissing her just before you strolled up the lane, all cool as a snake. Some things never change.”

  A rush of awkwardness spilled down Roy’s spine. “It weren’t nothing but a kiss, ma’am.”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘nothing but a kiss’,” Miss Jones huffed. “As far as I can see there’s just wickedness and sin.”

  “Well maybe you ain’t seein’ the whole picture,” Roy argued. He shouldn’t have been arguing with anyone older than him, but just because Miss Jones was older, didn’t mean she was right.

  “I see everything I need to see!” Miss Jones blustered on. “You, girl,” she pointed at Sarah, “are no better than that woman. And you’ll meet the same fate too.”

  Sarah opened her mouth—eyes wide and stricken—but before she could make a sound Miss Jones raged on.

  “What’s that stuck to your shirt, boy? And where did it come from, might I ask?”

  Roy glanced down to the orange flower Sarah had given him. He darted a look around to the pristine garden beds in front of the house.

  “A hussy and a thief!” Miss Jones huffed. “That’s what I see.”

  Roy’s back went up. “Then there’s something wrong with your eyes, ma’am!”

  “Mr. Sutcliffe and I came to talk to you about me coming to live here,” Sarah interrupted before he could say anything harsher. “You said you reckoned it would work out.” Her voice dropped to something so small that Roy wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake a fist at Miss Jones or take Sarah in his arms an comfort her.

  “That was before I saw the likes of him with you,” Miss Jones answered. “I was given to understand that you’d changed your ways, that you were ready to repent for your sins.”

  “Well, I-”

  “There you go, talking back to your betters and kissing a man in full daylight, just like-” Miss Jones shook her head and threw up her arms, appealing to something in the roof of the porch. “These things are sent to try us, Lord!”

  She glanced down again and stared straight at Sarah. “You can go back to your saloon, your den of iniquity and haven for harlots, with that rascal right there and tell Paul that I’ll not be tempted to do the Devil’s work! And you,” she pointed at Roy, “can go back to your employer and tell her I will not be made a fool of!”

  Without any further explanation, Miss Jones stomped her foot then turned and stormed back into her house, slamming the door behind her.

  Roy let out the breath he’d been holding, confused as all get-out.

  “I don’t have any idea what just happened.” He shook his head and glanced sideways to find Sarah staring at the closed front door. “But, Sunshine, something tells me you just narrowly avoided an outright catastrophe.”

  “Oh?” Sarah’s voice quivered.

  Roy leaned closer to her. “I had no idea Miss Jones was such a soured-up old biddy. If you ask me, she would do a damned sight better if she had more kissing instead of less!”

  “Roy!” Sarah scolded him, whether for his thought or his language he didn’t know and didn’t care.<
br />
  “Well it’s true.” He stuck to his guns. He turned, adjusting his grip on Sarah’s suitcases, and started back down the path toward town. “Come on. Let’s leave that old woman to her flowers and her morals and go somewhere nicer.”

  Sarah nodded and followed him out onto the road, but her head was lowered and she chewed on her fingernails. She didn’t once look at him. Here he thought he’d been the hero for a change, but Sarah’s thoughts were miles away. A prickly sort of guilt, like he hadn’t done the right thing after all, broke out over his shoulders.

  “It ain’t so bad.” He scrambled to reassure her as they walked. “Would you really have wanted to live under that woman’s roof? Learning to be just as sour as her?” A grin turned up the corners of his mouth at the thought.

  Sarah stopped and turned to him, her shoulders drooping and her sweet mouth loose in disappointment.

  “I wanna be a good, honest woman, Roy,” she explained. “I never really had the chance before. Mama died almost before I could remember her and Papa drank so much he hardly remembered I was there most of the time. I thought I had a chance when he walked out on me, but I got no education and no talents. There was only one job anyone would hire me for. I’m not saying I’m ungrateful for being able to earn my way—even if it was on my back—but now I have a chance to start over fresh.” She sighed. “I know you don’t understand because you’re such a fine, important man.”

  “I wouldn’t say that!”

  Sarah shook her head. “Miss Jones is strict and all, but everyone knows that the girls living with her are some of the most upstanding young women in town. Why, she even has that new teacher, Miss Singer, living with her. If she’d’ve taken me in, it wouldn’t’ve been long before folks around here forgot what I used to be. It wouldn’t have been long before I might have been good enough for-” She swallowed. “Before I would have been good enough.”

  Roy’s grin dropped. “Oh.” He dug the toe of his boot into the dirt road. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t realize what it meant to you.”

  Sarah’s smile returned. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean no harm. And I must admit it’s at least as much my fault as it is yours. I picked that flower. And I kissed you as much as you kissed me.”