A Lady Like Sarah (22 page)

"Maybe Colbert was on the side of the opposition," he said.

She grinned. "Or maybe he was just greedy."

He juggled Elizabeth in his arms and tapped her gently on the nose. "I'd say you're worth at least an arm and a leg. If he asks much more than that, we're in trouble."

Sarah smiled. She loved watching Justin with Elizabeth. No one would guess by looking at them that they weren't father and daughter.

He lifted his head and caught her staring at him. A world of emotion passed between them before they turned away: he to scan the river and she to battle tears.

Taking a bracing breath, she focused on Elizabeth. Her
chest ached as she gazed at the child in his arms. After a strained silence, she said, "You take care of her, you hear?"

His gaze collided with hers. "You know I will."

"Find her a good home."

He nodded.
"The best."

"Don't forget, she likes to have her forehead rubbed."

"I
won't—"

"And she likes to be sung to when you're
changin
' her breeches."

"I don't know if I can remember all the words to that 'Little Brown Jug' song you sing."

"Don't you dare sing that to her," she said heatedly. Then seeing his teasing smile, she smiled too.

She bit her lip. She thought of all the things she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.

"Do you want to hold her one more time?" he asked.

She stepped back, hands by her side. "No." She couldn't. She didn't dare. If she took that precious child in her arms, she would never be able to let her go. She dug her fingers into her palms and fought for control.

He spread a blanket on the ground and lay Elizabeth on it. Then without warning, he spun around and crushed Sarah into his arms, sending her hat flying to the ground.

Oblivious to onlookers, he kissed her hard. His lips on hers made her heart pound till she could hardly breathe.

"Stay with me, Sarah," he said between kisses. "I won't let them hurt you, I won't. God will help us find a way. You have to believe that."

She was tempted—more tempted than she had ever been in her life—but her feelings for this man far outweighed any selfish notions she had.

She
stared up at the face that she had come to know so well. Seeing the pain in his eyes was almost harder to bear than the anguish she felt.

"How would it look for a preacher to be
hangin
' out with a Prescott?"

The frown on his forehead deepened. Something seemed to die inside of him. "I don't know that I have much heart left for preaching," he said, feathering kisses on her forehead.

"That's crazy talk," she said, adding in a quieter but no less firm voice, "
Preachin
' is your life, your work."

"It's God's work, and he deserves someone who can give heart and soul to the job."

"And that someone is you," she said. "Don't go
thinkin
' it's not, you hear?"

He shook his head sadly, like a man who had seen his last dream fade away. "My heart won't be in it, Sarah. Not if you're gone." He hesitated. "I'm not even sure I'm cut out for the work anymore."

"Don't say that, Justin. Look how you helped that poor man who lost his wife and child. You even made a believer out of me."

He smiled at that. "I think you always believed. You just need to learn to trust God."

"I
do
trust Him," she said softy, "and I believe God means for you to be a preacher."

"Maybe in Boston, but not here.
People out here are difÂferent. Do you know what women talk about in Boston? Fashions! They're obsessed with the latest Parisian fashions. And the men talk about the Red Caps."

She frowned, trying to understand what he was telling her. "They talk about hats?'

"The Red Caps are a baseball team. The men come to church on Sunday and afterward they stand around and talk about a game. A ball game! But out here . . ." He gazed in the distance at a drover struggling to free a bogged cow. "I don't know what I can offer folks out here."

"I reckon they need God a whole lot more out here than those city folks do," she said.

"That may be true, but I don't think I'm the right perÂson for the job. Don't you see? I've lived a relatively easy life. Before this trip, I never buried anyone with my own two hands."

"You lost your sisters," she said.

"Yes, but I didn't have to dig their graves and leave them in the wilderness. I never had to worry about Indians or stamÂpedes . . . and I never knew what love was."

She blinked back the tears that threatened her resolve. "I
s'pect
you've always been a man of good leather," she said. "Now you're more experienced, is all. You got a lot more rings on your horns."

"Not enough," he
said,
his voice hoarse. He took her hand and held it in both of his. "I know how to talk about God to people who never have to worry about where their next meal is coming from. What can I possibly offer people who come face-to-face with death at every turn?"

"Your faith," she said, pulling her hand away.

He stared at her. "That's it?"

She nodded. "It's enough."

"I don't know—"

"It's enough," she said again.

The look he gave her reached into her very soul. "I don't know that I can find a better mother for Elizabeth than you."

"You and her . . . you deserve better than me. I'll be
lookin
' over my shoulder just like you said."

"I was wrong. You won't have to keep looking over your shoulder as I'll be watching your back every step of the way."

She
bit her lip and took a deep breath. "It almost broke my heart to drag that baby out of bed in the middle of the night." Each word felt like broken glass in her mouth, but she
forced herself to continue. "It ain't right. She deserves a ma she can count on. One who ain't afraid to show her
face.
" Beseeching him, she
lay
a hand on his arm. "If only . . ."

He leaned toward her. "If only what?"

"It would make it easier if I knew you and Elizabeth were together."

He stared at her, his eyes wide with astonishment. "You want me to keep her?" He shook his head. "You know I can't. . . I have no idea what awaits me in Rocky Creek. Or even if I'm capable of doing the job I've been sent to do. How could I possibly care for a child?"

Regretting the additional burden she had placed on him, she reached up to smooth away the tortured shadow at his forehead. "You must give heart and soul to the Lord. For the first time in my life, I want to know that I've done right by Him."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Don't leave me, Sarah. Please don't go. God wouldn't bring us together only to tear us apart."

She pressed her hand against his roughened cheek, and the love she felt for him welled up inside until she thought her chest would rip open. "If that's true, then you can be sure there'll be a divine interruption."

"Intervention," he said softly.
"Divine intervention."

She closed her eyes. It was a comforting but unrealistic thought. God had saved Elizabeth, and it seemed to her that a body didn't have a right to expect more than one miracle in a lifetime.

She pulled away and reached down for her hat. Then she fell on her knees and kissed Elizabeth on the forehead, the downy soft hair tickling her nose. She could no longer hold back her tears and quickly wiped away the one that fell on Elizabeth's round face. How was it possible for a heart to hurt so much?

She
stood and slapped her hat against her leg before placÂing it on her head. She made a mistake by looking back at him. He was so tall and handsome, his eyes filled with both love and despair, but it was the noticeable sheen in his eyes that nearly tore her apart. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget his face on this day.

"God help me . . ." She shook her head. "I can't—"

"All aboard for Fort Smith."
The rough voice of the stage coach driver sounded as final as a dirge.

Justin leaned forward. "Can't what, Sarah?"
She
stared at him mutely and fought the impulse to rush into his arms. She pressed her hand one last time against his cheek,
then
quickly slipped away. It took every bit of strength she could muster to run the short distance to the waiting stage.

The sun hung high in the sky by the time Justin finally reached the end of his journey and rode into the little town of Rocky Creek. His heart heavy, he felt all the anxiety and none of the joy of finally reaching his destination.

Not only did he question his reason for being there, he missed Sarah. Missed her more than he ever thought possible to miss another human being.

A lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He glanced down at the sleeping child in his sling. "You miss her too, don't you?"

Sarah denied knowing anything about babies, but she was far better than he at washing out baby clothes, milking that sorry excuse for a goat, and dressing the little one. The tiny buttons confounded him, and he could never seem to get the child's three-cornered breeches on right the first time. The goat was just plain ornery.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah . . . ." Whispering her name had
become a habit with him. It was the first thing he did each morning, the last thing he did after his nightly prayer.

Heaving a sigh, he focused his attention on his surroundÂings. With Elizabeth nestled peacefully in her sling, he rode slowly through town.

Much to his dismay, Rocky Creek was every bit as wantÂing as Sarah had described. Main Street was narrow and deeply rutted by wagon wheels. Dismal false front buildings lined up on either side of the street like dejected wallflowers at a dance.

The street was deserted, the hot sun keeping everyone inside. Raucous laughter and loud voices drifted from the batwing doors of various saloons he passed.

He counted seven saloons in all. In addition there was a barbershop, town marshal's office, newspaper office, and dry goods store. A livery stable and blacksmith anchored the town at one end. A bank kept the town from toppling over in the other.

The Grand Hotel was located at the end of the street opposite the blacksmith. A ramshackle structure, it seemed to depend on the emporium next door for support. The only resemblance to its name was the size, twice that of the other buildings.

The desk clerk was a rail thin man with a sweeping musÂtache. His square-jawed face and fly-away ears resembled a squat sugar bowl.

"I need a room," Justin said.

The clerk scratched his head and stared at Elizabeth like he'd never seen a baby before. "All's I got is space in a three- man bed. I don't reckon the others will cotton much to
sharin
' their bed with a bawler."

Justin stared at the man, not sure he'd heard right. "Did I hear you say I'd have to share a bed?"

"Yep, you heard me all right."

"I'll pay you double for a private bed."

The clerk shook his head. "Hotel's full.
Got a couple cattle companies here.
You could try Ma Stevens's boarding house. It's located about a mile west of here. She's mighty particular 'bout
who
she takes in, but maybe she'll take pity on you."

Justin thanked him and left.
His misgivings about the town and his ability to care for Elizabeth increased by the minute.
If he had to depend on pity for accommodations, he was in worse shape than he thought.

Less than twenty minutes later, he spotted a sign on a fence post that simply said
Ma's.

The well-kept clapboard house with its high-polished windows and full-blooming flower boxes looked as friendly as a puppy. He felt a flicker of hope.

"What do you think, Elizabeth? Think she'll take pity on us?"

The woman known as Ma opened the door to Justin's knock. Dressed in a bright floral dress, as wide as she was tall, she resembled a flower box herself—or would have, had she been lying down. Drying her pudgy hands on her ruffled starched apron, she greeted him warmly with a dimpled chin and a melting smile. Gazing tenderly at the small infant asleep in his arms, her buttery smile spread to her ears.

"Well, bless my soul. What have we here?"

Justin introduced himself and explained that he was the new pastor of the church.

"Come
in,
come in. You're just in time for some fresh berry pie." The woman hustled him through the neatly furÂnished drawing room to the sunny kitchen in back.

"Glory
be
!" she said, reaching for a padded potholder and opening the oven door. "At last we have a preacher to call our own. We saw the last one every six months if we were lucky, and he always preached the same sermon."

She
set two pies on the windowsill to cool,
then
brushed a strand of white hair from her face. "Guess he figured after six months, no one would remember."

"You have my word that I'll preach a different sermon every week," Justin said. He glanced around, and the homey feel of the kitchen made him even more aware of his dismal future.

"Right now, though, I need a room for myself and the baby. I also have two horses, a mule, and a goat that need tendÂing to."

She moved the blanket and peered down on the sleeping child. "What a dear sweet thing," the woman said. As if on cue, Elizabeth opened her eyes.