Sasha hated refusing him after he’d been so nice all day and had spent so much money on her, but at the moment, the only person she wanted to be with was Jim. He loved her uncle as much or even more than she, and he understood her agony and grief in a way Roman never could.
Fifteen
On the way home, Jim pulled the wagon to a stop where the road diverged, one way leading to the new house and the other to the cabin.
“Are you sure about this?”
Sasha nodded, then dabbed her nose again with Jim’s handkerchief. “I need to see it.”
“It’s just a burned down cabin.”
She waved her hand to the left. “Just go. Please.”
The overwhelming since of loss she felt as the cabin came into view a few minutes later threatened to knock her off the buggy seat.
Her uncle was gone.
And now she was alone. Again.
Smoke still drifted up, and embers glowed in the debris that once was her uncle’s cabin. Ashes drifted like black snow on the light afternoon breeze. Her hopes and dreams floated away with them.
“Seen enough?” Jim asked, his voice laced with compassion.
She nodded, and he clucked to the horses, which moved away at a quick pace, obviously happy to be away from the heat of the debris.
Numb, she watched a waddling mother duck lead her ducklings into the pond as they passed. As they rode up the hill, the house came into view. She sniffed and held back a sob. Such a big, beautiful house, and she alone would live there now.
She looked down at her ruined dress. Soot from Jim’s clothing had turned the pale blue gown gray. It was just as well, because she knew she would never wear it again. She’d been off having a gay time while her uncle had suffered and died. The dress would only remind her that she should have been here. Maybe she could have made a difference.
Jim pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the house and came around to help her down. As he set her on the ground, all her pain and fears came gushing out, and she burst into tears. “What will I do without him?”
❧
Sharing Sasha’s blinding pain, Jim pulled her into his arms. Her dress was already ruined, so he no longer worried about that. He ran his hand over her soft hair and held her head against his chest. She sobbed and moaned with grief, her tears bleeding through his shirt.
Against his will, Jim’s own tears streamed forth. He’d miss his old friend more than anyone he’d ever lost.
Finally, Sasha stepped back a half step, but Jim kept her in the circle of his arms. He loved this woman and wanted to protect her. She glanced up, looking so pitiful with her red, splotchy face and moist eyelashes. “What am I going to do?”
He wiped away her tears with his thumbs and tried to smile. “You’ll go on living—here in Dewey’s house. He built it for you, you know.”
Sasha blinked, looking confused.
“He told me just last week that he’d promised his sister to build a fine house so that when you and your mother came to visit, y’all would have a nice place to stay. He said he’d never given up hope and knew you’d come one day.”
Sasha’s chin and lower lip quivered. A fresh set of tears escaped.
Jim knew he shouldn’t take advantage of her grief, but he couldn’t have stopped if a hundred horses held him back. He lowered his face and kissed her, hoping to comfort her. Needing her comfort.
For a brief moment, she just stood there, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss.
Oh, how he loved this woman and wanted to protect her and see her happy. Finally, needing air, he pulled away. A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m afraid I got your face dirty.”
A fiery rose blush glowed through the soot and tears. “It’s all right. I’m a mess anyway.”
He tugged at her hands. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.” He escorted her upstairs and stopped in the hall outside her room. “Will you be all right while I get some fresh water so you can clean up?”
She nodded, but the look she gave him was like a puppy that had lost its master. He took her face in his hands and stared deeply in her eyes. “We’ll get through this—together.”
❧
The next morning, Jim paced the entryway to the back of the house, willing Sasha to come down. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone but knew he couldn’t sleep under the same roof, so he’d pitched his tent in the backyard. But sleep had eluded him. He couldn’t get Dewey’s battered body or Sasha’s distraught expression out of his mind.
A creak on the stairs alerted him to Sasha’s presence. She glided down, dressed in a gray cotton work dress. She flashed him an embarrassed smile and looked at her skirt. “I don’t have anything black to wear.”
Jim’s heart ached for her. “Dewey wouldn’t want you to wear mourning clothes.”
She shrugged and walked past him into the kitchen. “Thanks for making coffee. I sure need it today.”
She poured a cup and sat at the kitchen table. Jim pulled a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon off the back burner and set it on the table in front of her.
“I don’t think I can eat a thing.”
The chair squeaked as Jim pulled it away from the table and sat. “You need to keep up your strength. We. . .uh. . .have to go to town and take care of the funeral arrangements.”
Sasha’s lower lip quivered.
“I can do it alone if you don’t want to.”
Her gaze darted up. “No, I need to have a part. It’s the least I can do for Uncle Dewey.”
Jim picked up the fork and stabbed a piece of egg. “Here, eat this.”
She looked at it and shook her head. Jim ignored her resistance and held the bite against her mouth. She peeked up at him, a red blush staining her cheeks, and then she opened her mouth and took the bite.
“I’ve been thinking. You shouldn’t stay here alone.” Jim tapped the table while she ate. “I moved my tent to the backyard in case you need me, but you really should have a woman here with you.”
Sasha shook her head. “I’ll be fine by myself.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but I was thinking maybe you could help out an oil widow or two and yourself at the same time.”
Her eyes sparkled at his comment. “You know, that might not be a bad idea.”
❧
Sasha stood in front of Mary McMurphey, trying hard not to wring her hands. The widow had seemed defensive when Sasha asked her if she’d like to come work for her.
“I don’t know, ma’am. It’s a far piece to travel, and I’d hate to leave my children all day.”
“My foreman, Jim Conners”—Sasha waved a hand toward the buggy—“can build a room on the back of the house where you can live with your children.”
Something flickered in Mary’s eyes. Hope maybe? Then they dulled. “But I would still have to leave them alone all day, ma’am. Here, everyone watches out for the children.”
Sasha felt herself losing ground. “Well, the fact is, I could use two people. Someone to tend the house and another person to cook. Would you happen to know someone who is a good cook who might have an older child that could keep the children during the day? I wouldn’t mind paying her a little something for the chore.”
Sasha could tell the wheels in Mary’s mind were churning. She was certain she’d made headway.
Mary looked across the ragged tent city, and Sasha followed her gaze. A thin woman stood holding a toddler while a teenage girl brushed her hair.
“Rita is a mighty fine cook, and she lost her husband a few months back.”
“Do you think she’d be interested in employment?”
Mary nodded. “I reckon she would. She’s got three young’uns to feed.”
The blond urchin Sasha remembered from the festival skipped over and wrapped her arms around Mary’s skirt. “Who’s she, Mama? Her dress is purdy.”
“Miss Di Carlo, ma’am, this here’s my daughter, Leah. She’s my oldest. My son, Philip, is around somewhere.”
Sasha
stooped down and held out her hand to the little girl. “A pleasure to meet you, Leah.”
The child giggled, then glanced at her mother. When Mary nodded, Leah shook Sasha’s hand. Straightening, Sasha looked at Mary again. “So do we have a deal? I can pay you ten dollars a week and provide you with a room of your own and all the food your family can eat.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “It’s far too much, ma’am.”
“I disagree. I desperately need the help and wouldn’t mind the companionship. My offer is the same for Rita. You’ll talk to her?”
Mary finally smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I surely will. And I’d be honored to accept the position. When should I start?”
Sasha figured it would take Jim several weeks to finish the room but hated to think of Mary and her children living in such squalor till then. “What if you pack up your things, and I’ll send Jim to fetch you in two days. You can set up your tent in my backyard and live there until he finishes your room.”
“That sounds just fine and dandy, ma’am. I’ll work hard. You won’t be sorry for giving me this chance.”
“I have no doubts that you will, and I look forward to getting to know you and your family better.”
Jim hopped off the wagon as Sasha approached. Her heart lurched at the smile on his face.
“Was she interested?”
“Yes, after I convinced her how much I needed her assistance. And she’s going to ask her friend if she’d like to be the cook.”
“You did a good thing today, Sasha. I’m proud of you.”
She beamed at him as she thought of the two rooms he would have to build, which meant he’d have to stay a while longer. “Yes, I think I did. Thank you for suggesting it.”
He helped her up, then took his seat again. He slapped the reins on the mare’s back, and the buggy lurched forward. “You might need to buy another buggy and a horse so the women can get to work. It would be too far to walk twice a day, and I won’t have time to pick them up and bring them back everyday.”
“I. . .uh. . .told Mary that you’d build her and the cook rooms of their own behind the house.”
Jim glanced at her, looking serious. “Did you, now?”
Sasha nodded, hoping he wouldn’t mind. “I didn’t think they’d feel comfortable living upstairs with me.”
“Guess I’ll just have to hang around for a while then.” The smile he gave her set her heart stampeding.
“I guess you will.”
As they drove home, Sasha savored her success. She’d have help with the house and would be assisting two of the oil widows and their children. Not to mention Jim would have to stay longer since he now had two more bedrooms to build.
Jim had been there for her since Dewey’s death and seemed comfortable around her—at least until he’d kissed her. Now he seemed to avoid her unless she needed him for something. Was it because he never could think of her as more than a friend? Did he regret kissing her?
She had compared Roman and Jim again and again, and every time, Jim won hands down. But did it really matter? She might have to return to New York soon. Uncle Dewey had said his property would be hers when he was gone, but no one expected him to be gone this quickly. Maybe she should reconsider building those extra rooms.
Jim guided the buggy down the road toward home, but at the fork, he turned the horse toward town. Sasha peeked sideways at him.
“We have to go in to Keaton and make funeral arrangements.” He pressed his lips together in a sympathetic smile.
The joys of the day leaked away like milk in a cracked jar.
Sixteen
The day after her visit to Rag Town, Sasha allowed Jim to escort her away from the small church. It had touched her heart that so many people had turned out for her uncle’s funeral. Mary and Rita, along with several other oil widows, offered their condolences, and Mary had handed her a fresh-baked loaf of pan bread.
She clung to Jim’s arm as they walked down the hill. Sweat trickled down her back from the warm sun. Sparrows chirped and flittered happily in the nearby trees, oblivious to her pain.
She’d only known her uncle a short time but had loved him dearly. Her heart ached to think she’d never see his twinkling eyes or receive another hug from him again. Using her lace handkerchief, she dabbed at her eyes, knowing they must be red and puffy. Jim patted her arm and gave her a reassuring smile.
A shadow darkened their path. Sasha tore her gaze away from Jim and saw Roman standing in their way, his hat in his hands.
“I’m terribly sorry about your uncle. I’ve talked with the sheriff, and he’s using all his resources to find out who attacked him.”
Jim tucked her a bit closer to him. She didn’t fuss about his protectiveness but rather appreciated it.
Roman’s dark brows dipped. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you.” She smiled and stepped around Roman, only wanting to return to the quiet of Dewey’s house. But they still had to take her uncle’s body back to the ranch and bury him in the family plot. She didn’t have the strength within her today to deal with Jim and Roman fussing like two dogs over one bone.
She spotted the wagon parked in the shade of an elm tree and made a beeline for it. Soon they’d be back home, and she needed to decide what to do. Here she’d gone and gotten up Mary and Rita’s hopes for a better life and asked Jim to stay and build their rooms, yet she had no idea if she even had a right to stay and live on Dewey’s property. Jim had suggested looking for a will before, but she’d been too disheartened to consider it.
Almost to the wagon, Jim stopped suddenly, pulling on her arm. She looked up to see the three men who’d accosted her uncle on several occasions standing near the buggy. She shook her head and heaved a sigh. They were the last people she wanted to see today. In fact, she believed in her heart that these men were responsible for her uncle’s death.
The trio lined up, blocking the path to their buggy. The short, heavy-set man tipped his hat to her, looking like a fat cat who’d captured a mouse. “We were right sorry to hear about your uncle, ma’am.” The sickeningly sweet smile he flashed made Sasha’s stomach churn.
Tall Man stepped forward, looking pleased with himself. A wary premonition charged down her spine, raising tiny bumps on her arms. “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you of this on the day of your uncle’s funeral, but Dewey Hummingbird willed all his property to the town of Keaton in the event of his death.”
Numb with shock, she clutched Jim’s arm like a lifeline. She peeked up and saw the same astonishment on his face that she felt.
Jim stepped forward, setting her behind him. “I don’t believe that for one second.”
Tall Man opened his hands and held them out, palms up. “I’m afraid it’s the truth. Dewey had no relatives except you and your mother, and since he hadn’t heard from you in years, he decided to leave his property to the town.”
Jim’s hands rested on his hips, his back rigid. “I still don’t believe that. What proof do you have?”
“It’s common knowledge. There was big talk all over Keaton after he’d filed his will with the town attorney.” Tall Man hiked his chin, rocked back on his heels, and gloated.
“We’ll just see about that.” Jim’s fist clenched, and then he swiveled toward her, taking her hand and pulling her with him. “Let’s go talk with the attorney.”
“You have two weeks to pack up and clear out.” Tall Man’s victorious shout made Sasha shudder. How could this be happening?
She took two steps to each of Jim’s, trying to keep up. “Do you think that’s true? That Uncle Dewey left his land to the town?”
Jim glanced at her. “No, I don’t, but without his will, we can’t prove it. I can’t see the town knowing Dewey’s business anyway. He wouldn’t have mentioned what was in his will, nor would the attorney.”
“Do you have any idea where he might have put it?”
“I don’t
know. Maybe his new room?” Jim rubbed his hand along his nape and peered at her. “I just hope it wasn’t in the cabin.”
Two weeks to clear out. What would she do? Since her uncle had put her name on the bank account, she had plenty of money, but she didn’t particularly want to return to New York. She wasn’t even sure if she’d still have a job with the theater troupe. Geoffrey hadn’t been happy when she’d left, right on her mother’s tail. He’d wanted her to take Cybil’s place.
She probably wouldn’t have to work, at least not for a long while, but she needed something to occupy her time. Maybe she could start over somewhere else.
But where?
She dreaded the thought of leaving her new home. She’d finally found a place to put down roots, but it was being stolen away from her.
Jim’s steps slowed in front of the attorney’s office, and he reached for the door knob. When he lowered his hand, Sasha noticed the cardboard sign affixed to the window. Gone on holiday. Will return on July 16.
She glanced at Jim. “But that’s three weeks from now! What are we going to do?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “We go home and find that will.”
❧
“It’s not here.” Sasha flopped onto her uncle’s bed, looking dejected. “Where could Uncle Dewey have hidden his will?”
Jim wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but he kept his distance. They had too many other things to worry about right now and didn’t need to complicate the situation with romance. He pulled out the lone chair in Dewey’s new bedroom, spun it around, and sat on it backwards. Leaning his arms on the top, he surveyed the messy room. Drawers hung open where they’d searched through Dewey’s meager supply of clothing. Even the bedding was askew from their quest.
“I don’t know where else to look.” Sasha stopped crushing the bedcovers in her fist and looked at him. “Do you know of any secret hiding places he had?”
Jim shook his head, wishing he did. “No. If he had such a place, it was most likely in the cabin.”
“Maybe we should search through the ashes. Something might have survived.”
“Good idea.” He offered her a weak smile. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, but at the same time, he didn’t want to discourage her. She’d already lost her uncle, and now she could well lose the home she’d put so much effort into.
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