A Lady Like Sarah

by Margaret Brownley

  "What's gotten into you, Robert?" Jed asked, shrugging with impatience. "You're acting like a lovesick coon."

  Ignoring him, Robert continued. "She loved reading my stories."

  Sarah stared at him in surprise. "You let her read your work?"

  Robert nodded. "I figured if I'm gonna ask a girl to marry me, she had the right to know what she was gettin' herself into."

  His two brothers gaped at him as if he'd lost his mind. Neither George nor Jed had much patience with his scribblings.

  Sarah squeezed his arm. That's wonderful," she said. She frowned. "Isn't it?"

  Robert covered her hand with his own. "Sarah, you found a good man out there. He loves you and wants to take care of you. It's what we always wanted for you. What I always wanted for you."

  Sarah tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tight. She glared up at him. "A man like him can't be married to the likes of me. Don't you understand? He's a preacher. A man of God, and I ain't nothin' but a—"

  "He loves you," Robert said with firm conviction, as if that alone were enough.

  Sarah felt what fragile control was left begin to falter. "And I love him." She struggled to keep her voice steady. "But that don't change nothin'."

  George shoved a chair aside. "What is this? We've got more important things to worry about. Wells Fargo is moving a big shipment of gold. If we don't hit the trail, we're gonna be out of luck."

  Her stomach knotted, and a sick feeling came over her. She swallowed the bile that burned her throat. More shipments, more gold. Would it ever stop?

  Releasing her hand, Robert turned and faced his brother. "There isn't going to be any gold."

  George leveled him a glowering look. "What kind of crazy talk is that?"

  Robert didn't so much as blink. "We're done. The robberies, the holdups, they end now, in this room."

  Sarah stared at Robert in disbelief. Dear God, let it be true . . .

  George's eyes bulged. "Have you gone plain loco? What we're doing . . . It's only right that they should pay after what they did to our parents. Our family."

  "And Wells Fargo did pay, George. For sixteen years they've been paying. But so has Sarah. So have the rest of us. We take the bank's money, and the bank robs us of any sort of a decent life. Do we really want to spend the rest of our lives on the run?"

  "Robert has a point," Jed said, his voice wavering. "We almost ended up with a noose around our necks tryin' to save Sarah. Next time, we might not be so lucky."

  George jabbed his finger against Jed's chest. "If we were in any danger, it's only 'cuz you had to go and announce to the world who we are."

  "Jed did a very brave thing," Sarah said. She never thought Jed had the backbone to act so bold. She could only imagine what it must have cost him to stand up in front of the marshal and confess to being a Prescott.

  George's face turned a bright red. "What's wrong with you all?" he exploded. "Gone soft, have you?"

  "Not soft," Robert said quietly, his measured voice a startling contrast to George's thunderous roar. "We just got smart, is all."

  It was three to one and George looked trapped. His eyes grew wild. His gaze swept from one to the other, as if to search for the weakest link among his united siblings.

  "George," Sarah pleaded. "I love you, and I'll always be grateful to you for takin' care of us after our parents died. But Robert is right. There's a wonderful life waitin' for us. One that we can be proud of. One that our dear ma and papa would want us to have."

  George leaned toward her. His face dark with cold fury. "Every time you leave the family, you get into trouble and come runnin' back."

  "That's 'cuz I never really leave the family," she said. "How can I? Our reputation follows me wherever I go. There's no gettin' away from it."

  "It's that preacher." George all but spit out the words. "He's the one who put all these fancy ideas into your fool head."

  Refusing to let her anguish overcome her control, she lifted her chin and forced herself to stand her ground. "I've always wanted to live a normal life. I wanted to find me a husband. Have children. Justin didn't put those ideas in my head. All he did was make me realize that wantin' those things ain't—isn't wrong."

  George glanced from one to another like a cornered animal, and Sarah could only guess what was going through his mind. As the oldest, George had exerted his rightful place as head of the family. His brothers rarely argued with him and all through her growing-up years, she never even questioned his authority. But today, his younger siblings stood united and he looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

  He staggered around like he had too much to drink. Placing both hands on a wooden table, he hung his head low. A tall man, he suddenly seemed to shrink, every curve of his body spelling defeat.

  For the longest while, no one spoke. The only sound that could be heard was rain beating against the roof and windows.

  Finally, George straightened. "If marriage and children are what you want, Sarah, then marry your preacher." His voice was low and hollow, sounding nothing like the brother who had ruled the family all these years. He turned to face her. "I won't stop you."

  "She can't," Robert said. "Not as long as the Prescotts are in business."

  George threw up his hands. "Then there's no helpin' it."

  "Yes, there is," Robert said in a deadly calm voice that gave Sarah goose bumps. "I'm out. I'm no longer riding with you."

  George glared at him, and Sarah feared they would come to blows. But then an amazing thing happened. Jed stepped between them and turned to face George.

  "Count me out too," he said. "I want what's right for Sarah. It's 'bout time she got herself a husband. It's over, George. The Prescott gang is done."

  "We can't quit just like that," George argued.

  "Sure we can," Jed said. "That preacher in Fort Smith done baptized us. That means that in God's eyes we got what you might call a clean slate. It's the perfect time to quit. All we gotta do is change our names and the way we dress. If what they say 'bout clothes makin' the man is true, then maybe plaid sack suits would make us look like respect'able citizens."

  George's face was pale with shock and disbelief. He stared at Jed, the follower, the one who was most likely to see things George's way.

  "Robert writes and can work for a newspaper. But what about you? What skills do you have?" His voice was harsh, almost cruel. "I'll tell you what you have. You have nothin'. You ain't got a blasted thing!"

  To his credit, Jed didn't back down, revealing a strength of character not previously shown. "Robbin' stages ain't no longer practical. Most money is being transported by railroads nowadays, and we'd be competin' with Jesse's gang. The real money today is in cattle."

  George made a dismissive gesture with his arm. "The cattle business ain't gonna last forever."

  "Maybe not," Jed said, "at least it'll make honest businessmen out of us."

  Robert nodded. "Jed's right. Cattle are pulling in some seventy dollars a head."

  Encouraged by Robert's approval, Jed's voice grew stronger. "I say we take what money we have left and invest in cattle."

  Without waiting for George to respond, Robert turned to Sarah. "Laurie Anne married someone else," he said. "So it's too late for me. But it's not too late for you, little sister. You have my word: the Prescott gang is no more."

  Sarah's eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. The end of the Prescott gang was nothing short of a miracle.

  Robert pointed outside. "Don't just stand there, Sarah. Go! There's someone waiting."

  "You mean Justin is still here?" Sarah practically flew across the room and ripped open the door. She picked up her skirts and ran down the steps, her feet slipping and sliding on the rain-soaked ground, and threw herself into his waiting arms.

  Gazing up at him, she frowned. "I know a lady's not supposed to throw herself at a man, but—"

  His lips prevented her from completing her sentence. She
stood on her toes and kissed him back.

  When at last he released her, he searched her face. "Does this mean . . .?"

  She nodded. "There ain't—isn't—gonna be no more robberies."

  "Sarah, that's great news but. . ." His face grew serious. "Going straight doesn't make up for all the crimes they committed in the past."

  "I know," she said softly. "But I reckon it's a start. Maybe God will find a way to make some good come out of this."

  "I believe God already has," Justin said, his voice tender.

  She smiled. "You just wait and see. I'm gonna be as respectable as an old maid."

  He threw back his head and laughed. "You an old maid? This I've got to see."

  "Maybe not an old maid," she conceded. "But I will be a lady if it kills me."

  He tilted his head to the side. "Not too much of a lady, I hope."

  She thought a moment. "There ain't—isn't—much chance of that. I don't think I can keep from throwin' myself at you like a lasso around a calf."

  He grinned.

  "And don't go expectin' me to wear one of these sausage-stuffing corsets."

  His grin inched wider.

  She suddenly grew serious and pulled away from him. "Oh, Justin. I don't want to cause you any trouble with your church. I'm still a Prescott."

  "I know how to fix that," he said.

  "You do? How?"

  "By changing your name to Mrs. Justin Wells," he said.

  Her heart filled with happiness. She gave herself a pinch to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "Is . . . is that what you call a divine intervention?" she asked.

  "It's what you call a marriage proposal," he replied.

  She couldn't believe her good fortune. A Prescott married to a preacher. That had to be the greatest miracle of all.

  He laughed at the expression on her face. "Let's go home to our little girl."

  Taking her by the hand, he led her to their waiting horses.

  Epilogue

  It rained the day that Reverend Justin Wells married Sarah Prescott. It rained so hard that wedding guests sitting in the church had to hold umbrellas over their heads. Recent attempts to repair the roof failed to keep the water from seeping through rusty seams and holes left by popped nail heads.

  Almost every vessel in Rocky Creek (including one that looked suspiciously like a chamber pot) had been strategically arranged to catch the drips from the leaky roof.

  Justin stood at the front of the church between two overflowing soup pots, waiting for his bride. It seemed like he had been waiting for this moment forever, though it had only been a few weeks since Sarah agreed to marry him.

  Nearby, baby Elizabeth slept in her carriage, commanding one of the few dry spots in the church.

  Since it didn't seem right to perform his own wedding ceremony, Justin had asked Judge Fassbender to do the honors. The judge stood next to him, rainwater dripping off the top of his hat and settling in a puddle around his feet.

  On cue, Ma positioned herself in front of the piano, lifted her hands to the yellowed keys, and began to play. Unable to read the notes on her rain-soaked music sheets, she played the only song committed to memory: "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

  Fortunately, the piano was so out of tune and the plip-plopping sound of water so loud that only the most discerning ear recognized the song. That ear belonged to three-year-old Jesse Moreland, who promptly began to sing on the top of his lungs.

  He was quickly admonished by his horrified mother. Once order was restored, all eyes turned to the back of the church.

  Sarah stood at the doorway, and Justin's heart skipped a beat. She was dressed all in white. Her low, square neckline was edged in pleated lace as was the wraparound skirt and gently puffed sleeves. Her flame-red hair cascaded down her back in a riot of shiny curls. On her crown she wore a wreath of blue and white wildflowers.

  Noticing the toes of her red boots showing beneath the satin hem of her skirt, Justin couldn't help but smile.

  He winked at her and she smiled back. Like a woman chasing a chicken, she then stomped down the aisle, skirting around puddles and high-stepping over dishpans in her haste to reach him.

  Breaking every rule in theThe Bazar Book of Decorum and without the least bit of hesitation, she threw her arms around Justin's neck. Her brazen behavior brought scandalized gasps from beneath the dripping umbrellas.

  "Not yet," he whispered, hands at her waist.

  The judge waited for Sarah to disengage herself from Justin and cleared his throat. As if he feared they would all be washed away before the exchange of vows, he rushed through the preliminaries quickly. In his haste, he apparently forgot the usual custom of letting the groom go first. Instead, he turned to the bride.

  "Do you, Sarah Jane Prescott, take this man, Justin Bradley Wells, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

  "Yes, yes, yes!" Sarah declared, throwing her arms around Justin once again.

  "Not yet," Justin said, gently removing her arms.

  Fassbender stared at her like a scolding parent before turning his attention to Justin. "Do you, Justin Bradley Wells, take this woman, Sarah Jane Prescott, to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

  Justin, sensing that Sarah was about to throw herself at him again, shook his head at her and reminded her softly, "Not yet."

  Sarah stared at him, a look of dismay on her face. Even Judge Fassbender looked taken aback. Murmurs rose from the crowd.

  Mrs. Hitchcock gasped from the front row, the water-drenched feathers of her hat drooping in front of her face. "Oh my, oh my."

  The other members of the Rocky Creek Quilting Bee looked equally dismayed.

  In a moment of confusion, Ma began to play another rousing rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb," much to little Jesse's delight.

  The instant the music stopped, Timber Joe stood and pointed his rifle straight at Justin. "Hold it right there, Reverend. You're not going AWOL on your wedding day. Not if I have anything to say about it."

  "AWOL? What in the world?" Realizing with sudden horror how his words had been misinterpreted, Justin quickly made amends. "I meant. . . I do, I do, I do. I do take Sarah Prescott to be my lawfully wedded wife." And so there would be no further misunderstanding, he repeated himself again. He then dug into his pocket for the gold ring ordered from the Montgomery Ward catalog and slipped it around her finger.

  "I thank God every day for bringing you and Elizabeth into my life. And I promise to love and cherish you from this day forward."

  A collective sigh greeted Justin's declaration of love, and Timber Joe backed away, bowing to the audience as if he, alone, saved the day.

  The judge dumped the water off his hat and replaced it before adding with great flourish, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

  Justin never thought to hear more beautiful words. Finally ready for Sarah's eager embrace, he waited, but Sarah didn't move. If anything, she looked uncharacteristically demure, even with the raindrops dripping off her nose.

  "Sarah . . . now," he said with a grin.

  This time, when she flung herself at him, the wedding guests burst into applause.