Chapter 13
Things changed.
Only a week since the robbery, but everyone remained shaken. Bernard Fields didn’t take his daily walks and insisted they keep a loaded pistol behind every surface. So far, Robert had counted six firearms throughout the bank.
The attempted robbery had been a shock to the entire normally peaceful town. The fact that two men died that day was not something to be forgotten soon.
Although Robert was convinced the men would have killed him and Otis, had they been taken out of town, it still didn’t seem right to take a life.
As time passed and the town grew, things were bound to change. For now, however, he’d rather not live in constant fear. “Father, why don’t we close early today? I want to spend time with Sarah.”
His father nodded. “Is she any better?”
Since the bank robbery attempt, Sarah had been overly watchful of him. Although Robert had reassured her it was a rare occurrence, she didn’t seem to believe him.
Withdrawn and sullen, she now spent more time inside the house than before. Every time he asked, she reassured Robert that she was fine. But it was easy to see she wasn’t.
Every day, she would stop by the bank with different pretenses as if her presence would stop a robber. He hated how much she worried. But he wasn’t exactly sure what he could do to make her relax.
There were dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t slept well since that day. The night before, when he’d helped her with the dishes as they often washed and cleaned up the kitchen together, she’d accused him of not thinking she was capable.
Immediately afterward, she’d apologized. She said she was just tired. If Sarah didn’t get more rest and remained upset, Robert was going to ask the town doctor to stop by.
Robert made sure that the bank’s doors were locked. He walked with his father as far as the family home. But he didn’t stop in. Instead, he continued on the two blocks to his house. It was early afternoon and Robert decided he’d go in search of his wife and, perhaps, take her for a ride.
Hopefully, if she was distracted by different scenery, Sarah would sleep better that night.
Robert walked into the silent house. The space remained tidy, with a fragrance of fresh flowers his wife had on display. His footsteps were silenced by the rug in the entryway.
“Sarah?”
He found her fast asleep in a chair with a shirt she’d been sewing on her lap.
She needed the rest, so he didn’t jostle her. Instead, he walked past her to the bedroom and pulled down the corner of the bedding.
Next, he removed his shirt and shoes and then returned to the front room. Sarah slept so soundly that she didn’t wake when he lifted the sewing from her hands.
Ever so gently, he slid his arms under her legs and arms and lifted his slumbering wife. She barely stirred.
“Let’s get you undressed, sweetheart,” Robert told his drowsy wife as he lowered her to stand next to the bed.
Sarah let out a long sigh. “You’re home.”
“We’re going to bed. You and I are going to sleep for as long as we want.”
Slipping the dress off her shoulders, he pressed a kiss to her lips and guided her onto the bed.
“Sleep, darling.” He held her against him and, within moments, she was once again fast asleep.
It was dark outside when Sarah stirred. Robert reached for his wife, pulling her against him.
“I should get up and fix something to eat. You must be famished.” When she snuggled against him, Robert closed his eyes. “Maybe in a couple of hours. Sleep.”
“Robert?”
“Mmmm?”
“I think it’s morning. We slept too long.” Sarah sat up in the bed, looking toward the window. Sunlight against her skin, she looked beautiful. When noticing his attention, her lips curved. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“I love you.”
Her eyes widened and filled with tears. Ever so slowly, one slid down her cheek.
Robert was instantly wide awake. He sat up and reached for her. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I was wondering when I’d hear you say it. I love you, too. I kept waiting to say it. When is it too soon to know?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?” He pressed a kiss to her lips. And tipping her face up with fingers under her chin, he searched her beautiful eyes. “Why have you been so upset lately? Have I done something? It seems you and mother have been getting along better.”
She looked away and then down as if ashamed. “I am not sure. The more I think about what happened and what could have, I get more and more fearful. What if you had died? What would have happened to me? If we have children and you...”
Pressing a finger to her lips, Robert stopped her. “I can’t promise nothing will happen to me in the future. The past is gone and there’s not much I can do about it. But I can assure you, I’ll do my best to stay alive.”
Her lips quivered when he grinned. “It’s not funny, Robert. I mean it. I would be lost.”
“Darling. We have to make the best of each and every day. By worrying and losing sleep, you are making it harder on yourself. Can you promise me something?”
Sarah nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his. “Yes.”
“Promise me that you will rest and will spend time out with Amelia and Lilah. Also, to do your best to not be so irritable. I miss my festive bride.”
When she frowned, Robert wondered if he had crossed the line. But the words were spoken. And now he was forced to wait as Sarah seemed to consider his words.
“I promise.” She spoke softly. “I have been quite moody, haven’t I?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Sarah surprised Robert with a kiss.
“Festive? I don’t think I’ve been called that before.”
Chapter 14
The weather cooperated when the day of the Ranchester Festival finally arrived. Groups of people walked down the center of the street enjoying the breeze that dispelled the warmth of the bright sun.
The committee members rushed to and fro ensuring everything was just right. Sarah giggled when spotting her mother-in-law attempting to tell Mary, the seamstress, how to display her items.
Mary shook her head and took the item from Camilla’s hands and then made shooing motions.
Hiding a smile behind her hand, Sarah turned to where Lilah stood overseeing a children’s game.
On a stage, a trio of men played lively music to which several people danced along. A group of children holding hands danced in a circle, their laughter filling the air.
Sarah moved next to where Amelia helped Olive with a stand of huckleberry pies. They looked delicious. “Save me one, please.”
Amelia winked at her. “Already did.”
Across the street from the pie stand, Robert and his father manned a booth where people tossed sand-filled sacks at a stack of cans. Several young men were quite energetic in their attempts. Bernard waved his arms, yelling at them not to throw the sacks so hard.
Her husband threw his head back and laughed when one of the young men stumbled and fell.
Robert was so very handsome when relaxed.
Content that everything seemed to be well, Sarah walked over to where Mrs. Wilkes served fried chicken and biscuits. Sarah accepted a cup of water and asked Eudora, “What do you think Mrs. Wilkes? It seems everyone is enjoying themselves.”
Mrs. Wilkes laughed. “Oh Sarah, this is the best festival yet.” She lifted her committee apron. “I’ve never been part of the town committee before. This is just wonderful.”
Sarah scanned the street and, sure enough, all the women on the committee preened in their pretty, starched aprons. Just that morning, a thrill ran through her when she’d wrapped the apron around her waist.
“Looks like Camilla is tryin’ to get your attention.”
Indeed, her mother-in-law waved her over.
“Be a dear and help me with this tableclo
th.” Camilla attempted to pull the wayward cloth onto a small, wooden table. Her mother-in-law planned to sell intricate crocheted doilies she’d been working on for months. So far, Camilla had spent most of the morning either shopping or making suggestions as to how the other women should set up, so her display was the last to be completed.
To keep the tablecloth from blowing, Sarah used rocks on the corners, wrapping them in the fabric. In the end, it helped the display by creating different levels on which to place her handiwork. Using small crates, bowls and plates, they displayed her mother-in-law’s beautiful pieces.
Immediately, people surrounded the table. Sarah moved to stand behind it to set out more as things were purchased.
She lifted a beautiful, large, white doily and admired it. “This is beautiful. I would like to purchase it.”
After handing a purchase to a woman, Camilla turned to her. “I haven’t given you a wedding gift. It is terrible of me.” She bent and pulled a matching piece from the wooden box that held all the items. “Please take two. This does not complete what I have in mind for you, but it’s a beginning.”
Sarah understood the message and smiled brightly. “Thank you. These are breathtaking.”
“I’ll take all of these.” Cornelia held out several pieces and slid a narrow-eyed look to the woman standing next to her, who looked at one of the items with obvious coveting.
Once the hotel owner’s wife left, Camilla pulled out several more items from the box. One of them was much like the one Cornelia had purchased. Camilla held it out the relieved woman. “This one is lovelier.”
It would be presumptuous of her to think she’d made a good impact on her mother-in-law. Sarah preferred to think it was a combination of things that had softened Camilla Fields.
Bernard, Robert and Amelia each insisted it was Sarah who’d not only brought out changes in Camilla, but also in Ranchester. They claimed she’d brought festivity to the town.
That evening, Sarah sunk into a chair and put her feet up on a stool. “I am utterly exhausted.” She smiled at her husband when he brought a cup of tea and placed it at her elbow on a side table. “You are a dear. Thank you.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I can never do enough to show how much you mean to me.”
“I don’t know that I deserve to be so happy,” Sarah replied, blinking away happy tears. “Oh my goodness, I’m about to cry. It must be the long day.”
“It was a perfect day. Everyone is commenting on how wonderful the festival was.”
“I’m so happy to hear it.” Sarah yawned.
She didn’t drink her tea. Within minutes, her head lulled to the side.
Robert did the one thing he enjoyed the most since marrying her. He lifted his sleeping wife up in his arms and carried her to bed.
It was a perfect day, indeed.
The End.
Excerpt from Beneath a Silver Sky
Near Silver City, Idaho, 1865
Brogan Hage jerked to consciousness. His widened gaze scanned the wooded surroundings with a certain knowledge a gunshot could come from any direction.
The most important thing at the moment was defense. Where the hell was his gun? Searing pain traveled up his right arm and straight into his gut when he tried to move it. The damn thing was out of socket.
Holding his useless arm to his side with his left hand, he listened intently for sounds of either footfalls or horses. There was a moment of eerie silence, then uneven footsteps. After a slow exhale he attempted to sit up. He'd not take death lying on his back. It wasn't like him to wait meekly for the final blow to come. On this day, things had turned out quite differently than he'd planned. The path his life took was not what he expected. Just five years after arriving from Scotland, he was to die in this new land.
The fact he'd killed several of the outlaws did little to settle his mind at this point, since several of them would get away and one would now send him to the afterlife.
When neither leg responded to his urging, Brogan forgot the upcoming threat as. once again, he attempted to move. A sharp breath left his lungs and rivulets of sweat trickled down his face as he fought to move.
The familiar slow whistle did not lessen the fast thudding of his heart at the growing terror he could be paralyzed.
"Marshal Hage? Can you hear me?" The gravelly voice may as well have belonged to an angel and not one of his deputies, Lucas McKade.
"Aye, my ears seem to be the only thing working at this point," he replied hoping the man didn't recognize the catch in his throat. "I'm pretty sure I got shot in the back."
"You are a mess," Lucas said. Not one to sugarcoat things, he placed a hand on Brogan's left shoulder. "Not sure if I can move you since I'm pretty banged up myself."
"Where's everyone else?" He didn't have to explain whom he referred to, being that none of his men stood over him with Lucas.
"King and Johnson are dead."
"Damn."
Brogan studied his friend. There was an angry gash down the side of his face and blood seeped through his shirt at his left shoulder. When Lucas straightened, the man grimaced, but seemed steady as he walked toward a horse. “Let's see what we can do to patch you up, then I gotta get you to the nearest town."
Silver City, Idaho, a booming mining town, at least a days’ ride away, may as well be on the other side of the world at the moment. If Lucas were able to get him atop a horse, it would be impossible to get there with the wounded man having to do all the managing of an injured, useless marshal and two horses.
Lucas had to save himself. The outlaws could return at any moment to ensure there were no survivors. He'd be damned if his deputy would die because of him. Brogan squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for strength. With his left hand, he reached for his gun that lay just out of reach. Brogan winced in pain, but finally managed to touch the butt of the weapon before it was kicked away.
"We're in this together brother," Lucas glared down at him. "If I have to knock you out I will, but I'll be damned if I let you kill yourself and make things easy for me."
Relief mixed with sadness. "I can't feel my legs. There's no way you can lift me and put me on a horse with your injuries. Just go, leave me here. If help makes it back and I'm still breathing, then I'm not meant to die."
As Lucas looked off into the distance, a gust of wind blew his hair across a face much too attractive for a man. Flat, blue eyes met his gaze. "Not gonna happen. We'll manage. Now let's see how much you can move."
"Stubborn as a mule."
"I can say the same about you."
Two things happened next. Somehow Lucas managed to move him and the pain was so excruciating, Brogan spent the rest of the day in and out of consciousness.
"You have to remain calm. If you can hear me Brogan, relax. Everything will be all right." A feminine voice permeated through the fogginess and Brogan wished the speaking would continue. The melodic, soft sound soothed through the spikes of pain drilling from his back down his legs.
He tried to speak, to tell her to keep talking, but was unable to do more than moan. It was impossible to measure time; when he came to sometimes it was light, others it was dark. The only constant was the horrible pain and hell fire engulfing his body.
A cool compress was placed on his forehead, soothing his fevered mind just a bit. It was the hand over his, rubbing and massaging it that took his attention next. Somehow he was able to concentrate on the soft strokes and ignore the pain for the few moments it lasted.
"I'll go see about some more water," the angelic voice said and Brogan tried to tell her not to go, not to move from him for an instant. Again the only thing he could utter was a long moan.
"Get more bandages, too, please, Sarah,” a male said before firm pressure was applied to somewhere on his side sending renewed throngs of pain across his body. Thankfully, soon after, the thick fog once again beckoned and he succumbed.
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About the Au
thor
Whether a rancher, a highlander or a hunky cowboy, you will fall in love with Hildie McQueen's heroes!
Hello, Dear Reader. Writing is my dream come true. There is nothing I love more than bringing my characters and stories to life and sharing them with you.
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Sarah, A Festive Bride Page 8
