by Nora Roberts
“Carlotta. She’s been looking at all the dresses you’ve been making for the ladies in town. They’re real pretty, Miss Conway.”
“Thank you.”
“Just the other day, after Jake left-”
“Jake?”
“Yes’m.” Hoping she was holding the cup properly, Alice drank. “He comes into the Silver Star pretty regular. Carlotta’s real fond of him. She don’t work much herself, you know. Unless it’s somebody like Jake.”
“Yes, I see.” She waited for what was left of her heart to break. Instead, it swelled with fury. “I suppose she might find a man like him appealing.”
“She surely does. All the girls got a fondness for Jake.”
“I’m sure,” she murmured.
“Well, like I was saying, Carlotta got it into her head one day after he left that we should have us some new clothes. Something classy, like ladies would wear. She told me Jake said you could sew some up for us.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, ma’am. She said she thought Jake had a real fine idea there, and she sent me on out to see about it. I got me all the measurements.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Johnson, I really couldn’t. Be sure to tell Carlotta that I appreciate the offer.”
“There’s eight of us girls, miss, and Carlotta said she’d pay you in advance. I got the money.”
“That’s generous, but I can’t do it. Would you like more tea?”
“I don’t-” Confused, Alice looked at her cup. She didn’t know anyone who’d ever said no to Carlotta.
“If it’s not too much trouble.” She wanted to stretch out her visit, though she knew that, and the message she’d be taking back, would make Carlotta box her ears.
“Miss Johnson-”
“You can call me Alice, Miss Conway. Everybody does.”
“Alice, then. Would you mind telling me how it was you came to work for Carlotta? You’re very young to be…on your own.”
“My daddy sold me off.”
“Sold you?”
“There was ten of us at home, and another on the way. Every time he got drunk he whipped one of us or made another. He got drunk a lot. Few months back, a man passed through and Daddy sold me for twenty dollars. I ran off as soon as I could. When I got to Lone Bluff I went to work for Carlotta. I know it ain’t right and proper, but it’s better than what I had. I get my meals and a bed to myself when I’m finished work.” She gave a quick, uncomfortable shrug. “Most of the men are all right.”
“Your father had no right to sell you, Alice.”
“Sometimes there’s right and there’s what’s done.” “If you wanted to leave Carlotta, I’m sure there would be other work for you in town. Proper work.” “Begging your pardon, Miss Conway, but that ain’t true. None of the town ladies would hire me for anything.
And they shouldn’t. Why, how would they know if I’d been with one of their husbands?”
It was sound thinking, but Sarah shook her head. “If you decide to leave, I’ll find work for you.”
Alice stared at her, wide-eyed. “That’s kind of you. I knew you were a real lady, Miss Conway, and I’m obliged. I’d better be heading back.”
“If you’d like to visit again, I’d be happy to see you,” Sarah told her as she walked her out.
“No, ma’am, that wouldn’t be proper. Thank you for the tea, Miss Conway.”
Sarah thought a great deal about Alice’s visit. That night, as she read her father’s journal by lamplight, she tried to imagine what it had been like. To be sold, she thought with an inward shudder. By her own father, like a horse or a steer. It was true that she, too, had spent years of her life without a real family, but she had always known her father loved her. What he had done, he had done with her best interests at heart. Once she would have condemned Alice’s choice out of hand. But now she thought she understood. It was all the girl knew. The cycle had begun with her father’s callousness, and the girl was caught in it, helplessly moving in the same circle, selling herself time after time because she knew nothing else.
Had it been the same for Jake? Had the cruelty he’d lived through as a child forced him into a life of restlessness and violence? The scars he carried must run deep. And the hate. Sarah looked into the soft glow of the lamp. As Lucius had said, the hate ran cold.
She should have hated him. She wanted to, she wished the strong, destructive emotion would come, filling all the cracks in her feelings, blocking out everything else. With hate, a coolheaded, sharply honed hate, she would have felt in control again. She needed badly to feel in control again. But she didn’t hate him.
She couldn’t.
Even though she knew he had spent the night with another woman, kissing another woman’s lips, touching another woman’s skin, she couldn’t hate him. But she could grieve for her loss, for the death of a beauty that had never had a chance to bloom fully.
She had come to understand what they might have had together. She had almost come to accept that they belonged together, whatever their differences, whatever the risks. He would always live by his gun and by his own set of rules, but with her, briefly, perhaps reluctantly, he had shown such kindness, such tenderness. There was a place for her in his heart. Sarah knew it. Beneath the rough-hewn exterior was a man who believed in justice, who was capable of small, endearing kindnesses. He’d allowed her to see that part of him, a part she knew he’d shared with few others.
Then why, the moment she had begun to soften toward him, to accept him for what and who he was, had he turned to another woman? A woman whose love could be bought with a handful of coins?
What did it matter? With a sigh, she closed her father’s journal and prepared for bed. She had only fooled herself into believing he could care for her. Whatever kindness Jake had shown her would always war with his lawless nature and his restless heart. She wanted a home, a man by her side and children at her feet. As long as she loved Jake, she would go on wanting and never having.
Somehow, no matter how hard it was, no matter how painful, she would stop loving him.
Jake hated himself for doing it, but he rode toward Sarah’s place, a dozen excuses forming in his head. He wanted to talk to Lucius and check on the progress in the mine. He wanted to make sure she hadn’t been bitten by a snake. He’d wanted a ride, and her place was as good as any.
They were all lies.
He just wanted to see her. He just wanted to look at her, hear her talk, smell her hair. He’d stayed away from her for two weeks, hadn’t he? He had a right… He had no rights, he told himself as he rode into the yard. He had no rights, and no business thinking about her the way he was thinking about her, wanting her the way he wanted her.
She deserved a man who could make her promises and keep them, who could give her the kind of life she’d been born to live.
He wasn’t going to touch her again. That was a promise he’d made himself when he’d ridden away from her the last time. If he touched her, he wouldn’t pull back. That would only cause them both more misery. He’d hurt her. He had seen that plain enough when he’d left her. But that was nothing compared to what he would have done if he’d stayed.
It was quiet. Jake pulled up his mount and took a long, cautious look around, his hand hovering over the butt of his gun. The dog wasn’t yapping, nor was there any smoke rising from the chimney. The saddle creaked as he dismounted.
He didn’t knock, but pushed open the door and listened. There wasn’t a sound from inside. He could see, as his eyes scanned from one corner to the next, that the cabin was empty and as tidy as a church. The curtains she’d sewed had already begun to fade, but they moved prettily in the hot wind. His shoulders relaxed.
She’d done something here. That was something else he had to admire about her. She’d taken less than nothing and made it a home. There were pictures on the walls. One was a watercolor of wildflowers in soft, dreamy hues. It looked like her, he thought as he took a closer study. All dewy and fresh and delicate. Flowers like
that would wither fast if they weren’t tended. He moved to the next, his brows drawing together as he scanned it. It was a pencil drawing-a sketch, he figured she’d call it. He recognized the scene, the high, arrogant buttes, the sun-bleached rock. If you looked west from the stream you’d see it. It wasn’t an empty place. The Apache knew the spirits that lived there. But oddly, as he studied the lines and shadows, he thought Sarah might know them, too. He would never have imagined her taking the time to draw something so stark and strong, much less hang it on the wall so that she would see it every time she turned around.
Somehow-he couldn’t quite figure out the why of it-it suited her every bit as much as the wildflowers.
Annoyed with himself, he turned away. She knew something about magic, he figured. Didn’t the cabin smell of her, so that his stomach kept tying itself in knots? He’d be better off out in the ah--fifty miles away.
A book caught his eye as he started out. Without giving a thought to her privacy, he opened it. Apparently she’d started a diary. Unable to resist, he scanned the first page.
She’d described her arrival in Lone Bluff. He had to grin as he read over her recounting of the Apache raid and his timely arrival. She’d made him sound pretty impressive, even if she’d noted what she called his “infuriating and unchristian behavior.”
There was a long passage about her father, and her feelings about him. He passed it by. Grief was to be respected, unless it needed to be shared. He chuckled out loud as she described her first night, the cold can of beans and the sounds that had kept her awake and trembling until morning. There were bits and pieces he found entertaining enough about the townspeople and her impressions of life in the West. Then he caught his name again.
“Jake Redman is an enigma.” He puzzled over the word, sure he’d never heard it before. It sounded a little too fancy to be applied to him.
I don’t know if one might call him a diamond in the rough, though rough he certainly is. Honesty forces me to admit that he has been of some help to me and shown glimmers of kindness. I can’t resolve my true feelings about him, and I wonder why I find it necessary to try. He is a law unto himself and a man wholly lacking in manners and courtesy. His reputation is distressing, to say the least. He is what is referred to as a gunslinger, and he wears his weapons as smoothly as a gentleman wears a watch fob. Yet I believe if one dug deeply enough one might discover a great deal of goodness there. Fortunately, I have neither the time nor the inclination to do the digging. Despite his manner and his style of living there is a certain, even a strong, attractiveness about him. He has fine eyes of clear gray, a mouth that some women might call poetic, particularly when he smiles, and truly beautiful hands.
He stopped there to frown down at his hands.
They’d been called a lot of things, but beautiful wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t sure he cared for it. Still, she sure did have a way with words.
He turned the page and would have read on, but the slightest of sounds at his back had him whirling, his guns gripped firmly in his hands.
Lucius swore long and skillfully as he lowered his own pistol. “I ain’t lived this long to have you blow holes in me.”
Jake slipped his guns home. “You’d better be careful how you come up on a man. Didn’t you see my horse?”
“Yeah, I saw it. Just making sure. Didn’t expect to find you poking around in here.” He glanced down at the book. Without a word, Jake shut it.
“I didn’t expect to find the place deserted.”
“I’ve been up to the mine.” Lucius pulled a small bottle of whiskey from his pocket.
“And?”
“It’s interesting.” He took a long pull, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can’t figure how Matt got himself caught in that cave-in. He was pretty sharp, and I recollect them beams being secure enough. Looks to me like someone worked pretty hard to bring them down.”
With a nod, Jake glanced at the watercolor on the wall. “Have you said anything to her yet?”
“Nope.” He didn’t think it was the best time to tell Jake that Sarah had found him out. “There’s something else I haven’t mentioned.” His face split into a grin as Jake looked at nun. “There’s gold in there, boy. Just like Matt always claimed. He’d found the mother lode.” Lucius took a swig from the bottle, then corked it. “You figured on that?”
“Just a hunch.”
“Want me to keep it under my hat?”
“For the time being.”
“I don’t care much for playing tricks on Miss Sarah, but I reckon you’ve got your reasons.”
“I’ve got them.”
“I won’t ask you what they are. I won’t ask you neither what reasons you got for not coming around lately. Miss Sarah, she’s been looking a mite peaked since you brought her back from the hills.”
“She’s sick?” he asked, too quickly.
Lucius rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a grin.
“I figure she’s got a fever, all right. Heart fever.” “She’ll get over it,” Jake muttered as he walked outside.
“You’re looking peaked yourself.” When Jake didn’t answer, he tried again. “Sure is some woman. Looks soft, but that streak of stubborn keeps her going. See there?” He pointed to the vegetable patch. “She’s got something growing there. Never thought I’d see a speck of green, but there you go. She waters that thing every day. Stubborn. A stubborn woman’s just bound to make things happen.”
“Where is she?”
Lucius had been hoping he’d ask. “Gone off driving with Carlson. He’s been coming around here near every day. Drinks tea.” He spit. “Kisses her fingers and calls her right out by her first name.” It warmed his heart to see Jake’s eyes harden. “Said something about taking her to see his ranch. Been gone better than an hour now.”
“I don’t know when I’ve spent a more pleasant day.” Sarah rose from the glossy mahogany table in Carlson’s dining room. “Or had a more delightful meal.”
“The pleasure has been mine.” Carlson took her hand. “All mine.”
Sarah smiled and gently took her hand away. “You have such a beautiful home. I never expected to see anything like it out here.”
“My grandfather loved beautiful things.” He took her elbow. “I inherited that love from him. Most of the furniture was shipped in from Europe. We had to make some concessions to the land.” He patted a thick adobe wall. “But there’s no reason to sacrifice all our comforts. This painting-” He guided her to a portrait of a pale, elegant woman in blue silk. “My mother. She was my grandfather’s pride and joy. His wife died before this house was completed. Everything he did from that day was for his daughter.”
“She’s lovely.”
“She was. Even my grandfather’s love and devotion couldn’t keep her alive. The women in my family have always been delicate. This land is hard, too hard for the fragile. It baked the life out of her. I suppose that’s why I worry about you.”
“I’m not as delicate as you might think.” She thought of the ride into the mountains with her hands and feet bound.
“You’re strong-willed. I find that very attractive.” He took her hand again. Before she could decide how to respond, a man strode into the house. He was shorter and leaner than Carlson, but there was enough of a resemblance around the mouth and eyes for her to recognize him. His hat was pushed back so that it hung around his neck by its strap. Yellow dust coated his clothes. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his pants and looked at her in a way that made her blood chill.
“Well, now, what have we got here?”
“Miss Conway.” There was a warning, mild but definite, in Carlson’s voice. “My brother Jim. You’ll have to excuse him. He’s been working the cattle.” “Sam handles the money, I handle the rest. You didn’t tell me we were having company.” He swaggered closer. He carried the scents of leather and tobacco, but she found nothing appealing about it.
“Such nice-looking company.”
“I invited Miss Conway to lunch.”
“And it was lovely, but I really should be getting back.” And away, she thought, from Jim Carlson. “You don’t want to rush off the minute I get in.” Grinning, Jim laid a duty hand on the polished surface of a small table. “We don’t get enough company here, at least not your kind. You’re just as pretty as a picture.” He glanced at his brother with a laugh Sarah didn’t understand. “Just as pretty as a picture.” “You’d better wash up.” Though his voice was mild, Carlson sent him a hard look. “We have some business to discuss when I get back.”
“It’s all business with Sam.” Jim winked at Sarah.
‘Now, me, I got time for other things.”
Sarah swallowed a sigh of relief when Carlson took her elbow again. “Good day, Mr. Carlson.”
Jim watched her retreating back. “Yeah, good day to you. A real good day.”
“You’ll have to excuse him.” Carlson helped Sarah into the waiting buggy. “Jim’s a bit rough around the edges. I hope he didn’t upset you.”
“No, not at all,” she said, struggling to keep a polite smile. With her hands folded in her lap, she began to chat about whatever came to mind.
“You seem to be adjusting well to your new life,” Carlson commented.
“Actually, I’m enjoying it.”
“For selfish reasons, I’m glad to hear it. I was afraid you’d lose heart and leave.” He let the horses prance as he turned to smile at her. “I’m very glad you’re staying.” He pulled up so that they could have a last look at the ranch from the rise. The house spread out, rising two stories, glowing pink in the sunlight, its small glass windows glimmering. Neat paddocks and outbuildings dotted the land, which was cut through by a blue stream and ringed by hills.
“It’s lovely, Samuel. You must be very proud of it.”
“Pride isn’t always enough. A place like this needs to be shared. I’ve regretted not having a family of my own to fill it. Until now I’d nearly given up hoping I’d find a woman to share it with me.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Sarah, nothing would make me happier than if that woman were you.”