by Bobbi Smith
The ugly realization that he would never again know the sweetness of her kiss or the reassuring comfort of her embrace ripped at him with sharp, slashing claws. Curled in a ball, Christopher sobbed into the pillow. The logical part of him hoped his Aunt Sarah wouldn’t hear him because he didn’t want her to think he was a baby or a coward; the little boy deep in his heart just wanted a warm hug from his mother. He was slowly coming to accept that he would never experience that loving joy again, but acceptance didn’t ease the pain.
Outside the stateroom, Sarah and Steve stood together at the rail of the deserted deck. It was growing late. The night breeze was cool and gentle, and the moon was a pale silver crescent low on the horizon.
“You know we’re due to make port early tomorrow morning,” Steve began, once he was certain they were alone on deck.
“I know. Is there a particular way you’d like to handle it when we disembark?” Sarah asked, directly facing the challenge the following day presented.
“I thought it would be best if I go with you to the hotel. Then, once I’m sure you’re safely settled in, I’ll move on.”
“That’ll be fine,” she agreed.
Steve couldn’t fight off the protective instinct he felt in her presence. In spite of the hardship she had suffered losing her husband, an incredible air of innocence still enveloped her. “I’m worried about you, Sarah. You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
The intensity in his voice sent a shiver through her. “Of course.”
Lost in her dark, luminous eyes, Steve reveled in her beauty. Yet tomorrow she would be gone from his life forever. After they parted, he would not know where she was or what she was doing. He studied her lips. He wanted to kiss her, to have that one remembrance of this time. Desire stirred within him and he knew he could no more stop the emotions surging through him than he could alter the pattern of the stars that spangled the night sky. He wanted her.
The fierceness of his gaze caught and held Sarah. She’d thought him attractive, but now, here, alone with him on deck, she was spellbound. The night shadows cast his features into stark relief. He was strikingly masculine. She warned herself again that she didn’t know him, that he was a stranger she would never see again after tomorrow. Sarah told herself that he had come into her life as quickly and mysteriously as he would leave it, but common sense and facts suddenly did not matter to her wayward heart. She couldn’t look away. She told herself that Christopher was her one and only concern; but when Steve bent toward her she could no more resist him than she could have stopped the flow of the Missouri River.
It was a fleeting kiss, a soft, chaste kiss, and for an instant, Sarah forgot everything, enjoying the intimacy of Steve’s embrace. Then reality intruded. She stiffened, drawing quickly away from that simple—yet electric—contact. She was supposed to be mourning a dead husband! She couldn’t let Steve take such liberties with her, no matter how much she liked it! She had to maintain a protective deception—for Christopher’s safety.
“Sarah?” Steve said her name softly, concerned. The kiss had jarred Steve to the depths of his soul. He wanted Sarah. He wanted to deepen the kiss, to part her lips and delve within the honeyed secrets of her mouth. He didn’t understand why she was pulling away from him.
“No!” She took another step backwards, determined to break the powerful magnetic attraction he exerted on her. Her expression mirrored her misery at having to deny herself the kiss she desperately wanted. “No, I’m sorry . . .”
When Steve saw the pain in her eyes and heard it in her voice, he thought he understood. Where earlier he’d cursed himself for comparing Christopher to his “father,” now he had invaded an even more sacred subject. Whether she was wearing the widow’s weeds or not, she was still in mourning for the husband she’d loved, and he’d tried to take advantage of her. He smiled sadly as he lifted one hand to her cheek.
“No, Sarah. Don’t be sorry. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. You’d best go in now.”
Her heart pounded as she lifted her eyes to his. Was this excitement from the wonder of his kiss or because she had almost betrayed Christopher? She nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to speak.
“I’ll be back later.” When she reached the door, he said, “Good night, Sarah.”
“Good night,” she answered softly. She had to get away from him while she still had the strength to resist. She’d never known anyone like Steve; and if they’d met at another time under different circumstances, they might have come to care for one another. But at this time, in this place, it could never be.
Too upset to sleep, Sarah donned her nightgown and got in bed beside Christopher. As she lay there, she began to plan for the next day. After Steve left them, she would make inquiries about the fastest way to join up with a wagon train. She knew they left from the town near Kansas City called Independence, so finding transport there was another concern. She also had to get a wagon and all the supplies they’d need. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d do it.
Several hours passed before sleep finally claimed her. She did not hear Steve come back into the cabin, and she never knew that he lay wide awake through the night, almost beside her in the bed so close to hers.
All too soon it was morning. Christopher was up at the crack of dawn, rousing Sarah in his enthusiasm. She sat up to find Steve gone. At first, she thought he hadn’t returned at all, but then she saw that his bed was mussed. Where, she wondered had he gone so early? And why?
They dressed, then packed their things in anticipation of leaving the safe haven of the steamer. Ready, Sarah sat with Christopher on the edge of the bed.
“Today’s the day,” she began.
“What do you want me to do, Aunt Sarah?”
“Just stay right with me, and don’t talk to anybody. After we get checked into a hotel, I’ll have to go out for a while to see about joining a wagon train. It’ll be safest if you wait in the room for me.”
“All right.”
“Good boy.”
“What about Steve?”
“What about him?” she answered evasively.
“Did you ask him to go with us when you talked to him last night?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why not?” the boy pressed. “Why can’t you just tell him the truth? He’d help us. I know he would.”
“I wish it were that simple, Christopher, but it isn’t.”
Sarah ignored Christopher’s glare. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that not everyone was as noble as he believed them to be. Steve was a virtual stranger. A gambler! How could she trust him with their future? He’d forced his way into their lives, and in the process . . .
Sarah’s thoughts and excuses conflicted. In the process of barging into their lives, what had Steve done? He’d managed to help them escape from any henchmen Michael might have sent after them. He’d entertained Christopher when the boy had been lonely and desperate for friendship. He’d played the part of her husband with more kindness and chivalry than she could ever have hoped for—and when he’d kissed her, he’d apologized. She could laugh or she could cry, but the parting was inevitable. The time had come.
“If things go well, we could be on the final part of our trip to California in just a matter of days.” She’d tried to cheer him, but he remained glum so she added, “The sooner we get to California, the sooner we’ll see your Aunt Angel again.”
“Good, I miss her. I hope she’s all right.”
“Me, too. Now, are you ready for breakfast? I’m sure we’ll find Steve waiting for us.”
Happier at the thought of seeing Steve, Christopher perked up. “I’m ready.”
Sarah, however, was a little nervous at the prospect of facing her “husband” again. What would he expect after the kiss they’d shared last night? If he’d been there in the cabin this morning, as if nothing happened, she would have been fine. But his flight had troubled her. What would he say when they came face to face?
“There he is! There’s Father!” Christopher cried, grabbing her arm excitedly when he caught sight of Steve walking with the Langfords. How he wished—with all his heart—that Steve really was his father.
Sarah watched the lean, handsome gambler striding toward her. She remembered all too clearly his kiss and felt shy. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. Breathless, she waited for him to draw near and was completely surprised when Steve walked right up to her, smiled gently in morning welcome, and kissed her on the lips.
“Good morning, darling,” he told her, the loving husband filled with devotion. “I’m sorry I had to leave the cabin so early, but there were a few things I had to take care of before we disembark. Then I ran into the Langfords and thought it would be pleasant to share our last breakfast together.”
“Of course,” was all she could say in her suddenly addled, suddenly sad state. Our last breakfast together. The words made her heart ache; but his kiss, so simple and so intimate, sent her senses soaring. Bewildered and perplexed, she almost forgot to greet the other family. “Good morning.” She forced herself out of reverie and into awareness.
“Good morning,” the Langfords returned.
“Are you ready to eat, Christopher?” Steve asked. He was, Sarah thought, too jovial when soon they would say good-bye.
“I’m starving!” At least Christopher, she noted, could stay in touch with the more mundane appetites that needed to—and could—be met.
“Then, let’s go on in. We don’t have a lot of time. The captain said we’ll be docking within the hour.”
As they breakfasted with the Langfords, Steve was attentive but casual. Sarah told herself and tried to believe that the morning’s kiss had been merely for show before the Langfords. She was greatly relieved and deeply disappointed.
With the meal ended, good-byes were in order and the families returned to their staterooms. Kansas City lay before them, and it was time to get ready to leave the ship.
Chapter Eleven
This was where he would leave them. This was where they would say good-bye. Steve looked around the room they’d just rented under the name of the Johnson family and wondered how Sarah and Christopher were going to fare. He felt uneasy as he set their bags aside.
“Here you are,” Steve announced. “I paid for two nights. If you need more time after that, just see the clerk at the front desk.”
Sarah and Christopher had followed him inside and closed the door.
“Thanks,” Sarah told him. “I appreciate your help.”
“Don’t mention it,” Steve replied, hedging on leaving.
They’d hired a coach at the riverfront, and on the way to the family-oriented Mason Hotel, where they were now, he’d had the driver stop briefly at the Bartlett Hotel. He’d picked up a message from George at the desk. The Dillon brothers, George said, were gone. It was safe for him to return to St. Louis.
Two days before, Steve would have been pleased by the news. Now, the only place he wanted to be was with Sarah and Christopher, protecting them. He was certain that they were being followed, but Sarah didn’t want his help. She’d made it very plain that he was to go his own way.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you here,” he said.
Christopher, unable to control his runaway emotions, protested. “Do you have to go, Steve? Can’t you just stay with us?”
“You’ll have to talk to your mother about it,” the gambler replied gently. He looked at Sarah. “Be careful, Sarah.” His voice was gruff.
“Good bye, Steve.”
Steve gazed at her, committing to memory every detail of her face. Since he’d kissed her in the moonlight, he’d been torn by conflicting emotions. At first, guilt had assailed him, but as he’d lain awake through the long hours of the night, he’d slowly come to the conclusion that he hadn’t done anything wrong. She was a woman—a living, breathing, beautiful woman—and he wanted her. There was nothing dishonorable in that. Her husband had died, but she had not. He had wanted to kiss her, and he was no longer sorry that he had.
Absolved of his guilt, Steve had been unable to resist the temptation to give her a husbandly kiss in front of everyone when he’d first seen her in the morning. He’d known their hours together were numbered, and he’d wanted to take advantage of every minute they had left. The chaste kiss had been far from the sensual embrace he longed to share with her, and it had only reinforced the gnawing hunger he felt for her already. He wanted her. He did not want to leave her; but, because it was what she wanted, he would go.
Steve cursed the nobility of soul that was sending him from their room and out of their lives. Lingering at the door, he hoped Sarah would call out to him, knowing she never would. She didn’t want him to stay. Only the boy did.
“Steve.... wait!” Christopher’s manly control shattered. He’d tried to be strong. He’d tried to do what his Aunt Sarah wanted, but he couldn’t. Desperate, Christopher threw his arms around Steve’s waist, hugging him tight.
Steve returned the embrace, lifting his troubled gaze to Sarah. Her face was pale and strained, but her expression was unyielding. He had his answer. “Christopher, I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.” Gently, he pried the boy’s arms from around him and with a tender hand cupped his chin so their eyes could meet. It surprised him to find he was crying.
“I’m going to miss you,” Christopher choked. It seemed in that moment that everyone he cared about had left him—first, his mother; then, Aunt Angel; and now, Steve.
“I’ll miss you, too, but you must promise me something.”
“Anything,” he snuffled, fighting his tears.
“Be strong for your mother.” Steve patted his shoulder.
At the mention of his mother, a pang of longing struck Christopher, and his tears overflowed. “Yes,” he agreed, “for my mother I’ll be strong.”
“Good boy,” Steve told him, unaware of the poignant depth of meaning in those words. “I have to go, but I want you to have these.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the deck of cards they’d used the day before. Christopher’s smile was watery as he took them, and he held the cards as if they were the finest treasure.
“Thanks.”
Steve tousled the boy’s blonde hair affectionately and then gave him a tight smile. It was all he could manage. He was going to miss him. “You’re welcome, Christopher.” Steve glanced at Sarah once more. “Good bye,” he said, and taking his bag, he left.
“Bye.”
After he’d gone, Christopher stared at the closed door. “I wish he could have stayed, Aunt Sarah.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” The boy’s anguish had torn at Sarah’s heart, but she could see no alternative. If she had given Steve any sign that she wanted him to remain, she would have had to explain. That was impossible. She would trust no one.
Steve’s mood was foul as he strode down the hall to the main staircase that led down two flights to the lobby.
“Mr. Johnson?” The clerk at the counter saw Steve and called out to him. “Did your friends find you, sir?”
“My friends? No. What friends?” Steve was instantly tense.
“Two men, sir. They asked for you just a few minutes ago.”
“What did they want?”
“They didn’t say. They didn’t leave their names and there’s no message except that they’ll find you later.”
“Did you give them the room number?”
“Yes, sir. I did. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them soon.” The clerk leaned back, pleased with his efficiency.
Steve, furious that he’d given out so much information, restrained the impulse to yell. “I must have just missed them,” he said, feigning puzzlement. “Is there another way upstairs? I came down this staircase, but I didn’t see anyone.”
“There’s a small flight of steps that goes out through the kitchen, Mr. Johnson. It’s restricted to the help, though. I’m sure they wouldn’t use that one. Only employees are allow
ed in that area.”
“I see.” He took a quick look around the lobby, but recognized no one from the steamboat. He frowned. “The two men—was one tall, the other average?” The clerk nodded. “And they both had dark hair?”
“Yes, sir.” The bad feeling that had been growing inside Steve grew worse.
“Could I leave this here?” Steve asked, indicating his bag. At the clerk’s assurance, he left it in his keeping and strolled from the lobby.
It was early in the day, and the streets were busy. Steve darted down the sidewalk and circled to the rear of the building. As he neared the alley that ran behind the hotel, he spotted one of the men from the steamer. His hunch had been right.
He surveyed the rest of the block. The man seemed to be alone. Cautious, but determined to get rid of these men once and for all, Steve walked nonchalantly toward the kitchen and the back staircase.
Steve was no stranger to a good fight, and he was more than ready for this one. It infuriated him that these men had been harassing Sarah. If there was one thing he could do for her before he left it would be to force them to leave her alone.
Steve came abreast of the man, who studiously ignored him; and, in a lightning move, Steve shoved him around the corner of the building into the alley and slammed him up against the brick wall. The man was caught off-guard, and that gave Steve the advantage. Though the stranger tried to fend him off, his blows were ineffectual against Steve’s rage-driven savageness. Steve was brutal. His expression was fierce, and his eyes glowed with bloodlust as he gave Sarah’s pursuer a violent shake and pinned him against the building.
“What the hell!” the man yelped.