A Lady Like Sarah

by Margaret Brownley

Sarah walked over to Jed and hugged him. "I'll never forget what you did," she said, knowing his heart was in the right place.

  George shrugged in disgust. "We ride out tonight." He spun around and stalked away. Sarah called after him. He stopped and waited for her to catch up to him.

  "George . . ." She bit her lip. "I love you. I truly do. After Ma and Papa died, you took care of us. Done kept us all together, you did." It might have worked better had he accepted Mrs. Bonheimer's help. But she had no heart to blame him at this late date. Right or wrong, he did what he thought best.

  The anger left his face and his eyes softened. "I'll always take care of you, Sarah. You gotta stop runnin' off all the time and doing the first fool thing that pops into your head."

  "I'm not a little girl anymore," she said.

  George looked surprised, as if suddenly forced to confront something outside his range of experience. "I—I can see that. You . . . uh . . . look mighty pretty in that frock. But you're still a woman, and you need a man to take care of you."

  She lifted her chin. "Not the way you see fit."

  A muscle twitched at his jaw. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  With a pang she realized her mistake in looking up to him. As a child, she thought George could do no wrong. Now she wondered if he was capable of doing what was right.

  "Today I almost got my neck in a noose—"

  "And you almost took us down with you," he said, his voice harsh as thunder. "Now maybe you'll listen to me!"

  She shook her head. "I can't listen to you anymore, George."

  "You have no choice." He pointed to his chest with his thumb. "I'm your brother. Without me, you'd have nothing!"

  "I still have nothing," she argued. "I don't have a home. I don't have a future. What kind of life is that?"

  George frowned with impatience. "I don't have time for this."

  "Robbing stages is wrong," she continued.

  George's eyes glittered. "That Bible thumper has you brainwashed."

  Refusing to allow herself to be intimidated by him any longer, she threw back her head and met his eyes without flinching. "It's wrong, and our ma and papa would turn over in their graves if they knew their children were outlaws. We're stealing, and ain't nothing you say gonna change that."

  "You call it what you want, little sister. I don't want to hear about it."

  "I'm not your little sister," she said evenly. "I'm all grown up. I don't have to do what you tell me anymore."

  His jaw tightened. "You ain't got no choice. I'm the head of the family." He turned and stalked away, his fists held tight at his side.

  Having no intention of giving up so easily, she called after him, "George, I'm begging you. No more robberies."

  He stopped, his back toward her. "We pull out tonight. Be here." With that he stomped up the wooden steps and walked into the log outbuilding.

  She turned to find Jed and Robert staring at her. Without a word, she ran to her horse and rode back to town.

  Thirty-six

  Her heart heavy, she searched the road ahead for Ma's Boardinghouse. She was a free woman and no longer had to worry about being hanged, but as long as her brothers continued with their outlaw ways, her future looked as bleak as a coal mine.

  She would always be worried about the next holdup, the next wanted poster, the next newspaper headline. She feared that her brothers' outlaw ways would hamper Justin's work. Even more worrisome was the thought of Elizabeth being subjected to the taunts of other children—and possible danger from those who might take revenge on the Prescott brothers by harming her.

  Dark clouds gathered behind the distant hills. The wind had picked up, and the trees bowed like performers onstage.

  Spotting the sign on the fence, she tethered her horse next to Justin's. Noah moved his head up and down and nuzzled her with his nose. She stroked his forehead. "Hi there, fella. It's been awhile."

  Moments later, Justin greeted her at the door with a tender kiss, then pulled her through the house and into Ma's cozy kitchen.

  Glancing at the neat counters, crisp curtains, and steaming kettle, Sarah was assaulted with regrets. She remembered her mama's kitchen and suddenly realized how much she had missed through the years. Missed having a home. Since her parents' death, she and her brothers had moved from town to town, taking shelter in abandoned buildings, shoddy hotels, and, on occasion, cold, drafty caves.

  The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air. Sarah recalled helping her mother roll out pastry dough. She could hardly remember her mother's face, yet she could remember every detail of that long-ago day.

  Such a sense of longing and loss washed over her, it was all she could do to breathe. What would it feel like to live a normal life again? To follow recipes instead of stagecoach routes? To wield a rolling pin instead of a gun?

  "You okay?" Justin asked, as if he sensed her anguish.

  Before she could answer, Ma spoke up. "Of course she's okay. She's just dazed from all that's happened. Sit down and I'll fix you somethin' to eat."

  Sarah sat at the table across from Justin. Ma fixed them bowls of hot vegetable soup with homemade muffins.

  Justin led them in prayer. There was a lot to thank God for, and Justin didn't leave a single thing out.

  "Mercy me," Ma said, when he ended the prayer. "I do believe the soup has gone cold."

  Sarah giggled.

  Ma added more hot soup to their bowls. "Folks out here don't have a mind to sit around listening to a lot of talk," she said kindly.

  Justin regarded her thoughtfully. "So what you're saying is I better stop being so wordy."

  Ma gave an approving nod. She leaned closer to Sarah. "He catches on fast."

  Sarah smiled. It was one of the things she loved about Justin. If only George was as eager to change his ways, how much happier she would be.

  "I'll leave you two to enjoy your lunch in peace," Ma said. Wiping her hands on her apron, Ma left the room, leaving the two of them alone.

  Justin studied her thoughtfully as if he sensed something amiss. "I'm curious . . . Why did Jed turn himself in?"

  "He told me he didn't like all those strangers claimin' to be my brothers when they weren't," Sarah explained.

  Justin laughed. "If Briggs only knew that he let the real Prescott brothers go, he'd have a fit."

  After lunch, he stood and pulled her to her feet. "Come, I want to show you something." He called to Ma in the other room. "Do you mind watching Elizabeth for a while? I want to show Sarah the church."

  "You two run along," Ma called back. "That sweet baby and I will be just fine."

  A short while later, Justin led Sarah by the hand through the double doors of the church.

  "What do you think?" he asked, his eyes dancing with joy.

  Not wanting to hurt his feelings, Sarah didn't know what to say. The rusted tin roof had more holes than a bucket after target practice. The windows were broken. Floorboards warped. The church was as battered as a war-weary soldier.

  None of this seemed to matter to Justin. "What do you think?" he repeated impatiently, his face split in a wide grin. Never had she seen him look so happy. This was truly where he belonged.

  "It's . . . really something," she managed, and his smile grew wider.

  Lifting her eyes, she followed the waning rays of sun all the way to the rafters. There was as much sky as roof. Storm clouds blotted out the bright light, casting moving shadows upon the church floor.

  "It looks like the inside of your church is about to be baptized," she said.

  He laughed. "If you think it's bad now, you should have seen it before. How are you with a hammer and nails?"

  She smiled. "I reckon I can hold my own."

  His grin practically reached both ears. "Good. I wouldn't want it to rain on our wedding."

  She choked back a sob and turned away.

  He lay a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah?"

  She closed her eyes against the pain that welled up
inside her. She wanted so much to put her past behind her and build a new life with Justin. But wishing didn't make it so, and being a Prescott made it impossible.

  While they traveled across country, Justin had been in her world and their dissimilarities seemed not to matter. But now that she was in his world, their differences seemed insurmountable.

  "I don't belong here," she whispered. She turned to face him. "I have to go."

  Justin stiffened, the blood seeming to drain from his face. "I don't understand . . . I thought once your legal problems were over, we could be together. I thought that's what you wanted."

  "I do," she whispered. "I do."

  "Then why, Sarah? Why can't you stay?"

  She swallowed the sob that rose to her throat. "You belong here. I don't."

  "You belong with me," he said, reaching for her.

  She backed away. She couldn't do what was right by him if he touched her. Her resolve was far too fragile, her heart far too self-serving.

  "My . . . my brothers . . . I. . . We're leaving tonight."

  He stared at her dumbfounded. "You're going with your brothers?"

  "What choice do I have?" she asked. "They're my family."

  Something seemed to die in his eyes, an inner light dimmed like an extinguished candle. "What about me? Elizabeth? We're your family."

  She felt a twisting, searing pain in her heart, and she was nearly overwhelmed with anguish. But she didn't dare allow herself to give in to despair. Too much was at stake.

  "Why are you doing this to me?" she cried. "Why?"

  His face clouded in confusion. "Doing what?"

  "Making it so difficult."

  "I want us to be together. What's so difficult about that?"

  "How can you say that? I'm a Prescott. Just like my brothers."

  "You're not like your brothers, Sarah. How they choose to live their lives has nothing to do with you."

  "That's a fool thing to say, and you know it. My brothers ain't exactly pickin' grapes off the Lord's grapevine. They're thieves. What they do reflects on me."

  "They have their lives, and you have yours."

  She loved him even more for believing the way he did, but she knew from painful experience that people judged families as a whole.

  "When they pull off their next robbery, the wanted posters will have my name on it," she said. "The name I was born with. How will your church feel about us then?"

  "Sarah, please, we'll work this out."

  She shook her head. "My reputation will follow you and Elizabeth for the rest of your born days. All the pretty words in the world ain't gonna change that. I can't do this to the two of you. I. . ." Her voice faltered. "I love you too much."

  "Sarah, listen to me. When I lost my church in Boston, I thought my life was over. I had no idea why God turned against me. But thinking back, I realize that it was all part of His master plan to bring the two of us together."

  "Some master plan," she said. "I ain't been nothin' but trouble to you from the first day we met. Don't go sayin' otherwise, you hear?"

  "I wouldn't have wanted it any other way," he said with such heartfelt meaning, he took her breath away. "More than that, you believe in miracles."

  Sarah held on to what little resolve she had left. She had to make him understand how she could only hurt him in the future, hurt the church he loved so dearly, hurt the child that had come to mean so much to both of them.

  She lifted her lashes to him. "It seems to me that a person is only entitled to so many miracles in a lifetime. I'm afraid I've run through my allotment in the last few weeks."

  "Sarah—"

  "Don't, Justin." She cast her eyes downward. "It's killin' me to do this, but I ain't got a choice."

  She spun around and ran down the aisle. Her red boots hammered the warped wooden floor like nails in a coffin.

  He chased her down the aisle and out the double doors. "Sarah . . . please don't go. Talk to me."

  Without so much as a backward glance, she mounted the horse George bought for her and raced out of town.

  A bolt of lightning zagged across the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder and large drops of rain.

  Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one trailed behind, she veered off the road and into the woods.

  Though the trail leading to her brother's hideout was hidden by overgrown brush, she found it again without any difficulty.

  Shoving two fingers into her mouth she whistled, signaling her arrival, and slid off her horse. The door swung open and Jed motioned her in with a wave of his hand.

  She tethered her horse next to the others. Ducking her head against the rain, she ran inside.

  Jed greeted her. "It's 'bout time you got back. George is havin' a conniption."

  George stood staring at an old cannon, probably left there following the War Between the States, his hands behind his back. He didn't even look at her when he spoke.

  "Are you sure you weren't followed?"

  "I'm sure," she said.

  He turned. "We should have been long gone by now. It's only a matter of time before the marshal figures out that he let the real Prescotts go, if he don't already know."

  Robert filled a tin cup with coffee and handed it to her. "Relax, all of you. The marshal won't want anyone to know he had us in the palm of his hand and let us get away."

  "Shh . . . someone's coming," Jed said, peering out of one of the dirty windows.

  "Who is it?" Sarah asked.

  His back to the wall, Jed quickly glanced outside. "Drats! It's the preacher."

  George glared at her. "You ain't nothin' but trouble."

  Sarah's knees almost caved beneath her. "I don't want to see him," she whispered. "Tell him to go away."

  Her three brothers exchanged looks before George started for the door. "I'll talk to him."

  "No, not you," Sarah said. "Let Robert talk to him." She knew that of her three brothers, Robert would be the most gentle and kind. "Please, George."

  George nodded to Robert. "Tell him to get lost. And make it quick."

  Thirty-seven

  Justin didn't know what he'd hoped to accomplish, but he couldn't just let Sarah walk out of his life. Not without a fight. He'd hoped that she'd had time to reconsider, but the moment he saw Robert emerge from the dilapidated log building, his hopes all but vanished.

  Robert wasted no time getting to the point. "She doesn't want to talk to you."

  Justin glanced at the old fort building, both heartened and dismayed by the small movement in the window. She was so close, yet so very far away.

  "I'm not leaving till she does."

  Robert moved to the guard station out of the rain, and Justin followed suit. For several moments the two men stood in silence, oblivious to the puddle of water that formed around their feet.

  Robert was the first to speak. "What's goin' on with you two? When Sarah left earlier, I was sure she would never come back."

  Hands on his hips, Justin glanced down at the little river of water that ran past his boots. "I want to marry Sarah."

  "I thought as much."

  Justin nodded. "I love her."

  "I know."

  "She turned me down."

  "Because of our outlawing ways?" Robert asked.

  "Yes."

  Robert gazed into the distance as if seeing something in the distant past.

  "I once asked a girl to marry me," Robert began slowly, his face soft with sadness. "Prettiest girl you ever did see. Blonde hair. Big blue eyes. Her mother was a schoolteacher, her father a cabinet maker. She came from a real family, and I wanted what she had. A home. A profession I could be proud of. Children.

  "She turned me down even after I swore to go straight. Said that whatever my family did would haunt us for the rest of our lives."

  Justin gave a brief nod. "Sarah said practically the same thing."

  Robert rubbed a hand over his unshaven chin. "She's right, you know. You being a preacher and all."
r />   "There's a baby who needs a mother, and Sarah . . . she's great with her. She's everything we both need, Elizabeth and me." Justin studied Robert's face, sensing both a tortured soul and a sympathetic ear.

  Robert stared back, his forehead farrowed. "She's a Prescott."

  Grimacing, Justin took a moment to gather his thoughts before meeting Robert's troubled eyes again. "Sarah always said nice things about you. She said you taught her how to read and write. Seems to me of all her brothers, you've shown her the most concern."

  Robert's eyes darkened with emotion. "George believes he's doing right by us."

  "Believing doesn't make it so."

  For the longest while, Robert didn't say a word. He just kept staring at some distant memory. Heaving a sigh, he stepped from beneath the overhang. He paused for a moment, rain beading his head and trickling down his face. Finally, he turned toward the fort. "Stay here."

  "Let me go with you," Justin called after him.

  Robert's steps faltered. "Stay right where you are, Reverend. You've got a whole lot of prayin' to do."

  As soon as she heard Robert's footfall, Sarah spun around to face the door. Robert walked inside and took his time wiping the mud off his boots though the scruffy wood floor was already covered with dust, dried leaves, and animal droppings.

  Sarah took one look at his grim face and her heart sank. His encounter with Justin must have been even more difficult than she imagined. "Is . . . is Justin—"

  Instead of answering her question, Robert surprised her by talking about a girl named Laurie Anne. She never knew the girl's name. The only reason she knew about her at all was because she had followed Robert one night to find out why he was acting so secretive. Sarah had only been sixteen at the time and Robert eighteen, but it was obvious he was in love. She questioned him about the gir later, but he refused to tell her anything and made her promise not to say a word to George and Jed. Now, he went into great detail.

  "Her smile was as bright as the sun," he said.

  Sarah had never heard Robert talk with such passion, seen such fire in his eyes. This was how he wrote, not how he usually spoke. Sarah always thought that his literary voice was far stronger than his actual voice, but today he proved her wrong.