She stared up at him as if she expected a response, but all he could focus on was that she didn’t care for Loftus. “You really didn’t care about him?”
“What?” She blinked, then her confused expression softened. “Well, yes, as a friend. He could be quite charming, but I never thought of him as anything more. Why?”
A mallard near the pond flapped its wings and took flight, just like Jim’s heart. He couldn’t help smiling as he stared down at Sasha. He loved her sweet innocence. Her kindheartedness, and her truthfulness. There wasn’t a deceitful bone in her body.
“Sasha, do you think you could ever care for me?” The question was tough to voice, but he had to know.
She opened her mouth to respond, but he laid his fingers across her velvety lips. “Don’t answer that yet. There’s something I need to tell you first. All my life, I thought my family was part French. But I recently got a letter from my uncle. He told me about a long-held family secret—my great-grandmother, it turns out, was a full-blooded Creek Indian.”
Sasha’s eyes widened as surprise engulfed her face. She blinked several times. Then her lips curved up in a smile that sent a vibrant chord of hope strumming through his being. She laid her hand against his cheek, and he leaned into it.
“I already care about you, Jim. It doesn’t matter a whit to me if you’re Indian or white. I care about the kind, sensitive man you are.”
He kissed her then—taking his time, raining gentle kisses on her mouth, then trailing up to her eyes and ears. Holding her tight, he knew she was the woman for him. If only—
Suddenly, he stopped and pulled back, his breath coming fast. As much as he loved Sasha, even if she cared for him, he couldn’t have her—unless she gave her heart to God.
In spite of his feelings for her, he couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—make that compromise, even if it meant riding away and never seeing her again.
Sasha gave him a shy but confused smile and stepped back. “I suppose I should go help Mary and Rita finish putting the food away.”
She darted around him, and he let her go.
This time.
He had a lot of praying to do. Surely God wouldn’t allow him to love Sasha so deeply if He hadn’t meant for them to be together. Sasha had been very open to Dewey’s Bible teaching, and she’d asked them both plenty of questions. He’d pray and nurture her, and soon—he felt it in his heart—she would give her life over to God.
And then maybe they could have a future together.
But if not, Sasha would be safe in the arms of his heavenly Father.
Twenty
Sasha drove the buggy the final half mile to the barn. One day they’d have a nice, new one, but for now, Dewey’s old barn near the burned-out cabin sufficed. Today had been a good day.
She smiled, knowing Jim had shown the will to the sheriff yesterday, and he had said that nothing would be done until the town attorney returned. The sheriff also said he would lean on the three men who’d been pestering Dewey to see if they had anything to do with his death or were connected to Chamber Oil. If only they could discover who had killed her uncle and make them pay the price, then everything would be wonderful.
The light breeze lifted the scarf of her Gypsy costume and threatened to steal it away. Holding the reins with one hand, she grabbed her scarf with her free hand. She tucked it back around her face and pulled on the reins so the horse would slow. The anxious animal resisted, knowing the barn was just around the corner. But she had to be cautious. Jim and Timmy were supposed to be out checking the cattle today, but they could always return early.
With nobody in sight, she urged the buggy into the clearing beside the barn, stopped, and set the brake. As she climbed down, she heard Jim’s voice in the stable. Her heart jumped almost up to her throat, and she darted behind the building, thankful to find the back doors closed.
Picking up her skirts, she hurried down to the creek and followed it back to the main house. By staying off the road, maybe she wouldn’t be seen. Her change of clothes was hidden in the barn, but if she could get into the house without being noticed, then she could dress in her room.
But that was a big “if” with so many people around the house now.
She hated this deception, but it was for a good reason. Wasn’t it?
If she hadn’t wanted to help the other widows by taking some clothing to them, she didn’t think she would have used her costume again. Here, in Indian Territory, she could be herself and no longer needed a costume to hide behind. Still, the poor but proud widows seemed more willing to accept an old beggar woman’s help than a wealthy landowner’s, even if she was the same person on the inside.
She jolted to a stop at the sound of children’s voices as Rita and all the kids headed her way. Sasha’s heart felt as if it would beat clear out of her chest. She ducked down, hiding behind a thick cluster of bushes. Thankfully the dark colors of her clothing blended with the landscape.
“Can we really swim?” Leah asked, her high-pitched voice carrying a bit of awe.
“Yes, but you must stay in the shallow water.” Dried leaves left over from last winter crunched as Rita passed her carrying several thin, frayed towels.
Sasha made a mental note to purchase new ones for the cabins. The younger children skipped past, followed by Timmy and Angie.
Timmy snorted and leaned close to the adolescent girl. “Swim—yeah. They don’t know this is just Mom’s attempt at getting them clean before supper.”
Angie giggled and nodded her head. “I don’t mind though. As hot as it’s been, the water. . .” Her voice faded as she moved out of hearing distance.
A bead of sweat trickled down Sasha’s back, making her wish she could join them in the cool water. She took a final look around and darted to the back of the house, then stopped to listen. Jim had been in the barn, probably talking to his horse. All the children were with Rita, so that left only Mary.
Taking a deep breath, she dashed in the back door and past the kitchen. Mary was most likely upstairs. As she passed the parlor, she heard a bang and jumped.
“Hey there, what are you doing in here? Stop! Now!”
Sasha darted for the stairs, not sure what to do, but Mary snagged hold of her skirt. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you don’t belong in here. If it’s food you want, you only have to ask.”
Sasha fought to get away, but Mary yanked on her scarf, and Sasha’s mass of hair tumbled down around her shoulders.
Mary gasped and turned Sasha around. “Ma’am?” Her brows dipped.
Sasha heaved a sigh. “Yes, Mary, it’s me.”
With her hands on her cheeks, Mary stepped back. “I’m sorry for scolding you. . .but why are you dressed like that?” Utter shock replaced her normally pleasant features. “Were you the old woman who brought me that fabric?”
Sasha saw confusion in Mary’s eyes and stared at the floor. She nodded.
“But why?”
She looked at her friend. “I didn’t think you’d accept help from a wealthy woman, and I wanted so badly to help you. Uncle Dewey told me that sometimes the rich women in town simply wore a dress once or twice and tossed it in the refuse pile afterwards. In New York, the wealthy often gave their clothing to their employees or shelters for the poor. I couldn’t stand perfectly good clothing going to waste when you had such a need.” She was rambling, she knew, but the pain in Mary’s eyes cut her to the quick.
“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Mary gave her a weak smile. “We have so little in Rag Town that our pride is something we cling to. Pride in poverty, maybe. I’m sorry that I was so proud that you felt you had to use a disguise to help me. Please forgive me.”
Stunned, Sasha stared at Mary. The mantle clock in the parlor ticked a steady beat that matched the rhythm of her heart. Mary was asking Sasha’s forgiveness when she’d done nothing wrong. “I’m the one who needs forgiveness. I didn’t mean to trick you—only to help.”
“We all need God’s forgiveness—and oth
er people’s help at times.”
Sasha blurted out, “But how do I get God’s forgiveness?” She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.
Mary smiled. “Do you believe Jesus is God’s only Son? And that He died for your sins?”
“Yes, I do.” Sasha nodded.
Mary took her hand. “Then tell that to God and ask Him to forgive your sins. It’s that simple.”
She closed her eyes and did as Mary said, then Mary prayed for her and they hugged. Sasha stepped back, feeling whole for the first time in her life. Jim would be so happy to hear she gave her heart to God.
The back door banged shut. “Mary, have you seen Sasha? The buggy’s at the barn, but I can’t find—”
Sasha sensed the moment Jim noticed her. He tugged off his hat and stepped closer. His smile suddenly dropped and his brow crinkled as he took her in from head to toe.
“Sasha?”
❧
“Yes, it’s me.” Sasha’s voice sounded hollow.
“You’re the Gypsy woman? It was you all the time?”
She nodded and stood perfectly still. Mary patted her arm, then slipped away, leaving them alone.
“Why?” Jim couldn’t voice everything he felt. Betrayed, deceived, lied to—just like his father had done all his life.
“It’s complicated, but in New York, dressing like this was the only way I could go out on the streets alone. There were times I had to get away from the theater, and this is how I did it. Nobody bothers an old woman.” Sasha’s gaze begged him to understand.
“I took a beating for you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her shoulders lifted in a pitiful shrug. “I wanted to, but after you got beat up, I was. . .afraid to tell you.”
Jim had never known such deep emotional pain. “I trusted you. Loved you. But you’re a liar, just like my ol’ man.” He slammed on his hat, turned, and strode outside, savoring the loud bang the screen door made.
“You should forgive Miss Sasha. Her intentions were good.”
He halted at Mary’s soft voice, his boots slinging pebbles spiraling across the yard. “She deceived me.”
“She had a good reason to dress as she did. Sasha didn’t mean to hurt you, Mr. Conners.” Mary glanced down at her folded hands, then peeked at him. “You’ll be happy to know she just gave her heart to God.”
Jim closed his eyes. He’d prayed for this. Ought to be joyous about it. But there was nothing on God’s earth that he despised worse than a deceiver. He shook his head and stalked away.
Half an hour later, Jim felt only marginally better. He’d ridden out to the fields and checked on the cattle, but he had ended up at the remains of Dewey’s cabin, wishing his old friend were there to offer advice. He’d been ready to pack up his meager belongings and head home, but something had stopped him.
One thing he’d learned from Sasha was the value of family. At one time, he’d had to get away from his, but now he ached to see them. His sister, Katie, and her young son. His aunt and uncle. Even their rowdy kids. A smile tugged at his lips. Yeah, he actually missed his family. That was something.
Finally, weak from all the emotions that had roiled through him, Jim look at the endless blue sky. “What do I do, Lord? You know how hard I’ve prayed for Sasha to give her heart to You, and now she has. But You also know how much I hate a fraud—a deceiver. I fought twice for Sasha and didn’t even know it was her.
“Was that why You brought us together? So I could guide her toward You?
“I never wanted a woman in my life until I met her. But now everything’s changed.”
His horse pawed the ground, restless to move. Jim dismounted and dropped to his knees. “Show me what to do, Lord. Help me to forgive Sasha and trust again. And help me to forgive my father.”
❧
With her clothes changed and makeup removed, Sasha still felt awful. She couldn’t get Jim’s stricken expression out of her mind. He’d been her one true friend, and she’d shattered his view of her.
How could she make amends?
She had to find him.
Grabbing her wadded-up costume, she hurried downstairs. Rita had banked the fire in the stove until she needed it for dinner. Sasha tossed her disguise into the ashes, poked the garments with a stick, and watched them ignite.
As she stepped outside, Mary was pacing back and forth with her hands folded under her chin. She glanced up, an apologetic look on her thin face. “I tried to stop him, but he was just so angry.”
“I’ll find him. I have to make him understand.”
Mary nodded. “I’ll keep praying. God will work things out.”
“I sure hope so.” Sasha lifted her skirts and jogged down the hill past the pond. She didn’t know why, but she felt a pull to Dewey’s cabin. It was the first place where she’d found true happiness. Where she was valued for what she was on the inside and not what she looked like or who her mother was.
The memory of the pain in Jim’s eyes threatened to knock her to her knees. Besides Dewey, he’d been the only person ever to stand by her. To protect her. To be her friend. Somehow, she had to salvage their friendship. She didn’t think she could live without it.
She loved him, deep in her heart, like she’d never loved anyone else before. This love was different from what she’d felt for her uncle, and it amazed her.
As she neared the rubble that had been her uncle’s home, she skidded to a halt. Jim knelt in the ashes of the cabin with his hands over his face, his horse grazing nearby. Her whole body quivered with the need to make things right. To see him smile again.
Help me, Lord.
❧
Jim felt as if he were two men wrestling. The one man despised Sasha for her deception while the other loved her and wanted to make a life with her. He hated feeling weak and at odds with himself. The conflict was tearing him apart.
He wanted to stay mad. He wanted to forgive her.
The scripture verse where Peter asked how many times he should forgive his brother came to mind.
“Seven?” Peter had asked.
But Jesus had responded, “Seven times seventy.”
A smile tugged at his lips. As a boy he’d told his uncle that if he forgave Katie four hundred ninety times, then he wouldn’t ever have to forgive her again. He’d followed his ornery sister around saying, “I forgive you,” so many times he’d made her fume. In spite of her small size, she’d shoved him down, making him lose count. Too tired to start over, he finally gave up.
Jim heaved a sigh. That wasn’t the point Jesus had been trying to make. He needed to forgive Sasha. But how did he do that when she’d shaken him to the very core?
He heard a noise and lowered his hands. Sasha stood there in her pretty dress, looking sad and alone.
She was a gift God was offering to him if he’d only reach out and accept it. But to do so, he had to forgive her—and his father who, by his behavior, had ingrained Jim’s hate of deceit into him.
He stood and dusted off his knees and hands. The scent of smoke lingered, mixing with the odor of leather and a faint whiff of Sasha’s floral scent.
Forgiveness was a choice. And now he had to make one that could change his life.
Sasha moved closer. “Jim, I’m so sorry for not telling you the truth. I only wore my costume for protection and to help the widows. I didn’t do it to be sneaky.” Sasha’s eyes pleaded with him to believe her. “I never meant to deceive you.”
He took a step toward her, and she hesitated, then did the same.
One step toward forgiveness.
“It’s all right. I understand.”
Sasha blinked, looking stunned. Tears flooded her eyes, then spilled onto her cheeks. “You do?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for getting so angry. I understand now why you felt you needed the costume. Will you forgive me for getting upset?”
She wheezed a laugh. “Forgive you? I’m the one who should be asking that.”
Jim closed the distance betwee
n them and took her hands. “Then let’s just mutually agree to forgive. All right?”
Sasha nodded, smiling in spite of her tears. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.”
Jim grinned and dashed his own tears away with the back of his hand. In one quick swoop, he tugged her into his arms and kissed her firmly on the lips. She returned his affection with a fervor that surprised him. Finally, they came up for air.
She reached out and wiped his face. “You’ve got ashes all across your eyes. You look like a raccoon.”
A smile lifted his cheeks. “Then we’re a matched pair, because you do, too.”
Sasha’s giggle blended with the birds chirping and the locusts singing. Oh how he loved her!
And to think, moments ago he’d been willing to give her up because of his hurt and anger. What a loss that would have been.
He tightened his grip and gazed into her eyes, thrilling to the affection he saw there.
“Sasha, will you marry me?”
Stunned, she opened her mouth, then closed it. Slowly, a smile tugged at her cheeks and joy filled her countenance. “Why, yes, Mr. Conners, I believe I’d like that very much.”
They laughed and resumed kissing.
As they walked back to the house arm in arm, Jim marveled at the difference an hour could make.
Twenty-one
Three weeks later
Sasha jumped aside as Jim’s twin cousins darted past her, yelling like banshees. She giggled and shook her head. With his family there, the house buzzed with activity like a bee hive. Jim, along with his brother-in-law, Dusty McIntyre, his uncle Mason, and Mason’s oldest son, were busy raising the cabins. Jim’s aunt Rebekah and his sister, Katie, had jumped in to help Rita make the wedding cake and food for after the ceremony.
Sasha moved ten-month-old Joey, Dusty and Katie’s son, to her left arm. He patted her chest and kicked his chubby legs, begging for another piece of biscuit to gnaw on to ease his sore gums. The cute little boy had stolen Sasha’s heart from the start. Deborah, Rebekah’s only daughter, wiped her hands on her apron and ambled toward Sasha. “Would you like me to hold him for a while?”
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