Sarah Todd

by Chloe Garner

  Finally, she shook her head and went back to cleaning out the space under the house. There were times for worrying over things you couldn’t change, but those times were after everything else was done.

  ––—

  She ate a simple dinner and drank her tea, then laid out the provisions she would take up to the mine the next day. Medical provisions. Food provisions. Weapon provisions.

  The air was increasingly damp, but they still had a few days, she could feel it. They would make it up to the mine and back, maybe all in a day, tomorrow, if she pushed the boys hard enough, and then she would go into town and see about what she could do for the rest of the boys. She got the impression Granger was doing his small part to take care of them, but she didn’t think anyone else had their interests in mind as the rains bore down on them.

  And that was her job.

  Like them or not, they were Lawrence, now, and she took care of Lawrence.

  She cleaned and serviced the guns she would be taking, then saw to her clothing, making sure that the seams were sound and any patching that needed to happen was done. She washed and stowed away her hair, then put out a nice meal for Dog.

  And then she couldn’t put it off any longer.

  She took a long way to the Lawson house, arriving late, well after a reasonable bedtime for a household that should have been running on solar time. She left the black horse a ways from the house and crept up to a back window, applying a small magnet to the outside of the lock. It shouldn’t have done anything to it, but this particular window had a malfunction. It was one she knew well, because she’d put it there. When she’d lived here, this had been her room.

  She slid through the window, closing it behind her and hearing the latch click back into place before she paced across the room. All of the furniture here was still under sheets, as she’d expected it would be. No one would use the back bedrooms when the ones upstairs were available. The ones upstairs were much nicer suites.

  “We both know,” Jimmy said softly. She paused, letting her hand drop off of the doorknob and standing still for a moment before she turned. He switched on a lamp.

  She sighed.

  “We know, but it doesn’t change anything,” she said.

  “Then why are you here?” he asked. “Breaking into your old room and sneaking around my house?”

  She pressed her lips. There were things to say and there were things to not say, and she’d hoped the muddled mess of them in her head would clear itself up when she needed it to.

  His eyes were open, reading her, letting her read him. Finally he stood.

  “Is this what you want? Fine. Here it is. Everything I have. I begged you to come with us. You said no. I did everything I could do to not leave you here, and yet that may be the only mistake I’ve ever made in my life that I regret. You mean everything to me, and you always have. I don’t want to let you go again. Ever. I want you to be my wife and to be at my side for the rest of our lives.”

  It was simple, like reading the terms of a contract, but there was no reserve to him, nothing held back for negotiation or leverage. He took one step toward her, and then another. Her hands felt hot.

  “It can’t be like that,” she said softly.

  “Why not?” he asked, taking another step. She resisted the urge to take a step away from him.

  “Because it’s not who I am. I don’t know if I ever was, but I’m not now. I can’t be your lap dog. That’s what I came here tonight to tell you. I will be your attack dog. I will be at your side for the rest of my life. But... I can’t.”

  He took another slow step and now he was close enough that she could smell him, clean and well-groomed with that distinctive scent of him that she would have known in the dark. Again, she resisted leaning out.

  “That’s all there is?” he asked. She swallowed, then nodded slowly.

  “That’s all there is.”

  “Was there someone else?” he asked.

  “Never.”

  There was a space, a gap in time, a gap in space, a gap between want and satisfaction, filled only by the sound of their breaths.

  “I see,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I understand.”

  She nodded and, waiting just a moment longer for the argument that would convince her, the one that she didn’t believe existed but that she wanted anyway, but he said nothing. She nodded, slipping past him and going back to the window.

  “I should fix that,” he said. “It’s a security risk.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” she answered.

  “I guess you’ll just have to see,” he said. She felt awful, but it was what she’d had to do. There was no choice. She couldn’t be his wife. She’d spent too much of her life alone, getting harder and harder, and there was nothing left in her that could be that woman.

  She opened the window and she left.

  ––—

  They led a train of men, forty in number, up into the mountains. The air was sweet and cool, full of the promise of rain, and the ground on the wet side of the mountains seeped with water and the smell of new life. This was spring, on this side of the wet line. It rarely got really cold here, snowed only a few times a year, until you got into the truly high peaks, but the rains brought a rejuvenation to the growth cycle, and everything could feel it.

  The men were in high spirits, with money in their pockets, and while the energy kept them moving, Sarah, Jimmy, and Peter had to work harder than they would have to keep them in line and moving in the right direction.

  Sarah chose a path that took them around an additional mountain that they could have bypassed, costing them an extra hour, but limiting the path they were digging into the turf and the young men’s ability to retrace their steps. Dog enjoyed the sounds of animals around them, often running off to hunt this or that.

  They made it to the mine without conflict, outside of a few spirited arguments, and they traded Peter for Wade, turning back after less than an hour. She took the direct route home, pushing the Lawsons hard in order to get them back to their house before deep dark. Jimmy was getting more comfortable on horseback, but Wade complained the entire way home about the pace.

  When she got home that night, she wasn’t sure if she and Jimmy had actually exchanged more than a few words all day.

  She went to the train station the next morning to check for mail and supplies, then went into town. She found Paulie on the front porch of the tavern, smoking a cigarette with a rifle across her lap.

  “How is the dormitory going?” Sarah asked, leaning against the front wall of the tavern.

  “Ain’t had much chance to work on it,” Paulie said without looking at her. Sarah squinted at the road, where a number of men ambled aimlessly, but more were coming and going from the general store, carrying goods for homesteading families or themselves.

  “Lotta those men are gonna die in the rains,” Sarah said. “You said you’d help ‘em get shelter.”

  “Ain’t my problem, they turn up here without so much as a place to stay,” Paulie said.

  “True enough,” Sarah told her, “but they’s the barrier between you and bein’ open again.”

  Paulie glanced back at her.

  “You ain’t been around much.”

  It was intended to be a vague threat, one that emphasized that they could have opened behind her back and she’d have never known about it. Granger would have told her, though, as would several of the more talkative men who were always looking to score points with her that she’d seen here or there since she’d been back.

  “No, I ain’t,” Sarah said. “It’s a good thing you respect my word enough to go ahead and stay closed, anyway.”

  Paulie smirked at her and turned to face the road again.

  “I don’t respect you, Sarah. I put up with you ‘cause you’re convenient.”

  “Then we have an understanding,” Sarah said. “I’m gonna need you to put up a host of those men when the rains get here i
n the next day or so.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” Paulie said. “They ain’t my concern.”

  “But they is mine,” Sarah said. “And I’m sayin’ it is gonna happen.”

  “You shut us down, then you expect us to run an unpaid inn, on top of it? You’re tryin’ to ruin us, Sarah.”

  “You ain’t got to feed or clothe them,” Sarah said. “And I hardly expect you to pass out free drinks. You’re just gonna give ‘em a roof with a good foundation under it until the water passes.”

  “And if I says no?” Paulie asked.

  “I ain’t givin’ you that option,” Sarah said. “Granger is gonna take in his share, and I’m gonna stash some of ‘em around at the homesteads. The rest of ‘em’ll have to fend for themselves.”

  “They still show up, more of ‘em on every train,” Paulie said. “I figure we gotta come up with some way to thin the herd.”

  “They’ll thin by goin’ home when they’s ready,” Sarah said. “Besides, we may need ‘em all and more, dependin’ on how things go.”

  “You got big dreams, Sarah,” Paulie said. “Surprisin’ everyone, I gotta say.”

  “Ain’t my dreams, Paulie,” Sarah said. “I’m just doin’ what needs doin’. You open your doors tomorrow afternoon and I’m gonna bring you a bunch of men who are gonna stay here until the waters pass. I hear you done anything to turn them out, this tavern ain’t ever gonna open back again.”

  She pushed herself off the wall, ignoring whatever it was Paulie was going to say next, and went to talk to Granger. The shopkeeper had a much more positive attitude about it.

  “Of course,” he said, when she told him what she was expecting. “Better you space ‘em out and tell ‘em where to go than they all try to pack in here after it’s too late.”

  The homesteaders were harder to convince. Family by family, Sarah did the rounds, making sure they had what they needed for the rains and then explaining that she would be bringing out wagonloads of vagrant men to stay with the families until after the floodwaters went down.

  “They’ll have their own food with ‘em, I’ll see to that,” Sarah said. “And I’ll pay you for the trouble. But if we don’t do somethin’, there’s gonna be bodies in the streets.”

  “Won’t be in the streets,” Nina Joiner said. “They’d wash away so far their mas wouldn’t have any place to come visit ‘em after they died.”

  “We’ll do it, Bass Joiner said from the next room, “but it ain’t gonna be easy, and you know it, Sarah.”

  “I know it,” Sarah agreed, “but we ain’t got no choice.”

  Nina had squeezed her hand as she left, and Sarah had checked the construction of the barn once more. The fields were empty. The Joiners weren’t about to let their hard-fought gremlin crop go to waste.

  That evening, she went to the squatter camp along the road to the station, leaving the black horse at the edge of the encampment and wandering through it to see what the men had done since the fire.

  It wasn’t much. The ramshackle buildings were back and flimsier than ever. As she walked, men came out of their little dwellings and followed her quietly, herding together to see why she was there. She got to the end of the camp and turned back to face them.

  “Don’t know how many of you know it, but we’ve got rain coming in the next day or two.”

  A small cheer went up and she sighed.

  “No, it ain’t a good thing. We’re gonna get flooded, and on account of all of this sand, it’s gonna be a mudslide. Nothin’ that’s standin’ here today is gonna be here, in three days. None of it. Now, I’m gonna split you into groups and try to find all of you shelter for the time bein’, but no one wants you. You gotta ask yourselves, what are you doin’ to make it worth anyone’s while to save your lives. If you ain’t got an answer, you’d best be lookin’ for one. I’ll be back tomorrow to split you. Be ready early. It’s gonna be a long day.”

  She looked around the group, making sure the severity of the situation weighed on them correctly, then she went and found the black horse again and went home. She’d take a half dozen of the men, here. It wasn’t going to be convenient, but she’d sleep them on the floor downstairs and put up with the risk of them going through her stuff. She didn’t have a good count of how many men there were to put up. It was possible she’d get to the end of her list of homes and have to go around and add a bunch more. No one was going to like it.

  She made herself tea and started estimating numbers, breaking them up this way and that. The ones she’d hired the night of the fire she thought she would recognize well enough. Maybe she’d bring them here, specifically. Some time after dark, she went up to bed and slept dreamlessly.

  ––—

  Thirty to the tavern. Thirty-five to Granger’s. Ten to this homestead and fifteen to that one. Splitting out men in twos and threes to the little houses just outside of town. She still had more than a hundred men at the campsite. She pushed a few more into the tavern and the general store, then started trying to figure out which of the homesteads could take another couple. It was getting late and the smell of rain was overpowering. It was possible it was already raining up in the hills. She needed to get home and get everything that wasn’t already out of the barn stashed in the house.

  She was doing her headcount of remaining men, eighty-five, when Jimmy showed up.

  “These are what are left?” he asked.

  “Ain’t got space for them anywhere,” Sarah told him privately. “Them eight are comin’ with me, but that’s it.”

  “I’ve got two carts over there,” Jimmy announced loudly. “The first men in them are riding back to my home. The rest of you are jogging. It started raining up there fifteen minutes ago. If you don’t make it in time, you wash away.”

  The men rushed for the two buckboards, overpowering the two men from Jimmy’s house staff who were acting as coachmen.

  “Go,” Jimmy called to them. “Once you’re full up, just go.”

  The horses pulled away, straining under the load of men, and Sarah turned back to look at the deserted camp for a moment, then waving her arm at the eight men she’d put aside.

  “We’re goin’,” she called.

  “I’m coming with you,” Jimmy said. She shook her head.

  “I ain’t got room.”

  “I ain’t askin’,” he said, mocking her. “I’m not letting you take a bunch of strange men into your house where you and they will be isolated for several days.”

  “What about the Lawson women?” she asked. “I can take care of myself.”

  “And Wade and the staff can take care of Lise, Kayla, and Sunny,” he said.

  “You really think I can’t handle myself?” Sarah asked skeptically. “I don’t need you patronizin’ me.”

  “I’m not asking,” he said. “This isn’t up for debate. You didn’t put anyone with any of the other single women...”

  “Cause they’re all spinsters,” Sarah interrupted.

  “And you aren’t going to be by yourself, now,” he said, ignoring her interruption. She shrugged.

  “Fine. But you better pull your weight.”

  “What could that possibly mean?” he asked. “We’re going to be housebound.”

  She gave him a quick little smile and shrugged.

  “You’ll see.”

  He glanced at her suspiciously, then turned in his saddle to watch the men as they gathered what little they had and followed down the road to Sarah’s.

  “It really is sad, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It’ll get better,” Sarah said. “Else you failed.”

  “True,” he said, then raised his voice. “Get a move on. We really don’t have any time to spare.”

  That was very true. As they went, Sarah could see the ground ahead darkening with the first signs of water.

  “Dammit,” she said. “I’ve still got stuff in the barn.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll get them there.”

  She looked
back at the men.

  “You abandon them, Jimmy Lawson, I’ll...”

  “Just go,” he said. “You can tell me the end of that threat when we get there.”

  She nodded quickly at him, then booted the black horse into motion.

  ––—

  The water was ankle deep running underneath the house when the men got there. Sarah was finishing emptying the feed out of the barn, just leaving it on the floor in the kitchen for now. She opened the front door for Jimmy to lead his horse in, joining the black horse in her pa’s office.

  “Surely it isn’t that bad,” one of the men said, looking at the horses.

  “Worse than you’d imagine,” Jimmy said. “Everyone out to the barn. If it isn’t nailed down, bring it in.”

  “It’s too late,” Sarah said. “Water’s too deep.”

  “We’ll get one more load out,” Jimmy said. “What’s left?”

  “Just the feed,” she said. “I got all the equipment in first.”

  “Bags of gremlin,” Jimmy said to the men. “Bring ‘em in and stack ‘em, then we’ll get you settled.”

  Sarah shook her head, watching them wade through the increasingly torrential water. You didn’t walk through water running that fast. It was just asking for something to take your feet out from under you and wash you away.

  The men didn’t know any different, though, and they followed Jimmy’s orders.

  “Need to get the safe emptied,” she said.

  “The one the horses are on,” Jimmy said.

  “Yup. That’s the one.”

  She helped him move the rug and put in her code for the safe. It was hard to get to, from under the house, but it was low enough that flood water could theoretically wash it away. The floor here was designed to stay up, even if the safe went, but she didn’t want to have to go chase her pa’s safe downstream to find everything before the bandits got to it.

  She paused to consider whether the bandits would even turn up, this rain. Had enough of them gone straight? She didn’t know.

  She handed documents and various items of value up to Jimmy, including several stones from Pete’s mine and the claims map. He glanced at a few things as they went by, but mostly he just held them patiently while she worked her way to the bottom of the safe.