Stay With Me (25 page)

“A million seconds,” he said as he wrapped an
arm behind her and gently pressed her back onto the blanket.

When he kissed her, he tasted like lemonade.
Sweet with an edge.

She wanted to drink him in.

And when he moved his body so that he lay
next to her on the blanket and his hardness pressed into her
softness, she hoped that time would stand still—that they could
capture all the seconds and hold them in their hands, in their
hearts.

“I’ve wanted to do this for days,” he said.
“You’re so beautiful.”

For the first time ever, she felt it might be
true. She parted her lips, brought him closer still, and drank of
his goodness and strength. His lips were warm, and firm, and
wonderful. When he swept his tongue into her mouth, she arched up
against him.

“I want you,” he said.

She wanted him, too. In a way she couldn’t
define, couldn’t begin to put into words. She wanted like she’d
never wanted before. Or ever would again.

She wanted to make love to John Beckett under
the warm April sun. She wanted to touch him, to hold him in her
arms, and take him into her body.

Wanting and not being able to take, hurt.
More than she could have imagined.

“We can’t,” she said, turning her mouth away
from his lips. If they didn’t stop right now, she’d never be able
to leave him—and staying wasn’t an option.

His big body shuddered with emotion. He sat
up in one jerky motion and pushed his hair back from his face. “Is
it because of Peter?” he asked, looking miserable.

It would be easier to let him think so. But
she just couldn’t do that. “Your brother was a good man,” she
assured him. “But what I feel for you doesn’t have anything to do
with him. I just can’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

It would be wrong. For all kinds of reasons,
he’d never know. “John, I’m leaving in a week.”

“There’s no talking you out of going?”

“No. I know I haven’t explained it well. All
I can say is that someone is counting on me to come back.”

“To California?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand. Why did you come back to
Cedarbrook if you knew you couldn’t stay? Why did you come to my
home?”

She shrugged miserably, not knowing what else
she could say.

John rubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his
head, as if he just couldn’t believe it.

She’d hurt him. And she didn’t know how to
fix it.

When he stood up, his motions were abrupt as
he threw the remains of their lunch back into the tin pail. He
walked over to his horse. “I guess that’s that,” he said, his back
to her. “We should go.”

When Sarah stood up, her legs felt weak. It
was nothing compared to her heart, which had cracked, leaving a row
of jagged and frayed edges, offering no protection to either
side.

***

“Thank you for letting me come and play
again,” Sarah said.

“No need for thanks.” Thomas wiped the wooden
bar clean. “Look around. Business hasn’t been this good for
months.”

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Four tables,
six men each, played cards. Three more stood at the far end of the
bar and George had his customary spot.

“What would it take for you to stay?” Thomas
asked. “With you at the piano and Miss Suzanne back upstairs, I’d
spend less time worrying about paying my bills.”

She’d worked at her school for six years and
nobody had ever bothered to tell her they were glad she was around.
“You know I’m only playing for another week,” she said.

“I know. At least I still got Suzanne.”

Sarah leaned over the bar. “Actually,” she
said, lowering her voice, “she’s not coming back.”

Thomas dropped his bar rag. “Miss Suzanne’s
going to quit whoring?”

“Shush,” Sarah said, looking around. So much
for her trying to be discreet. Thankfully most of the card players
were too far into their game to even look up. Sarah would have
thought the outburst had gone unnoticed if it hadn’t been for
George.

And only because she’d been watching him for
the past week, she noticed the difference. His almost imperceptible
slide forward on the bar stool and the slight cock of his head told
her that they’d gotten his attention.

“What the hell did I do wrong?” Thomas asked.
“Did that damn Justine give her a better deal? I thought she
favored Chinese girls.”

“There are more prostitutes in
Cedarbrook?”

Thomas frowned on her. “They been there for
two years or more. I don’t know how you forgot about them. Seems to
me I heard rumors that your husband visited there a time or
two.”

Oh. “We never talked about it.”

“That ain’t what I heard. I recall talk of
the two of you having quite the discussion about it just outside of
Hooper’s. Peter left the next day for the silver mine.”

“It was a long time ago,” Sarah said.

“I suppose. I heard one of Justine’s girls
has never quite been the same. Missed him something fierce.”

Thomas said it without malice and for some
reason, Sarah felt better. She was glad that Peter’s death had been
marked by someone other than his brother and his mother. She hadn’t
even known the man and she was sure he deserved better than to be
forgotten by his wife.

“Well, Suzanne isn’t going to Justine’s.
She’s coming with me. We’re leaving on next week’s stage.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Thomas said. “She’s
the best whore I’ve had in a long time.”

“She’s more than a whore,” Sarah said,
beginning to get irritated at Thomas’ mercenary response.

Thomas shook his head, looking ashamed.
“Hell, I know that. She’s a fine woman, too. I like her. I do. You
can’t blame me for thinking about my business.”

“I don’t,” Sarah assured him. “I’m sure
she’ll be in to tell you goodbye.”

“She’s a dandy,” Thomas said.

Sarah smiled at him. “That she is,” she said,
walking back to her piano. “That she is.”

Sarah played for another hour. The highlight
of the evening came when two cowboys decided to dance to “Buffalo
Gals”. Their hearts may have been in it but whiskey had dulled
their heads and their coordination. At one point, in the middle of
a complicated series of steps and turns, they’d bumped into one
another and sent each other sprawling on their butts.

Sarah laughed until she cried.

“Last song,” she said, loud enough that the
room could hear. “Any requests?”

“Yeah,” said a man at the far table. “Play
that one about the strawberry fields.”

The Beatles would never forgive her.

Halfway through the song, George got up from
his stool, gathered up his dirty coat, and left the bar. When he
walked by the piano, he reached out and stuffed something in the
tip jar.

Sarah finished her song. As was her custom,
she went behind the bar, emptied out her tips and counted them so
that she could give Thomas his half. He looked over her shoulder.
“Jesus,” he said. “You got yourself a twenty-dollar silver
certificate.”

“George left it.”

“Son-of-a-bitch must have been drunker than I
thought,” Thomas said.

“It’s got to be a mistake.”

“His loss. Our gain,” Thomas said, running
his hands across the money.

“I can’t take this,” Sarah said. “
We
can’t take this. The poor man doesn’t even have a decent shirt or
pants. He can’t afford this.”

“I ain’t giving up my half.”

“Oh, fine,” Sarah said. “I’ll give you the
twenty. Give me ten dollars in return.”

Thomas looked pained. “You’re going to give
him twenty back, aren’t you? You’re going to take the ten I give
you and add another ten of your own.”

Sarah shrugged. “So what if I do?”

“Well, don’t that make me feel like a big,
fat toad?”

Sarah smiled at him. “If the lily pad
fits…”

Thomas shook his head and threw the twenty
back at Sarah. “Go. You can probably catch him. He’s got a room
above Hooper’s Mercantile. It’s a good thing you’re leaving soon.
I’m getting a soft head.”

Sarah leaned forward and brushed the man’s
cheek with a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Sarah left the saloon. Instead of walking
across the street, she walked with purposeful strides toward the
general store. The moon had slipped behind a cloud, leaving eerie
patches of smoky white light in the dark sky. It offered just
enough light that she could easily see the wooden sidewalk. She
wrapped her arms around her middle, wishing she’d put on a
coat.

So intent was she on reaching Hooper’s before
her teeth started to chatter, she almost missed George. If the
spark of a match, when he lit his cigarette, hadn’t caught her eye,
she’d have stumbled right into him and Mitchell Dority.

Sarah’s heart started to race. Dority. The
bastard.

Hate. Fear. Emotions warred, each more
intense than the other.

She needed to warn Suzanne. She took a step
backwards but the terror, the absolute terror that she might be too
late, paralyzed her, making it impossible for her to move. What if
Dority had already finished what he’d started just a week ago? What
if he’d already been at the hotel while she sat and played her
stupid songs on the piano?

Freedom would have come and got her. He’d
have seen Dority. Nothing happened in that hotel that Freedom
didn’t see.

She remembered Dority backing Freedom up
against the banister and watching Freedom’s mop drop onto the first
floor. What if, this time, it had been Freedom’s slim body
plummeting over the railing, landing with a crash on the floor, his
bones crushed? Sarah covered her mouth with her hand, afraid she
might vomit.

She heard Dority laugh and resolve filled
her. If he’d hurt Suzanne or Freedom, he’d answer to her. She
turned and ran, staying as close to the buildings as possible,
until she got to the hotel. She whipped open the door and breathed
a little deeper when she saw the small lobby was empty. The lamps
had been turned down and Morton Turnip sat behind his counter, his
eyes closed, his hands resting on his big stomach.

She ran up the stairs and opened the
door.

Fred sat on the bed with Suzanne on his lap.
She had her arms wrapped around his neck and he had one hand
entwined in her hair and one hand on her breast. They were kissing.
No. They were devouring each other, using their lips as
utensils.

At least they both had their clothes on.

She cleared her throat. “Evening,” she
said.

Suzanne jerked back so fast that she lost her
balance. Fred grabbed for her while at the same time trying to leap
off the bed.

It was a tangle of arms and legs and it ended
with Suzanne sitting primly on the bed, smoothing down her skirts
with Fred, his face as red as his hair, standing next to the bed,
his hands in his pockets.

“You two look ridiculous,” Sarah said. She
walked into the room, kissed Fred on the cheek and hugged
Suzanne.

Suzanne managed to hide her grin. “Your face
is damp,” she said.

“I jogged over from the hotel.”

“Jogged?” Suzanne frowned.

Sarah intended to tell Suzanne about seeing
Dority and George but she didn’t intend to do it in front of Fred.
She’d learned enough about men like Fred and John to know that
neither would think twice about going after the men, not caring
that the odds were two against one.

“I guess I better get going,” Fred said.

“I can come back later,” Sarah said.

Fred shook his head. “We…we were just saying
goodbye.”

“Goodbye? We’re not leaving for a week.”

“My sister’s husband died a couple months
ago. Doctor thought it might have been his heart. Anyway, she lives
in Kansas City and wants to come for a visit. I’m going to meet her
train in Cheyenne. I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“Who is watching the children?”

“Mrs. Warner.”

“The sourpuss?” Sarah asked.

Fred nodded. “It’s only for a few days.”

In a few days, Missy could retreat into a
shell that would take them months to get her out of. “Let Suzanne
and me watch them,” Sarah said.

Fred looked shocked. “I couldn’t do that.
Why, you both have jobs. You’re working at the saloon and Suzanne’s
working at Hooper’s.”

“I already offered,” Suzanne said, a pointed
look in Fred’s direction.

“Don’t be a fool, Fred. Thomas Jefferson
won’t be happy about it but he’ll understand. I was only going to
play a couple more nights. Your children are more important. Let
Suzanne and me help.”

Fred shook his head. “I couldn’t ask you to
do that. Besides, three rambunctious children need space. They’d
tear this room up within an hour.”

“We’ll stay at your house.”

“Oh, no. That wouldn’t be proper,” Fred said.
“Plus, it could be dangerous. You’d be out in the country, all by
yourselves. What if Dority decided to come back to town?”

Yikes. He had a point. Dority had come back
and who knew how long he planned to stay.

“Maybe we could stay at John’s?” Suzanne
said, looking hopeful. “It’d be just for a few days.”

Stay at John’s
? How could they? She
could still see the pain in John’s eyes. It would haunt her
forever. He’d been distantly polite on the trip down the mountain.
When they’d reached the hotel, he’d tipped his hat, nudged his
horse, and ridden away.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Suzanne said.
“He’d be there in case anything happened. We’d be fine. Don’t you
agree, Sarah?”

No, she’d be miserable. Right up to the day
they left town. But now she had bigger issues to worry about. She
needed to make sure Suzanne had the chance to leave town. In one
piece. Without bruises or busted teeth.

“That’s fine,” she said. She could deal with
John for a couple days. After all, the children would be there.
They’d keep them busy. “I know John won’t mind. He’d do anything
for your children.”