Red flags of temper flashed on her face, and Sid knew he’d made a mistake. But he couldn’t take the words back. And he didn’t want to. He intended to court Sadie. She might as well know how he felt about her spending time with Thad McKane.
“I consider the sheriff a friend, Sid, and—”
Sid snorted. “Sheriff . . . Don’t let that tin badge fool you. He’s no lawman.”
Sadie blinked at Sid, her lips parting slightly in surprise. “W-what do you mean?”
Sid balled one fist on his hip. “Asa Baxter told me—Mayor Hanaman brought McKane to town to play lawman, make the town look like a safe place so new families’d move in. But he isn’t a real sheriff.” Leaning in again, Sid dropped his voice to a near whisper. “You think you know him, Sadie. But you don’t. He’s a stranger. But me? We go way back.”
Sadie sat in silence, staring into his face. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t try to retreat, either.
He went on softly, sweetly, adopting the tender tone he’d use to placate a frightened horse. “You know me, Sadie. Haven’t I always been there for you? An’ now you’re here, in the same town as me, finally singin’ your songs on a stage for folks’ pleasure.” Lifting his hand, he eased his fingertips along the line of her jaw. Soft . . . so soft. His heart lurched. “I arranged all that ’cause I love you, Sadie.”
Without warning, she shot to her feet, nearly tipping the piano seat. Her expression turned frantic. “Sid, I—” But instead of finishing the sentence, she turned and ran up the middle aisle.
Sid snatched up the lantern and stumbled after her. “Sadie, wait!” But she clattered through the open doors at the hallway, her footsteps pounding on the stairs. He trotted after her, pausing to latch the doors before making his way upstairs. By the time he reached the main room of the mercantile, she was long gone—probably closed in her room. He wouldn’t pursue her there.
He returned to the storage room, blew out the lantern, and slid it onto the waiting shelf. Then, standing in the dark room, he made a silent vow. He wouldn’t say the words “I love you” to Sadie again. They obviously scared her. But he’d show her how he felt.
Squaring his shoulders with determination, Sid made his way out of the quiet store. He’d win her over. It was just a matter of time.
There were times over the following weeks Sadie thought she might pull out her hair in confusion. Each day, she discovered a little something on the front porch, just outside the door. Even though no notes accompanied the items, she knew Sid left them. The gifts, although never elaborate, were sweet and thoughtful. Clusters of wild flowers, a bag of black gumdrops—her favorite—hair ribbons, a book of poetry . . . But instead of making her feel cherished, they left her feeling smothered. And manipulated. She hated herself for being unappreciative, yet she couldn’t shake the honest reaction to his persistent bid for her affection.
She also grappled with Sid’s statement about Thad not being a legitimate lawman. Thad had asked her to be honest with him at all times, yet if Sid had spoken the truth, Thad hadn’t been completely honest with her. She wanted to ask him to verify or deny Sid’s claim. She had ample opportunities to broach the subject—Thad stopped by the mercantile daily to purchase supplies or a bag of candy sticks to share with Goldtree’s youngsters or to simply chat with either Sadie or the proprietresses. Yet she held the question inside. A part of her feared his response.
So she poured her confusion into a letter to her parents and sent it off, praying for a speedy reply. She trusted Mama and Papa to wisely counsel her. Until she heard back from them, she vowed to hold both Sid and Thad at bay. But she found it more difficult than she cared to admit. She missed the carefree relationship she’d once shared with Sid and wished to resume it, and she longed to explore the flickers of love stirring to life within her heart for Thad.
Several times either Miss Melva or Miss Shelva snapped their bony fingers in her face to draw her from inner reflection to reality. Most times the ladies laughed and teased Sadie about drifting away into dreamland, but other times she witnessed impatience in her employers’ eyes. She needed to find a means of dealing with her jumbled emotions before she jeopardized her job.
The only time she managed to forget Sid’s unwelcome pursuit or Thad’s possible duplicity was when she was singing. The stage became her refuge, and she found herself wishing away the hours to Friday and Saturday nights, when she could pour all of her passion into song and allow the exuberant applause of the audience to carry her away from her troubles.
The second Friday in July, as Sadie prepared to refill one of the glass-front storage drawers with dried navy beans, Miss Melva swooped in and snatched the wooden scoop from her hand. “Just saw the mail stage pull out. Sister’n me’s expectin’ a package from Boston. A newfangled medicine for”—she dropped her normally strident tone to a hissing whisper—“female troubles.” Her voice rose again. “Go on over an’ see what come in today.” She gave Sadie a little push toward the door.
Sadie brushed away the fine dust raised by the beans from her apron skirt as she headed out the door. A hot gust of wind greeted her, hurrying her across the street. The screen door slapped into its frame behind her as she entered the post office and stepped to the counter. Mr. Rahn turned, the mail pouch dangling from his wrist and a cluster of letters fanned like a hand of cards between his fingers. He sent a weary smile in Sadie’s direction.
“Don’t tell me—you’re here to fetch the medicinal concoction the Baxter sisters ordered.”
Sadie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How did you know?”
The man snorted. “Because they’ve pret’ near pestered me to death, wantin’ to know when those bottles of Dr. Kilmer’s miracle cure’d get here. I finally told ’em not to come ask again—I’d deliver ’em myself when they arrived.”
Sadie giggled. How sneaky of Miss Melva to send Sadie in their stead rather than facing Mr. Rahn’s ire. “Well, I’ll leave you alone, then.” She turned to leave.
“Wait up there, Miss Sadie.” The man flopped the pouch onto the sorting table and crossed to the counter. He held out two envelopes. “These come for you—both from Dalton, Indiana.”
Sadie couldn’t stifle her exclamation of joy. She reached eagerly for the letters and examined them. One from Mama and one from Papa. She crinkled her brow. Why had they written separately? Then she noticed the date inked over the postage stamp—Papa’s had been sent three days prior to Mama’s. Yet they’d arrived at the same time. Apparently a holdup along the line delayed the arrival of Papa’s letter. She smiled. How exciting to receive both letters in one day. And how exciting to find a letter solely from Papa. He usually just jotted a few lines at the end of Mama’s lengthy discourses. An entire letter from him was an unexpected treat.
Mr. Rahn grinned. “Busy day for folks in Dalton sendin’ letters. Got one over there for Sid, too.” He stretched his hand toward the letters scattered on the table. “You wanna take it to him? Seein’ as how you’re family an’ all, I don’t reckon the United States Postmaster General would have cause to complain.”
She wasn’t ready to seek out Sid. She took two backward steps toward the door. “No, thank you, Mr. Rahn.”
The man looked at her as if she’d suddenly broken out in green warts. “Well, then . . .” He scratched his chin. “Sid don’t come in every day, the way you folks at the mercantile do. When you see him next, would you tell him he’s got a letter over here waitin’?”
Sadie assumed Sid would come to the opera house that evening—he hadn’t missed a performance yet and he always arrived early. They wouldn’t be able to engage in a lengthy conversation if she was preparing to sing, but she could mention the letter. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.” She scurried out the door and stepped into the street, eager to return to the mercantile where she could find a quiet corner and read her letters.
“Runaway wagon!”
The cry took Sadie by surprise. She came to a startled halt and looked up to see a fully lo
aded wagon, pulled by two enormous, galloping horses, bearing down on her. With a shriek of terror, she reached to lift her skirts and run. The letters fell from her hand, and the wind immediately whisked them down the street.
Sadie cried out in alarm and spun toward the escaping squares of white. But before she could take a step, someone’s arms coiled around her waist and flung her to the ground. The wagon rattled past, inches from Sadie. Two men on horseback and three on foot chased after the escaping wagon. Dust billowed in her face, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the onslaught. Coughing, she tried to scramble to her feet and retrieve her letters. But strong arms held her fast. Then an angry, masculine voice thundered in her ears.
“What in tarnation did you think you were doing? You could’ve been killed!”
She angled her head to peer over her shoulder. Thad lay beside her, his arm draped across her waist. Fury blazed in his eyes.
19
Thad rose and reached for Sadie. His hands shook worse than tree leaves in the stout Kansas wind. Fool woman! She’d scared him out of ten years of life at least. He caught her wrists and pulled her upright. She found her footing quickly, but he didn’t let go.
“Didn’t your mama teach you to look into a street before trying to cross it? You came within a hairsbreadth of being run down!” An ugly picture formed in his head, and he gritted his teeth, willing it to depart. His hands involuntarily tightened. “You gotta be careful, Sadie!”
She wrenched free of his grasp, then rubbed her wrists, glaring up at him. “I didn’t step in front of the wagon deliberately. I was—”
“Being a plumb fool!”
A small crowd gathered on the boardwalk, their excited mutterings competing with the pounding rush of blood in his ears. He waved his hand at the throng. “Go on about your business, folks.” He waited long enough to make sure they’d follow his direction. Then he whirled on Sadie, who’d lifted her skirts as if ready to take off. “Not you! You stay put.”
She clutched her skirts in her fists, her poised body emanating impatience.
He aimed his finger at her face. “I ought to haul you in for being a public menace.”
Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened.
He ignored her aghast expression and grabbed her arm. “Since it isn’t safe to leave you unattended, I’ll take you across the street.” She wriggled, but he held tight while looking up and down Main Street. “Then we’ll establish a new rule for you—no crossing without a chaperone.” The street was clear, so he took one forward stride.
She dug in her heels and fought against his restraining hand. “Thad! Let me go right now!”
“No, ma’am.” He pulled, drawing her along beside him. “As sheriff, my job’s to protect folks. An’ you obviously need protecting.”
Her tumble in the dirt had jarred loose the coil of hair she always wore on the back of her head. Tangled strands of yellow hair waved over her shoulders and in her face. She slapped at the tresses, demanding her release in the most abrasive tone he’d ever heard, but he continued to pull her across the street. They neared the mercantile boardwalk, and Miss Melva and Miss Shelva came flying out of the building, hands outstretched. They met Thad and Sadie at the edge of the road.
Thad was forced to relinquish his hold when the twins wrapped their long arms around Sadie, sandwiching her between them. Their crooning and exclamations of concern rose above the wailing wind. Thad plunked his hands on his hips and waited for their hubbub to calm so he could talk to Sadie once more. The girl had been moony and distracted for weeks, and he would get to the bottom of her preoccupation before she ended up hurting herself.
From the circle of the Baxter sisters’ arms, Sadie cried, “Please, Miss Melva and Miss Shelva! You must let me go!” She broke free and stumbled south, her gaze bouncing everywhere.
Thad thudded along behind her, flicking a glance over his shoulder at Miss Melva and Miss Shelva, who stood in the road with arms akimbo, glaring after them. He offered the pair a sympathetic grimace before double-stepping to reach Sadie’s side.
“What do you think you’re doing now?”
Sadie pounded onward, arms pumping with determination. She sent him a brief, furious look. “I’m retrieving my letters! They fell out of my hand when the wagon frightened me, and then you tackled me. I couldn’t get them before the wind carried them away.”
Letters. So that’s what she’d been thinking about instead of looking where she was going. Thad tried, but he couldn’t conjure up much sympathy for her. Not after she’d nearly killed herself. But he scanned the roadway, too, staying close at her side. “The way the wind’s blowing today, they’re probably in Ottawa County by now.”
She spun to face him, balling her hands into fists. Tears glittered in her eyes. “Then why wouldn’t you let me go after them once the wagon had passed? If you’d only allowed me to go after them, I might not have lost them for good!”
He gawked at her. Was she blaming him for the loss of the letters? “Now listen here—”
“No, you listen, Sheriff—if you really are a sheriff.” Her blue eyes blazed, her sweet face set in a scowl of pure venom. “I’ve been waiting for word from my parents—waiting and hoping—and finally letters arrive. But before I even have a chance to open them and find out what Mama and Papa think is best for me to do about my feelings for you, you come along and—”
Thad had heard enough. She obviously had no inkling how frightened he’d been. He might have lost her. And he hadn’t yet told her how much he cared for her. Well, he wouldn’t wait another second. But she wasn’t in a state to listen to words. He’d have to show her.
With a growl, Thad gathered Sadie in his arms. She let out a little squawk of surprise, but he cut it short with a firm, heartfelt, possessive kiss.
Sadie pulled back and stared into Thad’s face. She nearly went cross-eyed, he was so close, but she glimpsed her own startled reflection in his pupils. He’d kissed her. Her knees quivered, her spine turned to jelly, and she stood completely powerless within the circle of his arms.
“Sadie,” Thad said, his gaze boring into her. He kept his voice low, almost a growl. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. If anything had happened to you, I—” With a groan, he pulled her close again.
Her cheek pressed to his chest, the points of the tin badge pricking her flesh. His heartbeat pounded fast and sure beneath her ear. She remained snug in his embrace for long seconds, absorbing the wonder of the moment. Her lips still tingled pleasantly from the pressure of his. She tasted the essence of coffee and salty ham. And she’d eaten oatmeal for breakfast.
Won’t Mama be shocked when I write and tell her Thad—
Her letters! Sadie pushed hard against Thad’s chest, freeing herself. “Please, please, Thad. Help me find my letters. They were from Mama and Papa, and I have to know what they said.” Her vision blurred with the spurt of tears.
Thad caught both her hands, but the grip was tender rather than punishing. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, and even though she wanted to go seek her letters, she didn’t try to remove herself from the simple caress. “Sadie, I’m sorry, but those letters’re surely gone. The wind . . .”
He lifted his face to the gusting wind, and Sadie did the same. The hot blast dried the tears as soon as they snaked down her cheeks. Her hair waved across her face in tangled ribbons, and her dust-streaked apron billowed. Thad was right. She’d never find those letters. She hung her head, biting on her lower lip to hold back sobs of disappointment.
He curled his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you back to the mercantile. Maybe Miss Melva an’ Miss Shelva’ll let you go lie down for a while. Give you time to recover from your scare.”
Sadie didn’t need to recover from her scare. Thad’s kiss had completely chased away the panic of that moment. But she needed to explore all of the emotions his kiss had stirred. And she needed Mama and Papa’s advice more than ever.
Thad delivered her to Miss Melva and Miss Shel
va, who clucked over her and patted her and made her feel positively cosseted. If she’d questioned their affection for her previously, all uncertainties were laid to rest as Miss Shelva escorted Sadie up to her room, knelt on the floor to remove her shoes, and then tucked her into bed as tenderly as a mother caring for her newborn. The woman tiptoed to the door and whispered, “You sleep now, Sadie. Me an’ Sister’ll be just fine the rest o’ the day.” She closed the door behind her with a soft click.
Sadie rolled onto her side and stared at the framed portrait of her family. Stretching out one hand, she grazed first Mama’s and then Papa’s face with one fingertip. She sighed. “What did you advise me? How I wish you were here right now to help me sort through my feelings. . . .” She closed her eyes against the image of their dear faces, and within minutes she slipped into sleep.
A discordant, prolonged creak awakened her. She fluttered her eyes open, squinting into her room. A pale path of waning sunlight angled from the window to the foot of the bed, exposing a flurry of shimmering dust motes. What time was it? Sadie rubbed her eyes and squinted at the little clock beside her bed. Then she gasped and leaped out of bed.
The moment her feet hit the floor, both of the Baxter twins burst into Sadie’s room. Miss Melva clasped her hands beneath her pointy chin. “Did we scare ya?”
Miss Shelva hovered behind Miss Melva, her pale eyes wide with concern. “We tried to be quiet, but them hinges made a racket.”
Miss Melva swung on her sister. “Wasn’t Asa s’posed to oil them things?”
Miss Shelva scowled. “Sure was. Gonna hafta get on him.”
While they fussed about the creaky hinges, Sadie flew to her wardrobe and pulled her cinnamon-colored singing dress from its hook. She scrambled out of her work clothes, unmindful of the watching eyes in the room. She’d be late for the stage if she waited for the sisters to clear out.
Song of My Heart Page 15