Montana Legend (Harlequin Historical, No. 624) (22 page)

“I want you to say it.” Her heart was breaking and he didn't notice. “I need you to tell me how you feel about me. I need to know if you love me.”

“Oh, Sarah.” He sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Planted his hands on his knees. Bowed his head.

A horrible chill lanced through her. The silence between them grew until it was so enormous she couldn't speak. The few feet separating them felt as wide as the plains. She eased onto the window seat and crossed her arms over her breasts.

“I won't lie to you. I'm not going to have that kind of marriage. Where I say one thing to keep you from getting angry with me, but it's a lie. Over time a little lie here and there gets to be a habit, and it's not right. I want honesty between us.”

“Me, too.” Her own voice sounded so far away. She brushed her thumb over the ring on her hand. “Do you love me at all?”

“I don't believe in love. You knew that from the start.”

“But I thought—”
That I was special.
She couldn't say the words.

“Oh.” He seemed to hear them, anyway. There was a rustle of sheets as he moved off the bed and knelt in front of her. Took her hands in his. “Isn't what we have enough?”

She couldn't nod. Couldn't agree.

“We get along so well, you and me. Isn't that right?” He waited. “Damn it, I thought you were more practical than this.”

He hated being frustrated. He hated that she was looking as lost as he felt. “Sarah, I'll say the words if you want me to.”

“I want you to mean it.” She withdrew her hands from his. “I need you to love me, Gage. Or what's the point?”

A blade through the chest wouldn't hurt this bad. Why was she doing this to him? “There is no point, Sarah. There's just you and me and what we can have together.”

“But what is that? I have to know.”

“I don't know what it is. Compatibility, maybe.”

“Compatibility?” She didn't look any more pleased with that.

Hell, he was doing this all wrong. “Sarah, I care for you. We have a good relationship, don't we?”

She nodded, her hair tumbling forward to hide her face.

“We get along. We don't hurt one another, don't argue, don't blame, right?” He waited for her to nod again. “There's no unhappiness, no heartache, no disappointments. It's just you and me, getting along, raising our girls and making a life together. Right?”

She nodded again. Perfectly reasonable, after all.

“What I have with you is real. It's not a fairy tale of impossible love that doesn't last anyway. You've got to know there are no shining knights, no rescued damsels or no happily-ever-afters. Life is what you make it, nothing more, nothing less. And, Sarah, I
want to live my life with you. It's not a fairy tale, but it
is
real. I'm a man you can count on forever.”

She hooked a shank of thick locks behind her ear, exposing her face. Not smiling, not sad, not anything. He didn't know if she'd heard him or not. Heard what he was offering her—everything he was, everything he had, everything he would be.

She came into his arms like dawn to the mountains, gentle and quiet and perfect. Relief slipped through him like a morning breeze. Losing Sarah was the one thing he didn't think he could handle.

He kissed her tenderly, so she would feel how important she was to him. Gently, the way he intended to kiss her for the rest of his days.

 

Sarah watched her wedding day dawn in a slow procession of black to silver-gray before a gentle rosy-peach light glowed on the windowpanes. Gage stirred, stretched, and cuddled up behind her.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

He looked so handsome with his sleep-tousled hair and day's growth raspy on his jaw. She wanted to hold him forever. To forget last night's conversation. To do anything to have the right to call this man her husband.

But would it be enough?

Ella's cough shattered the stillness and gave her reason to pull back the covers, snatch her nightgown from the bedpost, shiver into it and hurry across the hall.

“'Morning, Sarah,” Lucy whispered from the top bunk. “Do you know what? You're gonna be my ma today.”

“Oh, Lucy.” She didn't know what to say as she reached for the pitcher on the bed table and eased onto the bottom mattress.

Ella was sitting up, drinking as much water as fast as she could. “I'm all right—” Her shoulders shook with the effort not to cough. “I'm not sick anymore. Not at all. Honest.”

“I see that.” Sarah refilled the glass and held it steady while Ella drank it down. “Sounds like I should make you some tea. Lucy, you make sure Ella stays here.”

“But, Ma, I'm not sick. Really. See?” The coughing stopped, and Ella didn't feel too warm to the touch. “Are we really going to live here for keeps?”

There's just you and me and what we can have together.
That's what Gage had told her with true sincerity.
I want to live my life with you.

He'd stood to offer her his faithfulness, his companionship, his future and his prosperity. There would be passion in his bed whenever she wanted it, a good life without want for her daughter, and the promise of more children. Her babies, hers and Gage's.

He was offering her so much. Everything that would make her life comfortable and happy.

Everything but his heart.

“You two get dressed. And, Ella, come straight downstairs to take your medicine.” Sarah grabbed the hairbrush and ribbons on the way to the door. “No dallying.”

Lucy hopped to the floor with a two-footed thud, and as Sarah closed the door she saw the girls jumping up and down together.

“We get to be sisters today.” Ella's joy spilled into the hallways, following Sarah where she stood on the landing. “Real sisters. Not just best friends.”

“Forever and ever.”

Weak-kneed, Sarah eased onto the top step. The
ring on her hand felt heavy and she stared at it, all the uncertainty rushing up into her throat. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Could only see the flash of the diamonds in the peaceful morning light.

She could do this. Gage loved her. She felt it last night in his touch. She experienced it every waking moment of every day. The thousand things he did for her, to make her life better, big and small, said the words he could not.

That was love, wasn't it? A love that would strengthen and deepen through time? A love that would bring happiness to them all?

 

Sarah's feet touched the boardwalk, noticing how Gage held her several moments longer than necessary to help her from the buggy.

“I'll see you at the church in an hour.” His lips brushed her cheek in a secret kiss, hidden by the brim of his Stetson and her bonnet. “I can't wait to make you my wife, Sarah.”

Anyone could see how much he cared for her. His steady hand guided her to the front door and opened it for her. His respect, his friendship, his affection were unmistakable and yet…

It's enough, she told herself as Ella and Lucy came running, hand in hand, their happiness contagious. Hiding a cough in her free hand, Ella told Lucy goodbye and the girls waved as Gage tugged Lucy back to the buggy.

“I'll see you soon,” he promised.

Not, I love you, Sarah.

It troubled her as she led Ella upstairs and unlocked their door. The room was as she'd left it, the bed
neatly made and the curtains pulled back to let in cheerful light.

“I wanna wear my new pink dress, please, Ma?” Ella coughed. “And my new shoes.”

New dresses, new shoes, everything Ella could ask for. See what a good match this was? “Your new calico would be perfect. And we don't want to forget the new ribbons.”

Sarah helped Ella into her dress and found the buttonhook so they could put on the shiny shoes. With matching pink ribbons tied at the end of her braids, Ella looked adorable. No, perfect.

“We need to get you some hot water so I can steep the herbs—”

“Sarah? Are you in there?” Mary Flannery was on the other side of the door, teapot in hand. “I thought that was you coughing, little Ella. I heard you got yourself mighty sick.”

“But not for long. We didn't have to move in with Aunt Pearl.” Ella swirled. “Look at my new dress.”

“Just right for a wedding. Now, here's a pot of tea that will help with that cough of yours. Why, Sarah, look at you. You're not ready yet.”

“First things first.” She found a cup for the tea. “I have plenty of time.”

“Less than an hour, dear, and your dress isn't laid out yet.” Mrs. Flannery tsked as she marched into the room and pulled open the wardrobe door. “Goodness, I don't see a thing fitting for a wedding. And to one of the richest men around.”

“I didn't have time to make anything.”

“There's a dress shop right across the way. Oh, this is a disaster. Simply unacceptable. You can't get married to Gage Gatlin in a calico work dress.”

“And why not?” Her yellow calico was nearly new, well, she'd hardly worn it, for it had spent most of its life tucked away in the trunk. “It's perfectly fine.”

“Fine? I'm afraid that won't do at all.” Mary shook her head, studying Sarah from head to toe. “A calico work dress. Why, I've never heard the like. A man like Gage Gatlin won't be wanting that, I assure you. No, you need a dress to represent this momentous event. This love the two of you have found.”

Mary's words were like nails into the most vulnerable places of her heart, and Sarah couldn't find breath enough to protest. To tell the truth.

There was no momentous event. No love to celebrate between her and Gage.

A calico work dress—a
sensible, practical
dress—would do just fine.

“Here, Ella.” Sarah pulled out a chair and placed the steaming up on the small corner table. “Come drink this up.”

Mary headed for the door. “You wait right here. Goodness, a
work
dress. Wait until I tell Millie.”

Sarah felt the glimmerings of embarrassment, but not because she didn't have a nice dress. It was because she hadn't thought of it.

 

He was getting married. Gage didn't think it would be happening to him twice in his lifetime, but he didn't feel a bit of panic as he shrugged into his black jacket. He knew this was the right decision. For himself, his daughter, and for Sarah.

“Do you know what, Pa?” Lucy burst through the door in her best dress with the lace that Sarah had helped her choose. “It's almost time. We gotta go to the church. Sarah's gonna be my mother!”

“She sure is.” Gage checked his tie in the mirror, figured it was good enough, and plucked his hat from the bedpost.

“Hurry, Pa! You're too slow.” Lucy leaped in place, lace and ribbon fluttering. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

“What's the rush?” he teased, tugging on one of her braids. “Sarah will wait for us if we're late.”

“Pa!”
Lucy was clearly tortured as she grabbed him by the hand and yanked him into the hall.

This was it. His last half hour of freedom. Gage didn't mind so much as he tugged on his boots in the kitchen.

“Hey, Pa.” Lucy ran to the door. “The sheriff's here.”

What was it this time? More trouble with the neighbor? “Howdy, Sheriff.”

“Gage.” The lawman touched his hat brim. “Just been out to the Owens place. Evicted him on behalf of the bank. His land was repossessed.”

“Sorry to hear that. I hate to think I had a hand in that.”

“You did offer to help, but he refused. Wasn't much more you could do, anyway. His money problems have been going on for a while, the way it looks now. I just got back from riding him to the county line. Told him I wanted him to keep going, but it doesn't mean he will. He could come back here and cause trouble. He's stolen your livestock before. Who's to say he hasn't been doing that for years?”

“Think he's a danger?”

“I think he's a concern, no more. I'd keep my eye out, if I were you. He might not stick around, or he
might make good on his threats. I can have one of my deputies out here if you want protection.”

“I have enough hired men, thanks. You think he's a real threat?”

“It's a possibility. I'd keep watch over my herds if I were you.”

“Fine.” It looked like his biggest problems with Milt were over. He'd inform Juan, keep a lookout at night for thieves, and with any luck, Milt would hit the road and keep on going
without
any of Gage's horses.

The sheriff nosed his horse toward town. “Good luck with your wedding.”

“Thanks.” Luck? He didn't need luck. He knew deep down that this marriage would be different. Better. With no romance getting in the way of things. A good marriage wasn't based on love. But on something better. Duty. Respect. Friendship.

“Pa!” Lucy pulled him across the yard. “We've got to hurry!”

“We sure do, darlin', because I can't wait, either.”

Yep, it was going to be different this time. He was going to be happy with Sarah as his wife. Without a doubt. He knew it down deep.

“A
re you certain you want to walk to the church alone?” Mary turned around in the hall. “I'd be happy to wait for you. Ella won't mind, would you, dear?”

Ella shook her head, looking like a princess in her pretty new things. So happy, she sparkled.

“I need to fix my hair and I'll be right along.” It would be so easy, to tie up her hair, grab the pretty blue pin Mary had lent her and tuck the antique scrap of lace at her throat, borrowed from the seamstress, and walk straight to the church. “You two go on ahead.”

“It's a big day, and a bride always needs time to dream a little.” As if she understood, Mary took Ella's hand and closed the door.

Leaving Sarah alone. But not to dream.

I can do this.
She took a breath and unclasped Mary's beautiful pin. A golden lacework butterfly that matched her dress perfectly. The satin gown that draped her figure like a wish come true.

She hardly recognized herself in the mirror as she reached for the comb. It wasn't the expensive dress,
proper for the wife of Gage Gatlin, but the woman who stared back at her. A convenient bride.

A woman who'd vowed to marry only for love.

I can't do this.
She couldn't stand in front of witnesses before God and vow to love a man who could not love her. Who'd kept his heart tucked away. As generous as he was, Gage could not give her the one thing she wanted.

How could it be good for Ella? She would never see what a loving marriage should be. Neither would the other children who might come along. How would they feel loved if there was no true love between their parents?

If the vows spoken at the altar were lies.

She could love Gage with all her heart, to try to make up for the words he could not say and the emotions he could not feel. Would it be enough? Would his affections for her strengthen and grow deeper over time?

How could she know? It was too late to change her mind, too late to cancel a wedding half the town knew about by now. No, she had to do this. It was for the best. Even if she did not have Gage's heart, she had him. In her life, in her future, in her bed.

It was enough. It had to be.

Tears burned behind her eyes as she wound her long hair in a loose ponytail and separated a hairpin between her teeth. There, in the beveled bureau mirror she saw a woman with tears streaming down her face. With heartbreak in her eyes.

It was five minutes to two, according to the small clock on the mantel. Five minutes to finish her hair and make her way to the church. Where Gage would
be waiting to marry her, a woman in a silk gown, with flowers in her hair.

Sarah brushed the soft pink petals of the wild roses she'd picked for today. Could not pick them up and place them in her hair.

Four minutes to two. Three minutes to two.

Gage would be waiting at the church in his black suit, the one that made his shoulders so wide, his chest so strong. Like a legend of old in his proud Stetson and scuffed riding boots.

He would be waiting for her, ready to take her for his wife. To give her passion and children and one of the finest houses in the county. He would laugh with her and hold her and trust her with his life. But he would never give her his heart. He didn't think he had to. Not now. Not ever.

The clock chimed the hour. Two o'clock.

No man was going to love her, after all. Especially not one as fine as Gage Gatlin. Who would look at her in her beautiful wedding dress and not find enough inspiration to love her.

She crumpled to the floor in her silken gown and felt her heart break into a thousand pieces.

 

Where was she? Gage rubbed the back of his neck. It was damn hot in this suit in the middle of the afternoon. He felt what had to be fifty pairs of eyes watching him from the pews. Folks who had invited themselves out of curiosity. Their whispers buzzed in the back of the church, speculating on what was delaying the bride.

No wedding dress, someone had murmured, then their words fell away and he couldn't hear what was said.

Hell, he didn't care what she wore. She had a few real pretty dresses. Any one of them would be fine. He only wanted to make her his wife. That was all. She looked beautiful in anything she wore.

“Gage.” Mary Flannery tapped him on the shoulder and pulled him away from the front row of curious onlookers. “I spoke to Sarah, Gage.”

“She's just late, is all. I understand that. I didn't give her much time, and with Ella's illness…” He shrugged. “I'm not angry she's late. I'd wait forever to marry her.”

“Oh, Gage.” Sadly, Mary shook her head and spoke with quiet sympathy. “Sarah isn't late. She isn't coming. She doesn't want to marry you.”

“That can't be right.” What was Mary trying to pull? “I get it. This is a joke, right? Playing a game with the poor nervous groom. All right, fine. Tell Sarah it worked, so she can walk down that aisle and become my wife.”

“This is no joke, Gage. Sarah really isn't coming. She's in her room at the boarding house and she refuses to leave. She asked me to keep little Ella for a few hours.” Mary patted his arm. “I'm so sorry. You two are made for each other. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Sarah wasn't coming? She ought to be right there, coming down the aisle with his ring on her hand. What was wrong? Why didn't she want to be here?

“I don't understand.” He wiped his hands over his face, suddenly angry. Blood rising, he could hear the gossip sweep through the church like a wildfire.
She jilted him. Sarah Redding left Gage Gatlin standing at the altar.

It wasn't true, damn it! He marched down the aisle
and flung open the door so hard it slammed against the clapboard wall. It was probably eighty or more degrees in the shade as he stalked through town, his boots ringing on the boardwalk so that shoppers and anyone else in his path scattered.

He knew what this was about, embarrassing him like this. Hurting his pride and his feelings and making a mess out of everything that was right in his life. It was those words he couldn't say to her. That's what she'd been so upset about last night, and he thought he'd settled the matter. Fixed the problem.

But no, she decided to do it this way. Instead of listening to reason, she'd decided to hurt him and his daughter in front of half the town. Not that he gave a damn what people thought, but it was the humiliation of it. He'd taken a punch to the guts and it hurt.

His anger grew with every step he took across the street. By the time he yanked open the boarding house's front door, he was livid. Ready to let her have it. She wanted to play tough, that was fine by him. He pounded up the stairs and raised his hand to slam his fist into the door.

And heard her sobbing, muffled through the wood. Raw and painful. The way heartbreak sounds.

The fight drained right out of him. He dropped his fist to his side and took a shaky breath, trying to figure out what in the hell to do.

She was crying on the other side of that door. Crying. All because he couldn't play make-believe.

He hated that she was hurting that much. Over something foolish, something that was impossible to have. What a mistake he'd made, thinking what he had to offer her was enough. Half the women in town
would have jumped at what he offered, but no, not Sarah.

The door was unlocked, so there was no resistance as he opened it. The hinges creaked and the floorboards groaned beneath his boots as he dared to ease inside.

There she was, in a puddle of blue silk on the floor, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her hands to her face, shoulders shaking.

“Go away.” She didn't look up.

“Oh, Sarah.” What in the blazes did he do? He closed the door and tried to figure it out. If he went down on one knee, she'd know she was right. That she'd won the argument.

But if he didn't, was there a way to repair this?

He decided to stand. It was safer, keeping this the way he meant it to be. Realistic. Pragmatic. Logical. “The reverend said he'd wait. If you want to go now—”

“I c-can't.” She raised a tear-streaked face. Her skin was ruddy, her eyes red.

This wasn't fake crying, and he eased onto his knees. Wiped a teardrop from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Sure you can. We can get a little wash water and some hairpins. It's not too late to mend this.”

“How can we fix this? You don't even know what's wrong.”

“I figure it's got something to do with last night. Look how hard you've been crying. You're miserable, Sarah, and I hate it. I hate seeing you hurt like this.”

Her lower lip trembled. “It hurts when the man you love doesn't love you in return.”

“Oh, angel. There's enough hurt going around right now.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, it's all right.” He took her hand in his, the diamonds sparkling pure and true, a symbol of everything they could have together, and it heartened him. This could still work. If he could find the right words. “See why I think romantic love is a bad ingredient in a relationship? It gets everything all confused and turned around. It hurts too much.”

“And so it's better never to love so you don't have to hurt?” That wasn't right. She wasn't reacting the way he thought she should. More tears brimmed her eyelashes but did not fall. “Love is the only thing that matters. There are a thousand practical reasons why I ought to marry you. It's convenient, we're compatible, it's good for the girls, I never have to work two jobs again. But there's only one reason why I can't marry you.”

“Sarah.” This was killing him. Couldn't she see it? “What I feel for you is honest and real enough for you to touch and see. It's not a myth, it's not something that will fade. This lasts. This matters. This, right here.” He twined his fingers through hers. “This is what lasts. Faithfulness. Duty. Responsibility. Mutual regard. We can get along just like we've been doing. I'm my happiest when I'm with you.”

“Stop it.” She scrambled to her feet in a froth of blue silk and shimmering ribbon. “I can't do this. Don't you see? You don't love me. You don't love
me.
”

All she could hear was the words “duty, responsibility, mutual regard” over and over in her head as she looked at him. This man still willing to marry her.
Still believing the best she could hope for was a dutiful, mutually satisfying,
friendly
marriage.

She wanted to be his one true love. The woman he cherished above all else.

Sarah wrapped her arms around her middle and wished she could hold him instead. That a hug and a kiss and wedding vows would make this all right.

It couldn't.

So she said what needed to be said. Found the courage to end a relationship with the best man she had ever known. The man she'd had the privilege to love.

She pulled the ring from her finger and presented it to him, the diamonds sparkling in mockery of the promises he could not keep.

His eyes clouded. “I gave that to you to wear forever.”

“I know.” This was so hard, but she had to do it. She blinked fast, keeping the emotion down. It was what she had to do.

“Here.” She pressed the ring into his palm as he towered over her, all formidable man. “I hope you can find it in that hard heart of yours to forgive me. I know I'm hurting you.”

“Disappointing me.” His chin shot up as if nothing could ever wound him. He was tough to the core and looked it. As he bowed his head to stare at the ring, a dark shank of hair tumbled over his forehead.

She itched to touch him one more time, even in the pretense of brushing his hair into place. But she'd returned his ring. She wasn't the woman he loved. It wasn't her right.

“I'll be out to fetch my things.” She cleared her throat. “And to say goodbye to Lucy.”

“Goodbye?” What for? Was she leaving?

“I won't be seeing her anymore.” Sarah looked distant, like a stranger, as she opened the door for him. Gestured for him to go.

Just like that. He would walk out of her life. The best thing that had ever happened to him. Not that he loved her. But it felt as if he'd lost everything.

“Take care of yourself, Gage.”

He caught a brief glimpse of anguish on her face as she closed the door on him and locked it. The clink echoed down the hall and in the empty places within his chest. Where his heart was supposed to be.

 

“Sarah is gonna come. You wait and see.” Lucy sat stubbornly on the ranch house front step and refused to budge. She had her sewing in her lap, hemming the doll dress Sarah had helped her make. “I'm gonna get this done, 'cuz, you know what? She's gonna be real surprised I did this all by myself.”

“Lucy, I know this is tough, but you've got to accept this. Sarah isn't coming back. She doesn't want to marry me.”

“Does, too.” Lucy poked the thin needle through the fabric, head bent. “Sarah loves us.”

He couldn't deny it. Wouldn't do any good to argue about it. Sarah did love them, that was the trouble. She had to go and turn this compatible connection between them into a romance.

He wasn't going to have anything to do with it. He wasn't going to open himself up to that kind of pain again. He feelings shut down, he felt numb remembering what it had been like. The cold silences. The angry accusations. The aching disappointments. May's tears in the night, tears he couldn't console.

The same way Sarah had been crying. Raw and
hurting, and it was a waste, that's what it was. A plain waste of emotion. What he and Sarah had together was ten times—no, a hundred times—better than any marriage he could think of. Passion and laughter and honesty. His way had worked just fine. The girls had been happy. He and Sarah had been happy. Why did she have to go and ruin that? Look what she was doing to Lucy.

“Do you know what, Pa?” Lucy tugged the thread through the fabric. “Sarah needed a dress. That's why she didn't come. Know what? We could go to the store and buy her one.”