Walker's Wedding

by Lori Copeland

  He moved to the window to look out. Moonlight illuminated the barn. Inside, he could hear Diamond bumping her stall. His eyes traveled the deserted barnyard as a matter of habit. Everything was quiet, the bunkhouse dark. The men had been asleep for hours.

  Cocking his ear, he realized that Diamond’s whinnies were different from a moment ago. Nervousness tinged the animal’s cries now. Lifting the window, he studied the barn, searching for a source of concern. There was no wind tonight. A full moon mantled the farmhouse in mellow rays. Then he smelled it. Smoke.

  Swiftly reaching for his pants, he slipped them on. Had a careless hand dropped a lighted match in the hay?

  By the time he reached the barn, flames were licking through the roof. Pounding on Potster’s door, he yelled for the cook to wake the men and then grabbed a bucket and raced toward the rain barrel. Within minutes the barnyard teamed with bare-chested men, still half asleep, racing against time. Fire shot out of the barn roof and spread to the back of the building.

  Fumbling for the latch, he discovered that the door was locked from the outside. What fool had done that? Walker threw the bolt and lunged inside to free the animals but stumbled, dropping to his knees when he encountered an obstacle blocking the doorway. Black smoke belched from the blazing interior, and he grabbed his handkerchief out of his back pocket to protect himself from the smoke. Coughing, he tried to shove the object aside, but he came into contact with a feminine hand. He strained to see whose it was. Flo’s? What would she be doing out here at this time of night?

  The draft shifted, sucking the flames to the rear of the barn. Lifting the inanimate form, he carried her outside, laying her on the ground. S.H. ran up, tucking his shirttails into his pants.

  “Sarah!” the two men exclaimed in unison.

  Walker placed the handkerchief over her mouth, trying to shield her from the rolling smoke. Her eyes opened briefly and he saw recognition before they closed again.

  Flo darted toward them, her unpinned hair streaming down her back. The old woman knelt in the dirt, cradling Sarah to her ample bosom. “What’s she doing out here? She was in her room when I went to bed.”

  Walker scanned the area. Chaos reigned as men shouted, racing back and forth with water buckets. What was Sarah doing out here at this time of night? Even worse, why was the barn door locked from the outside? Spring Grass didn’t have any trouble with theft—nothing was ever locked up at night.

  Lifting Sarah into his arms, Walker carried her to the house. When he placed her on their bed, her eyelids fluttered and she moaned, coughing. Reaching for him, she clung tightly.

  “You’re all right, you’re safe now,” he soothed her.

  “Fire…the door was locked…oh, Walker!”

  “It’s all right,” he murmured, gently stroking her back. He could feel her trembling beneath his hands.

  “I called for you…but no one came.”

  What if he hadn’t gotten out of bed and smelled the smoke? The ramifications chilled him more than the November air. He could have lost her. He had no way of knowing she was in the barn, caged like a wild animal. Holding her close, he absorbed her scent, tainted by smoke, but still very Sarah. “Why were you in the barn this time of night?”

  “I couldn’t sleep…” She coughed, still trying to catch her breath. Gently wiping her mouth, he eased her back onto the pillow. “I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “I heard Diamond and I went out to keep her company.”

  Another spasm of coughing hit her. When it passed, she lay back again, her eyes meeting his wearily. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

  “Nonsense.” He poured water into the basin and wet a rag. Wiping her face, he cleaned the soot away, his eyes locked with hers. “I suppose you think Caleb locked you in the barn and set the fire?”

  “I heard his buggy drive off as I tried to get out.” She moaned, closing her eyes. “I had the deposit book…but it’s gone, burned up in the fire.”

  “A thief wouldn’t leave evidence in a deposit book.”

  “A smart one wouldn’t.”

  “But you were so charming to him tonight. I was starting to think he was your best friend.”

  “I am a very good actress.” Maybe he didn’t need to know that.

  He placed the cloth on her forehead. “Where did you get this book?”

  “From his briefcase. When you and Caleb visited the shed, I searched his buggy and found a trapdoor. That’s where he keeps the records, Walker.”

  “You searched his buggy. My friends are subject to searching before they can leave the ranch?”

  “If Caleb is the friend in question.”

  “Sarah.” He stood up, shoving his hands through his hair. How did a man deal with this? If what she was saying were true, there’d be no point in taking the ledgers to Pete because apparently there was a second set—or so Sarah said.

  “Honestly, Walker! You’ll defend Caleb to the death, but what about me? What about your child? If Caleb had succeeded tonight—”

  “You’re talking crazy, Sarah. This pregnancy, our situation—it has us confused. Flo says your frustrations are normal and nothing to be concerned about. She says they’ll pass after the baby’s born.”

  He returned to the bed, taking her back into his arms. Smoothing her hair, he said quietly, “Don’t put me in this situation, Sarah. The Caleb I know is a loyal friend. He has his faults, but show me a man who doesn’t. What do you want me to do? Have the man arrested on the suspicion that he’s cheating me? If you’re wrong, I’ve betrayed him.”

  “Potster saw the deposit book.”

  “The ranch hand cook is in on this now?”

  “Ask him about it if you don’t believe me.”

  “I concede Potster saw some book, but neither you nor he knows what it was.”

  Sighing, Walker rose and left the room. He had lost a barn. At least that was something he knew how to handle.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Sarah opened her eyes early the next morning, awakening slowly. Her hand automatically reached for Walker’s body beside her. Filled with the usual sense of disappointment, she got out of bed and padded across the floor. She couldn’t go on this way. Her stomach hurt, her eyes were swollen from the smoke, and the whole situation was impossible. She wanted to go home, home to Wadsy and Papa and Abraham.

  By sunup she had dressed, drunk a cup of hot tea, and packed her valise. As she walked to the barn, dawn was barely breaking. Her eyes took in the site and stench of the burnt structure, the barn animals grazing in the corral. What a dreadful shame that someone like Caleb could do so much destruction without retribution. God, please open Walker’s eyes before Caleb harms him.

  Hitching the buggy wasn’t easy, but she’d seen S.H. do it numerous times. She found extra tack in a small shed near the house, and the carriage rattled out of the courtyard before anyone in the main house stirred.

  The deposit book was the key to the mystery, but it was gone. Maybe Walker was right. Maybe she should have stayed and written her novel and forgotten all about her suspicions. She loved the babies she was carrying. How would she ever relinquish them to a man who did not trust their mother?

  The train station was deserted when she pulled up. Unloading her valise, she rested it on the platform and purchased a ticket. “What time does the train arrive?”

  The clerk consulted his pocket watch. “You got about half an hour.”

  She walked back to the buggy, wondering what to do with it. She supposed she could tie the mare to the bank post. Caleb would notice it and see that it was returned to Walker.

  Her gaze moved to the bank. Or she could tell Caleb that he’d won, that she was leaving. Wouldn’t he be pleased?

  The McKay buggy was waiting in front of the bank when Caleb arrived a few minutes later. The whistling banker turned the corner, his jaw dropping when he saw Sarah sitting on the seat. Color drained from his face. “You’re not…?”

  Sarah smiled. “Dead? Nope, sound as a dolla
r. Sorry.”

  A shutter closed over his features. “Hallucinating again, Sarah? Perhaps the doctor can give you something to ease your discomfort.” A sly grin crept across his face. “Why don’t you cross the street? Doc will be in his office at any time.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Climbing out of the buggy with some difficulty, she followed him into the bank.

  “The bank doesn’t open until nine.”

  “My train leaves in twenty minutes. I can’t wait for business hours.”

  A smug look registered on his face. “You’re leaving?”

  “I am.” She followed him to his office and watched as he stripped out of his coat and loosened his tie.

  Seating himself behind the desk, he glared at her. “Dare I hope you’ll be gone for a long while?”

  “Ooooh. The real Caleb surfaces.” She perched on the edge of his desk. “Yes, I’m leaving, and I don’t plan to return except for occasional visits to my child.”

  “Does Walker know you’re leaving?”

  “He wouldn’t care if he did.”

  “How sad.” The banker looked anything but remorseful. “What do you want, Sarah?”

  “What do you think I want?” He knew that she knew; the guilt in his eyes was proof enough. Should she tell him how she knew or just let him wonder?

  Perspiration beaded his upper lip, although the stove had not been started. “I’m a busy man.” He checked his watch. “Didn’t you say you had a train to catch?”

  “You win, Caleb.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he smiled. “Of course. Did you ever doubt it?”

  “Last night when you locked me in the barn. I thought I was going to die.”

  His smile never wavered.

  “And I would have, if Walker hadn’t heard Diamond’s cries and come to investigate.”

  Caleb shrugged. “Walker’s always been lucky. What is it that you want, Sarah? Surely you know by now that your efforts to convince Walker that I’m stealing from him aren’t going to work. He doesn’t believe you.”

  “No, he doesn’t. You’re right. He accepts your word over mine. It’s hard to find friends like that. Loyal.”

  “Yes, it is.” Caleb turned to the stack of papers on his desk.

  “But when I show him the deposit book, I imagine he’ll change his mind.”

  Caleb glanced up.

  “You know, the one you keep in the secret compartment of your buggy?” When he paled, she smiled. “Oooh,” she mocked. “That ol’ book.”

  The banker’s eyes hardened. “What do you want, Jezebel?”

  “Ahhh, Jezebel.” She pretended to ponder the request. “Correct me if I’m wrong. Just last night, wasn’t I ‘dearest girl’ and ‘my sweet’?”

  Shoving away from the desk, Caleb got to his feet. His hand hovered near the middle desk drawer and for a fleeting moment she wondered if he had a gun. It was a little late to think of that, but she supposed it was possible. A banker would be prepared to defend his establishment. Keeping an eye on his right hand, she said softly, “Last night, when you and Walker went to the shed, I searched your buggy and found the briefcase.”

  “So? My briefcase is always locked.” He patted his vest pocket. “The key never leaves my person.”

  “True, but I have my ways of unlocking things without a key.”

  Eyes narrowing, he took a threatening step forward. She backed a step away. “I have the book, Caleb. You’re stealing from Walker.”

  The book was burned cinders, but he would never know. She would simply let the knowledge of his sins eat away at him day by day, until he was driven mad with wondering when and if she would convince Walker of his crime. She, on the other hand, would be eating Wadsy’s cherry pies and growing fat and lazy with Walker’s children. She might not have the home she wanted, the babies she carried within her, or the man she loved, but she would have the satisfaction of knowing that Caleb would never have a moment’s peace.

  He lunged at her and she jumped back, fear rippling through her. He was stronger than she was; he could quickly overpower her and shoot her, if he dared, and then take her somewhere outside of town and bury her body. No one would ever know what had happened to her. “Tell me what you want,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

  “I want you to tell Walker the truth. That you’re embezzling money from him—that you have been for years.” If nothing else came of this madness, Walker would know that she hadn’t lied to him. That she was in her right mind.

  Turning back to the desk, he said, “I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  “Then you admit you have been stealing from him?”

  “I admit nothing.” Pulling the drawer open, he removed a small hand pistol.

  Sarah swallowed. Should she run? Scream? It was early; no one was moving about yet. You’re foolish, Sarah. You shouldn’t have come here alone to prove a point. You should have gotten on the train and gone home.

  Leveling the gun at her, Caleb motioned her out the doorway.

  “Don’t be a fool,” she warned. “Don’t add murder to theft.”

  Shoving her out of the room and into the bank foyer, he glanced out the front window, apparently gauging his next move. “Open the door.”

  Shielding her stomach, Sarah edged backward. “If anything happens to me, Walker will know that you’re responsible. He might not care about me, but he does care about his child—”

  “Shut up. You talk too much.” He backed her through the door, pausing to look up and down the deserted street. Nothing stirred.

  She had one choice, and that was to make a break for it before he could stop her. She was fast, able to outrun all the other girls in her boarding school. She had an array of blue ribbons from sporting events in her room in Boston. But now she was thirty pounds heavier and pregnant.

  Still, she turned suddenly to run, but Caleb was faster. Pinning her squirming body against the wall, he pressed close, his breath hot on her cheek. “Don’t mess with me, Sarah!” Jerking her arm behind her back, he hissed, “I’d just as soon shoot you right here, woman.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” She moaned as he twisted her arm tighter.

  “What do I have to lose?”

  “You’re still able to convince Walker that you’re innocent. If you shoot me, there’ll be witnesses. You won’t be able to talk your way out of this one.”

  “Witnesses?” He pretended to assess the danger and then grinned. “Seems that the town is deserted this morning. Pity.” Thrusting her away from the wall, he herded her out toward the waiting buggy. She struggled to break his hold, but he was stronger than she would have guessed.

  “Why, Caleb? Why would you do this to Walker?” She panted, out of breath. “He’s your best friend. He won’t hear of your deceiving him. He’s willing to risk his future happiness because of you.”

  “You’re breaking my heart. If I had a violin, I’d play it.”

  “At least tell me why. What can that hurt? You’re obviously a big, mean brute who’s going to do me harm.”

  “It seems certain bank funds are missing, funds I am held accountable for. I intend to pay Walker back, so don’t fret your pretty little head about that.”

  “When?” She grunted when he shoved her up into the buggy, tipping her cumbersome body onto the seat.

  His face closed. “I’ve incurred a few gambling debts lately. But that will change—and soon. When it does, I’ll return the money and Walker will never be the wiser.”

  “He’s not stupid.” She twisted to release his hold. “If anything happens to me, he’ll have his books audited.”

  “My dear, when word of your demise reaches him, nothing will matter for a time. By then the money will be replaced with no one the wiser.”

  “Walker doesn’t love me! He isn’t going to mourn my death!”

  “You little fool. You think you’re so smart, but you know nothing. He loves you. It’s as plain as day in his eyes.” Caleb sprang aboard the buggy and reache
d for the reins.

  “You’re wrong. He only wants the baby,” she said, fighting against the temptation to believe him. “You kill me and you’re breaking a commandment, Caleb. Think of your eternity.”

  “I’ll make my peace with God later.” Caleb slid her a sideways glance. “You’d best make your peace now, Sarah. In another few minutes, you’ll meet your Maker.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Walker squinted against the bright sunlight, groaning when he realized the hour. The fire had kept him up most of the night. He had fallen into bed a little before sunup.

  He lay there for a moment thinking about his dream. In it he was holding his son, standing beside Sarah and looking out over Spring Grass. It was summer and the grasses were blowing, the sun hot on his face. He held Sarah’s hand, and she was cradling a child, laughing up at him, only the baby she held was a girl.

  His hand absently felt Sarah’s side of the bed. He thought about the opportunities that he’d had lately to end the dispute—when he felt the baby kicking against his hand…staring at Sarah’s smoky cheeks, so thankful she was alive as he wiped the soot from her tearstained face. He imagined the feel of her dancing in his arms, could picture her quick and easy smiles, and remembered the smell of burned corn bread and their laughter over the drunken chickens. He smiled at her bulldog tenacity and how much she wanted to make the marriage work.

  He thought about the two near-fatal accidents coming one on top of the other. He could have lost her. Would his anger have been worth it? She’d done wrong, but he’d also done wrong by not forgiving her. She wasn’t anything like Trudy. Sarah had a heart of gold, and if he continued to hold her at bay, he would be a fool.