Stay With Me (5 page)

“We had fun.” Mostly. Hauling Thomas out of
the stream had been a bit nerve-racking and her fingers and hands
ached from teaching words, but all in all, she felt better than she
had in many, many days.

Fred bent down, picked up his small daughter,
and laid her on the bed in the far corner of the room, next to her
already-asleep brother and sister. “Did you and Helen get along
okay?” Fred asked, looking a bit nervous.

“Fine. She’ll come around.”

Fred nodded. “Did she tell you about Miss
Suzanne?”

Sarah was fascinated. The man could turn red
in seconds. “No. I didn’t ask, either.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “It’s a
difficult situation.”

“You don’t need to explain anything to
me.”

“It…it would be helpful if you didn’t mention
it to John.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” He looked surprised. “No
questions? No threats now that you know I’ve got a secret?”

She stood up, stretched her arms over her
head, hoping to work the kinks out of her back. “Fred, trust me on
this. I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Besides, you said you
wouldn’t say anything to John about me being able to talk to the
deaf. This makes us even.”

He cocked his head and looked at her. “You
seem different, Sarah. What happened since you left here six months
ago?”

She could tell him the truth but she really
didn’t want to have to scoop his huge body up off the floor. “It’s
a really long story and I think I better be getting back.”

He opened up the door of the cabin and
motioned her out. “Fair enough. I’ll see you home.”

Home
. Oh, if only he could.

***

John didn’t generally believe in luck. But it
did seem like damn bad circumstances that Sarah had darkened his
door once again. Why the woman hadn’t been able to keep herself
inside, out of Fred’s sight, was beyond understanding.

No, she’d paraded out of the house, wearing
her undergarments, and proceeded to ask Fred to take her to
California. John had thought his poor neighbor might have a fit.
When she’d volunteered to take care of the children, John had
thought his own heart might stop. In the six months that Sarah had
lived in his house, he’d never once heard her volunteer for extra
work.

As if it were yesterday, he could remember
the night that Peter had brought Sarah, his wife of two days, back
to Cedarbrook. Hardly seemed like it could be almost a year ago
now. She’d barely said two words. He’d given her the benefit of the
doubt, thinking she might be shy.

Sarah had met Peter on the train between
Cheyenne and Douglas. Five days later, she’d been Mrs. Peter
Beckett. Two weeks after that, Peter had been damn miserable.

The house was too small, the furniture too
old. Sarah’s complaints started there but didn’t stop. Cedarbrook
bored her. Hooper’s didn’t have any dresses she liked. Peter hadn’t
told her she’d be stuck out in the middle of nowhere.

His brother had done the best he could to
excuse her behavior. John had wanted to kick his ass then for being
such a fool. Instead, he’d moved his stuff out to the barn, saying
the newlyweds needed privacy, knowing he needed space away from the
sharp-tongued bitch.

He’d managed to avoid her most days but Peter
had insisted that he join them for the night meal. Sarah had
treated him like a stranger in his own house. If she’d had her way,
he’d have starved like a stray dog.

He’d kept coming back for Peter. Had to. He’d
been watching out for Peter since the year he turned ten and Peter
turned nine. The year their pa got killed by a bear.

Each night at dinner the food and the company
got worse. He’d hated seeing the strained look on his brother’s
face, the drag of his step. They’d barely got the fall crops put to
bed when Peter told him Sarah wanted to spend the winter in town.
John had celebrated the news. He’d hoped, like a fool, the pair
could work it out. That the marriage would survive.

He’d never dreamed that Peter wouldn’t
return, that he would be dead by Thanksgiving. He’d blamed Sarah
then. He blamed her now.

He’d half-expected that Sarah wouldn’t last
the day at Fred’s house. He’d watched the children a time or two in
those first days after Franny’s death. They’d practically run him
ragged. And sweet Missy, pretty as a picture, had spent hours
kicking the wall. By the end of the day, he’d been ready to stick
his fist through it.

So confident that Sarah would come running
back, John had taken the time to ride home at noon. He’d stayed an
hour, a full fifty minutes longer than it had taken him to eat a
sandwich and fill up his canteen with fresh water. He’d ridden back
out to plant his fields, even madder at Sarah. She’d made him waste
almost a good hour of daylight.

When he’d dragged his weary body home at
suppertime, only to find the house still empty, he’d begun to get
worried. Not about Sarah. No. He was more concerned that Fred, who
had a big heart, hadn’t suddenly developed a soft head, and decided
to take her somewhere. He knew, better than most, that a sweet word
and a gentle nudge from Sarah could push a strong man to his knees.
Once she got him there, she’d poke and prod until she ran him into
the ground.

He was saddling his horse, getting ready to
ride over to Fred’s place, when they arrived. As on the night
before, the full moon made it easy enough for him to see them as
they approached. Sarah rode Franny’s horse. She sat ramrod straight
in the saddle.

“Evening, John,” Fred called out. “You just
getting in?”

John nodded, not willing to admit that he’d
been worried. He looked at Sarah who seemed glued to the saddle.
She acted like she’d never ridden a horse before. He extended a
hand. She looked at it, at the horse, then in one swift motion she
dropped the reins, grabbed his hand, and vaulted off the horse. She
wobbled when her feet hit the ground.

“Everything go okay?” John asked. She looked
down-right pale.

“I appreciate your help, Sarah,” Fred
said.

“It was nothing,” she said, sounding almost
embarrassed. “They’re great kids.”

“You’ll be ready at six tomorrow?” Fred
asked.

“Absolutely.” Sarah gave her horse an awkward
pat on the head. She reached up to grab the small bundle that Fred
handed to her. “Thanks for the clothes.”

She’d obviously helped herself to Franny’s
things. She’d replaced Fred’s shirt with a brown skirt and a
long-sleeved blouse. Even with the waistband rolled a couple times,
the skirt still drug in the dirt. John wasn’t surprised. Franny had
been at least six inches taller than Sarah. He imagined that it
bothered the hell out of her to be dressed so poorly.

Fred tipped his hat to Sarah. “Thanks again.
For everything. I couldn’t have managed without you.” He gathered
up the reins and turned his horse toward home. “Night, John. I’ll
see you tomorrow.”

John ground the toe of his boot in the dirt
as he watched his friend ride away. What had gotten into Fred? The
man had never been able to stand Sarah. Not after she’d insulted
his Franny. When he’d heard the news of her departure, Fred had
smiled and pumped John’s hand in a bone-crushing shake.

This morning, when he’d accepted Sarah’s
suggestion that she watch his children, John had understood the
man’s desperation. The spring had been wet, too wet to plant up
until now. Given that there were no guarantees another two weeks of
rain weren’t just around the corner, neither he nor Fred could
afford to think of anything else.

John had expected the man to be grateful. He
hadn’t expected the man to act genuinely friendly, as if he was
actually looking forward to seeing Sarah in the morning. He’d think
twice about that, if he’d had the benefit of John’s
experiences.

Some woman might wake up sweet, but not
Sarah. She woke up ornery. A mere month after exchanging vows, his
brother had started sneaking out early in the morning, letting his
ill-mannered wife sleep. When Fred had suggested six, John had
almost laughed. He had wanted to tell Fred, to keep the man from
making a wasted trip for her, but the blissful look on the man’s
face had stopped him. Let the idiot find out for himself. Then he
wouldn’t have to worry that Sarah might somehow trick his best
friend the way she’d tricked his brother.

John watched Fred until the man crested the
hill, expecting Sarah to start to complain about her horrible day.
When she remained silent, he looked at her. She was literally
swaying, her eyes half-closed, almost asleep on her feet.

“You should be in bed,” he said.

“I need to use the privy first.”

He nodded and watched her walk away, one hand
holding up her skirt to keep from tripping on it. He waited a
minute before stomping off to get his bucket. He’d drawn water from
the well, returned to the cabin, and filled the bowl before she
opened the front door. “I thought you might want to wash up a bit,”
he said, handing her a clean towel.

She looked surprised, then pleased. “Thank
you,” she said, smiling at him. For the first time, he noticed that
she had a shallow little dimple on the left side of her mouth.

“It’s nothing,” he said, backing out of the
house.

“Where should I sleep?” she asked before he
could get away.

“Right there.” John motioned to the bed in
the far corner.

“But that’s your bed.”

She looked so sincere for a moment that he
was tempted to believe it. “You didn’t have any problem kicking me
out of it before,” he said, making sure she could hear the disgust
in his voice. “What’s different now?”

“I…” she stopped. “I guess nothing is
different.”

“That’s right, Sarah. Don’t forget to turn
down the lamp. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t burn down my
house.”

When he got to the barn, he slammed the door
for good measure. He heard the nervous shuffle of horses behind him
and knew he’d startled the stock. “Get used to it,” he said. “It’s
just you and me for the next six nights.”

John pulled several bales of straw together
before he realized he’d left his blanket inside. “Damn it,” he
said. “Damn her.” He left the barn, more quietly than he’d entered,
mindful that once the horses got good and awake, they’d keep him up
for hours. He’d walked halfway back to the house when a flash of
movement in front of the window had him stopping in his tracks.
Sarah stood facing the window, naked from the waist up. With the
lantern shining behind her, the thin white cotton curtains offered
little protection.

He watched her reach out a long arm, dip her
cloth in the water, and rub it across her breasts. My God, the
woman had beautiful breasts. Firm and full. She took one hand,
lifted up her hair, and with her free hand, wiped the back of her
neck. The movement caused her perfect breasts to pull even higher,
to reach out, to beckon to him.

He let himself watch for a minute more before
forcing himself to turn away. Disgusted with his own weakness, he
stared up at the sky, not even seeing the stars.

What kind of man lusted after his brother’s
wife?

***

Sarah woke up slowly, stretching the muscles
in her back, her legs. Her bed felt soft and warm and she didn’t
want to leave it. She reached her arm out, her fingers searching
for the annoying alarm clock, intending to stop its incessant
pounding. Nothing. She opened her eyes and reality pushed away the
sweetness of her dreams.

Her cute little apartment, her clothes, her
refrigerator, her running water—they were all more than a hundred
years away. She slept in John Beckett’s bed. And if she wasn’t
mistaken, he stood outside the door, open to break it open with his
bare fist.

“Hang on,” she yelled, swinging her legs over
the side of the bed. Good grief, what time was it? She lifted up
the edge of the curtain as she hurried past the window. The sun
remained half-hidden by the horizon.

She whipped open the door and John, his fist
raised to pound, practically fell through it. She stepped back.

“Good morning,” she said. She smiled when she
saw a piece of straw sticking out of his hair.

He frowned at her and then looked down at her
foot. She’d unwrapped the makeshift bandage the night before,
thinking some air might help the cut heal. “It’s better,” she said.
“Thanks.”

He had on the same clothes he’d worn the
night before. The fabric of the shirt stretched across his broad
chest, his flat stomach. His pants clung to his lean hips.

She resisted the urge to snap one of his
suspenders. “Were you out there a long time?” she asked.

“Long enough,” he said, not looking at
her.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling awkward. She’d
taken the poor man’s bed. He had a right to feel put out. “You
should have come in. There’s no lock,” she reminded him. She
realized that little tidbit late last night, after he’d left her.
She’d washed up quickly, grateful for the clean water. Out of
habit, she’d walked over to lock the door only to discover there
was no lock, no deadbolt, not even a flimsy chain like the ones
you’d find in a motel room.

For all of ten seconds, she’d contemplated
pulling up the chair and wedging it underneath the door handle.
She’d dismissed the idea, knowing it would offer little protection,
but would send a very clear message to John that she didn’t trust
him.

She didn’t want to do that. While not overly
friendly, the man had been a true gentleman. She’d been flat on her
back in his bed. He’d had the perfect opportunity to take advantage
of her, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d taken care of her and she
didn’t want to repay his kindness by acting like a scared virgin
waiting for him to jump her bones.

Not that scared virgin would require any
acting.

It probably wasn’t in her best interest for
him to know that. After all, he thought she’d been married to his
brother. She felt fairly confident that Sarah One hadn’t left her
husband’s bed untouched. Not if the man had had much in common with
his brother.