Stay With Me (4 page)

“He’s hungry for some good cooking. He and
the children eat Sunday dinner at a different house every week.
When your father-in-law is the preacher, things like that get
arranged.”

She probably should have known Fred had
children. She decided to go for broke. “So his oldest is about ten
now?”

“Not hardly,” John said. “She can’t be a day
past eight. And the twins were just five last month.”

“Still as pretty as ever?”

“Don’t let Thomas hear you call him pretty.
The girls are real beauties though. Spittin’ image of their
momma.”

“Mrs. Goodie doesn’t go to dinner with
them?”

He shook his head. “She got the fever.”

The fever
? Yikes. She wished she’d
packed a few antibiotics for the trip. “How is she?”

“Franny died four months ago.”

She could hear the genuine sadness in his
voice. He grabbed his hat off the nail by the door. “I’ll be right
back,” he said. “Stay here. I mean it.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He opened the
door and walked outside, intercepting Fred a good twenty yards from
the house. Sarah peeked around the edge of the curtain. Somehow
he’d managed to turn Fred, and now the giant’s back faced the
cabin. It gave John a straight shot at the door.

He acted as if she might make a run for it.
Unless an express bus back to the future waited at the corner, that
didn’t seem like an option. Of course, John didn’t know that. He
thought she’d returned home to fleece his unsuspecting mother out
of her retirement money. Sarah Number One must have been a real
piece of work. Not that that was any of her concern. Her issue was
finding a way back, but first she needed to find a way past the
formidable John Beckett, who, at this very moment, seemed
determined to keep her separated from the rest of the living world.
The men had moved over to Fred’s horse, a huge beast of an animal,
and Fred had his saddlebag open, his head down, as he looked for
something.

Even to Sarah’s inexperienced eye, the
saddlebags seemed to be bulging. Fred, it appeared, had packed for
some kind of trip. What if he was headed west? What if, at this
very moment, the two men discussed such a trip? Would John think to
tell his friend that Sarah would appreciate a lift?

She hadn’t had the chance to tell him that
California loomed as her final destination. Sarah debated all of
five more seconds, then pushed open the front door.

She walked with purpose, as much as one could
with a bandaged foot, her head held high, her shoulders squared. At
least until the moment the two men saw her. She’d expected John’s
reaction. Rage. Even though it hurt her, she’d prepared for that.
But Fred surprised her. The big man who looked like he ate small,
uncooked animals for breakfast stood still for a few seconds, his
broad mouth hanging open. Then, with each step she took, he took an
equal step backwards. As if he were prepared to walk forever to
keep distance between them.

“Christ Almighty,” Fred said, his voice loud
in the quiet morning. “How the hell did she get here? And why
doesn’t she have a dress on?”

Oh boy, did she have a story for him. He
wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough.

Sarah looked at John, waiting for him to
explain. He, however, had his lips locked together, as if afraid of
what might come out if given half a chance.

“I had a bit of bad luck,” Sarah said. Let
them make of that what they would. She didn’t feel inclined to say
more. She remembered just enough history to know that the crazy
people, or those at least perceived to be crazy, faced all kinds of
inhumane treatment over the years. She didn’t want them to add two
and two and come up with the answer that she was one fry short of a
Big Deal Meal.

Fred ran his long, thick fingers through his
red hair, making it even wilder. He looked from Sarah to John, then
back to Sarah. She smiled at him. He frowned at her and looked at
John. “Say something, man,” Fred instructed. “Don’t just stand
there and pretend she’s not there.”

“Go back inside, Sarah,” John said, not
looking at her. “It’s not proper for you to be out here dressed in
such a manner. I know you probably don’t care about things like
that, but I do.”

That stung a bit. “I’m sorry to interrupt,”
Sarah said. “I couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Goodie is headed
west. I’m interested in getting to California.”

“California?” Both men spoke at the same
time, their voices vibrating over the quiet land. The dog barked,
too, as if he couldn’t quite believe it either.

“Yes. I…I have a friend there. I thought
maybe I could ride along.”

“I ain’t going to California, Mrs. Beckett,”
Fred said.

Sarah was so disappointed that it took her a
moment to realize that Fred spoke to her.
Mrs. Beckett.
She
didn’t want him calling her that. “Sarah is fine,” she said.
“There’s no need for formality. After all, we’re friends.”

Both John and Fred looked surprised. She
realized too late that Sarah One probably didn’t have a lot of
friends. “If you’re not going all the way, maybe I could catch a
ride partway.”

“Fred is only going to town,” John said.
“He’ll be home tomorrow. He can’t leave his children alone longer
than that.”

“I’ve got to find me a woman,” Fred
added.

That was certainly blunt. Sarah could feel
the heat rush to her face.

“Not like that,” John said, frowning at her.
“He needs someone to watch his children so he can get his spring
planting done. He had an old Indian woman helping out but she ran
out yesterday, leaving him high and dry.”

“Isn’t there anyone else who can watch the
children?”

“My father-in-law would,” Fred said, “but
he’s got his ministry and anyway, he doesn’t get around too fast
anymore. Not fast enough to keep up. Missy’s as ornery as a wild
goat.”

“Missy?”

“The deaf one,” he said, no doubt thinking
Sarah rude for not remembering his children.

Deaf
.

Sarah’s heart constricted. She wondered how
much was known about deafness in 1888 Wyoming. Was the poor little
girl locked in her own quiet world, battling to be heard?

“I better get going,” Fred said. “I’m going
to try old Mrs. Warner first. She’s a sour thing but she doesn’t
have any kin of her own to look after.”

“Who is with your children now?” Sarah
asked.

“Nobody. That’s why I can’t be dawdling here.
Helen will do the best she can but she’s only eight. Barely fair to
her to have to be responsible for both her brother and sister.”

Eight. Just like Miguel. Both of them with
responsibilities no eight-year-old should bear. “Maybe I could help
out for a couple days,” Sarah said.

“What?” Again, both men spoke at the same
time. They were starting to sound like a regular chorus.

“I’m taking the next stage out of here,”
Sarah said, “but since that doesn’t go for another six days, I
might as well make myself useful. Then maybe you won’t have to
settle for sour Mrs. Warner.” She smiled at Fred, choosing to
ignore John.

“I don’t know,” Fred said, shaking his head.
I guess I never expected you to…”

“Volunteer to help.” John finished his
friend’s sentence. “What’s going on here, Sarah?”

She realized her mistake. Mindful that she
needed to be careful, she said, “Of course, I’m assuming you paid
the Indian woman something. I’d expect the same. Maybe even a bit
more since I’m getting you out of a jam.”

John stopped stroking his chin. “It always
comes down to the money, doesn’t it, Sarah?”

Right. Like anybody interested in money
picked social work as a career. “A woman has needs,” she said,
thinking she sounded positively Victorian.

He didn’t respond, choosing to turn toward
Fred. “You might want to take her up on it,” he said. “You don’t
have a lot of choices right now.”

Gee thanks. Sarah wished he stood close
enough to kick.

“I don’t know.” Fred shifted from foot to
foot, his big frame swaying dangerously from side to side.

Great. Snubbed by a desperate man. What he
didn’t know was that she was pretty desperate herself. “Look, I
could ride back with you now. You could be in your fields by
mid-morning. I just need to be back to town by next Wednesday to
catch the stage.”

“You can’t stay at his house at night,” John
said. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

God save her from narrow-minded idiots. “I
need a place to stay. What’s the difference if I stay here or at
Fred’s house?”

“I’m your brother-in-law,” John hissed. “Fred
is a widow. People might start to talk. Especially when they find
out it’s you. I wouldn’t want his children hurt by that.”

Now she wouldn’t be content just to kick him.
She wanted to rub his snooty nose in the dirt. She looked at Fred
but he’d suddenly developed an interest in his worn boots.

“I won’t compromise your friend,” she
said.

“You’d have to put some clothes on,” Fred
said, looking up. His face was almost as red as his hair.

“I’m a little short on clothes right now,”
Sarah tried to explain. “Maybe I could borrow a shirt, John?”

He snorted. “About all I got left is the one
on my back.”

What had Sarah One done to put that chip on
John’s shoulder?

Fred reached into his saddlebag, digging
deep. “Here,” he said. “I packed an extra shirt. You might as well
wear it.”

Sarah unrolled the bundle he handed to her.
She held it up. “Perfect,” she said, and slipped it over her head.
She pushed her arms through and pulled the material down over her
hips. It came almost to her knees. She knew she looked like she’d
stepped into a brown sack. “I’m ready,” she said, looking from Fred
to John.

“John?” Fred questioned, clearly not sure
what to do.

“Take her,” John said. “Just don’t say I
didn’t warn you.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the
barn.

That did it. She’d make him eat the damn
dirt.

Fred smelled a bit like violets. She hadn’t
expected that. He’d waited until John had walked into the barn
before getting back on his horse. Then he’d offered her one of his
huge hands and literally swung her off the ground. His big frame
left little room in the saddle so she’d ended up with her bottom
just resting on a tiny bit of space in front of the saddle horn.
Fred held the reins, each strong arms extended, with her back
balanced against his right forearm and her legs, bent at the knees,
thrown over his left forearm.

She’d simply closed her eyes, hoping that the
horse would have the good manners to step over her in the likely
event that Fred dropped her. But he hadn’t. And now fifteen minutes
later, all thoughts of violets gone, she stood in front of his
house and three red-haired children, all barefoot, all with dirty
faces, one with fresh blood on his knee, stared at her.

“This is Helen, Thomas and Missy,” Fred
said.

“Hello.” Sarah smiled at them. “I’m
Sarah.”

“Mrs. Beckett is going to take care of you,”
Fred explained.

The oldest girl put her hands on her narrow
hips. “We don’t need somebody else to take care of us. I can do
it.”

“Helen,” Fred said, “don’t be rude.”

“Miss Suzanne has prettier dresses,” Helen
said, her pointed chin stuck out in defiance.

“Be quiet,” Fred admonished his daughter.

“Who is Miss Suzanne?” Thomas asked.

Neither Fred nor his oldest daughter seemed
inclined to answer. They simply stared at each other.

“What did you do to your knee, Thomas?” Sarah
asked the boy, hoping to break the silence.

“Fell off the roof of the privy,” he
said.

“Great. You do that often?” she asked,
thinking it could be a long six days. She moved a step closer to
the children and squatted down in front of the youngest girl. “You
must be Missy. M. I. S. S. Y.” She signed the girl’s name as she
spoke each letter. Then did it a second time.

Sarah reached for the little girl’s hand but
Missy jerked it back. Then slowly, with infinite care, the child
spelled her own name, fumbling a little on the Y. When she
finished, she looked absolutely triumphant. Her eyes were big and a
wide grin split her face.

Sarah thought her own face probably matched.
“She signs! Do all of you?”

“No,” Fred said, his voice more subdued than
before. “Franny had gotten a book and she was teaching her before
she…” He stopped and ran a big hand over the top of Thomas’s head.
“Anyway,” he said, his voice husky, “where’d you learn to talk to
the deaf, Sarah?”

Her mother had been deaf. It had never
stopped them from having wonderful conversations. Even now, with
her parents both dead for more than five years, she missed them
terribly. “I picked it up a while back. Do you mind if I teach
Missy and the other children a few words while I’m here?”

“I guess not. Does John know you can do
this?”

“No. If you don’t mind,” she said, turning
back toward the big man, “let’s keep it our little secret.”

Fred snorted. “Seems like all I do
lately.”

“Pardon me?” Sarah said.

“Never mind.” Fred waved off her comment.
“It’s not your concern. I’ve got to get out to my fields. Are you
settled here?”

Given that
settled
was likely a
relative term, Sarah nodded. She didn’t have a clue what to do
next. But the look of hope in Missy’s eyes made it impossible to
think she could walk away. “We’ll be fine,” Sarah assured both Fred
and herself. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

***

Ten hours later, when Fred finally returned
to the house, Sarah sat on the floor, Missy asleep in her arms.
“How was your day?” she whispered.

“I got fifteen acres planted,” he said. “I
gained a whole day by not having to go to town. Thank you for being
here.”