“You know about farming?” Jethro asked, grabbing another gooey-roll.
“No, but I am an excellent student of life, and my mother always encouraged me to be a forward thinker.”
“A forward thinker?”
“You know, someone willing to grow in all areas of life. To connect with new and upcoming ideas.”
“A liberalist in the family,” Sandy said. “How refreshing.”
“Well, I was wondering how the Trafton men could monopolize the market.” Sarah glanced nervously at Jethro. “Not trying to overstep what you’re doing here now; it’s just a thought that might include Nick—if you’re interested.”
“Nick sent his wife to fight for him? That’s pretty low.”
“Nick has no idea I am here; you have to believe that.” She had to get her idea out before she lost her audience completely. “I see a bigger potential here—your business running in three distinct areas of expertise. Trying to stretch one’s efforts in all directions must be exhausting.”
“It can be,” Jethro said with hesitation as if he feared agreeing to anything too quickly.
“Where does your passion lie?” Sarah asked. “If you could only do one thing on the farm, what would it be?”
“Horses. I do have ideas to expand in that area, but there’s not enough of me to go around.”
“And your brother, Saul,” Sarah asked, “what’s his favorite job?”
“Cattle,” Sandy laughed. “That young man would spend all his nights delivering a calf or sitting with a sick cow.” She looked excitedly at her husband. “That just leaves agriculture. Jethro, you know what your ma always said about Nicolas as a toddler—that he could do magic with soil and a seed.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sarah said. “Three men with a different emphasis on the family business, working independently, but keeping the parts functioning as a whole.”
“Like a pie with three huge slices,” Jethro said, and the ladies burst out laughing.
“Seems a man can’t picture his future without comparing it to food.”
Jethro smiled, but he still seemed distant. Sarah perceived his preoccupied expression to portray an active mind. She was pleased with the results her idea had stirred in Jethro. She stood, not wanting to push it further. “Well, I’ll leave you to muddle the proposal over in your mind. If you want, we can talk again when Nick returns home. We won’t be forcing ourselves on you, Jethro, but I’d sure love to have a family this big to spoil with treats.”
“Well, that in itself is something to mull over.” Jethro stood. “Thank you for coming, Sarah. I will run your plan by Saul, and we’ll talk again.”
“If you do happen to think it a good plan, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Nick I suggested it. Maybe credit it as a good business plan for all the generations to come—that’s all he needs to know.”
“Smart woman,” Sandy said. “Don’t you think so, Jethro? If God can see the good in Nick in sending him such a fine wife, it wouldn’t hurt his brothers to swallow their pride and welcome him home.”
“Stop your meddling, Sandy,” Jethro said as he reached for his hat. “Got work to do.”
Chapter Eight
When she arrived back at the farm, she brushed Bess down and set her loose in the pasture. After changing into an old skirt and one of Nick’s work shirts, she plopped a straw hat on her head and headed back to the barn. Her husband had worked late the night before and gotten the large section of ground turned up, the first step completed. It answered her question as to what she did not have to do. Secretly, she was pleased there was no need to work the plow any further. The huge clumps of dense dirt he’d left behind needed pounding to a pulp to create a looser-packed soil to welcome the tiny seeds. That job didn’t sound too appealing either.
Sarah examined the line-up of hoes hanging on the wall, debating which one to use, and ended up picking the sturdiest one. Back in the garden, she swung the tool high and hit hard time and time again until she thought her arms would drop off. Sarah rested her head against the handle, and when visions of growing vegetables prevailed over her fatigue, the swinging began again. By the end of the afternoon, she had two rows done.
After returning the hoe to the barn, Sarah fed and brought the animals inside for the night. It had been a full day, and physical work had stirred an appetite.
Instead of cooking for one, she rummaged in the icebox and pantry and made a hodgepodge plate of leftovers and easy-to-munch foods. The tea helped to revive her energy, along with the huge slice of apple pie and cheese she polished off. Sarah found the tin washtub hanging from a nail on the back porch, dragged it in, and filled it to the three-quarter mark with warm water from the blacktop reservoir, adding some from the pail to cool the steamy bath. From her room, she grabbed a bar of soap and some fragrant oil-bubbles her mother had given her last Christmas.
Sarah pulled a kitchen chair closer, placed a large fluffy towel and a soft washcloth on it, and proceeded to strip off her work clothes before climbing in. Her body tingled with relief as she sunk deep into the tub. She closed her eyes and relished the moment. Because she was not used to performing such demanding physical tasks as preparing a garden for planting, it made the luxury of the bath seem like a gift from heaven.
The sun had gone down, and the cabin was nearly dark when she crawled out. With the towel wrapped firmly around her, Sarah went in search of the nearest lantern, lit it, and carried it into her bedroom. She picked the softest flannel nightgown she owned from the drawer, wriggled her head through the neckline, and let it slip down to her feet. She braided her wet hair and pulled on her warm knit slippers before attacking the mess she’d made in the kitchen.
The moon was shining in through the window as she seated herself on the rocker and picked up her Bible. She thanked God for the large moon and stars that shone that night and would surely aid her husband in his travels, and prayed for his safety. Heaven-forbid, she even asked for a clear shot to bring his nightmare bounty-hunting job to an end. Sarah lowered her eyes to the Word, feeling shame that she’d have the boldness to request such a thing of the Lord.
Nick sat on the porch chair outside the sheriff’s office door, his eyes peeled on the swinging saloon doors. Cretis was in town, and the fact that Nick didn’t have to go traipsing the countryside looking for him was a plus. They’d have their showdown in Denver, where lawmen were in abundance. He might not get a reward, but that was not why he was there. The confrontation would finish the ordeal with that family once and for all, and he could then settle down with Sarah.
He hated being away from her and wondered if she would be afraid to sleep alone in the cabin. She probably hadn’t been alone in her entire life. Raised in an upscale Texan home, under the same roof as the owners and all the hired help, the girl likely experienced few private moments. He scolded himself for not asking if leaving her alone would be all right. Sarah could have stayed with Genevieve and Trace, who were presently without assignment and standing ready to help Nick on a moment’s notice.
The tunes from the piano grew in volume, while the shouting and revelry increased by the minute. Pike came out of the jailhouse and plunked down beside Nick. “You bored yet?”
“The man is just carousing over there, leaving me here to sit in plain sight,” Nick said. “Wonder what he’s got up his sleeve?”
“I don’t know. Could be Cretis just wants to kick up his heels.”
“Mind if I bunker down in a cell tonight?”
“Not at all,” Pike said. “How’s your poker playing these days?”
Nick was looking off toward the homestead, and Pike nudged him. “Why don’t you go home to your little misses? Come back in the morning.”
“It’s a bit more difficult than that,” Nick said. “Sarah is not too happy about my chasing outlaws, and I never told her about the little mess with Clancy’s brother. Thought I’d spare her the worry.”
“Are you joking? Women fret about everything.”
<
br /> “Newlywed here. Never have been too smart when it comes to ladies.”
“But you’re trying,” Pike said. “Even I can see that.”
“She doesn’t. We haven’t been married a full week, and I’ve left her alone. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“Do I hear the groanings of a man ready to settle on the homestead and leave the bounty hunting for the competition?”
“That’s all well and good in theory, except my stubborn brother is holding a grudge and hasn’t invited me back into the family business.”
“Jethro? He’ll come around.”
“Before or after we starve to death?”
Pike laughed and headed for the door. “I think tonight is a good night for me to relieve you of some of that petty cash in your pocket. A man down on himself is a sure loser for a card game.”
Nick stood and stretched his tall frame, casting one final glance toward the saloon. Pike was probably right—they would not be coming for him that night.
The next morning, Pike and Nick went to Pearl’s Diner to order a big breakfast. Nick had no idea what the day would hold and when he’d next sit at a table to eat. Surely Cretis would make his move that day. Nick wanted it to be over.
While they waited for the waitress to bring their order, Trace wandered in. “This is where you two are hiding out, huh?” He beckoned to the server, and she brought another cup of hot coffee. “Will you be eating, Trace?”
“Oh, no. Gen has already fed me, and I’m stuffed.” The young girl left. “So, what’s the plan, fellas?”
“Plan?” Nick said. “I figured that Cretis would make the first move.”
“We got nothing on him,” the sheriff said. “I can’t put every mischief-maker in jail for a show of devilry. It’s his call to act upon the threat he vocalized for vengeance.”
“His brother was an outlaw, and Cretis runs a half-decent honest ranch operation. Beats me why he wants to risk it all for the lowlife black sheep of his family.”
“Blood is thick,” Nick said, then he laughed, “except in my family.”
Just as they finished, the man they’d been waiting for arrived, the palms of his hands resting on two revolvers hanging at his hips.
“Morning, Cretis,” Pike said. “How are things out at the ranch?”
“Fine. Better than at his.” He nodded toward Nick.
Nick sat up straight in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”
The man seemed not to be in a hurry. He stood at the table, chewing on a stick-sliver and glaring at him. Nick never crumbled under intimidation and this time would be no different. He stared back without flinching, and in the end, it was Cretis who broke the eye contact.
“Heard you got married,” Cretis said. “Heard she was a pretty young thing.”
Nick’s heart raced. What was he doing, talking about Sarah? “What’s it to you?”
“My little brother doesn’t have a woman. Sent him out to take a look-see since you were busy in town.”
Nick jumped to his feet. “If he touches a hair on her head, I’ll see him six-feet-under.”
“Planning on picking off the entire family, are you?” Cretis asked.
“Clancy was an outlaw with a price on his head. I had every right to bring him in,” Nick said.
“Well, neighbor, I just thought I’d come by and congratulate you on the bride.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Morning Sheriff Bewdley, Trace.” Crete spun on his heels and walked out of the diner.
Nick was sprinting for the door when the other two caught up. “Hold up, Nick. It was probably just a ploy to get you out of town so he can arrange a convenient accident and keep his good name in the clear.”
“He’s got lackeys who do his bidding,” Nick said. “I need to make sure she’s safe. It was stupid of me to leave her alone.”
“Yeah, well, no one said you were the brightest when it came to women,” Trace said.
“Enough from you, mate. This is serious,” Nick said. “You two coming out with me?”
“Give me a minute to get my horse,” Trace said.
“Me, too. Come on, Nick. Take a deep breath. Let’s go back to the jailhouse and get the horses.” The sheriff looked at Trace. “We ride out in ten minutes. Be ready.”
Sarah had just brought the hoe back to the garden when Jethro rode in.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“I am so eager for my own garden. I want to surprise Nick when he gets back to see the ground ready to sow seeds.”
“A little late in planting, aren’t you?” Jethro said as he got off his horse.
“Nick was so busy fixing up the cabin, and he tells me the planted fields are for the farm, not for personal consumption. It’s only smart to grow a small patch for us to see us through this coming winter.”
“You are good for my brother,” Jethro said, “but he’d be rightfully mad if I let you slug at this work without helping.”
“That’s not necessary,” Sarah said. “I don’t mind, really.”
He started walking toward the barn. “There should be a cultivator in there to hook up to the horse. It’ll make your job a lot easier.”
“A cultivator? I have so much to learn. I didn’t come from a farming family.”
“You got time.”
“Does that mean you won’t kick us off your property,” Sarah said. “I’ve heard the name squatters used in reference to us.”
“You and Nick are welcome to live here. Our Pa left him the land, same as Saul and me.”
“And have you given any thought to my suggestion about letting Nick work alongside his brothers and not having to go chasing outlaws to earn a living?”
“I’m considering it,” Jethro said. “Meanwhile, let’s get to finishing your garden.”
Sarah was excited as she watched Jethro hook up the new gadget. It dragged along the ground, like giant teeth biting into the chunks of dirt. He led the horse down the rows, and she was thrilled to see the mounds grounded into loose, workable soil. The job was quicker and less physical than the meager effort she’d made the day before. Her enthusiasm grew with each passing row, and when she saw sweat dripping down Jethro’s face, she ran to the house to get him a cold drink.
Inside her kitchen, she hummed a tune merrily, with the thought of planting all of those tiny seeds in the Trafton plot. Her musings were interrupted by a gunshot ringing out into the still air.
Sarah raced to the window to see Jethro drop to the ground and the startled horse drag him through the patch. Fifty feet later, the horse stopped and looked behind him at the human lump stretched flat in the dirt.
Just before Sarah arrived at Jethro’s side, she spotted a man seated smugly in his saddle, and she frowned at his arrogance as he twirled his rifle and stuffed the barrel into the casing beside him. He was only a short way off, and Sarah could see that he was every inch the shifty cowboy; cocky and bold. The lone man kicked his horse into motion and moved toward the garden. Even though his hat shadowed his eyes, she could see his mouth chewing leisurely on a strand of grass, his lips curled in a sadistic grin that caused a ripple of fear to creep up her spine.
He rode slowly in their direction, avoiding the freshly dug soil, and sliding off his horse not six feet from her and Jethro. She glanced at Jethro’s side, noted the pistol, and managed to yank it clear of the holster. Before she could cock it, he kicked it from her hand.
Sarah shrieked and held her fingers to stop the surging pain.
“What did you think you were going to do with a gun?” He spoke to her as if she were a child. He took a closer look at Jethro and cussed. “Who’s that?”
“Jethro Trafton.” She bent over him and listened for a heartbeat. “And you’d better pray he lives.”
“Trafton? Where’s Nick? I was told he lived here.”
“Working.” She did not tell him where, hoping he’d leave in search of him—whom she suspected was nowhere about—allowing her to take Jethro to the doctor.
&
nbsp; “You wouldn’t happen to be Nick’s little misses, now would you?”
She didn’t answer, but tended to Jethro, pulling back his shirt to reveal the entry hole where the stranger’s bullet had penetrated. Sarah had never cared for a patient with a bullet hole, but she knew the general basics and suspected the shell had not hit any vital organs. If she could get him inside, she might be able to save him.
Sarah summoned all the courage she could muster and stared at the man looming over them. “Apparently, you shot the wrong man. The least you can do is help me get him into the house before you go on your way.”
He roared with laughter. The man seemed to think everything was funny. It disgusted her. “You think I care how many men I put in the ground today?”
“Well, I’m not leaving him out here in the dirt. You can either help or get out of my way.” She stood and began her march to the barn. He followed her, which made her nervous, so she hurriedly grabbed a heavy woolen blanket and nudged past him in the doorway before he had time to take it all in. Back at the garden, she stretched the blanket out and proceeded to roll Jethro onto it. She ignored the man’s mocking eyes and leering expression that followed her every move. Gathering the top blanket’s folds tightly between her fingers, she began to walk backward toward the house, making slow headway. Halfway there, the bloke pushed her aside.
“Determined, ain’t you?”
“He needs an operation. By a doctor, preferably.”
“That ain’t happening on my watch, lady.”
“I figured that out myself. Since I can’t take him to town, my inexperienced hand will have to do.”
“You’ll do fine. And if the chap tries to play the hero after you doctor him up, I’ll just shoot him again.”
Sarah sucked in the fear that wanted to consume her. He was the type of man Nick dealt with regularly. If her husband could not put bounty-hunting behind him, Sarah sadly wondered if she’d have the strength to leave the man and return to Texas. It was not what Sarah wanted, for the new bride had grown fond of Nick and could see herself loving him but only as a farmer. She could never live this rough, unpredictable danger over and over again. If he were there, instead of chasing some criminal across the state, he’d have protected her and Jethro.
A Match for Sarah Page 7