A Journey of the Heart Collection (3 page)

She dragged her eyes from his gaze and called out a cheerful “Good night,” hoping she'd misread his look. Weary from the long night, she pushed herself through the front door.

The murmur of voices echoed from the parlor. She hung her shawl on a hook and walked into the room. The thick rug muffled her footsteps, but Wade looked up from the overstuffed chintz chair beside the fireplace. Her father lay on the matching sofa, his breathing labored and his face pale in the dying light from the fireplace.

She quickly knelt at his side. “Papa, are you all right? Should I call Doc Seth?”

“No, no. I'm fine. Just tired.” His breathing seemed
to ease as he took her hand and drew her into an embrace. “You remind me so much of your mama the first time I met her.” He closed his eyes and grimaced. “I'm going to miss you when you go. It will be almost like losing her again.”

Wade's wife came into the parlor carrying a tray laden with cups of steaming coffee. Sarah reached for her sister-in-law's burden. “Here, Rachel. Let me take that. It's much too heavy for you in your condition.” Sarah eyed the gentle bulge under Rachel's skirt.

Rachel handed it over with a tired smile of thanks and a glance at her husband.

Wade took a cup of coffee. “Congratulations, Sarah. Ben is quite a catch. Just see you don't forget your family when you're rich.”

Was money all he ever thought about? Sarah bit back an angry retort. She didn't want to upset her father. “Why would you say such a thing? You know money isn't important to me.”

Wade laughed. “It's all right. You'll see soon enough the difference money makes in this world. Besides, I always thought you could do better than Campbell.”

Sarah curled her fingers into her palms and inhaled
to fire back a comment. Wade would never listen to her anyway.

Her father's tender gaze lingered on her. “You were only eleven when your mama died, much too young to take over the household and your new brother the way you did.” He wiped a shaking hand across his brow, beaded with drops of sweat. “But I just was so blinded by my own grief, I wasn't thinking clearly. All these years you've managed our home like it was your own. It's time for you to leave here and have your own life, your own home.”

Wade slammed his coffee cup down on the table, and some of it sloshed onto the polished walnut surface. “Sure, Sarah played house, but I was always out in the fields working my fingers to the bone to support this family. If not for my hard work, this place would have gone on the auction block long ago. You never seem to remember we all worked together.”

His father looked up at him. “You're right, son. I don't tell you often enough how grateful I am that you shouldered the responsibility.” He sat up and swung his legs off the couch. “You get on up to bed now. That's where I'm headed.”

At least his voice seemed stronger.

Her father laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Why don't you go on up to bed? You can tell us all about your plans tomorrow.”

Her anger faded, and she gave a weary nod. It didn't do any good to argue with Wade anyway. He had never liked Rand, probably because he was one of the few people Wade couldn't intimidate. She kissed her father and bid them all good night, then walked upstairs, running her hand along the smooth oak banister. She looked back down into the entryway as she thought about her father's words. She was going to miss this place.

Once in the sanctuary of her room, she stepped out of her hoopskirt and crinoline and struggled with the buttons on her dress. She looked around her bedroom. She'd miss this house, this large room furnished with dainty white furniture stenciled with pink. A lacy coverlet topped the feather bed, and dozens of pastel pillows offered a plump, safe haven to curl up and read. Rand had made the bed for their wedding before he went off to war, and it wouldn't be appropriate to take it with her to Ben's. The very thought was hideous.

She took the pins from her long hair and let it fall
to her shoulders, then pulled her nightgown over her head. She smoothed the two braids loose, then ran her brush through the tresses before rebraiding it in one long plait.

The smooth sheets welcomed her, and she pulled her feather comforter up to her chin. She was filled with a strange foreboding as Shane's words came back to her.
“What if Rand's not really dead?”
She'd indulged in such daydreams in the first months after his death. But tonight the idea followed her into her dreams.

TWO

A
fter a long day of negotiating with the railroad for some land he owned, Ben approached the stately brick two-story with a profound sense of pride. Everything he wanted was within his grasp. He swung off his fine quarter horse and led him into the barn, calling for the stable boy.

Who would have thought that Ben Croftner, son of the good-for-nothing drifter Max Croftner, would pull himself up by his own bootstraps out of the dirt and live in a house that was the envy of everyone in
Wabash—and Indiana, for that matter? He'd done what he had to do to get to the top. There had been much opportunity since the war, and he discovered he had an aptitude for exploiting it. He'd made a fortune the last six months.

And now Sarah Montgomery was finally his. Beautiful Sarah with her mesmerizing green eyes and red-gold hair. He'd be the envy of the men in town, few though they were.

He wiped his dusty shoes on the rug by the door, then stepped into the elegantly appointed front parlor. Velvet drapes, fine walnut tables and Dresden figurines, a plush rug imported from France, and an overstuffed horsehair sofa and chair. He frowned as he saw the figure on the sofa. Too bad he couldn't just leave his family behind the same way he'd left his old life.

Labe jumped up from the sofa, clutching an envelope. “I'm not going to do it anymore, Ben.” His voice quivered as he handed over the envelope. “My boss at the post office almost caught me this time. And I'm not going to jail for nobody. Not even you.”

Ben patted Labe's shoulder. “Don't worry, little brother. Sarah finally gave in last night. By the time the next letter comes, she'll be my wife.”

Labe's mouth dropped open. “Congratulations, then. I never thought you'd really pull it off. When you came back from the war with this crazy scheme, I thought fighting them Rebs had made you loco.”

Ben laughed as he sank into the plushness of the high-backed chair and took off his sweat-stained Stetson and wiped his face. Labe wasn't the first to underestimate his ambition. “Like I said, it's all over. Now all you have to do is keep your mouth shut.”

He looked at the envelope in his lap. “I suppose I should read what this says.” Ben ripped open the top and took out the single sheet of paper. “Won't Mr. High and Mighty Rand Campbell be surprised when he finds his beloved Sarah is married to me!”

He settled more comfortably in his chair and scanned the sprawling lines. His smile faded and a scowl twisted his face. He ripped the page to shreds, tossed them onto the fire burning in the grate, and stood.

“What is it, Ben?”

“Rand's coming home. But no matter. He'll be too late.” He strode out the door without another word to Labe.

He flung the harness over his horse's still-damp
neck and hitched up the buggy. As he flicked the buggy whip over the horse's head and headed toward the Montgomery farm, he pressed his lips together with determination. He hadn't kept up a charade for five months to lose Sarah now.

He'd been so careful, so patient, telling her how he'd found Rand in the prison camp and got him to the hospital, only for him to die there. And Rand
should
have died. He'd been just a shell of a man with his skin stretched over his bones when he was finally liberated from Andersonville. It was the most hideous thing Ben had ever seen. But he had rallied, much to Ben's dismay. He really hadn't expected Rand to recuperate as fast as he had, and now he threatened to spoil all Ben's carefully laid plans. Ben couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

Sarah was sweeping the front porch when Ben stepped down out of the buggy. She forced herself to relax and lift a hand in greeting when he approached. How good-looking he was. His blond hair just curled over his collar, and his gray eyes were gentle and tender,
dispelling her misgivings from the night before. She was doing the right thing.

Ben bounded up the steps with a smile and took her hand. “How's my lovely lady today?”

She smiled up at him. “I'm getting behind in my housework. Everyone has been stopping by to congratulate me. News travels fast.”

“Especially good news.” He guided her down onto the porch steps and sat beside her. “I was talking to Labe, and he was saying how good it would be to have a real woman doing for us once you and I are married. We haven't decided on a date yet, but I was hoping to make it on my birthday next weekend. Could you be ready?”

“But, Ben, that's only eight days.” Panic rose in her throat, and she tried to keep the dismay out of her face as she stared at him. “There's such a lot to do.”

“You can be ready, I'm sure, if you really want to be.” A note of impatience crept into his voice. “Don't you think you've made me wait long enough?”

“But I have to make my dress. And—”

“I surely don't care what you wear. Your Sunday dress will do just fine.”

She lowered her eyes. Why did he always make
her feel so guilty, so indebted to him? “I can be ready. Would you like some iced tea?”

“No, I have a meeting in town. I'll see you tonight.”

She allowed his hug, then, with something that felt like relief, watched him ride away. What difference did it really make anyway? One date was as good as another if she was really going to go through with it. And besides, if she wanted Amelia to be her bridesmaid, they'd have to wed before Amelia and Jacob left for Fort Laramie.

Dinner was yet to be made, but Sarah untied her apron and started toward the McCallister farm. She needed to see her friend. She paused at the knoll overlooking Amelia's home. The hills were green with giant oak and maple trees. Several milk cows grazed on the thick, lush grass under a bowl of blue sky. Doctor Seth and his family still lived in the log home he'd built when he first arrived twenty years ago. With his thriving practice, he could well afford an elaborate home in town. But she was glad the McCallisters had never moved. It was her second home, and she ran over the meadow that separated the two properties.

The house had been added on to over the years and now sprawled carelessly in several directions. Their
two families had been close ever since Sarah could remember. At one time there was hope that Amelia would marry Wade, but she lost interest as Wade grew to manhood and became the arrogant, self-righteous boor he was. Now Amelia had eyes for no other man but Jacob Campbell.

Amelia was on the wide front porch, churning butter. She greeted Sarah with a smile, her face flushed with exertion. “I was just coming to see you as soon as I was finished.” Tendrils of dark hair clung in curls around her face. “I have some ideas for the wedding.” Her welcoming smile faded. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know what to do.” Sarah launched into an explanation of Ben's plans.

Amelia started shaking her head before Sarah finished. “Eight days! That isn't enough time to get everything ready.”

“I know! I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn't listen. He wants to be married on his birthday.” Sarah slumped down onto a step. “And I guess it's the least I can do after all I've put him through these past five months. You know how patient he's been . . .” Her voice faltered when she saw the skeptical look Amelia threw her way, and Sarah realized how ridiculous she
sounded. “Besides, if we wait until after your wedding, you might have to leave before mine.”

“I suppose you're right,” Amelia said slowly. “But I've never understood why you think you owe Ben anything. He hasn't done anything special for you.” She came to sit next to Sarah on the step. “You say Ben loves you. I'm sure that's true. Who wouldn't? But do you really know his heart, Sarah? Does he know you don't love him?”