by Anna Murray
"Where's your husband? I want to see his arm."
Sarah reddened. "You're mistaken, Doctor. Mr. Easton's not my husband. I-I just work here. I was hired for Mrs. Easton."
Rutherford's blue eyes briefly studied her face.
"I see."
And he did. More perceptive than most with his patients, Rutherford sensed Sarah's isolation. He heard the melancholy note in her voice. And then he recalled, from his previous visit to the ranch, the blatant raw desire and possessiveness in Cal's expression.
Rutherford connected the observations to form a picture of Sarah's ranch life. It would seem the only source of womanly advice available to young Sarah was a mute apoplectic woman.
Rubbing his eyes slowly he stared out the window toward the bunkhouse. When he spoke it was a whisper.
"You have anything else you need to ask about? As I'm a doctor, I'm pledged to keep anything you say to myself."
Sarah twisted her hands together.
"Umm, well, there's . . . one thing."
She moved her jaw open to form the words. Then, just as quickly, she lowered her eyelashes and closed her mouth. A flush crept up her cheeks.
Rutherford smiled gently at her silent stammer. He took her clammy hand in his, acting as if he hadn't taken notice of her nervousness.
"Go ahead. It's ok."
Sarah swallowed. Then she exhaled, and the words began to surge. "Well . . . I have a friend . . . who asked me about a matter. A man might come to town and say bad things about my friend, things about her family and other m-men." Her glance flashed up to Rutherford's cool ocean blue eyes, and she saw them fill with compassion. "But she, she hasn't been like, well, not like that. She's a good person, or at least she tries to be." The stains of scarlet deepened on her cheeks. Can't stop now, she thought. She took a deep breath and fired off the rest. "She's fond of a rancher and he wants her, but maybe he won't believe that she's good. Not after he hears the lies. She told him he was the first man she kissed but maybe he'll think she wasn't truthful, especially if a mean man comes around and spreads awful, hurtful stories about her past." She glanced at the doctor's eyes and looked away. "Anyways, someone told her once that a man could tell somehow if she was lying. But if there's no sure way to know, then maybe he'll never trust her, and he'll think bad things about her if he hears those awful stories that the mean lying person tells, even though they aren't true." Her face was now burning crimson. She had rambled on horribly.
Rutherford, for his part, tried to look as though he dealt with this particular question every day.
"Sounds like your friend is a fine woman." His voice was oddly hoarse, and he paused for a moment before he continued.
"When a man lies with a woman, and it is her first time, her body tells him," he explained. "When he enters her he will feel resistance and it is common to break a membrane within her to consummate the act. It can be painful for the woman and there's likely to be some bleeding. But only that first time. It doesn't happen the same with all women, but it is the way for many," he said in a low voice.
"Oh." Sarah wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. "Well this might not matter."
"Yah?"
She bit her lower lip. "My friend could be leaving soon anyway . . . but she'll be grateful for your advice. . . thanks anyway," she added, in a forced flippant manner.
Rutherford frowned. "Running away from problems doesn't solve them." Then he took her hand and gently squeezed. His shining eyes caught hers and held them. "I'll tell you a secret about men, Miss Anders. When a man cares for a woman it doesn't matter what others say. If he sees goodness in her, and if she loves him, and they are faithful unto each other, then that's all that needs to be."
"Oh. I-I'll be sure to tell my friend."
"Your friend needn't worry."
With that Rutherford looked out the window and caught a glimpse of Cal, his fourth patient of the day, out near the corral, tacking a shoe onto a hoof.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll get on to checking Easton's arm."
* * *
Sarah was with Mrs. Easton in her room when she heard Ned's uneven gait in the hallway.
"Miss Anders!"
"I'm in here," she called back. "Please don't come in just yet."
Sarah was angry with herself. She'd been busy kneading bread dough, and then Emily came into the house with a mud turtle she'd found crawling up from the creek. Distracted, Mrs. Easton's needs had been forgotten. The woman had soiled herself.
Sarah poured water from the pitcher into a bowl and grabbed several washcloths and a bar of yellow soap. She gently cleaned and dried Mrs. Easton with a towel. Then she dressed her in a fresh skirt and stepped back into the hall.
"What is it Ned?"
"Oh, Emily said I should tell you not to worry on her." He was standing right outside the room. "She went to the barn with her kitten and her turtle."
Sarah didn't answer.
"Miss Sarah, are things ok?"
She walked to the doorway and sighed. "Just a little problem." Careful to lower her voice so Mrs. Easton wouldn't hear, she muttered, "Sometimes I get busy, and Mrs. Easton slips my mind. I 'spose accidents happen, but it's so frustrating."
Ned understood straight away, and nodded thoughtfully. "Why not ask her if she's needin' to relieve herself?"
"If only it were that simple! Maybe you didn't notice, but the woman can't talk!"
Sarah's blast rolled over Ned like the cannon fire bouncing off bluffs, and it made him to think about those echoes. They weren't the real sound. He began to speak, slowly, as his idea formed and released. "I seen her blink her eyes. Why not work out a code with her, you know, somethin' like one short blink means 'yes' and one long blink means 'no'. Then you can ask her every now and again and she could tell you." It was just like the Morse code he taught himself. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
Sarah's hard expression suddenly bloomed with springtime joy. "Yes! Ned, it could work!" Before she could stop herself she threw her arms around him in a firm hug.
The duo eagerly pushed Mrs. Easton to the porch and within minutes she was blinking 'yes' and 'no' to a barrage of questions. Was she hungry? Was she too hot? Did she need another pillow? Each answer Mama blinked was cause for celebration.
After a time Emily walked up from the side of the barn. She forgot all about her turtle when she saw Ned and Sarah talking excitedly to Mrs. Easton. She joined the action, but she quickly bored of the 'yes' and 'no' questions. Without an explanation Emily bolted from the porch and ran to get her reader and slate from the table next to her bed. She returned to Mrs. Easton's side she opened to the alphabet page and began pointing with trembling hands.
Ned immediately understood what she was trying to do, and he took a pencil and made Morse code marks below each letter. Dots and dashes. Long blinks and short blinks. He explained the system to Mrs. Easton, and within a few minutes they were translating blinks into letters on the slate. Her first message was simple and heartfelt. Thank you. Sarah couldn't stop gazing at Mrs. Easton's newly liberated blue eyes, and oh, how they were shining. Mama's next message wrung tears from them all. Call me Mama.
"She doesn't want us to call her Mrs. Easton! Oh, oh! I have a Mama!" Emily shrieked so loudly that Ned was sure every hand on the ten thousand acre ranch could hear her.
It took some time to learn how to use and read the code. Often they could just follow Mrs. Easton's eyes and knew which letter she was looking at without waiting for her blinks. Sometimes they could complete a word after she blinked just a few letters. Then Emily would shout it out, and Mrs. Easton blinked a 'yes'. The afternoon passed quickly as the little group on the porch was wrapped in a cocoon of euphoria.
At first Mrs. Easton asked a lot of questions. Would Sarah play the fiddle again? Could they read some of her favorite Bible verses? In no time they had a small 'wish list' of things that Mrs. Easton enjoyed, and they heartily promised that they would do everything. Mama told a story about the day three-year-old Cal go
t stuck in a bucket of water. He fell buttocks first into it, and couldn't free himself. They all laughed. Hours flew by and mama tired. She wanted to rest before "talking" with her sons when they returned from herding.
* * *
Emily was sitting at the parlor table dealing practice poker with an old card deck Roy had given her. Occasionally she peered out the parlor window. She could hear Sarah banging and poking at the fire in the cookstove as she removed pans of bread from the oven.
Emily finally saw them, riding toward the barn. She leapt from the table, knocked the cards to the floor. Her short legs worked double-time as she ran to catch up to them.
"Hello Roy! Hello Mr. Easton! Will you be out here long? I mean, are you coming up to the house for supper?" She followed them into the barn.
"Wouldn't miss it, " drawled Roy.
The men were weary. They swung down and stiffly unsaddled the horses, brushed them down. Roy knew something was astir. Emily was right on their heels, and she looked like she'd swallowed a cat. The girl was hopping from one foot to the other while wringing her hands.
Cal's eyes flickered to her bouncing blond curls and he managed a smile. "You got something you want to tell us?" He'd started his question with a bark but softened when he saw Emily jump back.
"No sir! I won't give away the surprise. Sarah wouldn't forgive me for that." Her eyes flew wide. She quickly slapped her hands over her mouth.
Roy laughed. "Don't worry, Emily. You didn't tell. But I do hope it's a pleasant surprise."
"Oh, it is!" Emily sang out gleefully.
"That's nice."
The men silently conspired to procrastinate. Especially Roy. It was too much fun not to torture Emily just a little bit. He ambled over to the trough with a bucket and dipped it in. He slowly washed his hands and face and offered the bucket to Cal to do the same. They talked about how poor the buffalo grass was in the northwest section, and then about how one of the hands had asked Bailey if his brother could come out to work for them.
To Emily it seemed an eternity, but finally the men finished their washing and strode up to the house.
Cal noted Sarah's smile when she took her place at the table. He hadn't seen her look happy in days and felt his chest tighten when he realized how much he'd missed it. For the first time since she told him about her other man, he thought perhaps she'd been hurting just as much as him. He'd spent so much time being angry he hadn't thought enough about her feelings.
Ned came in the back door and slid into the seat next to Mama.
They passed the plates. Conversation was amiable, and Ned at the table made it easier. Sarah found that she could direct her comments to him and Roy. She was in such a terrific mood that it didn't much matter anyway. Being able to talk to Mama was like celebrating an unexpected holiday. Better, in truth. Mama would no longer live in exile. It strengthened Sarah's silent hope that anything was possible.
As they finished Ned pushed his plate to the middle of the table, produced the alphabet page, and pulled a scrap of paper and pencil from his pocket. He scraped his chair noisily on the floor when he turned to face Mama.
"What should we be doin' this evening, Mrs. Easton?" he asked with a casual sweep of his hand.
Mama's eyes started blinking, and Ned put pencil to paper. After a few moments he looked up at the slack-jawed Easton men and laughed at their stunned expressions. "Your mama says she wants to spend this evening talking with her sons."
It was as if a dam had burst. Everyone started talking at once. Emily was practically screaming, "It's the surprise! It's the surprise!" Cal and Roy were shouting over each other to ask Ned questions. Ned had to hold up his hand to quiet everyone.
They all went silent and let Ned explain. "She's blinkin' Morse code. We taught her this afternoon."
Sarah chimed in proudly. "It was all Ned's idea. He knew the code."
"I wouldn't have thought of it if not for Sarah," Ned retorted.
Rich marvelous laughter erupted from both men. "Don't you two beat all," Cal teased, eyes brimming.
"That's right," added Roy jubilantly. "Teach us that code!"
Sarah and Emily rose and took the plates to the kitchen to wash up. Ned took Mrs. Easton to the parlor with Cal and Roy, where he gave them their first lesson in talking to their Mama. Their happy shouts and laughter could be heard all the way to the kitchen as they decoded their mother's first words.
After a few minutes of chatting with the men, Mama's tone changed. Can you keep a secret from Sa(rah) and Em(ily)? Sa cannot know I told.
Cal bristled outwardly. Know what? His stomach churned as he sensed what was coming next.
Mama blinked in abbreviated fashion:
Her uncle owed money to man Ansel Crane. Uncle promised Sa(rah) in marriage if he could not pay debt. Now he comes to collect and Sarah must marry. S ashamed uncle sold her. Told me. Sarah sad.
Ned scratched his head. "So that was in the telegram. Doggone! From this Crane fellow?"
Mama blinked 'yes'.
The men were furious.
Stinging curses hailed from Cal's mouth. "How much money did the coyote owe?" His voice was hard, on the edge of breaking. What snake of a man forced a woman into marriage over a dead man's debt?
Mama blinked out three hundred fifty dollars.
"Why didn't she tell us?" Roy wondered aloud. He'd already figured the uncle to be despicable, but he never imagined it would be this bad.
The men hung their heads and stared at their hands. Ned finally swallowed and spoke quietly. "She's likely ashamed of the scoundrel-uncle. It's why she couldn't tell, and whys we can't let on we know. She's still got her dignity. So long as she thinks you think she's from decent family she feels right about being here, and maybe even worthy. Women set store by such." He shook his head. "Lord knows why."
Cal reckoned Ned to be right. It seemed Sarah would rather pack her bag and bolt than suffer the shame of them knowing the truth of her circumstance. She'd said it was a matter of duty.
Roy slumped his shoulders and looked at his brother. "She's got a predicament. What do ya' plan to do?"
Cal sighed heavily. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Never cross a river before you reach it. So, right now, nothing. But it rankles. When this Crane fella shows up the only thing he's taking home is a backside of buckshot." As an afterthought he added, "Don't mention this to anyone." Damn her misplaced sense of honor and propriety. But then, that very sweet lack of worldliness was one of the most endearing aspects of the woman.
Jaws set resolutely, the other men silently nodded agreement with Cal's plan. Mama blinked one word. Good.
Chapter 21
Cal proposed a truce just after breakfast. She'd carefully avoided his dark brooding eyes, even when brushing her fingers against his as she handed him his coffee. As she'd started to push away from the table his rough rancher hands clamped around her wrist, trapping her in her seat. Startled, Sarah looked up at her captor.
"We need to talk," Cal clipped. "Ned can keep an eye on Mama."
Sarah stiffened. Oh Lord, he's going to fire me, she thought. She swallowed and tried in vain to read his deep brown eyes. They were dull and he was unreachable. "OK," she shrugged with mustered indifference, and tossed her head.
Cal firmly gripped her arm and led her down the hall to the parlor. He closed the door behind them. Her ramrod spine and narrowed eyes flickering around the room gave her the look of cornered prey desperately seeking an escape route.
"Sit down." He sighed. He seemed to straddle the fence between frustration and anger.
Cal sat down next to her, and he slid close, deliberately touching his thigh to hers. He was aware of her eyes regarding him, veiled with fear, like she was being marched to her own hanging. Yet he knew he could look at those eyes wearing any one of a dozen expressions, thousands of times, and still be undone. And just then it was undoing him so much he forgot the speech he'd rehearsed at least five times while lying in bed the previous evening.
&nbs
p; "Er, I know that you plan to marry that fellow from back where you come from."
"Well . . . yes." Sarah shrugged. She pulled her feet closer to hug the sofa, and the action dragged her knees up.
Cal thrust his hand through his hair. "Mind, I'm not angry with you. So there's no call to run away like a doggie dodging the rope every time I get near." He reached across the breach between them and closed his hand over hers with a tenderness that warmed her to her toes.
She gave him a quizzical look and hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions, silent frustration gnawing at the back of her throat. "You don't m-mind?" She bit her lip until she tasted blood. "I thought it would be easier . . . especially after, I mean, when I'm no longer here . . ."
Surprisingly, he didn't appear overly upset. His smooth handling of the matter was confusing, and now she felt relief mixed with crushing disappointment. Somewhere she'd harbored the secret wish he'd fight for her. It was a silly white-knight dream, but all the same, her heart ached when she considered that perhaps she didn't mean so much to him after all.
Cal stroked his thumb across the palm of her hand as his eyes blazed down into hers. "Sarah, we are both grown ups. Nobody can stop us from being together whenever and however we want. If you leave, I shall miss you. Very much," he added softly, hoarsely. "So why not make the most of the time we have?" He smiled and bent to lightly kiss her hair but at that moment she turned her face up at him, and the kiss landed on her forehead.
All control was hopelessly lost when his lips met warm smooth skin. Seemingly of their own volition, his arms encircled her waist, drawing her closer to savor her scent, her softness. Not given to wooing with honeyed words, Cal made love to her with his gaze; heated chocolate eyes bored into her liquid green.
Cal's words echoed in Sarah's mind. Why not make the most of the time we have? He still wanted her, and that knowledge, together with the ache of her own need, melted Sarah's resolve to resist his caress. Her hands reached up, studied the dark face, and wantonly buried themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. Desire flickered in his eyes as he brought his mouth down fully on her lips, and branded her with a searing heat. She found herself responding eagerly to the insistent probing of his tongue, building a need that swept like prairie fire across her body. "Oh my," she exhaled breathlessly when he finally pulled away.