by Tina Susedik
Sarah chuckled at Greta’s imitation of Horace’s voice. “That may be, but this widder woman has a son to think about. Not to mention a man to marry in a few months. What would Mister Sampson do if I didn’t show up? Put his life on hold, waiting for me? That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Oh pish-posh, Sarah. You could have sent him a letter.”
“Did someone say letter?” Sam came to them and matched his stride with theirs. “How did you know I had a letter for you, Sarah?”
“A letter for me?” Who would have sent her a letter way out in the middle of nowhere? Certainly not her in-laws or anyone from home.
“A courier just arrived from out west. He stopped on his way to the fort. I was surprised when I saw this for you.” Sam handed over a crumbled, stained paper.
Sarah kept walking as she stared at her name and city scratched in black ink on a piece of paper folded in half. She fingered the wax sealing the two halves together.
Greta nudged Sarah’s side. “Open it, for Pete’s sake.”
Using her thumb and forefinger, Sarah peeled the paper away from the wax and began reading. Heat rushed to her face. Her step faltered. She re-read the simple note.
— Miz Nickelson, hope this finds you still in Independence. I have news. I married the woman of my dreams, so you do not need to come to Oregon City. Mister Frank Sampson –
Good heavens, what now? Sarah stopped in her tracks, making Greta retrace her steps.
“Sarah, what’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet.”
Should she laugh? Cry? Scream? All of them? She handed the note to Greta and put one foot before the other. One step closer to no future, one step farther away from another.
“Oh, my,” Greta said, after a minute. “What are you going to do?”
“I have absolutely no idea.” What if she continued on to Oregon City? She had no way of making a living and no man to take care of her. She was in the same predicament if she went back to Independence. Maybe she should return to Missouri, where at least she knew people. But how? The train was heading west, not east. She certainly couldn’t travel by herself.
Greta handed the paper back to Sarah, interrupting her rampant thoughts. “Maybe we should talk to Sam and Jed about this.”
If Jack were here—no, she wouldn’t think about him. Not now. Not ever. “That sounds like a good idea. Tonight, after supper.”
“I’ll cook.”
As conflicted as she was, Sarah had to laugh. “Good idea. I wouldn’t want to make them sick to their stomachs before they came up with a solution to my problem.”
~ ~ ~
The next day after breakfast, Sarah stood before Jed, Greta, and their children. “I’m going to miss you all so much.” Tommy stood by her side, crying.
Jed pulled her into his arms. “You take care of yourself and that boy of yours.” His sniffle was nearly Sarah’s undoing.
After hugging their children, Sarah turned to Greta. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, Greta. You . . .” How could she explain how Greta had been like a mother and a friend to her? She couldn’t, not without breaking down and sobbing.
Greta’s hug squeezed her ribs to the point of pain. “I know, I know. You’ve been like a daughter to me, one I didn’t have to get through the teenage years.” Keeping her hands on Sarah’s shoulders, she stepped back. “Now you write and let me know that you made it back safely. Find yourself a good man to help you raise Tommy and give you more babies.”
A vision of Jack’s smiling face passed through Sarah’s mind. Would she ever find someone kind, funny, and caring like him? Not to mention his kisses and thrilling touches.
“Miz Nickelson, it’s time to go.” Simeon Willis was taking her and Tommy back to Fort Laramie.
Last night, it was decided she would go to the fort, and from there, hopefully pick up some emigrants not wanting to venture any further into the wilderness. She might have to wait a while for anyone who couldn’t take the rigors of the trail and were heading back east. Sam had written a letter to the post commander explaining her situation and asking him to help her find a safe place to stay while there.
With one last hug to her friends, and offering her thanks to Sam, Sarah helped Tommy onto the wagon seat and climbed up beside him. She slapped the reins. “C’mon Rose, Tulip. We’re heading home, wherever that is.”
Chapter 12
Sarah raised her arms and stretched her stiff, aching body toward the bright blue morning sky. She flipped over slices of bacon sizzling in a cast-iron skillet. Rolls, given to her by Greta, warmed on the edge of the fire. Coffee bubbled in a blue speckled pot.
Sleep had eluded her all night. Even when the wagon train had settled down for the night, there were always noises. Oxen stomping, cows lowing, and people snoring. Last night there was only a coyote howling in the distance. Mister Willis, sleeping beneath the wagon with his rifle at his side, hadn’t even snored. It was too quiet.
Plus, there was the worry of a lone wagon being attacked, not so much by Indians, but by anyone wanting to steal what she had and maybe even worse.
“Mornin’, Miz Nickelson.”
“Please call me Sarah.” She didn’t miss his grimace when she handed him a cup of coffee. She grinned at him. “Guess you heard about my cooking skills—or lack of them.”
“Well . . .”
“Maybe between the two of us, we can keep me from burning our breakfast. Don’t worry about the rolls, Greta made them and gave me enough to get us through the next couple of days.”
He raised his cup and grinned. “Call me Simeon.” He wasn’t as good-looking as Jack, but from what Sam had told her, he was a kind, caring man. She felt safe with him. His wife was a lucky woman.
~ ~ ~
After lunch and a few more hours on the trail, Sarah was ready to jump down from the wagon seat where she and Tommy had been bouncing since eating. Both her back and rear end were sore, and she was sure a few teeth were loose from her jaw snapping together.
Rose and Tulip had picked up speed. They must have sensed they were heading home, or maybe it was because there were no other wagons to slow them down. Either way, she had no idea they could move so fast.
“Are we going back to Mister Bard, Mommy?”
Sarah’s heart ached. Jack had made quite an impression on her son. She’d have to be careful in the future to not let Tommy get close to another man until she knew he was the one to marry.
“No, honey. We’re going to Fort Laramie, then home to Independence.”
“Why not?”
Holding back a sigh, she wrapped her arm around Tommy’s shoulders. She’d lost track of the times he’d asked about Jack. She had no idea how to explain anymore. “Because he needed to go to his home.”
“But why . . .”
A shot rang out, interrupting Tommy’s incessant questions. Had Simeon been hunting antelopes?
His empty horse galloped past.
Sarah jerked on the reins. The wagon slowed. Where was Simeon? Were they being attacked? Then a familiar, unwelcome odor hit her nose. Her breath froze as Horace rode up beside them and stopped. Her stomach roiled at his leer.
“Well, well, well. Looky who we have here.”
Bile rose in Sarah’s throat. “What are you doing here, Mister Manny? You’re supposed to be locked up at Fort Laramie.” Sarah pushed Tommy. “Get in the wagon and hide,” she whispered to Tommy. “Don’t come out no matter what.”
She searched around for her guide. “Where’s Mister Willis?”
“He’s fine. Just nicked him.” Horace’s smile sent shivers down her spine. If she ever saw evil again, it would look exactly like the man staring down at her from the top of his horse.
Horace leaned one elbow on the pommel and held up the other, handcuffs da
ngling from his wrist. “It appears the army needs to do a better job of chaining up innocent men.”
His spit landed on the edge of her skirt.
Sarah scooted to the other side of the wagon bench. If she moved any further away, she’d fall off. Simeon’s unmoving legs appeared at the edge of the wagon.
“You killed him, you bastard.”
Horace shook his head. “Is that any way for a lady to talk?”
Maybe if she kept up the bravado, he’d leave her alone. Beneath the folds of her skirt, she inched her hand toward the rifle hooked on the side of the seat. “It is when I’m talking to a bastard.”
“I didn’t kill him, my dear Sarah. If’n you keep talkin’ like that, I will. No woman of mine will call me a bastard.”
She touched the butt of the rifle. “As I’ve told you before, I am not nor will I ever be your woman.”
Horace sidled his horse close enough to grab her arm, and dragged her across the seat. The movement jerked her hand away from the rifle. Even if she was at his mercy, she wasn’t going to give in without a fight. Damn. Why hadn’t she thought to put her small gun into her skirt pocket this morning?
“Now, here’s the thing. I don’t see your lover, Billabard here to help you. I kinda wonder why he deserted you.”
After dismounting, he yanked her from the wagon and dropped her to the ground. She stumbled and fell.
“That’s what I like to see, a woman on her knees before me. Women are here to serve men, and I plan on making you serve me over and over. And over again.” His sneer deepened. “I saw what you gave Billabard. Kissing and carrying on. I expect the same.”
Had he seen them kissing the night of the dance? Or even worse, making love under the tree? The thought of this horrible man watching them in their intimate moments sickened her.
He hauled her to her feet and against his body. She held back a gag at his smell. Bile rose to her throat when he pressed his lips against hers.
“You’re mine now, bitch—” A second later he jumped back and wiped her breakfast and lunch from his face. “What the hell!”
“That’s how I feel about you, Manny. You make me throw up. You’re a disgusting excuse for a man.”
Before she had a chance to react, he drew back his fist and punched her in the side of her head, toppling her sideways into the wheel.
“Tommy, stay where you are,” she managed to yell as lights flashed behind her eyes and her world went dark.
~ ~ ~
Sarah’s brain pounded in her head. Her face stung and her wrists burned. Why would her wrists burn? She opened her eyes. A tight rope was wound around both wrists and tied to the pommel of a saddle. The sky was dark.
A stench, so vile she nearly threw up again, blew across her nostrils. She was tied up in front of Horace. His arms curved around her body, hands resting on her thighs.
“Where are we?”
“So the lady is awake now. We’re halfway between here and there, my love.”
She listened. No sounds of oxen hoofs, creaking wheels, or clanging pots. Oh, my God. Where was her wagon? What had he done with Tommy and Simeon?
“You bastard.” She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. “Where’s Tommy? If you’ve harmed one hair on my son’s head, I’ll kill you.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered into her ear. Gripping her thighs tighter, he tugged her bottom back against his semi-erect groin. “I didn’t do anything to him.”
Sarah forced back a shudder. “Then where is he? I want my son.”
“Well, that ain’t going to happen. When your friend came to, I tied him to the seat of the wagon and set the oxen moving. He should be on his way to Fort Laramie.”
“What about Tommy?”
“Guess your son knows how to listen to his mother. No matter how much I tried to convince the brat I wouldn’t hurt him, he stayed hidden. So he’s still in the wagon.” Horace shrugged against her back. “I don’t care. As long as the brat is out of the way.”
Sarah wouldn’t give the satisfaction of breathing a sigh of relief or showing fear. Controlling her rolling stomach and pounding heart was difficult. There was no telling what Horace would do if she threw up on him again. She worked the ropes with damp fingers. If she could get them loose, maybe she could jump from the horse and run away. But it was dark, and she had no idea where they were.
It looked as if Horace had won—for now.
Chapter 13
Jack leaned against the large boulder and stared at the river’s rushing water. It had been four days, he checked his pocket watch, seven hours and twenty-three minutes since he’d ridden away from Sarah and Tommy. Not that he was counting.
Papaya nickered. He hadn’t been back to this place in the mountains since the day he’d buried Lily. Once he’d left Fort Laramie with supplies and returned to the worn-looking cabin, something had compelled him to head back up here.
A piece of jerky lodged in his throat and tears trickled down his cheeks. He was so weary in body and soul. He missed Lily. Most of all he missed Sarah and Tommy. How could he keep his promise and still be falling in love with Sarah?
Like that day four years ago, he pulled his hat over his eyes as they drooped closed and slumber took over.
~ ~ ~
Full, enticing lips swept over his. Warm, sultry breath caressed his face. Breath smelling like sunshine and grass. Grass? What the hell?
“Dammit, Papaya,” he pushed at his horse’s head, “go away. Let me sleep.”
Papaya nudged and prodded until Jack nearly fell over. It wasn’t as cold as that day years ago. The air was hazy when he peeled one gritty eye open. He rubbed both sides of his face, trying to wake up, then stood and stretched the kinks from his body.
Papaya tugged at his sleeve and pulled him away from the rock. “Dammit, horse, leave me alone.” He pushed the animal to the side. The sun rising behind the mountains from the east cast a shadow on a tree. He pushed his hat to the back of his head and scratched his scalp.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Was this another dream? “Ouch!” He swatted at Papaya. “Dammit, horse, stop biting me.” Jack rubbed his aching ear. “Wait. If I can feel this, then the tree can’t be a dream.” He peered through the mist. There was the same twisted and gnarled trunk. The same rough bark and silvery, shimmering leaves. The same silent call to beckon him closer.
He dipped beneath its branches.
“Reach for me.”
His hand shook as he stretched it out to touch the trunk. The instant he came in contact, his fingers tingled. Then his arm. He tried to pull away but couldn’t move.
Warmth spread through his body, settling in his aching heart. Was he crazy, or was the tree humming? His heart calmed, then sped up. Would the woman and boy appear again?
Between the hanging branches two figures, surrounded by a foggy haze, appeared. A small boy and a woman swung hands as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The woman’s bonnet hung down her back, loose blonde hair flowing to her waist.
The woman looked over her shoulder and smiled. Jack’s breath caught. Sarah and Tommy? Was this what the tree had been telling him before? Sarah and Tommy were his future? Was that why the tree appeared to Sarah and him that night on the trail?
The vision wavered like a sea of tall prairie grass blowing in the wind. Sarah and Tommy faded away. “Wait.” He raced toward the empty space. A new vision appeared, one that made his heart lurch.
Sarah’s wagon had stopped. A man lay crumpled on the ground beside it. The back of Sarah’s head appeared to the side of the canvas, then jerked away.
The scene wavered again. Sarah was now tied to the pommel of a saddle. Tears ran down her face. A man riding behind her whispered into her ear. Jack squinted his eyes to get a better view.
&nbs
p; Shit. Horace. The scene grew faint.
“Wait. Where is she?”
He rushed to the tree and shook a branch. “Tell me where she is!” he yelled between clenched teeth. “Tell me how to find her!”
“Your heart will know. When you listen, your prize will be great,” the tree whispered and vanished.
Damn it. He grabbed Papaya’s blanket and saddle. What the hell did the tree mean with, ‘your heart will know?’ When he had his horse ready, Jack swung up into the saddle.
Papaya must have sensed Jack’s urgency. The instant he was seated and without any urging, the horse took off down the mountain. Jack cursed under his breath each time they slowed down to weave their way through rocks. As soon as they had an open space, Papaya took off in a full gallop.
How had Horace gotten away? Had the judge decided he was innocent? Had he escaped? How had he found Sarah? Where was Tommy? The questions pounded his brain as hard as Papaya’s hooves pounded the turf.
In record time, his cabin came into view. His feet hit the ground before the horse came to a complete stop. There was no time to waste. Papaya’s sides heaved. He needed to switch horses. Once he was in the barn, Jack removed the stallion’s saddle, damp blanket, and bridle.
He yanked a dry blanket from a stall wall and tossed it over Jewel’s back. As he lifted the saddle, Papaya nudged him to the side.
“Dammit, Papaya, I’m in a hurry. I have to find Sarah and Tommy.” Jack swung the saddle again, and again Papaya prodded him, only this time harder, nearly knocking Jack over.
He caught himself on the wall before toppling over. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Papaya tossed his head up and down and nickered. He took Jewel’s blanket between his teeth, pulled it from her back, then flipped it over his head.
Jack blew out an impatient breath. At this rate he was never going to leave. He reached for the blanket, but stopped. “Well, I’ll be. You want to go with me. Right, old boy?” He grinned, straightening the blanket. “If you think you can go on, then let’s get going.”
