by Jillian Hart
“A good friend” he’d called her, but there, in his intense gaze, was the possibility for more.
“I’ll see you home.” His fingers threaded through hers, holding tight.
So much was changing between them. Did he feel it, too? Was that why he’d wanted her at his side tonight? Why he was holding on to her so tightly now?
She waited while he extinguished the lantern and let him help her onto the ladder. Ella climbed down next, rosy from the excitement of seeing the kittens, then Lucy, hitting the ground at a run. Gage eased down the ladder with a predatory strength that made it easy to believe he’d once been a lawman. She could picture him in the standard black shirt and trousers, the badge glinting on his chest.
He didn’t take her hand again, but he did fall into stride beside her. A companionable silence fell between them as Gage snatched her heavy basket and they followed the girls across the shadowed meadow.
“The first star.” Old habit kept her pointing at the faint twinkle at the eastern horizon.
“Let me guess. You’re the sort of woman who makes wishes.”
“On occasion.” Sarah stopped, searching her heart for a wish—she didn’t need to dig very far. In the growing dark ahead, Ella and Lucy were trying to talk a shy filly into letting them pet her.
Her first wish was for her daughter. For Ella’s health and happiness…
“The second star of the night.” The twilight thickened, almost hiding him in its shadows.
The second star would be for her. For her very own wish, just this once. The point of light sparkled jewel-like and true, but when Sarah closed her eyes to wish, it was Gage she saw. His kiss she felt. His love she wanted.
Please, let him find it in his heart to love again. To love me. She opened her eyes at the touch of his knuckles to her chin. Let his finger trace the curve of her bottom lip. The memory of their kiss beat between them, and deep inside she quickened with hope.
Then his hand fell away and he started walking slowly, keeping pace with her shorter steps. “It was pretty nice of folks to show up and help like that.”
“I think it was old Mr. Lukens’s doing. He’s taken a liking to you.”
“Then I owe him. My second story is framed, my roof trusses are up. I can do the rest in no time.” He paused to watch the girls dash past. “I appreciate your helping out. Will it make trouble between you and Milt?”
“We’ll have to see. He may not even find out about it, since Pearl and the children went to stay with her mother for the day. I don’t see a light on in the shanty, so they are probably still visiting.”
She didn’t want to spoil this perfect evening by thinking of her problems. “Now that I’ve got you alone, tell me. Are the rumors true? Were you a Range Rider?”
“You know how rumors are. Exaggeration. Invention. Fiction.”
“I’ve known some rumors to be true. Is this one of them?”
“A long time ago.”
It made sense. He’d mentioned a job that had required a lot of travel. He’d quit for Lucy. “Do you miss it?”
“Parts of it. Knowing I was doing good with my life. Upholding the law. Stopping cold-blooded killers from harming innocent people. But it was a hard life and came with a price. Lucy’s better off having a horseman for a father. I sleep better at night.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” His knuckles grazed the side of her face. “Your hair smells like violets.”
“I can’t imagine why.” She shrugged, feigning innocence when her pulse thundered through her veins and she would give anything to feel his kiss again.
“I’m glad we’re friends, Sarah. Real glad.”
There was that word again. Friends. Was he telling her that he meant what he said, that he would never love again?
He held her hand, helping her through the fence. The sky had darkened so a thousand stars flickered overhead, casting a faint shadow on the silent prairie. The night felt enchanted as Gage laid his hand on her shoulder.
At the back step Gage handed her the basket. “Thanks again, Sarah. Guess I’ll be seein’ you around?”
“We’re bound to run into one another now and then.”
“That’s what I figured.” He brushed a kiss along her cheek.
She breathed in the fresh wood and night scent of him. Nice, so very nice. She turned her face just a bit, hoping he would claim her lips with his…
“Good night.” He tipped his hat and disappeared into the shadows.
Boy, that was fast. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She’d scared him off. She’d misread his intentions.
Friends. That’s why he kissed her cheek. To make it clear how he felt for her.
Embarrassment left her face burning. She’d been foolish tonight, misinterpreting his friendship and letting her hopes for love carry her away.
How was she ever going to face him again?
“’Bye, Lucy!” Ella shouted somewhere in the shadows, her feet pounding as she ran into sight. “Ma, can I go play with Lucy tomorrow?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Goody!”
Sarah held the door wide and waited for Ella to hop up the steps and skip inside. It had been ages since Ella had been this full of life. And she hadn’t coughed once today.
The ache in her chest faded away as she shut the door. Her first wish was well on its way to coming true. That was more than enough. What did her own heart matter in comparison?
“He ain’t gonna marry you.”
“Milt!” Sarah turned up the lamp. There he was tucked in the back corner of the kitchen, boots crossed on the edge of the table, and a half-empty whiskey bottle clasped in one hand.
Sarah shut the door carefully. “Ella, hurry to your room. Now.”
Wide-eyed, the girl scurried off through the dark house. The click of the doorknob told Sarah her daughter was safely inside. She hefted the basket into the pantry and tried to ignore the drunk man watching her every move. Her hands shook as she took out a bread loaf.
“If you want a roof over your brat’s head, you’ll stay clear of Gatlin. No more baking pies. No more favors.” Milt’s boots struck the floor. “You hear me?”
“Yes.” Sarah slipped the loaf into the bread box. Her hands shook harder, and she had to steady them.
“A man like that ain’t gonna want you anyway. They say he was decorated five times. Coldest sonofabitch in the territory. He’s got a heart of stone nothin’ can break. He’s trying to use you. A man has his needs.”
Milt paused to take a long pull from his bottle. “You’d best straighten up and do your work here. Understand?”
Sarah closed the pantry door and headed for the front room. Her shoes knelled in the silence. She tugged the bedding from the chest beneath the window, swearing when the edge of a blanket caught on a nail head. She tried to work it free.
“There’s no way that bastard is gonna fall in love with you.” Milt wobbled into the parlor.
Sarah gave up, tore the blanket and slammed the bedroom door shut behind her.
“Ma?” Ella sat quietly in the corner. A small lamp on the table kept the darkness at bay. “I don’t like it when he drinks.”
“Neither do I.” Milt had never been this bad, and it troubled her. She pulled a chair over and tucked it beneath the knob. “Don’t you worry. We’ll have our own place before you know it.”
“And my very own bed.” Ella covered her mouth to cough.
There was no water in the pitcher. Sarah didn’t want to go into the kitchen again.
“How long will it be, Ma?”
“I’m not sure. Before summer, probably.”
“That’s a long time.” Ella rubbed her eyes and coughed harder. “It’s all my fault that we’re here. I got sick.”
“Oh, baby.” Sarah sat on the bed and pulled her daughter into her arms. “Getting sick was not your fault. I was sick, too, remember?”
“But I was sicker.”
“It’s s
till not your fault. I promise it isn’t.” She kissed her daughter’s brow, wishing she could make everything right again. “You never know when things are going to change. I interviewed at the boarding house in town, and I haven’t heard back from them yet. I answered all those advertisements in the county newspaper. Something will work out, I promise. I will make our life better, my baby.”
“I won’t get sick again. That’s gonna be my promise.” Ella rubbed her fists against her eyes. “I’m gonna help out, too.”
“You can help by getting ready for bed.” Sarah gave Ella one last hug.
“Tell me about my pa.”
“Your pa was a good man.” She shook the folds from Ella’s nightdress. “He would lift you high into the air and turn around in a circle until you giggled. He said you were his twinkling star.”
“He’d sing to me.” Ella shrugged out of her dress.
“He did.” Sarah dropped the nightrail over Ella’s head. “Every night he would take his fiddle from the box and sing one song after another until you fell fast asleep.”
“And then he’d say, ‘Sweet dreams, baby Ella,’ and kiss me right here.” Ella touched her brow. “I miss him.”
“I know.” Ella had been too young to remember much, but Sarah knew just what she meant.
How different their lives would have been, if he’d lived.
She tucked her daughter beneath the covers, listened to her prayers and kissed her good-night. Tired from a day spent playing hard with Lucy and the other rancher’s children, Ella’s eyes drifted shut. Her breathing sounded rough, but not congested, thank goodness.
Sarah pulled the novel from beneath the bed, dusted it off, and settled against the headboard. She’d managed to keep a few books of hers and David’s. She had needed them during the long nights spent with Ella, passing the hours between doses of medicine.
The page was still marked with a ribbon scrap. She tried to concentrate on Thomas Hardy’s tale of a poor working girl who fell in love with a wealthy man. But couldn’t. The story was going to end badly and reminded her of her own life. Of the wealthy, five-times-decorated lawman who’d kissed her in a field of violets.
Who’d told her she was his friend.
And it hurt. She pressed her hand to her breastbone, but it didn’t dull the pain lodged deep within.
A confusing tangle of emotions tightened deep inside, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
She hadn’t imagined her life like this. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Troubled, she ran her fingers through her braids to loosen the plaits. Her hair smelled of violets, and tiny purple petals fell into her lap. Evidence of the passion she and Gage had shared.
Friends, he’d said, because he didn’t want her.
Sarah heard footsteps behind her and stopped scrubbing. Fiery hot-pains shot through her back as she straightened away from the washtub. She wiped her soapy hands on her apron. “Hi, Lucy.”
“Howdy, Sarah. Pa let me ride Scout to school and back all by myself.” Pride lifted her up as she skidded to a halt near the rinse water. “Can Ella come play?”
“She’s inside—”
Lucy took off before Sarah could finish. Before Lucy made it to the door, the screen door flew open and Ella called out in greeting.
A week had passed since Gage’s roof raising, and the days had fallen into a predictable pattern. Every day after school, Lucy came over. The girls would spend all afternoon exploring the meadows and riding Scout.
Sarah had picked up an extra shift at the hotel, and at Ella’s scheduled doctor’s appointment, he’d pronounced her significantly improved over her last visit. If her lungs remained clear for one more week, he would deem Ella strong enough to return to school. With Lucy as her best friend, Ella was almost enthusiastic.
Sarah dipped the long handle into the rinse kettle and lifted a sheet from the hot water. It landed in the basket with a splat.
A footstep padded behind her. “I see Pearl moved back in with the children.”
Gage. She had tried her best to avoid him all week long. Sometimes when she’d been taking water at the well or milking the cow, she would catch sight of him across the field. Working on the house, shirtless beneath the pleasant spring sun. Or sitting tall in his saddle, tending his herds. She’d been glad he was busy, and kept her mind on her work.
He had to be uncomfortable, too, because he tugged his Stetson low to hide his eyes and he was doing his best not to look directly at her. If he stood any farther away, they’d have to resort to yelling so they could hear each other.
“Here. Sorry we didn’t return it sooner.” He thrust the empty pie plate at her. “Lucy kept forgetting to bring it with her.”
As soon as she had the plate in her grip, Gage stepped back, keeping a safe distance between them. She tried not to let it bother her.
“I noticed you planted the garden while I was in town yesterday.” He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to stand still. “Appreciate that. Lucy said you told her how much to water and how often.”
Sarah nodded, hugging the pie plate to her chest as if it were a shield protecting her heart. It hurt to see him.
Maybe it was best to put them both out of their misery. “As you can see, I’m busy here. I have to get this all done so I won’t be late to work tonight. Thanks for returning the plate.”
“Sure thing.” Relieved, he tipped his hat, his mouth a straight, hard line, and he strode away.
Well, that was that. Seeing him now and then would get easier as time passed.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Chapter Nine
“Heard you’re taking that job at the boarding house.” Beatrice Wagner counted back change on the other side of the postal counter. “It’ll be good for you to get out of that house, I wager. This must mean that sweet girl of yours is doin’ better.”
“She is.” Sarah tugged Ella a little closer. “This means she’ll start school on Monday.”
“Wonderful.” Beatrice nudged the candy dish toward Ella and gave her an encouraging smile. “Take two,” she whispered.
“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Ella said politely, reaching up on tiptoe to take two peppermints.
“And a couple of letters for you, Sarah.” Beatrice shoved the white envelopes across the counter, too. “Hope it’s good news this time.”
Three answers to her job inquiries stared back at her as she thanked Beatrice, dropped her change into her reticule and maneuvered Ella toward the door.
“Ma, can we stop by the mercantile?”
“We can’t afford to get anything, sweetie.”
“I just want to look. And I can do that all by myself. Please?”
It was hard to argue with that. “Stay inside the mercantile until I come get you.”
“Thank you, Ma!” Ella dashed away, nearly skipping down the boardwalk.
Sarah watched until her daughter had made it safely to the store and disappeared inside before she remembered the letters. Did she open them now? Or wait. They were probably telling her the position had been filled anyway. She’d learned quickly not to get her hopes up—
“You’re not going to open them?”
Oh, no. It was Gage, the man she’d done her best to avoid for the past few weeks. She’d gotten so good at it, she’d forgotten to stay vigilant and now here he was, looking finer than ever and more uncomfortable than she felt.
She jammed the letters into her reticule. “Mr. Gatlin. Ella tells me most of your mares have foaled. I couldn’t help noticing the fine colts and fillies in the fields.”
“Lucy tells me you plan to move to town.”
“Today is our final night at my aunt’s. We leave for good tomorrow morning.” She thought she saw him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d been trying to keep from running into her, as well. “The position at the boarding house isn’t full-time, but it will pay room and board.”
“Will you still work at the hotel?”
“That’s my
intention, until something else comes along. A better job, not marriage,” she clarified, just in case that was what he was thinking.
Red crept up his neck and flushed his face. “Bet you’re glad to be getting out of that house.”
Especially since Milt’s behavior had worsened after his brush with the law—and Gage Gatlin. “I really must go—”
“The garden is growing. Lucy’s as thrilled as can be.”
“I’m glad. I’ve got to go—”
“Sarah, wait.” She seemed to be in such a hurry to get away from him. Truth be told, he’d nearly dodged into the gunsmith shop just to avoid seeing her.
One thing he’d never been was a coward, and now was no time to start. Besides, he did like her. He cared about her. It wasn’t her fault every time she spoke her incredibly sweet, rosebud-shaped mouth enticed him beyond all reason.
The fault rested squarely on his shoulders.
“What is it? I have more errands to do.” Her face was pale beneath her sunbonnet’s gray brim. Dark smudges bruised the delicate skin beneath her beautiful eyes. “I’m afraid I made circumstances worse for you, when I turned in Milt. I’m sorry for that.”
“You couldn’t let him steal from you.” She pulled a list out of her pocket and studied it. Making it clear she was through speaking with him.
“Sarah—”
She broke away, leaving him alone on the boardwalk. He couldn’t look at her without remembering how quickly he’d lost control that day on the prairie, when he’d shown her the violets. When he’d kissed her senseless and laid her down in the violets, ready to do more than kiss her.
Much more. His trousers felt a little tighter as he thought about it. Up ahead, she crossed the street and darted into the corner shop.
He ought to feel respect for her. Admire how hard she worked and how deeply she cared for her daughter. Sarah Redding was a damn fine woman. She didn’t deserve the thoughts he was having about her.
Thoughts that had him rewriting history and kissing her beneath a star-strewn sky. Except they were alone this time—him and her—and he would pull her down into the soft wild grasses…