Paper Roses (33 page)

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. There was no point in thinking of things that would never be. She knew what she should do. She should accept Gunther’s proposal. As she opened her mouth to give him the answer he expected, Sarah’s heart balked. Something was missing. Something important. Gunther was wrong. It wasn’t flowery words. Although she could not forget the beauty of Austin’s paper roses, she didn’t need them. What she sought was the love Mama had described, a love that made a woman feel beautiful. Austin’s letters had embodied that love. They’d made her feel special, just as Clay’s kiss had made her feel beautiful.

Gunther was a good man. He was an excellent father. He needed Sarah, and it was possible she needed him. None of that could erase the simple fact that he didn’t make her heart sing. No matter how many problems she might solve, Sarah couldn’t do it. She couldn’t marry Gunther.

She closed her eyes for a second, searching for words that would not hurt him. “I’m sorry, Gunther,” she said at last, “but I can’t marry you.” As his eyes widened with surprise, he tightened the grip on her hand. Sarah winced but did not pull it away as she added, “You deserve a woman who can give you her whole heart. I wish I could be that woman, but I can’t.”

Gunther was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Eva,” he said at last. “She’ll be mighty disappointed.”

And in that moment Sarah knew she’d made the right decision. Gunther only wanted a mother for Eva. He didn’t love Sarah any more than she loved him. They both deserved more.

If he wasn’t the dumbest man on the earth, Clay couldn’t imagine who had managed to surpass him in stupidity.

“That’s right,” he said as Shadow whinnied, perhaps in protest over an overly vigorous currying. “I’m dumber than that comb.”

What on earth had possessed him to kiss Sarah? What had he been thinking? The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking. When she’d stood next to him in the moonlight, she’d been so beautiful, so sweetly alluring, that he couldn’t help himself. Before he knew what was happening, she was in his arms.

Clay clenched the curry comb, wishing he could clear his mind as easily as he removed snarls from Shadow’s coat. Why couldn’t he obliterate those memories? Why couldn’t he forget how wonderful it had felt, holding Sarah close, pressing his lips to hers? The kiss they’d shared had been the sweetest he’d ever tasted. If Clay had had his way, it would never have ended. But it did, and when it did, reality returned, telling him how wrong he’d been. No matter how he felt, Sarah didn’t love him. She loved Austin. Or, more precisely, she loved the man she believed Austin to have been, the man who’d wooed her with those cursed letters. In Sarah’s mind, Clay was simply Austin’s brother and the man who’d arranged her birthday party. That made her kiss one of gratitude, nothing more, and it made Clay the world’s biggest fool if he let himself believe otherwise.

Besides, everyone in Ladreville knew Gunther was courting her. It would be unfair for Clay to interfere with another man’s suit when he had no intention of marrying again. Marriage was not part of Clay’s future any more than remaining in Ladreville was. As soon as he found Austin’s killer, he’d take the first coach East.

No matter how you looked at it, it was wrong to have kissed Sarah, and yet Clay couldn’t block the memories. They were there, sliding into his consciousness when he least expected them. He’d thought that not seeing her at breakfast and not lingering at the supper table for a few minutes’ conversation would help, but they hadn’t. Nothing had.

“Heard the news?” Zach climbed onto the fence rail, apparently content to watch Clay work. Without waiting for more than the shake of Clay’s head, Zach continued. “The town’s buzzing with the story that Gunther was seen walking with Olga Kaltheimer.”

Clay didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. He’d never cared about gossip and saw no reason to start now. “A stroll is cause for the grapevine to work overtime? That must mean there haven’t been any thefts recently.”

“It wasn’t just a stroll. The story is, Gunther’s courting Olga. It appears Sarah refused him.”

Clay’s heart skipped a beat. Quickly, he bent his head to inspect Shadow’s foreleg, hoping Zach hadn’t noticed the color that had risen to his face. “I always thought she could do better.” By some small miracle, his voice sounded normal.

“So . . .” Zach drawled the word. “When are you going to start courting her?”

Clay turned, astonished by the question. “Me? Never!”

But if he wasn’t courting Sarah, it appeared that a good portion of Ladreville’s bachelors were. Clay couldn’t venture into town without being told how many men had started hanging around the schoolhouse. Those announcements were invariably followed by his patients’ assessments of each suitor’s chances. According to gossip, Jean-Michel and David were considered the most likely to win Sarah’s hand. It was ridiculous. For Pete’s sake, you’d think they were discussing a horse race. Didn’t anyone realize that Sarah was not a horse but a woman, a very beautiful, lovable woman?

Right now that woman looked perplexed. Though she normally spent the hours after supper with Thea, often going to the garden, tonight she’d followed Clay into the barn.

“Is something wrong?”

Sarah shook her head, then nodded. The indecision surprised Clay as much as her somber expression. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but a couple things bother me. A silver bowl was stolen from Granny Menger last night.”

Clay could imagine the midwife’s distress. Like most of Ladreville’s residents, she’d brought only a few valuable possessions from Alsace, and she treasured each of them. “It’s unfortunate Granny was robbed again, but you know thefts have been a problem for over a year now.”

“What seems strange to me is that the thief wouldn’t take everything he wanted the first time. The risk of getting caught is much greater if you go back, because people are more alert.”

Shadow and Nora, curious about the humans’ conversation, ambled to the edge of their stalls. Though Clay scratched Shadow’s nose, Sarah retreated a few steps. No matter what changes the months in Texas had brought, her fear of horses had not diminished.

Clay thought about what she’d said. “Perhaps the thief knows he’s running a higher risk and enjoys the challenge.”

“I considered that possibility. That’s part of what’s bothering me, because it made me look at Austin’s murder in a new light.”

“I’m afraid you lost me. I don’t see a connection between petty theft and murder.” Though he’d warned her that she was unlikely to succeed where he’d failed, Clay knew Sarah was bothered by her inability to solve the mystery of Austin’s death. It appeared she was grasping at proverbial straws, trying to find a clue.

Those brown eyes that haunted so many of Clay’s dreams brightened with enthusiasm. “I know you haven’t found Patience’s locket, and you said Austin’s watch was missing. What if they weren’t lost but stolen? What if the thief took the locket and then decided he wanted something more from the Bar C? Maybe he demanded the watch and killed Austin when he refused to surrender it.”

If anyone else had spun such a far-fetched tale, Clay would have laughed, but he couldn’t hurt Sarah. As preposterous as the story was, it was obvious she believed it.

“I’m not an expert, but I’ve heard that criminals stick to a pattern. What happened to Austin doesn’t fit that pattern,” he said as gently as he could. “All the other robberies took place when the owners were gone or asleep. I don’t think the thief would risk being seen, and I can’t picture someone who sneaks around in the night confronting one of his victims.”

Though the sparkle in her eyes began to fade, Sarah nodded. “When you put it that way, my theory wasn’t logical. It’s just that I wanted so badly to help you find Austin’s killer.”

“I know, but I warned you it wouldn’t be easy. No one in this town will admit that anything is wrong.” Clay clenched his jaw in a futile attempt to control his anger. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—accept the possibility that the man who murdered his brother might never be found.

Sarah took a step closer, stretching out her hand, then quickly withdrawing it. Clay wondered if she’d been about to touch him, to try to soothe him the way he stroked Shadow or Nora when they were disturbed. In his current mood, he wasn’t certain what he would have done, whether he would have drawn her into his arms and kissed her or pushed her away. It was best that she’d retreated.

“I know Michel Ladre and Austin had their share of arguments. What about David?” Sarah was speaking. Clay forced himself to concentrate on her words rather than the image of her in his arms.

“David Bramble?” It was a silly question, for there was only one David in Ladreville. Still, Clay couldn’t imagine why Sarah was asking about their neighbor. “David was Austin’s closest friend. My brother spent almost as much time with him as he did with me.” Though she nodded slowly, acknowledging she’d heard his explanation, Sarah didn’t appear convinced. “Surely you can’t believe David killed Austin.”

“I don’t, and yet . . .” She paused, her eyes dark with worry. “Some of the things he’s said recently make me wonder whether he and Austin were such close friends.”

This was the first time anyone had raised that question. Though it seemed almost as absurd as her earlier theory, Clay could not dismiss any possibilities. “What did he say?”

Sarah hesitated before she answered. “He told me I shouldn’t mourn Austin, that he wasn’t the saint I thought he was.”

Clay let out the breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. “Part of that is true. Austin wasn’t a saint, any more than the rest of us are. As for the other part, it isn’t hard to figure out why David wants you out of mourning. The man wants to marry you.”

Sarah shook her head. Surely she wasn’t denying David’s courtship. Everyone in town knew Mary was doing her best to make a match between her son and the schoolteacher and that David was more than willing to enter the state of holy matrimony with Sarah.

“It wasn’t just his words,” Sarah said slowly. She looked at Clay, her eyes willing him to believe her. “The tone of his voice and his expression made me think he didn’t like Austin very much.”

Preposterous! Clay tried to keep his voice soft as he said, “It must have been your imagination, Sarah. They were almost as close as brothers. David would not have hurt Austin any more than I would have.”

But that left Clay exactly where he’d been before: with no clues.

15

It was a miserable morning. Though the rain was no longer coming down in sheets, a drizzle remained. Sarah opened the cabin door, quickly shutting it against the damp chill that seemed to mock the calendar. August in Texas was not supposed to be cold and wet. Her brow furrowed as she considered how uncomfortable it would be, driving the wagon into town. This was a day to remain inside. She would, if only it were not Sunday.

Sarah wavered. Thea would not know they’d missed church. The problem was, Sarah would. Though she doubted there would be any thunderbolts from on high, Sarah didn’t want to disappoint her mother. Mama had insisted that the Dobbs family attend services every Sunday. The only excuse had been serious illness, and even then the Sabbath had been a day of praise and thanksgiving along with prayers for healing. During the months Sarah had been unable to walk, Mama and Papa had worshiped in the family’s church, then returned home to sing the day’s hymns with Sarah. Each week the minister had visited on Monday afternoon, providing Sarah with an abbreviated version of his sermon.

“God has given us everything,” Mama had told Sarah the first time she explained how important it was to attend services. “Surely we can give him one day a week.” Though it had been more than fifteen years since Sarah had heard those words, her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, and she knew her conscience would bother her if she and Thea stayed home. “All right, Mama,” she said softly. “We’ll go.”

The drizzle turned back into steady rain, and by the time she and Thea reached the church, they were both bedraggled. Fortunately, Sarah’s pretense that they were fish who loved water distracted Thea. Sarah’s sister didn’t mind a sodden hem or shoes that squished when she walked. In fact, Thea considered both a rare adventure. Sarah did not.

As they entered the sanctuary of the German church, Olga Kaltheimer approached them, her posture more confident than Sarah had ever seen it. Even her voice sounded more mature as she said, “You weren’t here last week, so you may not know, but we’re going to start a children’s program today. I hope you’ll let Thea join us.” Though she used the plural pronoun, Sarah felt a rush of pleasure when she realized that Olga was in charge of the program. It wasn’t the same as teaching every day, but it would be a valuable step toward Olga’s dream of becoming a schoolmarm.

Before Sarah could speak, Gunther and Eva entered the church, shaking off raindrops like wet dogs. Sarah nodded briefly as Gunther removed his hat, then bent down to talk to Thea. This was the first time she’d seen Gunther since she’d refused his proposal, and she feared it would be awkward. If the rumor mill was accurate and he was indeed courting Olga, he might be embarrassed at finding both women together.