Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (15 page)

"I don't think it's a good idea. The weather is turning."

"I promise we won't be any trouble."

Just then, Seth started to wake up. He sat up and wiped his
sleep-filled eyes. "Can we come, Uncle Rocky?"

"I didn't say you'd be any trouble," Rocky clarified, giving
Sarah an impenetrable look. They'd spoken little over the past
days, and Sarah thought him a difficult man to read. She'd
never known anyone to be so somber. "It's the weather that
worries me.

"But it'd be so nice to get out of the house," Sarah said,
hating that she had to beg.

Now his blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through her. "I guess you have been holed up here. I take it you're not used
to seclusion."

Not knowing how to take the comment, she remained
silent but hopeful.

"Well, I'm leaving in a few minutes. Can you all be ready?"

"Of course," she cried, finding it impossible to hide her
excitement.

He walked across the room to the glowing fire. "Think I'll
warm up a bit before I go out and hitch up the team. It's getting
mighty cold out there. Everyone dress warm. Something seems
to be brewing in the west. Storm clouds are moving in."

Sarah caught a glimpse of concern in his tone but chose to
ignore it on the chance he might change his mind about allowing them to accompany him.

"Come on, Rachel," Seth squealed, running past his sister.
"We gotta hurry an' get ready 'fore Uncle Rocky leaves us."

Rocky watched the lad scoot off the couch and run for his
coat. A hint of a smile crossed his face, the kind that betrayed
pleasure.

My goodness! Was he actually mellowing?

The four of them sat huddled together on the long seat
atop the open buckboard. It was a cold, bumpy ride into town,
but with the children squeezed in between Sarah and Rocky,
Sarah occasionally grabbing hold of the side bar for security's sake, Rocky thought they managed quite well. Sarah had
thrown a fleecy quilt over the children's laps and bundled them
up from top to bottom so that little more than their eyes and
noses saw the light of day. It was a far cry from the day Rocky had made the kids take the two-mile trek into town mittenless.
He still felt haunted by Sarah's words of admonishment when
she'd discovered what he'd done.

Out of the corner of one eye, Rocky studied his wife. A few
curly locks of red hair had escaped her blue wool bonnet to
blow in the wind and curl around the exposed part of her pale
neck. He didn't doubt she was pretty enough to be pictured on
the front cover of one of those newfangled ladies' magazines
Hester used to drool over if ever they took an extended trip
into Lexington and happened onto a bookstand.

How long before she announced her plans to leave Little
Hickman? It wasn't that he wanted her to go, or even that he
regretted marrying her, but how in the world could a man
like him ever satisfy a woman of her caliber? It was clear she'd
been pampered. Hadn't Stephen Alden, the cad from Boston,
said so himself? Even the clothes she termed her "work
clothing" looked too fine to wear around the house. He ought
to offer her some of Hester's old dresses, although he doubted
they would fit. Hester had not had the height or full curves his
new wife possessed.

Icy winds whipped around the wagon like a tiger on the
run, sending loose branches and dead leaves in every direction. A shiver ran the length of him when a clap of thunder
sounded in the distance. He hadn't been warm since the day
he married, his room in the barn offering little in the way of
warmth or comfort. In fact, he wondered how much longer he
could survive out there. What they needed was a bigger house.
He yanked at his collar and stole a glance at the children and
Sarah, huddled close together to ward off the worst of the elements.

"It's not much farther," he said into the wind, wondering if
Sarah had heard the thunder.

"Fine," she answered. "It will be nice to see some different
faces."

"You saying you're growing tired of us, Mrs. Callahan?"
he asked, snapping the reins to step up the team's pace. The
horses snorted in response but readily obeyed.

Sarah looked over Rachel and Seth's covered heads and
caught Rocky's eye. "I certainly did not say that, Mr. Callahan,"
she retorted, her teasing tone mixed with tartness. If she'd
heard the thunder, she didn't let on, and he wasn't about to
bring it up, least of all let her see his growing concern. Experience had taught him how quickly the air currents could turn
in these low-range mountains.

He turned his face into the driving wind and concentrated
on steering the wagon toward town.

Their first stop was the post office. Although Rocky had
wanted to make it a hasty one, before he'd had time to explain,
all three of them piled off the wagon faster than a litter of
frisky pups. He sat with gaping mouth and watched as one by
one they dismounted. From the ground, Sarah stared at him.
"Aren't you coming?"

He pulled the brake and looked at her. "I'm coming. It's
just that I had no idea how anxious you all were to see the
inside of the post office."

She threw back her head and giggled. "Right now, I'd be
happy to see the inside of Madam Guttersnipe's Saloon just
see it, mind you."

He couldn't help but chuckle. The thought of her so much
as going near the place made quite a picture in his head. Madam Guttersnipe's Saloon was a place of disgrace, one that
the majority of the townsfolk would just as soon see go up in
flames.

Although he had to admit to imbibing more than once in
some of his weaker moments, particularly after his son's passing, he'd since gotten a handle on that particular aspect of
his life, having determined alcohol didn't mix well with his
blood. Last fall he'd started home in a drunken stupor and
gotten himself lost. It wasn't until nearly five in the morning
that he discovered he'd traveled several miles off course. The
horses had been exhausted from the bumpy, unfamiliar trail,
but he'd fortunately found a portion of Little Hickman's winding creek, been forced to allow the horses to drink, and in the
meantime, slept off the rest of his drunkenness on a riverbank.
His behavior had appalled him, and so he determined then
and there to cease with all drinking.

,John Holden, Hickman's postmaster, greeted the four with
a hearty smile.

"Well, if it ain't the Callahan family. Good to see ya'll in
town, even though it's a might cold outside."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Holden," Sarah said, a smile
accompanying her greeting. Rocky felt his back go stiff at the
free use of the word family-as if they were a cozy bunch. He
sneaked a look at Rachel and found the girl frowning heavily.

"Thanks, John. Any mail?" he asked.

The man put a finger to his chin. "Well, let's see here. I do
believe there was a parcel fer yer missus."

"Oh?" Sarah asked, suddenly perking up at the news.

John left the counter and returned with a large package.

"What on earth?" she asked.

Rocky reached over the counter to retrieve the box
wrapped in brown paper and addressed to Mrs. Sarah Callahan. He looked at the return address and frowned. Written
neatly in the top left-hand corner was the name Mr. Stephen
Alden, Attorney at Law, along with his return address.

The nasty little twit had sent his wife a package!

"Well, looks like your beau is having a hard time letting go
of you," Rocky muttered.

"What does he mean, Sarah?" Rachel asked.

"Don't be silly," returned Sarah. "It's probably just some
books I forgot to pack when I left Winchester." Then to Rachel,
she added, "He doesn't mean anything, honey."

"Books?" Rachel asked as they headed toward the door.
"What kind of books? Could I look at them?"

"Books?" Rocky echoed, opening the door with one hand
while balancing the large box on the other. "This is more than
books. Why would he be sending you books, anyway? As a
matter of fact, why would he be sending you anything?"

"I don't know," said Sarah.

"Maybe there's a toy inside," Seth offered, his tone optimistic.

"That's stupid," Rachel told her brother, following him to
the wagon. "Why would anyone send Sarah a toy?"

"Maybe they know she has a new little boy living with her,"
he answered in a manner that indicated it made all the sense
in the world.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough, but for now we have
errands to run with your uncle Rocky," said Sarah, her voice
calm as could be. Then to Rocky, she said, "Shall we walk or get back on board?"

"We'll ride," he answered, shoving the box on the wagon's
flatbed and coming around to where they stood. "I have several supplies to pick up at Johansson's Mercantile, and I intend
to make a trip to the sawmill to check on some lumber prices
if the weather holds out."

"Prices?" asked Sarah, curiosity apparent by the look
in her glistening eyes, more blue than green today, probably due to the blue wool bonnet drawn over her burnished
curls.

Rocky braced himself for what would come. "I plan to add
a room to the back of the house so Rachel can have her privacy. She can't share a room with her brother forever."

Everyone stood stock-still except for Seth, who had hopped
aboard the wagon in record time. Rocky offered a hand to
Rachel so she could climb aboard the wagon, but all she did
was stare at him with her bigger-than-life blue eyes.

Finally, Sarah broke the silence. "That's wonderful news,
isn't it, Rachel?"

"Yes," the child managed. "I never had no room to myself
before." With that, she placed her small mitten-covered hand
in Rocky's and took the big step up to the wagon seat.

Rocky gave his wife a hurried look before offering her a
hand up. The last thing he wanted or needed was oceans of
praise. The house was small. He'd been intending to add onto
it for some time anyway.

"Yippee, I get a room to myself, too!" Seth squealed with
delight.

Rocky looked up at the lad. "Not so fast, fellow," he said,
jogging around to his side of the wagon and pulling himself up. "I'm moving in with you just as soon as I finish the add-on.
It's too cold in that barn at night."

Seth's face dropped. "Why can't you move in with Sarah
instead?"

It was an innocent enough question, Rocky supposed. After
all, Sarah was his wife. Still, the awkward silence that followed
signified the boy had succeeded in embarrassing them both,
and Rocky was certain if the weather had been warmer, Sarah
would have gone red on the spot. As it was, she sat ramrod
straight and kept her face pointed straight ahead.

Surprisingly, it was Rachel who spoke. "That was a silly
question, Seth. Uncle Rocky don't even like Sarah that much.
Why would he move in with her?"

"I like her fine," Rocky corrected in haste, figuring he
was only making matters worse by stepping in, but knowing
it'd be worse to disregard the comment altogether. Finally, he
shrugged. "Could we just drop the whole thing for now?"

"Yes, please," said Sarah, throwing him a silent plea over
the children's heads.

He returned the helpless look. It was in that moment, as he
began to lead the horses down Main Street toward johansson's
Mercantile, that another clap of thunder crashed through the
clouds, closer now, and the freezing rain commenced.

The mercantile was scant with customers, most folks
undoubtedly deciding it smart to stay put in their cozy cabins
and frame homes. Rocky, in hindsight, wished he'd had the
brains of the rest of the population of Little Hickman. Ice
storms in Kentucky were nothing to wink at, and if this particular storm played itself out like most he'd seen, it would be
a treacherous trip back to his farm.

"We need a few supplies," he told Eldred Johansson while
brushing cold wetness from his wool coat. The elder fellow
hobbled to the counter.

"Surprised to see ya in this weather. What ken I get fer
ya? "

"I'm needing a fresh box of nails and a new blade for my
hacksaw." Out of the corner of one eye, he caught Sarah wandering the store, Rachel on her heels, and Seth in another aisle
admiring a small jackknife. Had he not been so distracted by
the darkening weather, he might have had it in his heart to
buy each of them something. He pulled a list from his pocket
and handed it to Eldred. "These are the remaining items. Can
you work fast?"

Eldred looked down his spectacles at the wrinkled piece of
paper and the scrawled list of words. "Well now, I'll do my best
to gather 'em up," he muttered, turning around.

Just then, another piercing streak of lightning split the sky
while a rumble of thunder cracked through the air, jolting the
very floorboards. Eldred, arm up to procure a box of nails,
turned on his heel. "What in tarnation? Don't know the last
time we got thunder 'n' lightnin' in January."

Sarah gathered the kids close to her side and threw a worried glance at Rocky. He tried to reassure her with a hint of a
smile.