by Tina Susedik
In a matter of minutes, they were back on the trail heading to a place he figured would hold some answers—Fort Laramie. Since Papaya knew the trail, he let the horse take the lead and let his mind wander to Sarah.
How could he have left them? He should have known Manny would find a way to escape and find her. His stomach knotted with guilt. Sarah’s words came back to him. ‘Sometimes guilt is a way of handling events that are out of our control.’ She was right.
How was he to know Manny would somehow get out of jail? Had he known, he wouldn’t have left Sarah and Tommy. Or would he? For the past four years, he’d done nothing but survive and keep his promise to Lily.
Jack gripped the reins tighter. Papaya’s body flexed for a leap over a downed tree trunk across the trail. Good thing he and his horse knew each other so well and he could sense Papaya’s next move, or he’d be flying through the air.
Papaya landed safely and continued at a breakneck pace. Jack resumed his thoughts about Sarah. The woman was not only beautiful, she was kind, smart, strong, and wise. And even though she had loved him, Lily never responded with such abandon during lovemaking, the way Sarah had.
He was a fool to leave her for a promise made to his wife. Didn’t he deserve to go on with his life? Find love? Marry and father more children?
What exactly had been his promise anyway? He thought for a few seconds. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t find another, but that there would be no other like Lily. That was true. There was only one Lily, just as there was only one Sarah. One woman could not replace the other.
But begin a new life with him? Oh, yes.
Why had it taken him so long to figure this out? There had been plenty of women over the years who wished to share their lives with him. Women he ignored in honor of his memories of Lily, stifling his physical needs as well as his emotional.
Why now? Why Sarah? Would loving Sarah lessen his love and memories of Lily? The simple answer was no. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too late to save Sarah and their love.
As Papaya slowed for a rocky stream, picking his way across the slippery stones, the tree’s words came back to him. ‘Your heart will know.’ Then he understood. He was leaving one love behind and riding to another. There was only one place where both would meet.
With renewed vigor, once on the other side of the stream, he slapped the reins against Papaya’s flank. “C’mon, boy. We’ve got a family to save.”
Chapter 14
It was now or never.
Sarah struggled against the ropes cutting into her wrists. Forced to lie on the hard ground all night, her shoulders ached from her arms being trussed up tightly behind her back. Her toes were cold, her fingers numb. Even though daylight crept over the mountaintops, sending off a pink glow to the air, the sun cresting their peaks wouldn’t warm the air anytime soon.
Horace was curled up several feet away, a blanket wrapped around his head and shoulders, snoring. Sarah shivered in the cool morning air. Her dress was damp from being on the ground all night. Of course, a gentleman like Horace would never offer his blanket to a lady. She’d never have put the disgusting cover anywhere near her anyway. Her stomach rumbled. He hadn’t offered any of his food, either.
Sarah rolled to her knees and wiggled her hands. She wasn’t sure what time they’d stopped last night. In his rush to eat a cold meal of hardtack and dried beef, he’d untied the rope, yanked her from the horse, and re-tied her hands behind her back, but not before he’d squeezed her breasts.
“These’ll be mine soon, little lady. Once I get rested up, we’ll have us some fun. I’ll make you forget Billabard.”
When Sarah spat in his face, she was rewarded with a slap across the cheek. “I’d rather die than have your grubby hands on me,” she’d snarled.
The jackass probably didn’t expect a woman to fight back. Well, he was in for a surprise. She moved her jaw back and forth. No permanent damage. There would probably be a bruise.
If only he’d left her hands in front of her, she could use her teeth to release them. Keeping her eyes on the disgusting man, she worked her thumbs outside the ropes. Once they were free, there was enough slack to twist her hands over and over until the rope dropped to the ground.
Rubbing her wrists and shoulders, she rose, keeping as quiet as possible. She took one step backward, then another until she reached a large boulder. Horace’s snores continued in an irritating cadence. At least they covered her footsteps. His horse was nowhere to be seen. Had it run off? She wouldn’t blame the poor thing. Horace had ridden her hard yesterday.
Once on the other side of the boulder, she took off her skirt and petticoat. She’d had the entire night to formulate a plan, and knew running in a long skirt would be difficult. At this point she didn’t give a damn if someone saw her in her bloomers or even naked, as long as they came to her aid.
The air chilled her bare calves as she rolled her garments into a bundle. It would be quieter if she took off her boots, too. But with rocks and prickly pear dotting the ground, she was better off leaving them on.
Sarah skittered from boulder to boulder, checking her distance from Horace each time. When he was no longer in sight, she picked up speed and raced east, hopefully toward Fort Laramie, praying the entire time that Horace was still sleeping and Tommy safe.
How long had she run? A stitch in her side made her stop. Her mouth was dry, her legs and lungs burned from unaccustomed running, and her stomach growled. Perspiration ran down her face and into her eyes. She’d snagged her bonnet on a bush and hadn’t taken the time to retrieve it.
How far had she come? Hopefully far enough so Horace couldn’t catch up with her any time soon—unless he’d found his horse. Then she’d be in trouble.
The pain in her side subsided long enough to keep going. In the distance a plume of smoke spiraled to the sky. Fort Laramie? Would she find Tommy there? She cupped her eyes against the morning sun now fully above the mountains. A copse of trees stood between her and the smoke. How far was it? Half a mile? A mile? Distance in this vast land was difficult to determine. It didn’t matter, she needed to find her son.
With her eyes on the smoke and trees, she ran.
~ ~ ~
Water. She needed water. Sarah leaned on a wooden fence surrounding a half dozen crudely carved wooden crosses and as many headstones fashioned from rock. Names, year of birth and death, and in some cases, a prayer or something about the deceased were etched in the stones. She climbed over the fence and wove her way through the crosses and headstones until one caught her eye.
The tallest in the cemetery, it was as if someone wanted everyone to know the importance of the deceased. Sarah stopped.
Here lies Lily Mae Billabard and her infant son, James
Beloved wife of Jack Billabard
There will never be another like you
Born 1835 Died 1855
Rest in Peace, My Love
Poor Jack and his promise to Lily.
Sarah had continued to harbor hope he’d come back to her. After reading this, she knew there was no chance. He was still in love with his wife, a woman who could no longer give him warmth, comfort, and love.
But I could have given all of that to him.
Sarah ducked behind the headstone when a shout came from the west and another from the east. Both called her name. Both rode horses, coming closer and closer. One held anger. The other, she hoped, held love. She curled into a tight ball.
“Sarah Nickelson, you come out here right now. We got business to finish.” Horace was clearly the angry one. His footsteps crunched on the ground, coming closer and closer. He fisted her hair and yanked her to her feet.
“Ouch! Let go of me.” She slapped at his hand, then kicked him in the shin. Grabbing her leg, he dropped her to the ground.
“You’re gonna pay for this
, witch.” He lifted his arm, hand clenched in a fist.
She ducked, covering her head with her arms, and braced for the blow.
“Hit her and you’re a dead man.”
Sarah peered from beneath her arms. A man pointed a rifle at Horace. Even with the sun behind him, Jack’s silhouette was unmistakable.
Relief rushed through to be replaced by fear when the distinctive sound of a gun slipping from a holster and the hammer clicking back echoed in the air.
“Put the rifle down, Billabard, or I’ll shoot her.” Horace jerked Sarah up by her hair, wrapped his free hand around her throat, and put the gun to her temple.
“You going to hide behind a simple woman, Manny?”
Simple? Did Jack just call her simple? She narrowed her eyes at him. She’d tell him who was simple. His wink was so slight, she almost missed it. He was egging Horace on.
“Please, Jack. Put the gun down.” Hopefully her attempt at a helpless female would fool Horace. “Poor Mister Manny can’t help that he can’t fight for me himself. Let him hide behind me. Some men aren’t manly enough and need a woman to guide him.”
Horace’s hold on her throat tightened, nearly cutting off her air. “Are you calling me a coward, woman?”
Sarah kept her eyes on Jack’s face. With Horace looking down at her, he couldn’t see the nod of approval.
Sarah dug her nails into Horace’s arm. “Yes. You’re a coward.”
With a low growl, Horace tossed her to the side. “No one calls me a coward. Not Billabard and not no woman.”
Jack kept his rifle trained on Horace. “Then how about we settle this like men. No guns. No knives. Just you, me, and fists.”
Sarah had no doubt Jack had the advantage. He was younger, taller, and more muscular. But Horace had rage on his side, and if stink could kill, she would have been dead already.
“Sarah, come here and take the rifle. Keep it pointed on Manny.” Jack’s hard stare took in her state of undress. “Where are your clothes, honey? Did he hurt you?”
Thankfully the anger in his eyes wasn’t aimed at her. “No. I got away while he was sleeping. I don’t know where Tommy is.”
The muscles in Jack’s jaw didn’t relax as he handed her the rifle. “That he abducted you is bad enough. Shoot him if he tries anything funny.”
Horace laughed. “She wouldn’t shoot me.”
“Want to take a bet on that, Horace?” She glared at him down the barrel of the rifle, taking aim at his heart. Horace’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Did I or did I not take lessons on using guns before I joined the wagon train? Was I or was I not able to shoot down nine out of ten cans from a fence?”
Sarah lowered the gun toward his crotch. “Are you willing to take that chance? Put down your gun.”
Horace’s face paled. He set the gun on the ground.
“Now the knives I know you have hidden in both your boots.”
“What about him?” Horace nodded his chin at Jack.
“Jack, are you holding any other weapons? Let’s make this fair and square. I wouldn’t want this coward to say you cheated.”
The skunk had the nerve to laugh. “You got confidence in him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. He’s not a coward.”
With bared teeth, Horace removed two long, sharp-edged knives from his boots and put them next to his gun. He took off his long coat, revealing a sweat-stained shirt.
Jack slid off his buckskin jacket, laid it over Lily’s headstone, then raised his hands, palm side up. “I don’t have any other weapons.”
“Move back, Mister Manny.” Sarah signaled with the rifle. Once he was safely away from his weapons, she picked up the gun, and after emptying the chamber, laid it on top of Jack’s coat. At Jack’s raised eyebrow, she said, “I did take lessons.” Keeping an eye on the men, Sarah slipped into her skirt, leaving the petticoat on the ground.
Knees bent, arms outstretched, the men circled each other several times before Horace charged, knocking Jack into a tree.
Jack grabbed a low branch and swung up, kicking his legs out and into Horace’s stomach. Horace landed on his back. In a movement that Sarah didn’t think he was capable of, he jumped to his feet.
Uniformed men appeared around the perimeter of the cemetery. A soldier with several stripes on his sleeves halted at her side and took the rifle. “I’m Sergeant Willow, ma’am. Weren’t you here a few days ago with Sam’s outfit?”
Sarah nodded, then bit back a scream when Horace planted his fist on Jack’s jaw. He staggered back, but regained his balance fast. When Horace charged, his head down, Jack sidestepped. Manny hugged the air before stumbling to his knees.
“Isn’t that Horace Manny?” Willow asked. “We’ve been trying to find him.”
Sarah swung her fists around as if punching a phantom opponent. “C’mon, Jack. Let him have it.”
Willow unloaded the rifle and set the butt on the toe of his boot. “What’s Manny doing here?”
“I was heading to the fort with my son and guide. Manny shot my guide and left him and my son behind, then he abducted me. I got away and found my way here. Manny followed, and Jack is giving the skunk a beating he deserves.”
After a shove from Manny, Jack landed at Sarah’s feet. A grin split his face as he stared up at her. “I love you, Sarah Nickelson.”
Before she could respond. Horace grabbed Jack’s shirtfront and yanked him to his feet. Sarah cupped her hands around her mouth. “I know!”
Jack’s next swing sent Horace to his knees. A kick to his face toppled him to his back. He stood over Horace, his chest heaving, breath wheezing. He bent at the waist and rested his palms on his knees. “Give up, Manny?”
Horace looked up at him and nodded. Only then did Jack walk toward Sarah. Blood dribbled from a cut in the corner of his lip. One red eye was half-closed. His knuckles were scraped and torn, his shirt ripped in half.
He’d done this for her. He’d said he loved her.
Sarah’s heart swelled with love. In the next instant, she screamed, “Jack, behind you!”
Screaming profanities, Horace charged across the cemetery toward them. Before he reached Jack, he tripped on a tree root and fell forward. A crack rent the air and Horace lay still.
With his gun poised, Willow rushed to the fallen man. “C’mon, Manny. Get up so I can haul your ass back to the stockade.”
Horace didn’t move. The sergeant motioned to two men to roll Horace over.
Sarah’s stomach heaved. Strong arms wrapped around her. She buried her face in Jack’s chest. The vision of Horace’s bloody, smashed face would forever be in her mind. Blood trickled from his nose and lips. While one sightless eye remained open, the other, bruised and swollen, was closed.
Willow shook his head. “It appears he landed on this headstone and broke his neck.”
Jack cupped the back of Sarah’s head. “Let’s go to the fort.”
Sarah clutched the front of his shirt. “We need to find Tommy.” She held back the sob building in her chest. “I need my son.”
“We’ll find him, Sarah. We’ll get you a horse at the fort and head out right away.”
“Don’t worry, Miz Nickelson.” Willow motioned to his men to cover Horace. “I have men looking for them right now.”
A soldier hurried to Willow and whispered in his ear. Willow nodded and faced Sarah with a reassuring grin. “Some of my men found them a few miles away. They’ll be at the fort shortly.”
Chapter 15
Jack jerked back his head as Sarah dabbed at the blood on his lips and a cut at the corner of his eye. After several soldiers hauled Horace’s body to the edge of the cemetery to be interred, they were taken to a room at Fort Laramie.
“Don’t be such a baby, Jack.”
/> “You call beating up that skunk being a baby?”
“Of course not. You’re my hero.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and stepped back. Even though Jack was with her, she was worried sick about Tommy. “Where is he? Why aren’t they back here yet? Do you think something has happened to him?”
He stood, his movements stiff. “I’m sure he’s fine. Remember how stubborn your oxen can be?”
Jack’s embrace calmed her ragged nerves, though Sarah worried her bottom lip as she nodded. “Blasted beasts. Yesterday they were in such a hurry.”
“It’ll be all right. If something was wrong, they’d tell us.” He kissed her temple. “If he doesn’t get here in the next hour, we’ll go out ourselves.”
Sarah eased away and gripped the back of the nearest chair, gazing at her rescuer. Even bruised, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. How did she get so lucky to find a man like Jack Billabard? She wished she knew if he’d said he loved her in the heat of the moment or if he really meant it.
She was no longer that shy woman from Independence who let a man tell her what to do. She’d learned to drive a team of oxen, fix her wagon, and cook over a fire. Well, maybe the last one was a stretch. But she’d made new friends and managed to get away from Horace.
If she couldn’t tell a man she loved him, then she was a coward.
With a deep breath, Sarah held onto the back of the chair. “I love you, Jack.”
His one good eye glimmered. “I . . .”
The door opened. “Miz Nickelson,” Willow said, “we have a little problem.”
A jolt of fear slammed through her as Jack moved to her side. She gripped his hand. “Oh, my God. Tommy. What happened to my son?”
