Cassandra Austin

by Trusting Sarah

  “Maybe not, but it’s fun.” She pouted.

  River laughed. That’s my Sarah. He hesitated to say it aloud. He had a feeling the relationship was too fragile to handle many reminders of the past. She could slip back into the frightened young woman at any moment.

  Finally he stopped her, turning her body slowly into his arms. He tried to kiss her gently, but she took his hat with one hand while the other slipped into his hair and pulled him toward her.

  Sarah stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him until her ankles threatened to give out. When she sank to the ground again, releasing his neck, he drew back and studied her. She wondered if his vision was better than hers; she could barely make out his features in the twilight.

  “You know something crazy, Sarah?” He had to swallow hard before he could continue. “I think I’m still in love with you.”

  Sarah smiled at the wonder in his voice. Could he possibly be feeling the same things she was? Or was he mistaking passion for love? But then, she had already decided that passion was enough.

  When she didn’t answer he took a deep breath. He felt as if he had been running all the way here instead of strolling leisurely. Sarah pressed against him, her face turned up, tempting him to kiss her again. He had to do it. He felt himself drawn toward her even as he tried to speak. “I love you, Sarah.”

  Sarah felt light-headed, as if River’s strong arms were all that kept her from floating away. His words echoed in her mind; dare she trust them? If she loved him enough in return, could she make them true?

  After a moment River drew reluctantly away, touching a fingertip to her moist lips before stepping beyond reach. “You have to stop so I can show you my surprise.” He knelt and untied the string that bound his bedroll and spread the blanket on the ground. “Well, maybe it’s not much, but it’s the best room in the house. Granted, the bed’s a little small, and since there’s only one, we’ll have to share.”

  “Daniel,” Sarah said with a laugh, tossing his hat aside as she came to kneel on the blanket in front of him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Her laugh, her teasing tone were so close to what he remembered he felt his hands tremble. “I may hold you to those words,” he murmured past the lump in his throat. He gently pushed her down onto the blanket and braced himself above her. “You won’t have it—” he kissed her cheek “—any other way—” his lips trailed down her neck “—but with me.” He captured her lips with his own.

  Sarah arched against him, trying to tell him with her body what she was afraid to put into words—the vow he had made in jest, she had already made in her heart.

  River savored the sweetness of her lips while one hand slid down her body, tracing the gentle curves. He could take his time tonight; there was no encroaching storm, no responsibilities to call him away.

  When his hand reached her thigh, he began bunching the skirt and slip, slowly drawing the hems of the garments toward his hand. In a moment, he would be free to touch the smooth skin that hid beneath. He felt more than heard her soft moan against his mouth.

  To Sarah it was slow torture. When she could stand it no longer, she wrapped her leg around his body, letting the skirt slide to her waist. The movement brought him more firmly against her and only added to her desire.

  River freed his hand from the fabric and stroked the leg that held him a most willing captive. The miles of walking had made the muscles firm beneath the silky skin.

  Sarah let her leg slowly slide across his backside and down his leg, causing River to end the kiss and gasp for air. When her ankle slipped off his calf, he rolled to his side, lifting himself away from her.

  The moon rose over the sandy, wind-carved hills, giving him a chance to see her half-closed eyes and her reddened lips. He took in the disheveled dress and the long, bare leg, which almost glowed in the pale light.

  Sarah didn’t let him gaze at her for long. She ran hungry fingers down his chest, parting the fasteners of his jacket as if by magic. With a muttered oath, River tore the jacket from his shoulders and quickly removed his boots. His haste elicited a soft laugh from Sarah, and he glanced at her, remembering guiltily his earlier intention to move slowly.

  He winked at her and reached for her feet, removing the shoes and stockings and massaging each small foot before lying again on his side next to her. He moved his body over hers, staring into the passion-filled eyes, and stopped.

  The fingers of both her hands were tucked in his waistband, effectively keeping a space between them. At his surprised laugh, she whispered, “Just one more thing.”

  River kissed the smiling lips and rolled off her. “Anything you say, fair lady.”

  In a moment, he was lowering himself over her again. “Is this better?” he teased between kisses.

  Sarah’s hands slid along the cotton shirt, down his back, to find the warm flesh beneath. “Better,” she murmured.

  River playfully nipped an ear. “Your teasing’s going to get you into trouble.”

  “It hasn’t so far.”

  River found himself unable to play any longer. “Don’t tease anyone but me,” he pleaded in a choked whisper.

  “I won’t,” she sighed, arching upward to meet him.

  Suddenly her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and there was a different quality in her voice. “No one but you. Ever.” Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure if he had heard her or only imagined it.

  River was lost in the sweet softness of her body. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you.” And everything else was forgotten.

  Afterward, when she was sleeping in his arms, he stared up into the starry sky and tried to make sense of what had happened. He had told this woman he loved her, and he knew it was true. In fact, he was beginning to think it had always been true.

  He had passed up a few chances to settle down during the last few years because he was still looking for something. Had he been looking for Sarah all this time, or at least for someone like her? He laughed at himself. Would someone like Sarah have been enough? He doubted it. He couldn’t imagine his life if Sarah hadn’t found him.

  He clutched her closer and stroked her hair. “Sarah, Sarah,” he murmured. “I didn’t know I was unhappy till you came back and made me remember how to dream.” He shifted his shoulders to a more comfortable position. Maybe it was time to rethink his future.

  * * *

  Nathan Gaines crawled into the bushes by the creek and rolled over. With one arm braced across his ribs, he tried to get his breathing back to normal. There was no use hiding if he was going to be gasping for breath.

  Bull wouldn’t find him; he didn’t worry about that. He never came after him once he let him run away. He might send Herman, but Herman would look just long enough to let Bull cool down. Herman might be sort of stupid, but he knew how to avoid a beating.

  Nathan stifled a groan as he scooted deeper into the bushes. He would sleep here tonight. In the morning, he would wash the blood off his face and stay out of sight at the back of the train. Maybe he would hide until the train pulled out, then follow along behind.

  He hated himself for his weakness. If he was a man, he would stay here. It would be better to starve than go back to Bull. But he didn’t want to starve. He could survive his uncle’s beatings, and one day he would get his chance. There’ll be a better time to run away, he told himself. Sometime when it won’t mean starving.

  He stiffened at a sound nearby and gritted his teeth against the pain. It was probably Herman. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. His eyes flew open at the sound of a German accent so heavy he couldn’t understand the words. All he knew was that the voice was sweet and filled with concern.

  “I don’t know,” came a boy’s reply. “But that old man Gaines was acting pretty strange.”

  “He know, he know! He lie!”

  Nathan raised his eyes in a silent prayer. Rice and both von Schiller girls were standing not ten feet from where he hid, talking about his uncle and, in all
likelihood, looking for him.

  One of the girls began to cry, and the other tried to sooth her. Rice walked closer to his hiding place, and Nathan held his breath. “I’m sure he’s all right. He just took a walk or something,” he heard Rice say.

  “He run away?” sobbed one of the girls.

  “Why’s she so upset, Gretchen?”

  Nathan heard anger in the girl’s voice when she answered. “Bull’s hands ... uh ... bones here ... bloody. Meine Frieda, she vas looking ... seeing ... blue around eye on Nathan once.”

  Nathan felt tears come to his eyes and bit back a groan. He hadn’t realized the girls would remember his black eye from way back at Fort Leavenworth. He hadn’t even noticed the girls until his uncle had rejoined the train. His shame hurt more than his ribs and face. If they found him he would try his best to die on the spot. He was sure he could do it; he was already starting to feel light-headed from holding his breath.

  “It’s dark,” Rice said. “We have to go back.”

  The girls protested, but Nathan heard them moving away. “I’ll tell River. He’ll know what to do.”

  Their footsteps faded, and Nathan gasped for air. He felt his head spin and swirl into a pool of darkness.

  Something warm touched his face and his brain struggled through a thick mist. He tried to move, but he couldn’t make his body work.

  “How did you find him?” The voice seemed to be drifting closer to him from far away.

  “The girls and I went to his uncle’s camp to see if he could come for a walk with us, and his uncle chased us off, saying he wasn’t there. The girls got worried, and we went looking for him.”

  Nathan tried to open his eyes but closed them again against a bright light.

  Rice continued. “Frieda was crying so much I had to take them back, but I thought I’d heard something. I think I oughta try to find River.”

  “No, ya ain’t gonna try to find River.” Eli’s voice was close after all and the fog seemed to be clearing. “Help me get him up. Don’t drop the lantern.”

  Nathan could offer no resistance as they dragged him to his feet. His head spun, and he let it loll against his chest, but he managed to put one foot in front of the other. At the fire, they lowered him to the ground, and he wasn’t entirely successful at stifling a groan.

  “Fetch the doctor,” Eli ordered.

  Nathan watched Rice run away and eyed Eli suspiciously. The old man brought a bowl of water and dipped a cloth into it. “That low-down sorry excuse for an uncle did this to ya, didn’t he?”

  He touched the cloth to a cut over Nathan’s eye, and the boy flinched. “Nah,” he gasped. It was harder to talk than he expected. In a moment he went on slowly. “I was just trying to climb that cliff over there and fell.”

  “Is that right?”

  Rice and Dr. Carroll arrived as Eli finished bathing Nathan’s face. Carroll examined the cuts and bruises, poking here and there, while Eli and Rice looked on. “I don’t think the jaw is broken,” he said, sitting back to look at the boy’s eyes from a distance. “But he might have a concussion. That would explain why he passed out.”

  “I fell asleep. My head’s too hard to break.” Nathan started to laugh but caught himself too late. They had seen him clutch his side and grimace at the pain.

  “Let’s check the ribs, son.” The doctor began to unbutton his shirt.

  Nathan tried to push his hands away and was alarmed at how weak he was. “They’re just skinny ribs,” he said, lying back in defeat.

  Carroll opened the shirt and nearly whistled. “Somebody really laid into you.”

  “Nah, I fell off a horse.”

  “Cliff,” Eli corrected.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Have you coughed up any blood?” Carroll asked.

  Nathan’s expression seemed to dare the doctor to touch him. “I ain’t coughed at all.”

  Carroll turned to Eli. “We should wrap the ribs good and tight in case any are broken. If he takes it easy for a few days, he ought to be fine.”

  Eli grunted. “Does walkin’ count as takin’ it easy? I can’t see jigglin’ around in a wagon bein’ any good for busted ribs.”

  “If he’s strong enough, I suppose. Otherwise, we could rig up a litter.”

  “Whoa. Just a minute.” Nathan struggled to a sitting position and closed his shirt. “You ain’t gettin’ me on no litter, and I ain’t got a wagon. So I walk, or I stay. Them’s the choices.”

  Eli shot Carroll a knowing look. “Rice, fetch something to wrap his ribs.”

  “Yes, sir. Shouldn’t I go find River? And where’s Sarah?”

  “Don’t worry none about them. We can take care of young Gaines, here. We’ll hide him in the supply wagon and see how long it takes Uncle Bullhead to come lookin’ for him.”

  Nathan’s expression held both humor and shock. “You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

  “Well, neither does he.” Eli got up and busied himself at the fire. “Beatin’ a boy till he crawls away. Bustin’ him up. Face all cut to pieces.” The comments faded into mutterings, and Nathan turned his attention to the doctor.

  “Has this happened before?” Carroll asked gently.

  Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I fall down a lot. You got a cure for that, Doc?”

  When his chest was wrapped in the strips of cloth, and Eli had fed him broth and settled him inside the wagon, Nathan tried to relax. He wanted to believe this was better than hungry and cold under the bushes. He wanted to believe these people were willing to be his friends.

  It was hard. How could they like him when he was too big a coward to stand up to Bull or even run away from him? How could they want to help someone like him? Nathan remembered the things the old man had said about Bull and caught himself before he laughed. It wasn’t so much that they liked him; they hated his uncle. Well, that he could understand.

  He closed his eyes, realizing how tired he was. He hurt all over, but it was worth it. Bull had seen him walking down the hill with Sarah and had demanded to know what they had said. But he had kept his mouth shut. He had warned the pretty lady, and River had hidden her away. Old Bull wouldn’t get to her tonight. With that reassuring thought, he was finally able to sleep.

  * * *

  Before dawn, River woke Sarah with a kiss. She tried to pull him into her arms, but he resisted. “Time to get up, sweetheart.”

  Sarah groaned softly, rolling over and snuggling under the blanket. “It’s not morning.”

  “No, but I thought you might want to get back before Eli has breakfast ready.”

  Sarah sat up with a start. She had been so lost in sweet dreams she had forgotten where she was! River was sitting back on his heels grinning at her. “Are you this pretty every morning, or did last night have something to do with it?” He touched her hair where it tumbled over her shoulder.

  Sarah felt herself blush. “You see me every morning,” she murmured.

  “Not this early.” I’d sure as hell like to from now on.

  She watched his eyes, pale in the darkness, gaze at her for a long moment then turn away. She buttoned the front of her dress, remembering how it had come undone. She was grateful she had slept in her dress even though it would be sadly wrinkled now. Not much worse than usual, she thought, letting a smile touch her lips.

  She heard River’s sharp intake of breath and looked up to see him come to his feet. “We better get back before I decide you’re too pretty to leave.”

  He grabbed the blanket that covered her, and she pulled her skirt down quickly. She needn’t have bothered, she decided. He wasn’t interested in her legs, just in the blanket. She took her shoes when he handed them to her. He barely looked at her now. As she put her shoes on quickly, she wondered what had changed his mood.

  “Get up,” he coaxed. “I need to roll up the rest of my bedroll.”

  She scowled at him. “Now you’re in a terrible hurry to get rid of me. What happened to `you’re too pretty to
leave’?”

  River risked a glance at her. Several inches of ankle were exposed while she buttoned the shoe. It reminded him of the long pale legs hidden under the wrinkled skirt. He could almost feel them wrapped around his body. He turned away to look for his hat. “Nothing, yet. Make your trip to the bushes, then let me get you back to the wagon.”

  Sarah grinned and hurried to comply. River watched her go. “You’re a temptation, Sarah,” he whispered under his breath.

  He had the blankets rolled before she got back. While he waited, he tried to decide how much he should tell her. He had made some decisions during the night that he longed to share with her, but he couldn’t risk having her reject them.

  It would be smarter, he decided, to wait until he was sure she had forgiven him. She didn’t even trust him enough to tell him her story yet. Not that he could blame her; he hadn’t encouraged her when she had tried. But now things would be different. When she felt safe, when she trusted him, she would tell him, and he would believe her.

  He was standing with the bedroll over one shoulder and his rifle in hand when Sarah joined him. She watched him as she approached, wishing she could read what he was thinking in the way he stood. She had taken the few remaining pins from her hair, aware that several had been lost. She knew there was little chance of finding them in the dark even if River was inclined to wait, which she was sure he wasn’t.

  They set off immediately for the wagons, River keeping one hand on Sarah’s arm to hurry her along. He tried not to notice how her loose hair flowed freely down her back. He tried to pretend he didn’t know how soft it felt. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her rake her fingers through it, giving it a shake. He tried to look away.

  Sarah was feeling completely confused by the time he stopped her. They were near the ash trees where he had stopped her the night before, and they could see the wagon and the small red glow of last night’s coals. His hand was still on her arm when he whispered, “Walk in like you’ve just gone out the way you do each morning.”

  Sarah nodded, trying not to be embarrassed that he had paid attention to her personal habits.