Sarah Sunshine: A Montana Romance Novella

by Merry Farmer

  “I wish I hadn’t,” he replied, then quickly stammered, “I mean, I don’t wish I hadn’t kissed you. I like kissing you.”

  “I like kissing you too.” She blushed, but the spark in her eyes had been dampened.

  “I guess, well, I guess that was mighty poor timing is all,” he said.

  “It was.” She sighed, worrying her fingers through the fringe of her shawl. “I don’t rightly know what I’m going to do now.”

  “You’ve got lots of options,” Roy rushed to figure out the problem. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find a job in town somewhere.”

  “I suppose.”

  “And you say Mr. Sutcliffe so kind to you and all. I’m sure he’ll let you stay on in a room at the saloon.”

  “Oh, I know he will. It’s just that….” She sighed. “I was hoping to make a change.”

  Roy frowned. “You have made a change. Your contract is up.”

  She sent him a sideways look. “You think other folks will see it that way if I keep living at the saloon?”

  She had a point, but he said, “It don’t matter what other people think.”

  She tried to smile, but Roy wasn’t fooled for a minute. The more he thought about it, the more his gut twisted in knots. Much as he had tried to be the hero, he had a bad feeling he’d left Sarah in a worse spot than he’d found her.

  Chapter Three

  Sarah fought to keep her head up as she and Roy walked side-by-side back to town. The hammering and sawing of new buildings going up was more jarring than encouraging. Sawdust and dirt tickled her nose, but she held her sneeze and her worry inside. Old Mrs. McGee nodded to her as she and Roy turned onto Main Street. Sarah knew—she just knew—that Mrs. McGee thought she was as useless as Miss Jones had told her she was.

  “I got an idea,” Roy said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Why don’t you ask Mrs. McGee if she needs help with her midwifing?”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Sarah answered immediately. She turned her head to look at Mrs. McGee’s retreating back. She’d helped out at births before and loved it. But what woman would want a—how did Miss Jones put it?—a hussy helping to deliver her baby?

  “Maybe Mr. West could use some help at the general store?” Roy tried again. “I hear he’s building a house over on the west side of town, so maybe you could move into that apartment above the shop too.”

  Sarah glanced longingly at the general store. How she would love to have an apartment all on her own like that!

  “They got plenty of help already,” she said.

  Roy frowned and slowed his steps. “All right then, what do you think of the idea of working at the new hotel?”

  Sarah stopped dead. She blinked at him. “Your hotel?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “I … do you think Mrs. Reynolds would let me?”

  Roy laughed. “Of course she would, Sunshine. Remember, she was once in the same position that you were.”

  “That’s true.” She twisted the fringe of her shawl, unconvinced.

  “From what Delilah told me, she ran into a bit of a jam when she got out of her contract too. Apparently someone started spreading rumors about her, and the fellow she was walking out with turned his back on her. But did she let that grind her down? No, siree! She picked herself up, bought a house, and made it into a hotel. Now look at her.”

  “Mrs. Reynolds is wonderful,” Sarah agreed, a tiny sprig of hope in her heart.

  “So I’m sure she’d find a way to help you out now that Mr. Sutcliffe’s plan for you fell through.”

  “She might at that.”

  They started down the street again. Sarah wove her fingers through the fringe of her shawl as new, exciting ideas flew through her.

  “Roy.” She blinked as a thought hit her. “Do you suppose the man who turned his back on Mrs. Reynolds was Mr. Sutcliffe?”

  Roy turned to her with a sly grin and a light in his eyes. “Gossip is a sin, Sunshine.”

  Prickles of sheepish delight raced through Sarah. She giggled. “That it is.”

  They continued walking. More than anything, she wished she could reach out and hold his hand. She was certain he would hold hers, even with people watching.

  “Roy,” she asked, a catch in her voice. “You wouldn’t turn your back if someone said something awful about me, would you?”

  Before he could answer, a gruff shout of, “What the hell?” boomed down Main Street. Mr. Sutcliffe had seen them and charged off the saloon’s front porch to intercept them. “Sarah, why aren’t you at the boarding house? And what’s all this?” he demanded, gesturing to the suitcases.

  A wash of guilt came over Sarah as Mr. Sutcliffe bore down on them. His frown was more worried than angry, at least when he looked at her. When he turned it on Roy it was another story.

  “Miss Jones said-” she began, but Roy spoke louder with, “That old biddy, Miss Jones, don’t know a treasure when she’s got one standing in front of her!”

  Mr. Sutcliffe stopped just feet in front of them and glowered, fists on his hips. “She knew what she had when I spoke to her yesterday afternoon! Sarah, honey, why is this fool carrying your things?”

  “Well, Mr. Sutcliffe,” she resisted the urge to lower her head in shame over something that wasn’t entirely her fault, “Miss Jones told me she didn’t want a hussy and a thief living under her roof.”

  “What in hell?” Now Mr. Sutcliffe was angry for real. A dark red stain worked its way up his neck and he wiped a hand over his face. “You’re no thief!”

  “Sarah picked a flower to give to me. Miss Jones saw that as-”

  “Sarah can speak for herself, boy!” Mr. Sutcliffe’s glare dropped to the fading flower tucked into Roy’s shirt. “Viola may be a little stiff, but I’ve known her since school days. She wouldn’t turn you away for just one flower.”

  “Well, Mr. Sutcliffe,” Sarah twisted her fingers in the fringe of her shawl, “the other thing is that, you see, I’m afraid Miss Jones might of seen me, uh, kiss Roy a little.” She lowered her eyes at the end of her confession.

  The red from Mr. Sutcliffe’s neck spread up to his face and into his eyes. He wasn’t taller or bigger than any other man in Cold Springs, but at the moment he was twice as intimidating. His moustache bristled in fury.

  “I should have known you were behind this!” he shouted at Roy, drawing eyes from the good people of Cold Springs walking past. He snatched at the suitcases Roy carried, wrenching one away before Roy could react. “You’re a fool and a menace!” Mr. Sutcliffe continued to holler. “I never should have let you set eyes on Sarah.”

  “It was just one little kiss!” Roy gave as good as he got, sending Sarah into fluttering panic.

  She darted worried looks around. They were right out in public, in the middle of everything. Folks were staring.

  Roy went on. “Miss Jones is a dried up old biddy who lays eyes on two people in love’s sweet embrace and only sees sinners!”

  “Oh, love is it?” Mr. Sutcliffe boomed. “That’s not what it’s called when you plunk down money to be alone with a girl, son!”

  “Please stop!” The fluttering in Sarah’s gut made her feel downright sick. Mr. Sutcliffe was right, and the people staring at her knew it.

  “I care about Sarah!” Roy insisted.

  “Like hell you do, boy! You’re not good enough to lick her boots!”

  “Please stop. Folks is watching,” Sarah begged, but neither of the men heard her.

  “I care about her more than you do.”

  “You’re as big a fool as ever walked the earth if you think that.” Mr. Sutcliffe raised his voice. “I’ll look out for Sarah!” He grabbed at the other suitcase.

  “Like you’ve looked out for her before?” Roy held on tight. “Throwing her at men for entertainment?”

  Cold panic gripped Sarah. People were definitely staring now. Mr. Sutcliffe growled and glowered and pushed forward, trying to knock Roy over with the breadth of his chest while he grabbed f
or the suitcase. Roy stood his ground and the two men bumped chests, like game cocks in a ring, swiping and trying to take her things away from the other. They looked as silly as dogs arguing over a bone.

  Until Roy kicked Mr. Sutcliffe’s shin.

  “Roy!” Sarah gasped as Mr. Sutcliffe bellowed in pain.

  Mr. Sutcliffe took a step back and put the suitcase he’d snatched down, then launched himself at Roy. Sarah shrieked again. Too many people were dropping what they were doing to watch. Sarah covered her face with her hands, but it didn’t stop the panic or the shame that froze her to her spot.

  A cry of encouragement sounded from one of the town’s miners who had ambled by to watch. Roy swung Sarah’s other suitcase around to smash into Mr. Sutcliffe’s side. Mr. Sutcliffe grabbed the bag and yanked it out of Roy’s hand. He tossed it aside with a roar.

  Sarah screamed. “No! Stop!”

  More miners and cowboys gathered to shout encouragement as Mr. Sutcliffe rolled up his sleeves and circled Roy with a menacing glare. His arms were as thick as a prize fighter, but Roy steadied himself and raised his fists to match.

  “I’m gonna teach you a lesson, boy!”

  “Oh, yeah? I’d like to see you try!” Roy spit in the dirt.

  “You’d better learn what’s good for you and stay away from my Sarah!”

  “She’s not your Sarah, she’s mine!”

  “Not ‘til you’ve earned her, boy!”

  They flew at each other, teeth bared in snarls, throwing punches. They both landed them too, though neither as hard as they would have liked. The fight was on and the crowd that had gathered was itching to see more. Roy and Mr. Sutcliffe flailed away at each other like the fate of the town depended on it.

  “Stop!” Sarah shouted, heart pounding against her ribs. “Stop this instant! Roy, Mr. Sutcliffe, stop! This ain’t right!”

  Her cries were lost under the din of men encouraging the brawl.

  Sarah grabbed the suitcase that Mr. Sutcliffe had put down and scrambled to retrieve the other one from the jostling crowd of worked-up men. Everyone was coming out to have a look at the fight now, even Mr. West from the general store and Mr. Bell the banker. Sarah had never been so embarrassed in her life.

  “Stop fighting!” she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “Stop!”

  She gripped her suitcases tighter, even though they pulled her arms down with their weight. She had to get away. People were staring—at her as much as the men—she was sure. She couldn’t breathe. The wall of miners, cowboys, and townsmen kept her locked tight with the fight. She tried in vain to push her way through the wall of bodies.

  “Let me through!” she shouted as the men around her hollered, “Come on! Give him what-for! Crush the little bugger! Nail the old coot!” Each thudding crush of a fist being landed brought her closer to hysterics. Folks would know Roy and Mr. Sutcliffe were fighting over her, and then what would the likes of Miss Jones say?

  A gunshot split the din. In an instant everything was silent. Sarah dropped her bags and covered her ears with shaking hands. Roy and Mr. Sutcliffe stopped fighting, though they were both already bleeding and swollen. The crowd loosened, backing up.

  “What in God’s name is going on here!” Mrs. Reynolds demanded from the edge of the crowd. She held a smoking pistol over her head and her look of holy fury made her seem less the genteel queen and more of an angel come to wreak vengeance.

  The onlookers began to disperse. Mr. West and Mr. Bell stayed where they were, frowning like they were Mrs. Reynolds’s seconds in a duel. Sarah rushed to Mrs. Reynolds’s side, panic making her dizzy.

  “Mr. Sutcliffe and Roy are fighting because Miss Jones turned me away from the boarding house after she saw me kissing Roy in the lane,” she burst out in one shaking breath.

  Mrs. Reynolds lowered her pistol, expression still tense, but with compassion in her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that, sweetie.” She opened her arms and Sarah collapsed against her. “There, there. We’ll sort it out. As for these two….”

  “You keep your haughty little nose out of my business!” Mr. Sutcliffe shouted, charging through what was left of the onlookers to stand toe-to-toe with Mrs. Reynolds. His nose dripped blood on his shirt. Sarah jumped back.

  “Your business?” Mrs. Reynolds balked.

  “I had everything arranged right and proper with Viola before your little Casanova came along.”

  “Cas-a-what-a?” Roy surged forward to join the new fray. “I won’t be called no names!”

  Mrs. Reynolds huffed out an irritated sigh and held her hand up to Roy. “It’s nothing, Roy.” She ignored both men and turned to Sarah. “So Viola turned you away because she caught you two kissing.”

  Sarah nodded, tears making miserable lines down her cheeks.

  Mrs. Reynolds sniffed and shook her head. “Figures.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” Sarah explained, courage returning simply by being next to Mrs. Reynolds. Fear gave way to deeper anger at the position she’d been put in. “I didn’t have any intention of kissing a fool who would start a brawl in broad daylight in the middle of Main Street!”

  “Sarah!” Roy gasped in shock. “I was defending your honor!”

  The heat of shame in doubting him rushed from the tips of Sarah’s toes to the top of her head, but she had an inkling her anger was justified all the same. She crossed her arms and looked away.

  “I’m tired of all this,” Mr. Sutcliffe said. “Sarah, honey, we’ll figure something else out. I’ll take your things back to the saloon-”

  “No!” Sarah shouted as he sidestepped toward her things. She rushed around him and snatched up her suitcases for herself. Mr. Bell stepped forward to give her a hand. “I’m not going back to live in the saloon, not ever again. I’m not one of those girls anymore.”

  “Sarah, darling,” Mr. Sutcliffe argued, “I never said you were one of them, not now, not ever. But it’ll be better for you be under my roof, where I can keep an eye on you and protect you from the likes of him.”

  Roy bristled and was on the verge of picking another fight.

  Mr. West stepped closer to him. “Settle down, son.”

  Mrs. Reynolds sighed. “If I told you once, Paul, I told you a hundred times not to go insulting my staff. And if Sarah says she doesn’t want to live the saloon life anymore, then she doesn’t want to live the saloon life.”

  “Living under my roof has nothing to do with living your so-called ‘saloon life’,” Mr. Sutcliffe argued.

  Sarah shook her head, glancing at Mr. Bell and the few spectators who still hung around them waiting for another fight to break out. “I’m not that kind of girl anymore. I’m a respectable woman, and I’m gonna make my way in the world honestly from now on.” She peeked at a bruised and frowning Roy, then tipped up her chin and threw her shoulders back in a brave imitation of Mrs. Reynolds.

  Mr. Sutcliffe rolled his eyes and dabbed at his bleeding nose with the corner of his sleeve.

  “Of course you’re respectable, honey,” Mrs. Reynolds told her, giving Mr. Sutcliffe a frosty stare. “I’d let you live at the hotel, but between Roy living there too and so many of the rooms booked with folks here to build up the town-”

  “She is not staying under the same roof with that jackass!” Mr. Sutcliffe interrupted. He glared at Roy, who stood to the side being mopped up by Mr. West.

  “Did you listen to a word I just said?” Mrs. Reynolds shifted her weight to one hip. She glanced to the pistol she still carried as if she would consider using it on Mr. Sutcliffe. “Of course she can’t stay in the hotel. Sorry, sweetheart,” she said to Sarah.

  “It’s alright, I understand,” Sarah replied.

  “And you shouldn’t have been trying to set her up with Viola either,” Mrs. Reynolds went on, gesturing with the pistol. “You know what that woman is capable of.”

  Mr. Sutcliffe crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “You can’t let that go, can you?”

  “Let it go?” Mrs. Reynolds s
norted. “That was my life, Paul.” Before Mr. Sutcliffe could open his mouth to reply, Mrs. Reynolds held up her hand with the pistol to stop him. She turned to Sarah and said, “We’ll find someplace for you to stay, honey.”

  “I have plenty of room at my house.” Mr. Bell joined the discussion, shifting his grip on Sarah’s suitcase. “That architect, Mr. Sinclair, has gone back to New York, and I don’t have any other boarders at the moment. I don’t usually board women, but under the circumstances I don’t think it would matter.”

  “She’s not staying with the likes of you either!” Mr. Sutcliffe spit on the dirt at Mr. Bell’s offer.

  “Why, I think that would be a right fine solution!” Roy piped up.

  “You keep your trap shut!” Mr. Sutcliffe got worked up all over again.

  He swayed towards Roy as if he would start the fight anew before Sarah barked, “Stop it! Both of you! I can decide for myself where I should stay.”

  Mrs. Reynolds raised her eyebrows, and both Roy and Mr. Sutcliffe broke from glaring murder at each other to stare at Sarah. If Mrs. Reynolds could take her life into her own hands after a set-back, so could she. She took a deep breath and went on.

  “Thank you so much for your kind offer, Mr. Bell.” She gave Mr. Bell the best smile she could manage under the circumstances. “But it just wouldn’t be proper. I’m a respectable woman now, and it wouldn’t be right for me to stay unchaperoned in the house of a single man.”

  “Uh, honey, I don’t think people would get the wrong idea,” Mrs. Reynolds told her on the sly. “Everyone ‘round here knows Phin ain’t interested.”

  “I’m sure someone somewhere would take offense.” Sarah dared to contradict her. “So I thank you for your help, Mr. Bell, but I can’t accept it.”

  “I understand completely.” Mr. Bell smiled and nodded to her like the gentleman he was. At least one man in town knew how to treat a woman.

  Mr. Bell’s civility gave Sarah strength. She stood a little taller and turned to Mr. Sutcliffe. “Since I don’t have any other place to go, I would consider moving back into the saloon.”