Unbroken Hearts (17 page)

    
Cal smiled warmly Sarah. "You know
how to shoot?" He pulled out his chair and slid into his seat.

    
Sarah hoped Emily and Ned didn't notice
her flush. "You mean rifles? No, I-I don't." Sarah passed the plates.

    
He arched one eyebrow seriously.
"I'll be teaching you. After supper", he ordered. "Ned will take
care of things here. You'll learn how to load and shoot." Cal took a bite
of biscuit. "It's easy, and a woman living here ought to know how."
He was silent while they ate but he stretched his leg under the table to brush
possessively against Sarah's ankle.
 

   
After he cleared the table, Cal ordered Ned to do the dishes. Then he
went out to the hall and lifted two rifles from where they rested on oak wall
pegs. Sarah followed, and he guided her to a clearing behind the barn.

    
Then Cal lined up empty food tins, placing
them on tree stumps to use as targets. "This one's the Winchester repeater
I got for my birthday. I'll always leave it at the house for Ned, and
you," he continued. "Watch and learn how to load it."

    
Cal emptied the chamber and reloaded, then
pulled the rifle up. He fired at the cans, and he hit every one of them. The sound of the gunshots was still ringing in Sarah's ears when Cal slowly lowered
the rifle, emptied it, and handed it to her. He set up more cans as targets and
walked back to stand by her side. "Load it."
    

    
Sarah pushed the ammo in the way she'd
seen Cal do it and brought the stock up to her shoulder. Cal moved behind her
and supported her arm. "Is this right?" she asked.

    
"Not bad." His lips floated
inches from her ear. He could smell, almost taste, the honeysuckle-scented soap
on her skin. Her hair brushed softly against his cheek, stoking a smoldering
longing in him. The woman was driving him into the corral
without even trying, he thought. "Use the sight on top to aim at the
target." He leaned in closer and she felt herself stiffen. "Relax.
But stay still . . . squeeze the trigger using a smooth motion." He murmured
as he glanced at the delicate curve where womanly neck met shoulder, a place he
happened to consider the most exquisite on a female body. The fading light
tumbled bronze hues across her hair, and the sight had him thinking about
kissing her again. He cursed silently and forced his mind back to the task
before him.

    
Sarah slowly pulled back the trigger and
the rifle fired. "Oh!" She gasped and stumbled backwards. "It
pushed me."
 

    
"That's the kick. You'll get used to
that. You missed high so try a bit lower next time. And hold your breath when
you pull the trigger." He stepped back and put his hands firmly to her
waist to steady her.

    
Sarah took aim again and this time she hit
her target. "I did it! I hit it!" She smiled and laughed.

    
"Sure did!"
 
Cal's pride gushed. He couldn't deny
it; her flashing green eyes affected him in a way that wore down the toughest
resistance.

    
She put down the rifle and ran to pick up
the target. She surveyed the damage from her shot. A winning smile lit on her
face, and she displayed her trophy. Then she walked back to him, turned, and
pulled the rifle back up. She aimed and slowly fired off three more shots. Two
of the three hit their mark.
 

  
"You're a natural," he boasted. "With practice you'll aim
and shoot faster." He paused and thought for a moment. "Tomorrow I'll
bring out the shotgun."
 
He
was genuinely impressed with her skill. She had strong arms and steady nerves
for a woman. It figured, as she came from working a farm.

    
After a few more rounds, they escaped to
the cool shadow of the barn, where Cal showed her how to clean and oil the
weapon. Sarah liked this quiet time. "Thank you for teaching me. I don't
know when I'd have need of it, but target practice is fun."

    
Cal frowned. Those who were prepared to
defend themselves survived, and he was determined to prepare Sarah. But he
hoped she'd never have to face danger alone.

Chapter 15

   
Sarah put hands to caring for Mrs. Easton, drawing into a busy fog of
activity. Cal's presence had grown awkward -- warm and anxious. Sarah wanted to
believe she could be his woman, but he knew little about her – and what
he didn't know could only hurt her cause. Surely there were other women for
him. Roy had even mentioned one in her presence.

    
After supper Sarah sat quietly with Cal,
Mrs. Easton, and Emily in the parlor. Sitting as far from Cal as possible she
opened a book to read to Mama.

    
But Cal had his own plans. He threw a
blanket gaze across the room, trapping her under with a broad smile. "I
need to pick up some hardware in town tomorrow. Would you and Emily like to tag
along? Ned can stay with Mama."

    
Emily quickly answered for both of them.

    
"Oh! Yessiree Mr. Easton!"
 

    
Sarah hedged. "OK."

    
"Happy to hear it." Cal beamed.

    
"Yes, that's good," nodded
Emily.

    
Emily yawned and stretched her arms high
above her head. "Oh my, I'm so tired. I need my bed." She rose and
hastily skipped from the room before Sarah could conjure up a reason to stop
her.

    
Sarah blurted, "I'm tired, too.
 
I'll take Mama and join Emily."

    
Cal jumped to his feet and closed the
space between them in two long strides. He took Sarah's arm with authority
and hauled her up against him. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Good
night, Sarah."

    
Sarah flushed, took a deep, unsteady
breath and one step back. "Good night, Cal." Her voice wavered, and
she became increasingly unglued under his gaze. How could a man so hard have a
kiss so soft?

    
He pulled her back closer and laughed
hoarsely. "Don't you worry. I intend to court you properly." He
brushed his lips across her forehead. "Starting tonight." He breathed
deeply and kissed her earlobe playfully.
 

    
Cal Easton had decided to be a gentleman,
and he'd ride from here to Texas to do it. Winning Sarah's heart was far too
important to risk a misstep. So he bent down and kissed her once more, this
time on her lips, lingering and touching the corner of her mouth tenderly with
his tongue. Then he pulled away and sighed. He turned to push his mama's chair
into the hall. Sarah, still recovering from the kiss, followed slowly, her hips
swaying and her heart singing.

                                                            
*
     
*
     
*

   
Sarah, Cal and Emily set out for town. The trip to Wounded Colt brought
images of her first ride through town atop the white pony. Sarah recalled the
moment when Ned first wrote on the slate, when she fully realized that she was
to be sold like a plow at a farm auction. She'd lost more faith in the world
that day, and only now was it being restored.

     
People slowed and gawked as the
wagon rolled down Main Street. Cal and Sarah and Emily were an unlikely trio:
Two orphaned waifs sat shoulder-to-shoulder with the wealthiest rancher this
side of the territory. Sarah saw men who'd made bids on her pony ride day. Now
when she looked at them they glanced away after quickly nodding to Cal .

    
The team halted at Watkins store; Cal
fastened the reins to the hitching post and helped Sarah and Emily down to the
street. They mounted the plank walk and went along to Jake Farrel's.
 
A group of women whispered and cast
sideways glances as they passed. Cal gritted his teeth and touched the brim of
his hat in greeting, and he took Sarah's hand and settled it into the crook of
his right arm. Emily's hand was clutched in his left.

    
When they entered the blacksmith shop,
Jake smiled at Sarah, and to her relief, the man acted as if he were meeting
her for the first time. Timidly he took her small hand, and he bowed slightly.
Emily's hand got a shake too. Farrel had a natural way of making them feel like
ladies.

    
"Heard you're taking care of Cal's
mama."

    
"Yes, sir. We both work for the
Eastons." Sarah relaxed as she spoke. He smiled and excused himself to
fetch Cal's order.

    
Just as they were leaving Jake's place
Sheriff Aiken spied them from across the street. Cal pretended not to see him
coming, and he tried to turn the girls and swiftly glide away, but Aiken's path
met theirs, and the sheriff struck a dominant stance to block their progress.

    
"Morning Cal, morning ladies."
Aiken touched his hat brim. Emily squinted at the reflection from the high
polish on his sheriff's badge.

    
Aiken's gaze was unabashedly fixed on Sarah.
"So you found yourself a job," he drawled. As he smiled deep lines
etched into leathery skin around his mouth. "When I steered you Lola's way
I figured she'd give you the kitchen duty seein' as she'd just lost her cook.
If I'd known she'd have other ideas --"

    
"I know you had my best interests in
mind, Mr. Aiken." Sarah blushed, and her eyes flickered down to her feet;
his comment was as welcome as a polecat at a picnic.

    
Cal rolled his eyes and flashed Aiken a
look of disdain, and, resetting Sarah's hand on his right arm, he took Emily's
hand with his left and made to step forward, but then Aiken's hand flew up to
halt them.

    
"Doctor Rutherford reported how as he
treated Miss Anders after the terrible attack on her at your ranch a couple
days back," he fired off in an accusing tone. "I'll need to be
investigatin'." He set his hands to his hips. "Miss Anders, I hope
you been well and feel safe staying out in rough country with rough men like
the Eastons and their hands about." He whinnied, "Why, if you
need—"

    
"We take care of our own." Cal
ripped out his words. "If you tended to sheriffin' business, instead of
letting Dullen lead you like a calf following its mama's tit, I reckon we'd all
be better off around here." Cal felt a powerful urge to lift his fist and
whack Aiken straight into next week.
 
Instead, he locked an arm possessively around Sarah's waist. His mouth
formed a tight line.

    
"Oh yes, we're fine at the ranch,
thank you," muttered Sarah.

    
Sheriff Aiken had barely flinched at Cal's
remark. "Well, all the same, I'll be out tomorrow to look the place over,
an' check the area where you were attacked. Maybe find somethin'. Lots of folks
in Wounded Colt are worried about the crimes, in fact so set to fussin' that
Mr. Dullen sent for a detective clear from Denver. He'll be here any day to
catch those outlaws." Aiken touched the brim of his dirty hat again.
"Well, I won't keep you folks any longer. See you tomorrow." He
turned and strode purposefully back toward the jail.

    
Cal set his jaw. "Dullen's detective
can eat steer chips," he muttered, and he guided the ladies across the
street to Watkin's general store.

    
As they entered the shop Sarah breathed
deeply to partake of the perfumes of leather, tobacco, molasses, and spices.
Cal saw Emily spying the glass jars filled with candy and he grinned,
remembering his trips to the store with his own father when he was a boy.

    
"Go ahead Em, pick one."

     
Miners lingered at the counter while
Earl Watkins and his son Edward chatted. It was the usual banter, part business
and part male gossip. Thad Underwood and his brother, Bill, were looking
through a stack of ready-made shirts. Thad spied Sarah. He snickered, nudged
Bill and moved closer to her.

    
"Easton bought the cow
and
her sister," Thad whispered. He regarded Sarah
with open amusement and hissed, "So, ya' ridin' both Eastons? Or is yer
sister for Roy?"

    
"Yah, we got a bone to pick wid Cal.
He didn't bring ya' back for the rest of us," quipped Bill Underwood.

    
Sarah's face was crimson and she was
shaking. Bile rose in her throat as she pushed Emily back to squarely face
Thad.
 

    
Before she realized what she'd done her
fist slammed into the side of Thad's face. Just as swiftly she felt someone
pull her away. Thad heaved a surprised grunt and fell to the floor in a
heap.
 

    
At the same time that Sarah was landing
her punch Emily scrambled up Bill Underwood's back, and her little fists began
pounding him furiously about the head. The men at the counter whistled and
hooted.

    
Bill was bucking like a colt trying to
escape a swarm of bees. Thad angrily picked himself up from the floor,
expecting to face Sarah. Instead he fell again when Cal swung a jaw-crushing
blow. Smartly, the man stayed down. Only a fool carried the notion of winning a
match against big Cal Easton.

    
Money began to change hands at the counter
as men placed bets on how long Emily could ride on bucking Bill. When one man
grabbed a pair of spurs from a peg and tried to pass them to Emily, store owner
Earl Watkins decided it was time to end it. Rushing from behind the counter he
hauled kicking Emily off her target. The men began to taunt "Buckin'
Bill". Then arguments broke out about who'd won the contest.

   
The elder Underwood, red-faced and sputtering, picked up his hat and
stalked out of the store.
 

    
"Lordy," exclaimed Edward
Watkins as he waved his hands, "I swear I never seen a girl with so much
spit and fire as Miss Emily Anders!"

   
Soon everyone in Watkin's was bellowing with laughter. Edward Watkins
wiped tears from his eyes.

    
Sarah smiled shyly at Cal. "You used
your bad arm."

    
Cal lifted the arm. His brown eyes
twinkled.
 
"Well butter my
backside." A look of pride spread across his face as he watched Sarah tuck
unruly tendrils of hair back into place.

    
Edward Watkins sputtered on like a
creaking wheel. "They had it coming. Thad'll never live it down –
bein' laid out flat by a little woman. You got gumption, lady. Your sister, too."
Edward's gaze upon Emily was pure admiration.

    
"Some woman you've got
yourself," quipped Earl, as he shot a wink at Cal.
 

    
Heat rushed up Sarah's neck and stained
her cheeks. The story would be jack-rabbit-jumping around town as fast as jaws
could flap. Suddenly she wanted to go home. She inched toward Cal.

    
Then something familiar caught her eye.
Emily saw it at the same time, and she let out a tiny gasp.

     
During the scuffle Bill Underwood
had knocked over a pile of wool blankets. In the middle was a wooden case.
Papa's
fiddle case.

    
Sarah's stomach knotted into a crazy mix
of excitement and fear. How was it the violin landed at the store? Had Mr.
Watkins bought it from the thieves? Were they living in this town, perhaps even
lurking in this store now? She pushed back the fear and stared at Mr. Watkins.

    
"M-Mr. Watkins, where'd you get
that?" She pointed at the case.

    
"That box?" Watkins blankly
followed her finger. "It must have come in with the load of
blankets."

    
"I know what's in it!"
 
Emily squeaked. "At least I hope
it's there." She crossed her fingers behind her back.

    
Sarah spoke breathlessly. "Mr.
Watkins, the day we were robbed those thieves
took my pa's fiddle. It was in that box."

    
Her shining emerald eyes pierced the case;
her stomach was still clenched tight. She swallowed and looked expectantly at
the man.