Authors: Roping the Wrangler
“Careful,” Sarah cautioned as the girls helped pry the gloves off his numb fingers.
His hands emerged chapped and red, but not white like they might’ve been if they were frostbitten. Just half-frozen, like Sarah had said.
In the warmth of the room, he could feel heat creeping back into his skin, back into his limbs. It felt like little ants, stinging him all over.
“Is there any of that chocolate left?” Sarah asked.
“We made coffee.” One set of footsteps retreated to the kitchen. Cecilia.
“Make sure it’s not too hot—more like lukewarm,” Sarah called after her. She knelt at his feet and started taking off his boots. “Did your stepfather leave any socks behind?” she asked Susie, and that girl left, too, disappearing into the bedroom.
“Are you in pain?” she asked softly. “You’ve gone all quiet and your mouth is pinched.”
“Yeah,” he gritted out. “Yeah, but at least I’m alive. Thanks to you.”
Her golden lashes fanned her face as she lowered her eyes, but a small smile played around her lips.
He was proud of his schoolteacher gal. Thankful to be alive. And he’d prove it to her, as soon as he could get his limbs working right again.
* * *
“It smells burnt,” called Cecilia from the floor where she and Susie played pat-a-cake with Velma.
Sarah fought the urge to turn away from the stove, where she stood with a spoon in hand. The girl was right. Sarah had let water in the pot of potatoes boil over.
“Give her a chance, Cecilia,” defended Susie. “Her potatoes will be as good as yours were. They can’t be any worse.”
So far the overboiled water had been the only disaster.
Sarah was supremely conscious of Oscar, wrapped in a blanket and sitting at the kitchen table, instructing her. She desperately didn’t want to mess up their late lunch. And she was ravenous after fighting through the storm to get to him.
He still shivered violently, which was why she’d suggested he let her make lunch. The fact that he’d agreed easily worried her. Perhaps he felt worse than he let on.
“You’ll want to move that grease pan to the middle of the stovetop,” he said now. “Get it nice and hot before you fry the ham.”
“You want more coffee?” she asked, doing as he suggested, careful to use a towel to guard her hand from the pan.
“I’m already sloshing around from what you’ve already got in me.”
She’d followed his directions and remarkably, the biscuits were only a little on the brown side of golden, not burnt. The potatoes were mashed and only slightly lumpy, and the ham was crisp. Everything appeared edible. She hadn’t botched it too badly.
She was reaching for plates to set the table on a high shelf when her hand bumped a small wooden box. A glance inside revealed several handwritten recipe cards, stained and spotted, the recipes written in faded pencil. Sarah absently flipped through them, until the last item in the box. It wasn’t a card, but a torn piece of paper. And on it was a name and address for someone in Green River, down in Sweetwater County.
Had Mrs. Caldwell hidden this address for a reason? Could this be a relation that the girls didn’t know they had? Sarah tucked it into her dress pocket, determined to send a wire when the snow stopped and she could get to town. Certainly, she wouldn’t abandon the girls, but a relative would likely want to help, as well.
But Sarah had been the one to promise she would take care of them. Would they see it as a betrayal if someone else came for them? And how would she survive, now that she’d opened her heart to the girls?
And what of her job? She couldn’t even think about what would happen if Mr. Allen followed through and fired her. She had enough to worry about with a half-frozen man to tend and trying to make Christmas a joyful occasion for three little girls who deserved it.
Chapter Fourteen
T
hat night, Oscar snuck back in the cabin, taking care to close the door softly behind him. He set down the brown paper-wrapped gifts he’d brought in from the barn on the kitchen table, and began shrugging off his coat.
He could hear the murmur of Sarah’s voice as she tucked the girls into bed and his heart swelled.
During the afternoon, they’d strung popcorn and dried cranberries on the small tree he’d cut yesterday morning and stored in the barn. She’d seemed to know when the girls needed a reassuring touch or hug, been sensitive when the girls dissolved into tears or just needed quiet time. She would be a great mother.
And he knew he was falling in love with her. Couldn’t help it.
The small gift he’d stowed for Sarah in his pocket burned against his skin. He wanted to give it to her tonight, in private. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was one of the last things he had from his mother, a silver locket. He hoped, after telling her the story of his past and his parents’ death, that Sarah would understand its significance. He thought she would.
What was taking her so long? He staunched the desire to pace, instead looking for anything in the kitchen that hadn’t been cleaned up earlier.
His eyes fell on something on the floor. A folded piece of paper? He knelt to pick it up. A letter.
Thick, masculine handwriting addressed the letter to Sarah. From someone in Montana.
A suitor?
He shouldn’t read it. He really shouldn’t, but Oscar couldn’t help himself from taking out the sheet of paper and unfolding it.
Dear Miss Hansen,
Thank you for your letter in response to my ad. I am a prosperous banker in a small town in western Montana, unfortunately unlucky in love, which is why I placed the ad.
Your letter was particularly well-versed, I assume because of your vocation. I believe an intelligent woman would be a good match for myself as a future mate.
I am interested in meeting and moving forward with a courtship. When will your school term be up? If it pleases you, we should continue our correspondence until that time and then be married.
I would love to hear more about your family history when you next write.
Sincerely,
The man had signed his name with a flourish.
Oscar sat in one of the kitchen chairs, heart pounding in his ears. Was Sarah going to marry this Montana man? Was she already planning to leave?
Cold and then heat rushed over him, making him feel much like he had earlier when he’d been warming up after being outside for so long.
It was the same way he’d felt when he’d learned his parents had died. The same way he’d felt the night he’d realized his uncle would never really love him.
A banker. She’d chosen a banker.
How many times had she told him she wasn’t interested in marrying a cowboy? And here was the proof.
She might’ve kissed him last night, but if she was leaving, she couldn’t truly have feelings for him. Maybe she’d been caught up in the moment, in her emotions.
The sense of abandonment weighed him down more than his limbs had been sluggish that afternoon.
He’d given her a piece of his heart before he’d really been ready or even known that he’d done it. And she was leaving.
The door clicked closed and he looked up to see her coming toward him with a tired smile.
“They’re subdued, but resilient. They’ve been through a lot this year.”
She joined him at the table, motioning to the wrapped items strewn across its surface. “What’s all this?”
He cleared his throat, tried to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Gifts for the girls. Just trinkets, really.”
“Are you all right? Chills all gone? Will the barn be warm enough for you tonight?”
She sounded as if she really cared, but could he trust her words now that he knew she had another plan in mind?
“I’m fine,” he said stiffly. “The barn’s a little cool, but it will be fine.”
Her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
He pushed the letter across the table to her, around the edges of the girls’ Christmas gifts. It was halfway out of its envelope, there was no use hiding he’d read it. He didn’t offer an apology, only said, “It must’ve fallen out of your pocket.”
She looked down at it and a flush immediately rose in her face. “This is private correspondence.”
That didn’t sound promising, and he found himself on his feet, turning away and rubbing the back of his neck, trying to ease the muscles that had frozen up.
“Perhaps you’re surprised someone would be interested in marrying me.”
“I’m not surprised, Sarah.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “You’re a beautiful woman. You’re smart and capable, and—”
I want to marry you.
The statement he couldn’t say surprised him into silence. He’d been moving toward a declaration until tonight, until just a few moments ago when he’d found that letter.
“Any man would be lucky to marry you,” he finished lamely.
Her soft gasp made him turn, reluctantly, to face her. Her eyes were luminous, though her face was pale.
“Well, it isn’t as if I have been offered a reason...a reason not to continue corresponding with this man.”
Her words seemed to hang in the air between them, waiting for a response. One that Oscar couldn’t give. Not when he was afraid that she would decide he wasn’t good enough for her.
“Of course you’ve got the right to do whatever you want,” he said. “It’s your life. If you want to marry a banker, you go right ahead.” He swallowed. “It’s not like I’ll be here to see it, anyway. I’ll be leaving as soon as I collect my pay from Mr. Allen.” He strode for the door, almost forgetting his coat and hat in his hurry to get somewhere private. “It’s been a long day. I’m gonna get some rest. You mind putting those gifts beneath the tree?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just went out into the cold.
* * *
Sarah knelt beside the tree after placing the girls’ gifts under the spindly pine, shaken and trembling.
She had the sense that her answer about the suitor letter had not satisfied Oscar, that something irreparable had changed between them.
If he’d given her any indication that he cared about her, that his kiss last night had meant something more than comfort, she would’ve told him that she wasn’t interested in marrying the other man.
But he hadn’t. He’d reminded her that he was leaving, and soon.
Leaving her with no choice but to continue the correspondence. The banker might prove her only chance for marriage, if they got along well enough.
Her thoughts went to her young charges. Hopefully the man liked children, because she had no plans to leave the girls behind, not without anyone to care for them.
What if...what if the man didn’t want a ready-made family? It was a lot to take on, Sarah well knew. She’d had enough trouble even finding a candidate for a husband in the first place, without having three young charges to look after. Would taking on the girls hinder her chances for marriage?
But that wasn’t really what bothered her. Sometime in the past several weeks, she’d started imagining herself with Oscar. Seeing their family, starting with Cecilia and Susie and Velma. And growing with their own children, in the future.
Obviously, he didn’t see things the same way, or he would’ve declared himself when they’d spoken about the letter.
She told herself it was disappointment that churned in her stomach as she curled up on the sofa with her shawl and the tattered blanket around her shoulders. But it felt more like the loss of the hope she’d been unaware had started growing.
* * *
In the barn, Oscar paced between the front and back walls, frustration steaming.
Finally reaching the boiling point, he slammed both fists on the doorway to an empty stall.
Nearby, Pharaoh snorted and Oscar’s mare shrieked.
Breathing hard, Oscar pressed his balled hands against the stall, hanging his head between them.
He didn’t want Sarah to go off and marry a banker from Montana. He wanted her for himself.
Shaking, he turned his back to the stall door and slid to the ground.
Should he have told Sarah what he felt? Could it have changed her answer?
What if he did tell her that he wanted to marry her? And then after a few years, she died, just like his parents had?
The thought of losing her, losing something they’d built together was like a bullet in his gut, a fiery brand. He had to rub his hands over his eyes.
Wasn’t it better to let her go on with her life? Marry someone safe, someone who she would be happy with?
It would be less risky for him...wouldn’t it?
Then why did he feel so lost and alone?
Chapter Fifteen
I
t was the silence that woke Sarah in the dark stillness of morning. No wind blew.
She stood stiffly and moved to the window. It was quiet, no snow falling. A thin line of gray lit the horizon.
A dark shape left the outline of the barn, moving toward the water trough Sarah knew was nearby. Oscar, doing the morning chores. Taking care of things. Steady, reliable. Those weren’t words she would have used to describe him weeks ago when he’d first come to Lost Hollow.
But she’d been wrong.
And now that she knew, it was too late to change things between them. He was going to leave. And she was going to move forward, most likely caring for three little girls. Could she find purpose and happiness in that?
She would have to. She refused to let Cecilia, Susie and Velma fend for themselves the way she and her sisters had had to.
She freshened up with the cold water in the bowl near the door and ducked outside to visit the privy, passing Oscar with a brimming bucket of milk as she did so. He didn’t say a word, only tapped his hat brim in greeting.
Her heart clenched, but she determined to put on a smile for the girls this morning.
When she snuck back inside, he was standing in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, holding two pots and wearing a sheepish grin.
The girls tumbled out of the bedroom, wearing their nightgowns and hair all tangled.
“Sorry,” Oscar said in apology. “I dropped one of the pans. I meant to let you girls sleep awhile while I start the turkey.”
Sarah took off her coat and pushed up her sleeves, as well. “I can start the coffee.”
She took the coffeepot and went outdoors to fill it with snow, shivering when she came back in.
As she began the task, she was almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Oscar.
“Snow’s stopped,” he said as he plopped the plucked turkey into a large pan. Had he hunted the animal for the girls’ Christmas dinner? “Figured we’d let everyone celebrate their Christmas morning before we try to take care of things.” He cleared his throat with a glance at the girls, and Sarah realized he meant the girls’ stepfather. “Then I’ll take you back to the Allens’ place.”
She nodded her acceptance. She would have until the afternoon to figure out how to explain things to her boss. Surely he could understand the plight of three little girls whose lives had changed so suddenly. Who needed help.
At least Oscar was talking to her this morning, after the abrupt end to their conversation last night. Maybe she could find a way to bring up the letter again, tell him she wasn’t
confirmed
in her decision to continue the correspondence. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, anyway.
“What’s all this?” asked Cecilia from beside the tree.
Sarah finished preparing the coffee and left it to heat and turned to the girls with a smile. “Christmas gifts, what else?”
“For us?” asked Susie, voice hushed with excitement. “But we already got the fancy dresses.”
“Yes, for you.” She couldn’t imagine what Oscar had bought for the girls. Before yesterday, when Sarah had been only the girls’ teacher, she hadn’t wanted to show favoritism to any students. And so, she hadn’t gotten them any gifts.
Next year, as their guardian, she would do differently.
Baby Velma picked up one of the brown-wrapped packages and waved it in the air with a squeal.
“Can we open them?” Susie asked. “Now?”
Oscar continued to wrestle with the turkey and his pan, but answered her. “Let me get this bird in the oven and then you can. I suppose, just this once, breakfast can wait.”
Susie cheered and Velma squealed again, but Cecilia remained quiet, perched on the edge of the sofa near the tree.
Sarah poured herself and Oscar a mug of coffee and left his on the kitchen table, briefly reminded of the moments they’d sat across from each other last night. She brought her mug to the sofa and sat next to Cecilia.
“Are you all right this morning?” she asked in a low voice. “I know you must still be sad about your stepfather and worried about what’s going to happen now. But it’s okay to be happy with your sisters. At least a little bit.”
The girl shrugged, keeping her face downturned. “He was a mean drunk. Never did like us much. Maybe it’s better he’s gone.”
“You won’t be alone,” Sarah said, placing a comforting hand on the girl’s arm. Cecilia pulled away, still not really looking at Sarah and not accepting her touch. Sarah hid her disappointment by sipping her coffee.
Oscar joined them and sat with the girls on the floor in a semicircle around the tree, plopping Velma on his lap. It left Sarah on the sofa, somewhat apart from them all. She knew Susie was excited about the gifts and Velma didn’t really know what was going on. But Oscar’s distance bothered her, and Cecilia still continued to be detached, even when Sarah was reaching out to the girl.
Oscar handed each girl a small package and then pointed to the larger one still beneath the tree. “That one and what’s outside are for all three of you to share.”
“There’s something outside?” Susie asked, jumping up from the floor.
Oscar laughed. “Just wait, Firecracker. I’ll bring it in momentarily. Sit back down.”
She did with a giggle. Sarah watched Cecilia consider her sister, a more serious look on the older girl’s face.
Was she worrying about her younger sibling, as Sarah had on many an occasion? Planning ways to make things the best for her younger sisters? It was a big responsibility, too large for a little girl.
But how could Sarah convince Cecilia to trust her? That Sarah’s intentions were good?
She blinked aside the thoughts as the girls ripped into their packages. Susie shrieked when she pulled out a doll with a porcelain face. Cecilia’s reaction was quieter, but the soft gasp when the paper fell away to reveal a set of paints said more than words.
Oscar glanced at the older girl even as he helped Velma tear the paper from the small gift he held for her to reveal a soft cloth doll. She immediately stuck it in her mouth, all grins.
“Can I?” Susie reached for the one wrapped package left beneath the tree. She looked to Cecilia for approval and the other girl nodded.
The paper fell away to reveal a basket of treats. Oranges, candies and peppermint sticks. Both girls exclaimed.
“Only one before breakfast,” Sarah warned.
“Aw,” the girls complained in near chorus, but neither seemed to really mind as they returned to examine their other gifts again.
As they did, Oscar played with Velma, teasing her with the doll, playing peekaboo and sending her into fits of giggles.
Sarah observed all over again how good he was with both the older girls and the tot. He’d chosen gifts that meant something to each girl—paints for Cecilia, who often drew fanciful portraits on her school assignments, and a doll for Susie, who mothered Velma with such love.
Another raspberry against Velma’s chubby neck sent a pang of remorse straight to Sarah’s heart. She wanted marriage and a family of her own. With the girls, she had the family, but it wasn’t just any man she wanted for a husband. Not anymore.
No matter if he was safe. Or a cowboy.
She wanted to marry Oscar White, the horseman.
But he didn’t want to marry her.
* * *
Oscar pretended joviality for the girls’ sake, but it was harder than he’d thought it would be.
Last night, he’d wanted to gift Sarah with his mother’s locket. Wanted to see it around her neck this morning and know that she felt something for him, too.
But instead, she was going to pursue marriage with a safe banker from Montana. Someone better than Oscar, a cowboy.
Just the thought of it made him feel sick.
She seemed content to focus on the girls this morning, barely speaking to him at all. Part of him just wanted to shake her like he would one of his little brothers. Shake her until she realized that
he
was right in front of her and he was good for her. Could be a good father to the girls, too.
He imagined what his family back home was doing this morning. Knowing his pa, Jonas had probably made a huge spread for breakfast, but it would be untouched until the little kids had opened their gifts from beneath the tree that Penny would’ve spent days decorating. No doubt the older boys had pooled their funds to purchase gifts Penny wouldn’t approve of—possibly a slingshot, or a BB gun.
Part of him wished he could be there, but part of him struggled with the fact that everything was different now.
To hide his emotions, he got up and went to the back door, pulling in the gift he’d left just outside when he’d come inside this morning.
“A sled!” Susie cried.
He couldn’t help grinning at her excitement. “It’s for you all three to share. You’ll have to hold Velma for now and then teach her how to do it when she’s bigger.”
A pang hit his gut. He wanted to be the one to teach the little girl how to sled. Wanted to bring the same kind of joy to Susie every day, not just on Christmas.
When he’d come to Lost Hollow, he never would have thought he’d want a ready-made family, but Sarah and the girls had crept into his heart—and just in time for him to lose them.
* * *
The afternoon was bitter cold, but with no wind, which was a blessing. They’d visited the parsonage first, where they’d received a cool reception. Oscar hadn’t been able to determine if it was because of Mr. Caldwell’s reputation in town or something else.
At least the preacher and his wife had agreed to keep the girls while Oscar and Sarah visited the undertaker. They didn’t need to be involved in this discussion, not as young as they were.
Oscar pulled the makeshift sleigh—Caldwell’s wagon attached to long runners—up to the boardwalk near the storefront that doubled as a furniture maker and undertaker. Oscar had been in town several times during his stay in Lost Hollow, but he’d never seen the streets this deserted.
“Everyone must be inside because of the holiday,” Sarah murmured. It was the first thing she’d said to him since they’d left the parsonage. He disliked the distance between them. Wanted things back to where they’d been before.
“And the weather,” he agreed.
“I just remembered I need to send a telegraph,” she said as he assisted her from the sleigh. “Do you mind if I run down to the telegraph office quickly? I’ll meet you right back here.”
“Fine.”
She’d told him the undertaker lived above his shop. Oscar figured he’d have to pound on the door to get a response since it was Christmas, but to his surprise, a thin man opened the door fairly quickly. He eyed Oscar and reluctantly invited him in to the darkened storefront out of the cold.
After Oscar had explained who he was and about Mr. Caldwell’s demise, the man moved to a desk in the corner and began writing something on a piece of paper.
“I’ll have you bring him around back, if you don’t mind. Don’t like the other customers to see, you understand.”
Oscar nodded.
“You payin’ cash?” the man asked.
Oscar paused on his way to the door. “I’m not family. Caldwell claimed he didn’t have any money, and he’s left behind three little girls.”
The man shrugged. “Not surprised, but I can’t do it for free, I’m sure you understand.”
Oscar frowned. “What about a collection from the church?”
Now the man wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Doubt you’d get the funds there, either, son.”
Frustrated, Oscar scratched the back of his neck. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
“I’ll take a trade. The man had a horse last I knew.”
He was right. Caldwell’s one horse was a decent animal. Not great, but decent. Oscar doubted Sarah would want her around. And they couldn’t just leave the man’s body without a proper burial.
“Fine,” Oscar agreed. “I’ll bring the wagon around back.”
He maneuvered the conveyance down the snow-covered street and around to the alley behind the row of shops, just as the undertaker had instructed him, mind racing all the while. Was Sarah planning to stay on at the Caldwell place? He knew there wasn’t room for her and the girls at the Allens’ place, but would the school board frown upon her living alone? Would it even count as “alone,” with her caring for three little girls?
Regardless, the spread was too much for her to handle by herself. If she could find someone to lease the land and farm it, she could bring in a small income from that. Not enough to live on, but with her schoolteacher salary, it should help. At least until she left with the girls to marry her Montana banker.
She’d do well with a milk cow and a few chickens, maybe a small garden plot.
But would she know how to take care of any of that? And the other animals would need to be sold off.
He’d planned to return to his cabin and his life after he’d made sure she’d settled in with the girls. But now it looked the process of settling in would take longer. A few days at least.
Could he continue on here without going crazy, wanting what he couldn’t have? Did he have any choice? After the fuss the townspeople had made before the pageant, he doubted anyone would be willing to help Sarah now. And he had to admire that she was willing to help the girls. How could he do any less, especially when he knew what it meant to be abandoned?
* * *
Sarah carefully navigated the icy boardwalk to the telegraph office and the little house behind it.
Bert, one of her older students, answered her knock with a look of surprise. “Miss Sarah! What are you doing out and about?”
He quickly ushered her inside the small home. His father looked up from the kitchen table nearby.
“Miss Hansen,” he greeted.
“Hello, Bert. Mr. Cooper. I’ve got a telegraph I need to send.” She fished in her pocket for the small stash of coins she’d put there.
“Won’t go out today,” the older man said. “It’ll be tomorrow.”
“That’s all right. I’m afraid it’s bad news.” She explained the situation to the two of them, and that she’d found an address for what she suspected was a relative of the girls and wanted to send a notice.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bert’s father pulled a sheet of paper from a nearby drawer before returning to the table. “Let’s compose something.”