He picked up a fresh shirt and she caught the ripple of muscles across his chest as he slipped the shirt on. His movements were swift and powerful, not the sluggish ambling she had witnessed in public.
Occasionally in summer she had caught glimpses of her brother, her brother-in-law, and the hands at the ranch with their shirts off. Unlike their tanned torsos, Mr. Barton's pale skin made her fingers tingle to touch the brown chest hair that converged in a vee at his belt. She wondered how far below his waist the pelt descended. A pool of warmth gathered at the base of her stomach.
My stars, what disgraceful thoughts.
Where did they come from? They weren’t proper. No, not at all suitable. Being away from home must be having a poor effect on her.
Never before had such scandalous ideas entered her head about any man. She didn’t have these thoughts about Peter Dorfmeyer, and everyone expected her to marry Peter. Mr. Barton was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but she must get her wayward thoughts under control.
Buttoning his shirt, Mr. Barton stepped from her view. When he returned and glared at the keyhole, she froze. Surely he couldn't know she watched him. She sank further to the floor and sat with her back against the door.
Sarah pressed her hands to heated cheeks, shocked at her own behavior. She was no better than a window peeper. What on earth had come over her?
A sudden thought assailed her. What if he planned to look through the keyhole as she had? Taking a hanky from her cuff, she draped it over the doorknob so it hung across the tiny opening. No, that wouldn’t do. It kept sliding off. She rose and opened her traveling bag and took out a shirtwaist. Hanging it on the knob, she stepped back. Perfect. It looked as if she used the handle for a hook.
She crossed to the vanity. Not taking time to change from her traveling suit into a dress, she contented herself with pushing stray hair back into her chignon and grabbing her shawl. With any luck, she could purchase her train ticket while her neighbor had his dinner.
Sarah walked briskly to the train station. A line greeted her at the ticket window. Oh, well, she loved watching people, so she wouldn't mind the wait. Taking her place in the row, she surveyed the other prospective passengers wandering to and fro. She studied the clothes of other women, compared them to her own black clothing. In her head she made up stories of who they were and where they might be headed.
A young boy bumped with a wham into the man in front of her. The child's hand darted into the man's pocket and out with a flash and secured the lifted wallet under his shirt. Probably no more than seven or eight, the lad wore the dirtiest clothes Sarah had ever seen. His hair might have been blond at one time, but it and his skin had gone a long time without touching soap and water.
"Oh, excuse me, sir." The boy's large blue eyes were the picture of innocence when he gazed up at the man.
Sarah gasped. What should she do? She couldn't bring herself to cause a scene by screaming, but neither could she stand by and let the child rob this man.
"Steady, you little ragamuffin.” The victim placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Slow down and see you're more careful next time.”
"Yes, sir, sorry. I will, sir.” The boy moved swiftly away into the crowd.
Sarah took off after the little thief. He looked over his shoulder and she motioned to him. His eyes widened in alarm and he ran. She gathered her skirts and rushed after him, weaving around groups of people.
When she had almost caught up with the light-fingered boy, she thudded against a solid wall of chest.
Mr. Barton grunted and clutched Sarah's shoulders, then dropped his hands and made a slight bow. "Why, I believe it's Miss Kincaid, is it not? Are you in some sort of distress?"
"No, it was nothing.” She peered over his shoulder but the thief was nowhere in sight. "I thought I saw someone I knew, but I was mistaken.” She felt her cheeks flush again with guilt. Their collision must have jarred his injured chest, but she couldn't ask him about it. How could she explain that knowledge?
"Your traveling companions--Welwoods or Welworths--are they with you?"
"No. The Welborns were tired and planned to have dinner sent to their room.” She thanked heavens for that. Eating with the odious Mr. Welborn soured her stomach. But now this man who, for all appearances, followed her everywhere had neatly trapped her. A shiver of apprehension skittered down her spine, but she stood mesmerized by his tawny eyes.
As if he sensed her fear, he offered a crooked smile and proffered his` arm. "May I escort you back to the hotel?"
"I was..." she stopped. Her nerves jangled with alarm, but she strove to appear calm. She preferred buying her ticket in private. If he hadn't yet learned where she headed, she didn't want him to know her exact destination. "That would be very kind, um, Mr. Barton.”
"Bit cool this evening, isn't it?"
My stars, didn't the man ever talk about anything but the weather? Maybe he was one of those gorgeous physical specimens with the brain of a rock.
She sighed and answered, "Yes, there's a chill in the air. I suppose we're in for more winter.”
What should she do? Panic turned her stomach in knots. She should send him on his way, but didn't know what to say or do. Hating herself for her timidity, she once more flowed with the easiest course and allowed herself to be escorted back to the hotel.
In the lobby, he patted her hand where it rested on his arm. "Would you be kind enough to join me for dinner?"
"Thank you, but I have several things left to do before I retire. Good evening.”
She slowly climbed the stairs. From the landing, she watched him enter the dining room. She counted to ten, then descended the stairs and crossed the lobby. Only when she safely stepped outside the hotel did she slow her walk.
The breeze rose and turned icy. She'd forgotten her warm serge cape, but dared not take time to fetch it now.
Before she reached the depot, she heard a hiss from between two buildings.
"Ssst, Lady."
She stopped and searched for the origin of the sound. From the shadows a child beckoned to her. It was the little thief.
"You!” What nerve he had accosting her in public!
"Please don't yell or nothin', lady. I need your help."
"Why? To help yourself to my money as you did that poor man's?"
"No. I'm sorry I had to take his money, but he looked awful well-heeled. I’ll bet a swell like him has so much he won't even miss it, and we need it real bad.”
"We? So you have accomplices."
"I don't know what that means. What I got is a little sister who's real sick. Since you're a lady and all, and you didn't turn me over to the coppers, I thought maybe you'd help her."
Indecision tore at Sarah. This might be a trick, a trap to lure her into danger. On the other hand, a sick child struck a most sympathetic chord. Still she hesitated. Ladies didn’t go off down dark alleys. What should she do?
She asked, "How do I know you're telling me the truth? You could have friends waiting to cosh me on the head--or worse." If there really was a sick child, she couldn’t turn her back.
"Honest," he pleaded, "My sister needs your help bad."
"Who are you, and what's wrong with your sister?" She stalled for time to make her decision.
"My name's Luke, hers is Cindy. She's not breathin' right, and it scares me. I done ever' thing I know, but she's gettin' worse."
She was hooked, and she knew it. "Where is Cindy?"
"She's back down this alley. It ain’t far. Please, lady, you gotta help her."
Sarah peered behind the boy, but only shadows and darkness greeted her. She darted a look over her shoulder to see if anyone else witnessed the exchange in case she needed to cry for help.
Oh, no. There came Nate Barton ambling along as if he hadn't a care in the world. Strolling as if he had no particular destination in mind, he headed straight for her. She touched her skirt where the little derringer rested on her leg and nodded to the boy.
"All r
ight. Take me to your sister."
"You'll have to be careful where you step," Luke cautioned. "There's traps and shit everywhere. Just follow me real close."
Sarah wondered what traps he meant, and if he meant the foul word literally. From the acrid smell, she suspected he meant exactly that.
He stopped at a shack where half the roof had caved in. It looked like a death trap. Sarah had seen packing crates constructed more sturdily than this shanty.
The boy knocked three times, paused, and knocked twice more. She heard the sounds of scraping from inside before the door opened a crack. She wondered who opened the door, almost decided to turn and run herself.
Luke stepped in and held the door open for her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to enter the sad excuse for a shelter. The boy closed the door and placed a wooden barrel against it.
The chill of outside was nothing compared to the frigid room. A small fire burned in a large bucket. With the steady draft whistling through, she wondered how smoke survived to hang in a heavy haze over the room. Nearby, a single lantern on an upended wooden barrel furnished light for the place. On a ragged pallet, a tiny girl coughed and gasped for air.
***
Sarah took stock of the room. For the first time, she saw the other boy in the corner shadows. Older, maybe nine or ten, he stood with his hands at his side. His dark hair and clothing blended with the dim recesses of the room, at first making his pale face appear to float in the dark. In one hand he held a large board with a huge nail in the end.
"That's Joe. He don't never talk, but he helps me take care of Cindy."
Luke rushed to his sister's side. "Cindy, this here's a real lady. She's come to help you."
"Are you an angel?” The little girl gasped out the words in a whisper, her blue eyes wide with wonder.
Sarah knelt beside the child and pressed a hand to her forehead. Cindy's skin burned with fever. "No, dear. I met your brother outside, and he thought I might be able to help."
Blonde hair wet with the exertion of breathing clung to her head. A rack of coughing left the girl limp. She turned her face to the side and closed her eyes.
Sarah met Luke's worried gaze. "How long has she been like this?"
Luke shrugged. "I don't know, maybe a week. We kinda lost track of time since we been here."
"We have to get her out of here.” She paused to plan her words. No point in lying to him. "She won't ever get well unless we get her to a clean, warm place where she can rest and see a doctor right away."
Tears ran down the boy's cheeks. He leaned near Sarah's ear and whispered. "Is she gonna die?"
"Not if we get her help. I'll take her to my hotel room and then send for a doctor. You and Joe gather up all your stuff and come with me. I'll carry Cindy."
"We cain't both leave." Luke looked at Joe, then back at Sarah. "We take turns leavin' so nobody won't steal our place here."
"I'll find you a new place. Think how scared Cindy would be without you."
Sarah bent and picked up the little girl. "Wrap that blanket around her.”
Luke helped tuck the blanket around his sister. Though Cindy was slight, her dead weight for the three blocks to the hotel and up the stairs worried Sarah. What if her arms gave way and she dropped her? Her mind struggled for a solution. She didn't want to involve the authorities and that left only one choice.
"There's a man outside near where you found me tonight. Maybe you saw me bump into him earlier when I was chasing you.” Luke nodded his head, so Sarah continued, "His name's Mr. Barton. Find him and ask him to come here with you. Tell him Miss Kincaid needs his help. He can carry Cindy."
Reluctantly, Luke left the shack. Sarah motioned the other boy over. "Joe, if you have a trunk or valise, please put your things in and help gather up Luke's and Cindy's belongings."
Joe hesitated, but moved to a small trunk. With one hand he raised the lid and added a soiled pink dress and scuffed pair of brown shoes from the floor. He stepped back and stared at her defiantly, his jaw set and eyes hostile, the board still in his grip.
Deciding the trunk belonged to Cindy, Sarah asked, "Does Cindy have a coat?"
Joe nodded. He laid down his weapon and rummaged through the clothes until he pulled out a bright blue coat. Sarah let the blanket drop and Joe placed Cindy's arms in the sleeves and gently slid the coat on her shoulders. Then, he retrieved the blanket and tucked it carefully around the little girl.
"I'll let her lie back down until her brother returns.” Sarah knelt and smoothed Cindy's small frame on the pallet.
When Luke's coded knock sounded, Joe grabbed the board, scooted the barrel away from the door and took his armed stance in the corner. The door flew open and Nate stepped in with gun drawn and his other arm raised to ward off a blow.
"Good Lord, woman. I thought you'd been shanghaied." He looked like a man ready for any challenge, a man used to danger.
"The same thought occurred to me but, as you can see, three homeless children hardly pose a threat."
He glanced to his right at the boy in the shadows. "The nail on the end of that club could do a lot of damage."
"Luke summoned you so we could ask your help getting Cindy and their things to my hotel room.” She'd forgotten his injuries. Would he be able to carry the child?
He stuffed the gun into his waistband. "What's wrong with the kid?”
"I don't know, probably pneumonia, but she can't stay here."
Looking from one child to another, he crossed his arms. "You think the hotel people will let you bring this lot in?”
My stars, they would look a fright to others, wouldn't they? It couldn't be helped. She had to save these children.
"Of course, they will. I'm quite willing to pay extra, so why would they care? I can't carry her that far, though. I hoped you'd carry Cindy while the boys and I bring their belongings."
He looked around the shabby room, his disgust apparent. "Probably all have fleas. Who knows what else?"
"Mr. Barton, please. The fact that they are children does not mean they are deaf. Show some sensibility. Will you help us or not?"
"Okay, okay. What do I know about kids?” He knelt and picked up the little girl.
In spite of his hard words, he held her gently, placing her head on his shoulder and patting her back softly. Cindy slid her small arms around his neck. His tenderness touched Sarah.
Luke and Joe helped Sarah add more things to the trunk. When Sarah would have added a small box, Joe stopped her and shook his head.
"You want to leave this here?"
He nodded. She set the box aside.
"Aren't you afraid someone will take it?"
He shook his head and wielded his board like a baseball bat.
Luke understood at once. "Joe, you got to come with us. We stick together, 'member?"
Joe looked from Sarah to Nate and back to Luke, then shook his head again.
Nate glowered at the boy. "Listen, you little--"
Sarah stepped in front of him. "Joe, please come with us. Cindy is used to having you near as well as Luke. She'll be worried if she can't see you, too."
Joe bit his lip, looking caught in indecision, so Sarah pressed on. "Just stay with us until Cindy is well. If you don't like it, I promise to help you find a new place to stay that's better than this one."
Luke tugged on Joe's arm. "Yeah, come with us. You know I gotta stay with Cindy. She'll be real scared like if she don't see you around too."
"Joe, please," Cindy pleaded before coughing seized her.
Still reluctant, Joe picked up his box and added it to a satchel in the corner. He shot a defiant glare at the adults, but picked up the carryall.
Sarah tried reassuring him with a smile. "You won't need the club now.”
His look let her know he wasn't leaving the board, so she didn't argue. At least he agreed to accompany them. What she would have done had he refused, she had no idea. One thing she knew for certain. She would never have been able to leav
e a child in this horrid place.
How long had these children been here? How had they survived?
Chapter Three
Sarah's thoughts flew to her own childhood when her half sister Pearl provided for her and their half brother Storm. Would she and Storm have been reduced to living like this otherwise? No, she knew, one way or another, Mama would have made certain she had a decent place to live.
A new wave of grief for the sacrifices Mama made and her death almost overwhelmed Sarah. She pushed her personal feelings aside and concentrated on saving these three children.
Their walk to the hotel attracted some inquisitive stares, but no one said anything to them. Nate's steps never faltered, except for a few turns in the alley when Luke warned them about traps. At the hotel they hurried up the stairs and into Sarah's room, in spite of the alarm on the desk clerk's face when he saw them. The two boys lagged behind staring at the lobby and stairwell as if they had never seen a place so grand, but Sarah urged them ahead with the promise of a tour later.
Sarah whipped back the cover of her bed and made a place for Cindy. Nate lay the girl down gently and threw the ragged blanket on the floor across the room. He slid the coat from her and tucked the sheet under her arms. Luke and Joe went to the other side of the bed, but divided their focus between Cindy and wide-eyed stares at the room.
Cindy's eyes opened. "Where are we?"
Luke stretched across the bed and patted her hand. "Ain't this a grand place? You 'member, this lady's gonna make you well, you'll see."
Cindy's gaze shifted to Joe, who nodded in agreement.
Sarah brought a towel and basin to the bedside table. "That's right, Cindy. You're going to stay here and get well. Joe and Luke will be right here with you.”
She bathed Cindy's face and hands. Removed from the smoky shack into a warm hotel room, Cindy's breathing had already eased slightly. Sarah's mind raced ahead making plans. She needed Nate's room for the boys, and someone had to find the doctor. She'd deal with the Welborns tomorrow.
Most Unsuitable Husband Page 3