Deciding a walk was the best way to buy time and allow all signs of her weeping to subside, Sarah left the egg basket in a safe place and headed to the creek. There she climbed onto the large boulder overlooking the rushing waters and lay down on the sun-warmed rock. For a while, she just listened to the sounds of the creek skipping over and around the rocks, while overhead, sparrows chirped gaily as they hopped from branch to branch of the swaying aspens.
Every time a breeze kicked up, the now golden aspen leaves—what few there still were of them—would clatter brightly as they shimmied in the wind. The sun felt warm and comforting on her face. Sarah reveled in the familiar sensations. There wouldn’t be many more days left in the high country’s Indian summer. Today was the first of November. Winter wouldn’t be long in coming.
A winter, this year, spent in a warm, snug house. A house that wouldn’t let in every frigid wind that blew down from the mountains. A house that had fireplaces and woodstoves that kept you all nice and toasty for hours on end without constant work to stoke them. A house that had a hand pump in the kitchen where a person could get all the water she needed without having to brave the cold to fetch some from a frozen lake or stream. And a house whose larders were full, with no worry of going hungry no matter how long and hard the storms raged and the snow piled up outside.
Sarah was grateful for all of that, but even more so for Danny’s sake. As much as she hated to admit it, those were the same concerns her father should’ve held first and foremost in his heart. Tending to his wife and children’s needs over those of his personal vendetta against the Wainwrights.
Somehow, though, along the way and over the years, what might have first been a need to get back the ranch for the sake of his family had transformed into something far more twisted and unbalanced. In what had eventually become an obsessive pursuit of vengeance, Jacob Caldwell had lost track of what really mattered. Lost track and, in the doing, forfeited first his wife, then his two youngest children. Yet still he persisted in seeing only what it served him to see, what served to feed his insane lust to get even.
Thinking back to their conversation in the kitchen early this morning, Sarah recalled that Nick had reminded her of his intent to join forces in putting an end to the feud. That first day they’d met, however, he’d also spoken of other, equally important matters. Like it being a choice to allow hatred into your heart. A choice everyone made whether they recognized it or not.
Though he was yet loath to admit it, her father had chosen to allow hatred into his heart. And, once there, that hatred had stoked the flames of his vengeance until it had consumed him. Until it had distorted everything he thought about and did. Until now he had become incapable of forgiveness, no matter what he lost in the omission, no matter that it was destroying not only him but also those close to him.
But I won’t let him destroy me or Danny, Sarah vowed. I won’t! Nothing is worth losing your soul, your humanity, for. And certainly not for some ranch. People matter more than a piece of land, a few cattle, and some buildings. What matters is loving others, caring for them, and even forgiving them if need be. And asking for all of that from them too.
Her thoughts lifted heavenward. Loving You and asking Your forgiveness is most important of all, Lord. I’ve turned away from You for far too long in my selfishness and hardness of heart. In my anger and need to blame someone for losing Mama and for how unfairly life had treated my papa. But, in truth, in our blindness we bring so much of our problems on ourselves. Like my poor papa has.
But I won’t let myself hate him for his failings. I’ll go on loving him, praying for him, and doing my best to help him. I just won’t allow him to drag me down with him anymore. And I won’t let him hurt Danny either. Or Caleb and Noah, if that opportunity ever presents itself.
With that resolution, the sting of guilt she’d been feeling ever since she’d decided to commit her life to Cord and the Wainwrights eased. Peace filled her. Lulled by the soothing sounds of the chuckling stream, the warm sun, and gentle breezes, Sarah gradually relaxed and grew drowsy. Her lids lowered, closed.
I’ll just rest here a few minutes more, she told herself, before heading back to the house. Just a few minutes more . . .
“Sarah! Miss Sarah!”
She jerked awake. Levering to one elbow, Sarah glanced groggily around. Where am I?
The sensation of hard rock beneath her and the sound of the creek pulled her back to reality. Oh, my goodness! I fell asleep.
Looking around, Sarah noted the sun was beginning to slip behind the mountains. The air had also taken on a definite chill. How long have I been sleeping?
“Miss Sarah!” Pedro’s voice came from the top of a nearby hill. “Come quick. The men are back and Mr. Wainwright’s hurt. Hurt bad.”
Mr. Wainwright? Sarah shoved to a sitting position then hurriedly climbed to her feet. Mr. Wainwright’s hurt bad? But which one?
“Who’s hurt, Pedro?” she called out to him, her heart pounding now in her chest. “Which Mr. Wainwright? Cord or Edmund?”
There was no answer. No voice to be heard save hers, echoing hollowly off the surrounding rocks and hills. Pedro was gone, already disappearing down the other side of the hill.
11
A crowd of men gathered at the front steps of the ranch house. As Sarah ran toward them, her gaze scanned their faces, desperately seeking out Cord’s. He was nowhere to be found.
She did see, however, as she drew closer, several of the men leaned over a makeshift stretcher. Just then Nicholas wheeled his chair out onto the porch, followed by Emma and then Cord. Sarah’s heart gave a great leap.
“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, skirting the outside of the group of men. Looking past them, she noted at long last that it was Edmund Wainwright lying on the stretcher.
His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be unconscious. A horrible bruise marred the left side of his face. Blood matted his graying hair and, from beneath the blanket covering him, she could make out a splinted right leg. Sarah hurried around them to join Emma, Nick, and Cord on the porch.
Cord didn’t look a whole lot better, with a gashed cheek, bruised jaw, and dried blood on his shirt, but at least he was upright and conscious, and there appeared to be no broken bones. His somber gaze met hers.
“What happened?”
Something hard and enigmatic passed through his eyes. “To us or to your father and brothers?”
His query was like a slap to the face. Easy, Sarah cautioned herself. It’s obvious he’s been through something terrible, and he’s worried sick about his father. He really doesn’t mean it the way it came out.
“What happened to you and your father, Cord?” she forced herself to reply, keeping her tone calm and even. “Is Edmund going to be all right?”
He inhaled a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. Doc’s on his way. Suffice it to say, my father met the wrong end of a cattle stampede.”
Cord turned his attention back to the hands at the bottom of the steps. “The bed’s ready. Pick him up as carefully as you can and carry him into the parlor.”
The men grasped the stretcher poles at four ends, gingerly picked up their human burden, and slowly began to climb the steps.
“Keep him as level as you can,” Cord ordered. He took Sarah by the arm and pulled her out of the way.
They watched as the litter bearers passed and entered through the door Emma held open for them.
“What can I do to help?” Sarah glanced up at Cord.
He sighed. “I don’t know. See if Emma needs assistance.”
She nodded. Following Cord and Nick as they trailed into the house behind the hands, she halted when she reached Emma, who was still at the door.
“What can I do?” Sarah’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “Do you need any bandages or a pot of water put on to boil?”
“That’s easily taken care of in a bit,” the older woman said. “In the meantime, I’m sure all these men are famished. Why don’t you get a tab
lecloth onto the dining room table, then put out a stack of plates and silverware? Manuela’s already in the kitchen getting the fried chicken, potato salad, and bread ready. Once the table’s set, you can check with her and see what other help she needs.”
Though she’d have far preferred to remain with Cord and lend a comforting presence, Sarah did as she was asked. Maybe it was for the best anyway, she decided as she retrieved one of the more sturdy tablecloths from the linen closet and returned to the dining room. Cord appeared to be teetering on the edge of his control. And, from his earlier query, Sarah couldn’t help but assume her family had indeed been involved in the cattle rustling. Time enough to return to his side once the other men were fed and Doc got here and had a chance to examine Edmund.
The next half hour sped by as Sarah and the other women served the men a meal. Cord and Nick refused anything to eat, preferring to remain at their father’s side. Just about the time the ranch hands finished eating and began to depart, Doc Saunders arrived. Empty serving bowl in hand, Sarah hesitated halfway between the kitchen and the parlor, where Edmund laid, his two sons in attendance.
“Here, child,” Emma said, bustling over to take the bowl from her hands. “Doc will want to examine Edmund in private, so why don’t you get Cord and Nick to come into the dining room and at least have some coffee. And whatever else you can get into Cord as well,” she added.
Grateful for an excuse to see how all the Wainwright men were faring, Sarah nodded. “Thank you, Emma.”
The housekeeper paused. “No, thank you. Thank you for being here for Cord and Nick. And thank you for not once mentioning your own family, though I know you must be sick with worry over them too.”
Sarah managed a wan smile. “It’s so hard, Emma. I feel like I’m being torn in two.”
“I know, child. Just remember. None of this is your fault.”
“It may not be,” Sarah said with a sigh, “but I still feel guilty. I just don’t want to lose Cord’s love over this . . .”
“Now, don’t go talking such nonsense. Cord’s not mad at you. He’s just worried sick about his father.”
“He does love him, doesn’t he? In spite of all that’s passed between them.”
Emma nodded. “Yes, he does. And that gives me hope someday those two hard heads will finally mend fences and start being true father and son.” She made a shooing motion with her free hand. “Now, get on with you. See to those two young men.”
Sarah turned and headed toward the parlor. She met Nick wheeling himself from the room, Cord following in his wake.
“Good.” She glanced from one sober-faced Wainwright son to the other. “While Doc’s examining Edmund, there’s just enough time for you two to grab a cup of coffee and maybe even something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Cord growled, not meeting her gaze.
“Maybe not, but you’re no good to your father if you don’t keep up your strength.” She cocked her head. “And I’m betting you haven’t eaten since all this happened, have you? Which was exactly how many hours ago?”
He shot her a disgruntled look. “The cattle stampeded down the ravine they were hidden in about five this morning.”
“So, if the last time you ate was supper yesterday, it’s been over twenty-four hours since your last meal. Sounds like yet another reason to get something into your stomach.”
“She’s right,” Nick said, glancing up at him. “I know I could stand a little something to eat.”
“Well, maybe a cup of coffee then.” Cord grabbed the handlebars of Nick’s wheelchair and pushed him into the dining room.
By the time Doc joined them a half hour later, Sarah had managed not only to get two mugs of coffee with cream and sugar into Cord, but also two pieces of fried chicken and one of Emma’s famous apple spice oatmeal cookies. At Doc’s entrance, both men immediately put down their coffee mugs, and Cord jumped to his feet.
The doctor looked to Sarah. “Would you pour me a mug of coffee, my dear? And I like just a splash of cream and no sugar.”
As Sarah hurried to comply, Doc Saunders turned to Nick and Cord. “I looked Edmund over. Besides the danger of possible internal injuries, I’m most worried about his head. Cord, can you tell me exactly what happened to him?”
Cord shoved his hand raggedly through his hair. “We suspected the cattle were hidden in that ravine. What we didn’t figure on was the Caldwells being holed up behind the herd. When they got wind we were coming, they started firing their pistols and spooked the cattle. Before we knew what was happening, fifty head of cattle were stampeding toward us. At the front of the posse, Gabe, Pa, and I were trapped between the other men and the cattle.
“Gabe and I managed to get our horses turned around in time, but Pa didn’t. The first few cattle slammed into him, knocking over Pa and his horse. In the confusion, I don’t know what happened to Gabe, but I was pressed against the ravine wall by the cattle racing by. Neither of us could get to Pa until nearly all the herd passed. By then, Pa was wedged beneath his dead horse—which probably saved his life—and he was already unconscious.”
Doc Saunders stroked his chin. “Did Edmund wake up at any time after that?”
Cord shook his head. “No. But maybe, considering the extent of his injuries, that was a blessing.”
The doctor exhaled a long, slow breath. “Maybe. But maybe not. If Edmund was injured about five this morning, that means he’s been unconscious well over twelve hours now. I don’t like that. Don’t like that at all.”
“Is there anything we can do to help, Doc?” Sarah asked, walking up to hand him his coffee.
He smiled, accepted his mug from her, and took a swallow before replying. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, child. Keep us sustained with strong coffee and food. We might have a very long night ahead of us.”
She glanced at Cord. Besides his torn, dirty clothes and his own injuries, he looked positively worn out and haggard.
“Nick and I could sit with Edmund while you see to Cord. That gash on his forehead looks like it might need some stitching.”
Cord scowled. “I don’t need any ‘seeing to’ or stitching. I’m fine.”
“Oh, really? Just like you also don’t need to go get some sleep, I’d imagine?”
Doc Saunders laughed. “Feisty little thing, isn’t she? At least let me patch you up a bit, Cord. That’ll take no time at all and, like Sarah said, in the meanwhile she and Nick can keep vigil at Edmund’s beside.”
“Fine,” Cord muttered, sending her a black look. “Best we probably do the doctoring in the kitchen then. After that, though, I’m right back at Pa’s side.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, son,” Doc said, gesturing for Cord to head for the kitchen. “I’ll need all the company I can get to stay awake tonight.”
As Cord turned and walked toward the kitchen, Doc moseyed over to the dining room table and grabbed up a handful of cookies. “Would you fetch my doctor’s bag, child?” he then asked before following in Cord’s wake.
Sarah hurried to the parlor to retrieve the bag, which she found sitting on the sofa. As she turned, however, Nick blocked her way from the room.
“Leave Cord be for a while, Angel,” he said, meeting her inquiring gaze. “Let him work out his jumbled feelings for our father. Those two always did have sort of a love-hate relationship, as much as both of them denied the love part. But I knew differently. I saw what they both refused to see.”
She glanced to where Edmund Wainwright lay silent and still on his bed. “Maybe so, Nick. But what will happen to Cord . . . if his father never regains consciousness? If he . . .”
“If he dies before they can finally sort it all out?” Nick softly finished for her. He sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. One way or another, though, it’s in God’s hands. All we can do is pray.”
All we can do is pray . . .
Yes, I suppose you’re right, Sarah thought. Pray for Edmund. Pray for Cord. And pray for Papa and my brothers.
For I greatly fear if Edmund dies, we’ve only begun to see how bad this feud can be.
As the night deepened and he, Nick, and Sarah kept their bedside vigil, Cord had plenty of opportunity to relive the last twenty-four hours. This time last night, he was dancing and feuding with Sarah, only to finally stand in the cool evening air and declare his love for her. Yet, now those events seemed like they’d happened years ago.
His glance strayed from his father, lying as still as death on his bed, to where Sarah sat near the parlor window, her head angled toward the flickering lamplight on the nearby table, working on what appeared to be some particularly intricate stitch in her knitting. At the sight of her, a sense of peace and comfort washed over him. She was here in this difficult time, quiet and supportive, thinking only of him when he knew questions must surely burn her lips about what had happened to her father and two brothers. He’d tell her in time. Right now, though, Cord didn’t know what he’d do or say if mention was made of those thieving Caldwell men.
No, right now he didn’t have the strength or courage to speak of them, but he also wasn’t of a mind to keep her hanging for long. Those varmints she called family didn’t deserve her or her concern, but Cord knew she still loved and cared about them. And, because he loved her, he didn’t wish to add to her suffering.
Somehow, though, he feared there was suffering aplenty still waiting for the both of them, and all because of this cursed feud that refused to play itself out. Even if his father died, Cord wondered if that would be enough to finally satisfy Jacob Caldwell. Indeed, would anything satisfy that man ever again, even in the unlikely event he were to regain control of all Wainwright holdings?
Not that that would ever happen as long as he lived, Cord silently vowed. After all that had transpired since yesterday evening, something had changed for him. He had Sarah now. He had a responsibility as well to her little brother and to his own brother too. He also had a responsibility to the ranch, to help make it all it could be. And letting Jacob Caldwell get his hands on Castle Mountain Ranch wasn’t in any plans he now had for it.
Heart of the Rockies Collection Page 17