Unbroken Hearts (18 page)

    
Earl strode out from behind the counter.
Briskly he lifted the scratched wooden case from among the blankets, and set it
on the counter in front of the girls. They peered anxiously as he worked the
latch and clapped their hands when they laid eyes on the fiddle and bow.
Watkins blinked and rubbed his chin.

     
Sarah's long fingers reached out;
she lovingly picked up the instrument and turned it over, absorbing every curve
of the front, back, and sides. She knew it as a mother knew her own child. She
ran her hands along the back and sighted for straightness along the
fingerboard. Sarah's heart sank when she spied a hairline crack along the seam
where the back met the side, just below the upper bout. Quickly she glanced up.
She'd hidden her dismay well; the men were all smiling. Aside from the crack
there was no new damage. She looked warily at Mr. Watkins.

    
"Mr. Watkins, how much do you want
for this fiddle?" Surely Cal would give her an advance. Or maybe Watkins
could extend her some credit now that she had a job.

    
"I didn't buy it," Watkins
thought aloud. He looked past Sarah, to Cal, who was standing behind her.
"Odd it turned up in a blanket load from Lone Eagle." He wrinkled his
brow.

     
"Lone Eagle?" echoed
Emily.
 

    
"Indian Chief," explained Earl.
"Not the big chief, just chief of the band living south of town." He
eyed Cal curiously, but Cal just stood mute behind Emily as he gazed at the
instrument.

    
Meanwhile Emily and Sarah's eyes met in
sisterly exchange.

     
"Well," Earl debated,
rubbing his chin, "seeing as I didn't pay anything for it--"

    
"And it was stolen from them. They
should have it back," interrupted his son, Edward. "That's only
fair."

    
The men at the counter briskly nodded and
muttered ayes. Earl Watkins closed and latched the case, and handed it to a
beaming Sarah.
 

    
"I don't know how to thank you."
Tears glistened in her eyes. "This is the only thing we have left that
belonged to our papa. It means a lot to us."

    
Earl coughed, and his voice came out taut
as that fiddle's high string. "Heck, tis nothing." He set his jaw
gruffly. "You ladies just be sure not to ever fight in my store
again," he ground out.
 

    
"Yessir." Emily and Sarah intoned in unison. Excited and relieved, they hastily made for the exit. Cal
followed, dodging between barrels of goods and a sudden surge of men coming
through the door.

Chapter 16

     
Late afternoon orange-blanketed the
ranch. Rich smells rumbled up to the house on the chuck cook's smoky fire.
 

     
Emily's blue eyes spotted Roy as he
returned from his trip to the mining camp. She lit off her perch next to Ned
and Mrs. Easton and ran, singing out his name. Roy rewarded her salutation by
wildly waving both arms. Em whooped and ran into his long shadow.
 

    
Roy leaned from his saddle and scooped the
little girl up, wrapping one arm tightly round her tiny waist. Sarah and a
gaggle of ranch hands watched as the chattering duo rode past the corral and
bunkhouse. Roy nuzzled the top of Emily's head and handed her back down to Ned,
who'd limped out to greet them. Then he disappeared inside the barn, and the
ladies folded back into the kitchen.

    
After a few minutes the back door slammed.
Roy sauntered across the crooked floor and kissed his Mama. He inhaled deeply,
because no place smelled like home these days. Sarah slid a piece of fresh
bread onto a plate, set it in front of him, then reached across the stove and
poured a cup. Roy leaned back to stretch weary limbs as he listened to Sarah
and Emily recount the events of the previous two days.
 

    
He laughed, and his eyes danced when Emily
told him of their scrap at the general store. Nearly nine years younger than
Cal, Roy displayed the heart of a child, especially when he was with Emily. His
boyish energy was well-suited to Emily's animated manner, and Sarah felt a rush
of pleasure thinking about the friendship blossoming between them.

    
"I've a wee something for you in the
barn." Roy winked playfully at Emily. "It's in a wooden box near the
door. You can't miss it." He lazily spread butter on the bread and took a
bite. Faster than a rattler strikes Emily was on her feet and out the door,
blond curls trying to keep up.

    
"I've never seen anyone so excited
about a surprise," Roy observed.

    
Sarah sat down across from him and looked
at her hands. "She likes you." She felt awkward. Emily hadn't even
thanked Roy properly before she'd bolted out the back door, and she felt she
owed explanation. "I remember a few holidays, but Emily was just a babe so
she doesn't have memories. My uncle didn't put much stock in giving
gifts."
 
Then Sarah reddened
and stiffly put her fingers to her lips. It was the truth. Uncle Orv wasn't
prone to kindness.

    
"That's a shame." Roy cleared
his throat.

    
"It's in the past," she
shrugged. "I saw some scraps of fabric in your pantry . . . and I was
wondering . . . might I use them to make a rag doll for Em?"

    
Roy nearly coughed up the piece of bread he
was swallowing. "Sure, not a problem," he waved offhandedly.
"Use whatever you want."

    
"Thanks."

     
Roy nodded, tipped his cup, and
slugged down the last of it. "Anytime. You make good coffee."

     
They heard Emily squeal all the way
from the barn, and Roy smiled triumphantly. "Found it." He winked at
Sarah. "Cal could learn a thing or two from Emily 'bout showing proper
gratitude for my gifts."

    
Red stained Sarah's cheeks.

     
Emily bolted back into the house,
clutching a ball of fur to her chest. She excitedly held out a white kitten
with black and brown markings for Sarah to see.
 

    
"Oh, look at his cute pink
nose!" She spun around to Roy. "Where did you get him?" The
little fellow shakily clinging to Emily's dress, but she didn't appear to
notice.

    
Roy grinned. "A mama cat had a litter
at the mining camp. McHenry gave me this one." He took a bite of the bread
and chewed. "I reckoned we could use a good barn cat. Like it?"

    
Emily's bouncing told him she did like it.
"I can't tell if it's a boy or girl.
 
But it doesn't matter because I'm going to name it "Patches."

    
Emily thrust the kitten at Sarah to hold,
and throwing her arms around Roy she planted a kiss firmly on his cheek.

    
"Well, well," he laughed.

    
Sarah beamed. Tough cowboy Roy had met his
undoing.

                                   
*
            
*
            
*

    
At supper Roy talked about his mule
dealing. Emily gushed about her new kitten. Cal had mentioned Sarah's shooting
practice to Roy, and Roy asked her how it was going, making a big show of being
"usurped". Cal hadn't allowed him to touch the repeating rifle yet.

    
As they finished the meal Cal motioned to
his brother. Roy rose abruptly, excused himself, and moved Mrs. Easton to the
parlor, pulling Emily along behind him. Carrying a pile of dirty plates, Cal
followed Sarah into the kitchen. As she turned to clean the plates Sarah felt
Cal press himself to her back, wrap his arms around her waist, and inhale her
fragrance.

    
"I thought about you this
afternoon," he murmured as he brushed his lips along the side of her neck.

    
Sarah leaned back into his warmth. "I
missed you as well. I'm glad Roy is back. You know Emily is crazy about
him."

    
Cal laughed. "Sometimes he makes
me
crazy, but I'll always be grateful he brought you and
Emily here." His voice was deep and smooth.

    
Sarah was shaken by the sincerity of his
tone. She felt her throat constricting and eyes burning. "Go fetch the
rest of the dishes." She averted her head so he couldn't see her eyes.

    
Showing newborn emotions was awkward.
She'd spent years burying dreams, grieving the loss of her parents. Sarah
hadn't thought about a future for herself, that is, not until she came to the
Mineral Creek Ranch. Her heart had turned to a store of sisterly love. The bond
between them, strengthened by shared adversity, was enough. It had to be.

    
Until Cal.

    
When Cal sauntered back a minute later,
lugging more dishes, a scheming smile stretched up to his shining dark eyes.
"Emily said you know fiddle tunes. Can you oblige us?"

    
She tossed her eyes down to the dishtowel
she was holding. "I can't."

    
His coaxing expression suddenly contorted
into disbelief. "But Emily's been boasting on your playing and --"

    
"It has – it has a crack,"
she quickly muttered.

     
"What? It's broken?"
 

     
She glanced into his brown eyes and
back down to the towel. "A crack along the seam," she explained.

    
"Why didn't you say so? I can fix it.
Show me." He shoved his thumbs into his pockets. He thrust out his chest
and stood tall. "Sarah, trust me."

    
Sarah's eyes traveled from the towel up
his strong arms to his face, and her heart lurched. Her lower lip twitched.
"I did help Papa repair it once." She unconsciously twisted the dry
towel in her hands. "He glued a seam. Then he wrapped it tight with
hemp."

   
"I can do that."

     
"I 'spose . . . "
 
She dropped one end of the towel and
dragged the back of her hand across her forehead.

    
Sarah dropped the towel and
hurried into the parlor. Cal followed and winked at Roy, who was getting
whupped at dominos. Sarah opened the fiddle box and removed the fiddle to show Cal
the crack. A little brown package was tucked under the rosin. She took it from
the case. "What's this?"

    
Emily leapt off the chair where she was
sitting. "Another surprise!" She hopped from one foot to the other as
she watched her sister unwrap the small package. Emily gasped when she saw two
silver hair combs emerge from the paper. "Oh my, those are
beautiful."

    
Sarah bit her lip to hold back tears.
Something was scrawled on the inside of the wrinkled paper. She flattened it
and read it to herself.

    
To Sarah, from Cal

    
Sarah looked at Cal and saw his manly face
flooded with joy. Emily and Roy clapped approval. Mrs. Easton's eyes misted
over and she blinked rapidly.
 

    
"Sarah never had a gift from a man
before!" Emily twittered.

    
Sarah awkwardly wiped at her eyes.
"Thank you." It was as much as she could say. She carefully
folded the combs back into the brown paper and placed them back into the fiddle
box.

    
Cal looked at Sarah with unabashed longing
in his eyes. He'd never fallen so fast and so hard for a woman. Sarah had come
into his life as unexpected as an autumn twister, and she'd seared him with her
courage, grace, and need. Thoughts trampled through in herds but he pushed
aside most and concentrated on one: How he planned to ask her to marry him, at
just the right moment. He smiled and decided to make his proposal as soon as he
could get her alone, perhaps even tomorrow. He permitted himself to briefly
think about that moment, about holding her close and declaring his forever love
to her. And she would do the same. Everyone in the parlor turned to stare at
him when he heaved a contented sigh.

    
Sarah decided to make a try at playing the
violin after all. Her hands shook as she lifted the fiddle to her chin and ran
the bow across each string with her right hand, at the same time turning the
pegs with her left. The scent of seasoned maple wafted up from below her chin
and calmed like an enchanted forest. She found the sound adequate, although it
didn't project as it had in the past.
 

    
Sarah softly played a waltz. Cal rose from
the sofa, rolled up the rug, and took Emily's hand. Their first steps were
uneven but they were soon whirling across the floor. Roy claimed Emily for the
next tune, a lively reel.

   
Cal laughed. "I'll bet you were thinking we couldn't dance."
He angled toward Mrs. Easton. "Mama taught us."
 

    
"I admit I'm surprised. Do you
gentlemen sing as well as you dance?"

    
Roy laughed.

    
"We sing and whistle to the
beeves," said Cal. "It's how a cowboy keeps spooked herds from
stampeding." Then, in dramatic fashion, Roy and Cal crooned a cattle call
about riding the range and sleeping under the stars. At the refrain they took
to hollering and yodeling.

    
Sarah waved her hands and Emily covered
her ears and laughed. "What's that?" shrieked Emily. The men stopped
abruptly.

    
Cal threw up his hands delightfully and
stared at them in mock disbelief. "Ain't you girls ever heard a cowboy
yodel? When stormin' and lightnin' strike, the yodel's the only thing calms the
herd."

    
"Like a lullaby?" mused
Emily.
 

    
Sarah laughed. "But can you
really
sing? You know, regular-like, not
yodelling?" She didn't wait for them to answer her questions. "How
about 'Amazing Grace?"
 

    
She looked up into their faces, and was
immediately struck by raw sadness. Both tough Easton cowboys noisily cleared
their throats and thrust hands into pockets.

    
"Sure. That's mama's favorite."
Roy's blue eyes flickered to the gray, bent woman.

    
Sarah barely glanced at Mrs. Easton's soft
face before she raised the bow and launched into an introduction. Emily led
them into singing.