by Ivy McAdams
She wanted to shrink into her body and run. She’d never felt so trapped in her entire life, staring up into the glowing blue eyes. They were strong, fixed on her, waiting for a response, but her breath was gone. Her thoughts galloping across her brain in wild abandonment.
She had no answer for him.
She’d wanted to love Robert, and she’d always believed that one day she would.
But her body burned for Clay.
Even his fingers on her arm scorched into her skin. Her cheeks warmed, and her body came to attention. She couldn't keep the image of his half-naked body from her mind. The feeling of his naked flesh on hers. The wooden wall biting into her back as he ravished her front. The way his body had moved against hers in the darkness of the cabin, a beautiful harmony that had left her breathless and alive. The way he'd taken her roughly there in the field. It all was so vivid in her mind that she could hardly formulate other thoughts.
But he was an outlaw. He put himself in dangerous situations that would get him killed. She’d already lost the most important man in her life. She couldn’t stomach it happening again. Not with Clay.
Besides, Papa had chosen Robert for her, and she trusted his judgment. He’d been her rock for her entire life, and she’d only just met Clay. How could she just dump Papa’s opinion like it meant nothing? She knew he had her best interest at heart when he’d arranged the marriage, and it was a good fit. A smart fit.
If only Robert spoke to her soul the way Clay did. Sparked her curiosity and breathed life into her body.
But her life had been figured out long before Clay arrived. Who was she to spoil that?
Her teeth sunk into her lower lip as her body quaked, weakening under Clay’s gaze. His fingers tightened on her arm, and she was afraid if she didn’t give the right answer, he wouldn’t let her go. She wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to fight him off when all she wanted to do was fold into him.
So she lied.
“Of course I love him.”
The way his face fell split her heart in two. His eyes were empty again, and she knew it was her only chance to run.
She pulled her arm away, and he let it go. She fell back a few steps along the wall, ready to flee.
“You are so stubborn.”
His words snapped into her like a whip. He pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest, and regarded her with a hard face.
“I know you want to honor your father’s wishes and make him happy, but, Sadie, your father’s dead. You don’t have to make him happy anymore.”
She gaped at him, feeling her chest crack open a little more.
“Besides,” he continued, “your parents don’t always know best. I should know. You remember I told you my mother left me behind with her aunt? Ma picked up a drinking problem after my father left. She wasn’t a particularly stable woman, so she handed us over. Her aunt tried to raise Tom and me up, but she didn’t have a clue how to love children. She tried, I think, but she was clueless.
“Though she seemed like a saint next to her husband. He didn’t care who he hurt. He liked ropes and belts, and sometimes wooden boards. Liked to beat us around on a daily basis. He broke my arm once. That’s when Tom stood up for me. He picked fights just to steer the asshole off me. Damn ol’ Uncle Roy really tanned his hide too. I could hear Tom crying himself to sleep some nights.
“There was no one to turn to and nowhere to go. I’d have much rather stayed with our mother, no matter how ill-suited she thought she was. At least she would have loved us.”
Sadie’s dry throat throbbed as tears knotted there, threatening to burst loose.
“Oh, Clay,” she whispered.
Her heart lurched. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but he stayed a safe distance away.
"The point is," he said, "in the end, you just have to ask yourself which is more important. Doing what he thought was right, or accepting where love truly lies?"
She stumbled back with a hand on her chest. Clay’s eyes were on fire, and the tendon in his jaw flexed. The large chest beneath the parted edges of his shirt collar rose high and fell as the frustration boiled within him. She was afraid it might burst out. He was a beast.
And he loved her.
Her own frustrations slammed through her. Love, passion, fear, anger. She clenched her fists at her side, digging her toes into the grass.
“Love won’t save you, Clay. I could love you to the moon and back, and it won’t protect you.”
His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“This life you have!” She gaped. “The shooting and the stealing.”
“We try not to—“
“I know, you go the peaceful route, but that’s when you can. What was that yesterday? With the coach? I thought that was supposed to be a quick, easy thing. You could have died!”
Some of the sharp edges in his face eased as he rubbed fingers over his rough chin. If she wasn’t mistaken, Clay Pearson looked almost sheepish. Caught in the act.
“All the love I possessed didn’t save my father, Clay. It won’t save you either.” Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, and she let them.
He lifted hands, opening his mouth, but seemed at a loss for words. She ground her foot into the grass and kept going.
“Now I’m sorry your mother made an ill decision, but I value my father’s opinion. He was a smart and caring man.” Tears choked her words. “He wouldn’t have led me astray. I’ve been listening to his advice decades longer than I’ve known you.”
Clay pressed his lips into a firm line.
“That’s fine. I get that. It’s nice to have something to believe in. Although, I gotta say, I believe your father would have made a different decision.” He rolled his shoulders back as he took a step away.
She frowned, an edge of curiosity moving her forward a step, but Clay spoke over her.
“By the way, I found out your father’s secret. I knew he had one.”
His back turned as he edged away. She rocked off her feet to leap after him, but he turned back to look at her over his shoulder.
“Those letters under his bed I told you to read? I assume you haven’t. Some were between him and your aunt. She was so angry at him for running off with your mother, taking on a poor widow and her little girl.”
Sadie frowned as the words swam in her head. They didn’t make sense. She tried to grasp them and put them into the puzzle of the past she knew, but they wouldn’t fit.
“What?”
“That’s your father’s secret. Or at least Jed Tanner’s. He’s not your father.”
The ground fell out from under her, and she nearly toppled to her knees.
“That’s a lie,” she stammered.
“It’s not. Go read the letters.”
A new fire flamed inside her. “I don’t need to read the letters. I know the truth, and I know what I need to do. You should just get on back to Ace. Pick up some more orders to follow.”
The rim of his hat nearly touched his shoulder as he peered back at her from the shadows. “I don’t need any new orders. I’m on some. To bring you back. But don’t worry, you won’t see me again. Go enjoy your new happy.”
Then he walked across the field without looking back.
Chapter 20
Sadie’s knife rocked back and forth over the wooden cutting block as she sliced a carrot. When she reached the end, she used the blade to swipe the chunks into a large pile she’d created. Then she set the knife aside and wiped her hands on her apron.
“She had no idea what’d hit her, the poor girl,” Mrs. Murphy laughed as she rinsed peeled potatoes in the sink. “First she was standing quietly in the stall, waiting to be milked, and the next she was nearly climbing out the other side, trying to get away from sticky little Robert.”
Lilah snickered, and Sadie hummed a small laugh to humor the woman.
Mrs. Murphy had been going on and on about her precious first born for the last hour, her lat
est story involving a young Robert smacking cattle on the rear end with honey-covered fingers to watch the insects swarm around. It sounded disgusting and cruel to her, but she wasn’t in the mood to cross the oddly proud mother.
Lilah stirred a large bowl of dough, barely making a sound. Sadie'd tried to have a normal conversation about life on the ranch with her earlier, but Lilah had made it difficult, only answering in short answers and refraining from speaking all together when she could.
Sadie gathered the chopped carrots and dumped them into a bowl on the counter next to a quarter cut of a skinned hog. One of Mr. Murphy’s men had come in a few moments before, slapped the meat onto the counter unceremoniously, and left. Sadie looked it over as she picked her knife up again.
"Do you want me to cut the pork chops and backstrap out of this?" she asked.
Mrs. Murphy looked up at her with a subtle tilt of her brow. “You know how to cut those?”
Sadie rolled the knife stock in her palm as she regarded the older woman. “Sure. I used to cut our meat back home.”
The left side of Mrs. Murphy’s face bunched in a horrified grimace. “Your father let you butcher the meat?”
Sadie paused alongside the hog and lowered the knife. She hadn’t expected the sound of horror in the woman’s voice. She considered backtracking and saying she’d misunderstood the question, but the conversation had been quite basic. She’d never get away with that fib. An uncomfortable heat itched into the edges of her ears and cheekbones.
“Sometimes he did.”
Mrs. Murphy shuddered, pressing a wet finger to her temple. "My gracious, you poor girl. Next, you'll tell me he took you hunting as well."
Metal clattered on the counter. Sadie cleared her throat as she gathered her dropped knife without a word. Mrs. Murphy craned her head to stare.
“Heavenly stars, you must be joking. How barbaric. What on earth was your father thinking?”
Sadie bit into the side of her cheek to keep from snapping back. Helping Papa with his business when he was all on his own was not barbaric. She’d been proud to help him.
“He needed the help. It was just the two of us after all,” she said.
Mrs. Murphy stacked the potatoes on the counter with a shake of her head. “Horrible. No little girl should go through that. Don’t worry, you won’t do anything like that here. You won’t have the time for it.”
“Hunting,” Lilah snorted under her breath, an amused smirk on her face.
Sadie pursed her lips in frustration and hid behind the honey-colored veil of her hair as she washed her knife in the sink basin.
Once the potatoes were arranged on the counter, Mrs. Murphy wiped her hands on her apron and gave Sadie a tight smile.
“You’ll learn to help Robert on the ranch. There’s a large staff and plenty of paperwork to handle. Not to mention cooking and patching clothes. Once all those babies come along, your hands will be full, my dear. You can leave the hunting to the men.”
The woman started slicing the potatoes with a smug smile, while Sadie stared at the counter until her eyes glazed over.
She could see herself, stuck in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, a small mountain of socks to darn and patches to sew stacked next to her. Screaming children that looked oddly like what she’d imagined sticky-fingered Robert looked like ran about, while their father sat at a table reading a newspaper.
"Brown is getting those square-toed boots I like in black," he might say with a hearty chuckle. "Brilliant. I'll have to pop over there this afternoon."
Sadie nearly couldn’t contain her eye-roll.
Such silly petty things he worried about. Was his entire life that way? What of the people in it?
Her stomach soured, and she grimaced.
As if called from the recesses of her brain, a flash of memory jumped at her. Riding horses along the river’s edge with Clay. The excitement of the wind streaming through her hair and clinging to the galloping mare as she leapt through the air. The wild abandonment in Clay’s eyes as he pinned her to the tree and kissed her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She longed for that excitement again.
Surely Robert had some excitement in him somewhere.
Her memory was shattered when boots came stomping up the front steps and into the kitchen.
“Speak of the devil,” Mrs. Murphy cooed, and Sadie’s heart sank. “How are my boys this afternoon?”
Robert and his brother Nathan hovered in the doorway.
“Afternoon, Mama,” Nathan said, then gave an appreciative sniff. “I smell cornbread.”
“You know you do, dear.”
He grinned, the same charming look Robert had. It was a wonder he was so close to marrying age and still without a candidate.
“You ladies cooking?” Robert asked as he stepped near Sadie.
“Almost,” she said. “Prepping. I suppose we have a long way to go.”
“I’m teaching her the Texas Strawback Roast you love so much.” Mrs. Murphy gave Robert a wink.
“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Any wife of mine certainly needs to know that one.”
Sadie’s lips quirked in a small smile, even if she wasn’t thrilled by the notion of memorizing all his mother’s recipes.
“We’ll leave you busy ladies to it then. We just need this chest of branding irons,” Robert said as he stepped up to a large wooden box tucked into the corner.
“Good. Get that thing out of my kitchen,” Mrs. Murphy said. “Your father dropped it in here this morning, and it’s been in the way.”
Robert stooped down to take hold of the side handles and pulled back with a low grunt. The box shifted but didn’t lift. His face flushed, and he let go to rub a hand over it.
“Nate, give me a hand, would you?”
His brother moved up alongside him and helped him haul the chest into the air. Nathan shouldered most of the weight, and Sadie wondered if he could have picked it up on his own. Robert had made it look impossible.
The scene made her stomach quiver and feel a bit ill, though she couldn’t pinpoint entirely why. Something about it brought back the afternoon they’d been cornered by the wolf. The way Robert had backed her away and refused to let her grab her gun. He’d glared at her when she’d done it anyway, and never given her any proper appreciation for saving his behind when the wolf lunged at him.
“I hope dinner will be ready soon,” Robert said as the men hauled the trunk out the door.
“Get Jim to come cut this meat,” Mrs. Murphy said, waving a rag in their direction.
When the men were gone, she gave Sadie a pointed look as she washed her hands. “Jim can take care of that thing. We have enough to worry about.”
Sadie helped her with vegetables and Lilah with the breads before being dismissed. She had enough time before dinner to wash up and stand at the window in her bedroom, staring out at the horses grazing in the pasture down the field. They were bathed in the pink glow of the setting sun, but she could still make out Clover’s silhouette.
The horse she’d ridden in on but didn’t actually own. She really should return her to the Van den Bergs, but making a trip back there wasn’t something she was sure she could stomach. Going back out there, to the peaceful campsite away from town, full of close-knit family and friends. Looking back on her stay there, it’d been an enjoyable one. She’d been a captive to begin with, but after the first night, it’d been easy to forget.
She’d never felt unwelcome.
She’d even made some friends.
The thought of the smiling faces she’d left made her feel hollow and alone.
Clara, Ginny, Bridget, Mason.
Clay.
She took a long breath as she looked away from the gray mare and went back out to eat.
Dinner was another long, drawn-out conversation about cattle and politics with the men. She didn't even attempt to speak, just nibbled on the food she'd worked so hard to put on the table, and excused herself early.
>
Back in her bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands. Would the rest of her life be made up of working in the kitchen with her mother-in-law, who was disgusted by her past and didn’t trust her as far as she could throw her, and listening to the men speak freely while she was to sit in silence as a proper woman should? All for what, to appease the weak man whose touch did not stir her?
She cursed herself for allowing Clay to touch her. She was ruined. She’d never have known a man could set her skin on fire had he not come along.
And yet. She dragged her fingers down her cheeks and choked back the tears that stung her eyes. She still did not regret meeting Clay. Falling for him. Allowing herself to be happy with him.
If only Papa had met him.
The thought stirred her, and she recalled Clay’s words.
Jed Tanner was not her father.
She’d gone back to a hundred times, of course, but she’d built up a solid assurance in herself that it was a lie. Of course he was her father. He’d been Mama’s husband when she was born. He’d raised her after Mama was gone. There’d never been any indication she should question it.
Except for Clay’s words.
Her teeth pinched her lip as she looked at her small stack of belongings on the stool by the bed. The items from her saddlebags, the last of everything she owned. Among them was the stack of letters Clay had given her.
She stared at them for a long ragged breath before she retrieved them. Spread out on the bed there seemed to be a hundred of them. Folded white pages, some faded and crinkled. She picked up the closest one to her and read the first few lines.
Dearest Jed,
Do return home soon. Your father misses you so. I know you are looking for your future, and we are pleased, but he has been sour this last month without you.
Sadie skimmed the unfamiliar handwriting to the name at the bottom. Beatrice Tanner. Papa’s mother.
She picked up another.
My idiot brother Jed,
You cannot possibly be serious. Mother and Father got your wedding announcement today. To say they are surprised is nothing. I think Father broke his favorite cigar box. You know, that one we’re not supposed to touch? What have you done?