Unbroken Hearts (6 page)

    
Cal's jaw dropped.
"You got something to tell about Ella?"

    
Roy laughed heartily.
"Nope, not me." His eyes shone.

    
Cal looked as excited
as the day he'd broken his first horse. Roy held the rifle and gave it a going
over, proclaiming it a fine piece.

    
Cal carefully wrapped
the rifle in a blanket and stowed it at the foot of the wagon box. Then they
climbed in. Roy took hold of the reins, and slapped the horses into motion.

    
As the rig creaked up
the hill Cal spotted two lone figures sitting outside Miss Lola's. His breath
drew in as they neared, for he recognized Sarah sitting with a young
blond-haired girl, out front on the porch swing. Sarah, dressed in a faded blue
dress, was clutching a bag and a worn wooden box. Her hair was pulled up into a
knot, yet a few sections had broken loose in the breeze, and even from a
distance Cal could see these were blowing lazily, caressing her smooth
neck.
 

    
The girls stood up and
moved to the edge of the porch when the Eastons approached. Roy waved to them
as if they were dear old friends, while Cal, feeling a twinge of something he
couldn't define, let alone explain, simply nodded in their direction.

   
"Here's
my
good news." Roy yanked at the reins
and halted the horses. "Ready ladies?"

    
Sarah and her sister waved in unison and jumped off
the porch. They made for the back of the wagon, heads bent and skirts swishing.
Cal flashed his brother a silent inquiry. He felt his temper rising.

    
"What in blazes
– "

    
"It's ok, Cal.
Heck, I won the bid all fair-like. Ask Miss Lola if --"

    
"You what?"
Cal shouted.

    
"Hush up!"
Roy tried to calm him, but he was sinking farther into quicksand.

    
"What did you
do?" Cal yelled hoarsely.

    
"Honest Cal,
it's not a big deal." Roy thrust his hands forward. "Lola said we can
bring Sarah and Emily back tomorrow afternoon."

    
Cal's face was a mask of rage. If not for the fact
that ladies were present he'd have landed a whallop on the smirk plastered
across Roy's face.
 

    
"Let me get this straight." He
spat the words through his clenched jaw. "You bought, you bought . . . and
now you are taking her home . . . and you plan to seduce her in our mother's
house?"

    
Roy had the smug
expression of a man about to show a royal flush. "No, Cal. You got it all
wrong!
She's for you
!
Happy Birthday, brother!"
 
Roy
tossed his head back and snorted. "Golly, I'll bet you thought I forgot!
Well, I didn't," he sputtered. "But if I'd known you'd gone and
bought the repeater, well, I'm not sure I'd have stuck my neck out for this
extra fine gift."
 

    
Cal seethed.
"You stuck your neck out all right! You'll be sticking it right into the
noose Jack Dullen will string up when he finds out! Don't he have the winning
bid locked on every new girl at Lola's?"

    
"Not this
time." Roy heaved an exasperated sigh and thrust his hands onto his hips.
"Seems he missed the bidding deadline." He waved a hand. "I happened
to mention to Ned that a three o'clock deadline for offers made plenty more
sense, owing as to after three o'clock a man can't get his cash from the bank
to pony up."

    
"Ned yapped Lola
into this?" Cal slapped a palm to his forehead.

    
"Yep! Of course
Ned agreed with my thinkin', and he sweet-talked Lola into changing the rules
so as to stop bidding just afore three. Anyway, Lola thinks she might get more
money with this new rule."

    
"You know I
don't –"

    
"Brother -- I
know -- do I ever know! But hear me out! I reckon it was your good fortune they
changed the rule today, seeing as it came on your birthday, and this pretty gal
come to town on your birthday no less, and it was amazing how the rules changed
just after I placed my bid . . . which happened to be just before three o'clock.
Brother, it's a
sign
!
And Ned sure is one smart businessman!" Roy prattled.

    
Cal groaned inwardly.
Lola must have lost her mind to let "talk-a-cow-out-of-her-calf" Roy
work his charms on her. Sometimes he just couldn't believe they were related.

    
Roy wouldn't let up.
"Heck, give the lady a chance! Miss Anders is scared, but she's takin' a
chance cause she's got nothin' to lose!"

    
Cal swallowed. His
brother had a point, but Cal veered from thinking on it. "OK, OK, but do
we have to bring the younger one?"

    
Roy's eyebrows shot
up. "You mean Emily? Of course! She never leaves her sister. She's as
sweet as they come, Cal. She's invited me to a game of checkers after
supper." His blue eyes sparkled. "She's been playing with the girls
at Lola's all afternoon, and she beat all of them." Roy puffed up and
crowed the fact like a proud father.

    
Cal rolled his eyes.
"Well maybe you could write a story about that for the
Wounded Colt
Dispatch.
You might
suggest that everyone send their kids over to Lola's house to play
checkers."

   
"That's not a bad
idea, Cal."

    
Roy grinned
triumphantly.

    
Sarah frowned, stared
at her hands with burning eyes, and tried to ignore the Easton brother's
quarrel.

    
Emily was already clambering
into the bed of the wagon; she amused herself with humming and counting the
sacks and packages stowed there.
 

    
So the younger
brother hadn't consulted Mr. Caleb Easton about his birthday
"surprise". Without a doubt Mr. Easton couldn't be much interested in
her, at least not in her present condition.

    
Yet by her own
reckoning she had good teeth and strong hands. What's more, she was honest and
hard working. Sarah could read and write, work a garden, cook, tend livestock,
and keep a house. But these weren't likely to be the traits a man desired in a
"birthday surprise" woman.

    
Sarah was wearing one
of two dresses she owned. Like the other, it was old and faded, and because
she'd lost weight on the trip from Illinois, it fit her like a burlap sack.
Sarah had always fancied herself plain, with straight mud colored hair and hips
too small to fit the popular model of feminine beauty. Once a man at church
said she had pretty eyes, just before he commented on how beautiful Emily would
be when she grew up.
But handsome Mr. Caleb Easton could likely set his cap
for any girl and get her
,
she thought.
 

    
Perhaps Mr. Roy Easton had lower standards
when it came to women. Most likely women were scarce, as she'd noted in the
town. Sarah sighed. She truly didn't know anything at all about how a man
considered a woman. She frowned. Was Cal Easton a gentleman? It seemed
possible. After all, he hadn't requested this "birthday gift."

    
Sarah wasn't a woman who garnered heaps of
male interest, unless one counted the widower, twice her age and mildly
interested in her, back in Illinois. In her heart, she knew it was only because
he needed someone to cook for him and raise his pack of six children. Uncle Orv
had waved the man off when he came near the farm, and those were the only times
Sarah was grateful for her uncle looking out for her -- even if he was thinking
only of his own comforts.

    
Mr. Caleb Easton stole quick glances at
her all the while he argued with his brother. No doubt he was thinking on how
to quit himself of her and Emily. Sarah instinctively knew she'd drawn better
than Mr. Dullen, but how much better?

    
At last Cal Easton strode to the back of
the wagon, reached out with his good right arm, and wrapped his large hand
around Sarah's waist. He felt her startle at the gesture. Indeed, he might have
been surprised to learn this was the first time a man had ever helped to lift
her into a wagon. His touch stayed at her waist a moment longer than was
necessary, and Sarah felt a warm aching sensation in her stomach. When he
released his hold he carelessly trailed his fingers along her middle. Sarah
gratefully collapsed into the wagon bed.

    
Heat crept high in
her cheeks, and she made an attempt at light conversation. "Sir, how'd you
hurt your arm?"

    
Cal frowned
uncomfortably. "It's nothin', just a nick in my shoulder." His voice
was low and hoarse. His eyes flickered to her soft dark hair, now tumbling down
her back. He scanned the length of her skirt, and his eyes caught a spot of dried
blood.

     
He frowned.
This woman stirred thoughts.
Dammit, Roy, you need a good whupping
.
he thought. Why couldn't his brother leave well enough
alone?

      
Cal
reached down and took Sarah's worldly possessions
 
-- the satchel, which held what
remained of their clothing, and the wooden box. He handed them up to Sarah, who dug deep into the bag,
found a bonnet, and tried to tie it on Emily. Her lithe fingers chased after
the strings in the blustery breeze as she managed the task. Then she pulled her
own bonnet from the bag, and battled another wind gust.

    
"Does the wind
blow this way all the time?" she asked, to break the silence.

    
Roy turned.
"Heck no. It blows from the other direction most of the time."

    
Sarah groaned, and
settled onto the tarp Roy had laid down for them in the back of the wagon. The
pleasant odors of apples and bread drifted up from the packages.

     
"Hmmm,
seein' as we're talkin' on the weather, I can tell you ladies just how cold it
gets in these parts," quipped Roy. "Gets downright cold. Why last
winter it was so cold our beeves lowing froze soon as it come out of their
mouths. Those baws hung like icicles in the air all winter. Come the spring
thaw they made such a racket!
 
It
was heard all the way to St. Paul." He grinned at Sarah and Emily.
"Even made the Missouri run over its banks."

    
"Those must be
special cows you have, Mr. Easton." Sarah smiled back.

    
Emily covered her
mouth with her hands and giggled. She whispered a bit too loudly, "He's a
funny man but he lies! And his brother is mean-like!"

    
Sarah shushed Emily.
Roy laughed heartily, and Cal scowled.

    
"Yes, miss, I
expect I do." Roy was pleased his story put the ladies at ease, yet he was
embarrassed they'd overheard him arguing with Cal.
Clay-brained Cal!
Roy was sure his brother
wouldn't recognize a thoroughbred mare if she stared him straight in the face.

    
Cal rolled his eyes,
and tugged on his wide brimmed hat to shade his dark eyes from the sun.

    
"We're going to
Mineral Creek, about six miles. It'll be slow driving with the wagon loaded
heavy as it is." Cal looked back at the ladies. "Er, give a holler if you,
um, need to stop for a rest, or anything."
 

   
"Thank you, Mr.
Easton. We're used traveling all day." Sarah winced as she recalled how
much her feet hurt at the end of each day on the trail.

     
"Sit on
the sacks of flour," he added, "you can rest there."

     
"Yes,
we'll rest a bit. Thank you, Mr. Easton."

    
By now Sarah had
noted that Cal wore just two distinct expressions:
 
stoic and annoyed. Everything else was somewhere between. At
that moment he was wearing his annoyed, frowning face again.
 

    
"Call me
Cal," he grunted.

    
On his next inhale
Cal caught the pleasing scent of honeysuckle. The scent lingered on his palm
and fingertips, and now as he moved his hand to adjust his hat he carried along
the woman's odor. He thought about how he might smell to her.

    
While Cal was
oddly obsessed with thoughts about personal hygiene, Sarah was
remembering Ned's words about the Easton brothers and their "square"
dealings.

    
"You do this
sort of thing often?" she wondered aloud. Quickly realizing her error she
blushed and stammered "I-I didn't m-mean it like—"

    
Cal shot a glare over
his shoulder.

    
Roy shifted his
weight on the seat. "Cal's a lucky man. It's his first time. That is, the
first time two lovely angels drifted into town for his birthday."

    
Cal grunted.

    
Roy turned, slapped
the horses into motion, and they rumbled away from Lola's and out onto the
prairie. Silence reigned as they traveled across a flat land with gently
rolling hills, dotted with bright fireweed. Sarah was still amazed by the lack
of trees and the dry harshness of this territory. The sky was so big it seemed
it might swallow a person whole.

      
But
suddenly she felt as weary and empty as that flat prairie. Her old life forever
lost, thoughts turned to embarking on a new journey in a strange place with
these new faces. She thought it great irony when she considered how often she'd
lamented her life of tedium back in Illinois. In the space of one day she'd
witnessed the murder of two family members, had been cruelly attacked herself,
landed in a town where she was auctioned off to the highest bidder, and now she
was traveling to the home of two strangers, men who were ranchers. The
frightful memory of this morning came creeping back into her consciousness, and
she wondered if the sheriff would capture the outlaws.

    
She thought about
Sheriff Aiken's probing questions. Had she gotten a good look at the outlaws?
She'd replied that she couldn't remember anything, and she'd told the truth. It
was as if her mind had constructed a wall to protect her from dwelling on the
tragedy.

    
Exhausted, Sarah
nodded and jerked, and nodded and jerked, and finally her body slackened,
surrendered, and fell across the sacks. She dozed in twilight mindlessness, and
she dreamed she had wandered to a safe haven, a warm home, food, and
clothing.
 

    
"We're
almost home," Cal called out, interrupting Sarah's nap.

    
Home? A few buildings
were now visible on the horizon. As they drew closer, Sarah could make out the
house, barn, bunkhouse, a couple of sheds and a corral that fenced mules and
horses.

    
The ranch house was a
white two-story structure wrapped with a porch around two sides, nestled into a
low hill to furnish protection from harsh winds. The bunkhouse was on flat
ground, some thirty yards from the house, and a larger barn was situated
nearby. A winding creek, which could easily be followed by tracing the clumps
of cottonwoods along the banks, ran along to the east of the ranch buildings.
Beyond was the awesome vastness of prairie spread as far as the eye could see;
in some places the grasses were as high as a horse's back, billowing under
summer sun.

    
Emily squirmed
restlessly and threw off her bonnet. "Oh Sarah, look at all the
horses!" Her blonde curls were bouncing. "Do you think we can ride
them? Oh, look at the fine house and the barn! Sarah, see the garden patch!
It's not as pretty as yours back home."

    
Sarah had noticed the
neglected garden near the house. Her garden had been the only part of her
uncle's farm that was hers alone. She'd nurtured a sweet satisfaction, watching
the plants grow each day, slowly becoming sturdy and then bearing fruit. Rarely
did she feel as content as when she harvested and laid in the vegetables for
the winter. It had been comfort and consolation, the one place where she had
complete control in her life. She looked back over her shoulder at the a few
spindly rows of snap beans, squash, and carrots, and she wondered who planted
it, and why they didn't care for it now.

    
Roy turned in his
seat, and he looked at the child who'd been quiet for most of the trip.
"We have lots of horses. More than a hundred. You know how to ride?"

    
Emily's eyes were
enormous. "A little. We rode sometimes at our uncle's farm. My cousin let
me ride his pony, but only if I brushed him first. He was black with a white
patch on his nose and his name was Patch. Uncle Orv sold him when we left. I
miss Patch."
  
Emily's
small voice withered and she looked downcast.

    
Roy and Cal exchanged
a look, and Roy spoke. "After we get unloaded I can show you some of our
horses. Perty sure we have one like your Patch."

    
"Thank you, Mr.
Easton! My, you have lots of horses." A ray of sunshine had fallen upon
her, and she bantered once again with delight.

   
Roy saw a dimple form in
her cheek and smiled. "Ranch hands ride from sunup to sundown to tend the
herd, and night herders bed the hooves down, then doze on the range with the
cattle. Each man needs a string of horses, one to ride and some to rest. We
have around thirty brood mares. The men ride geldings."

    
"Geldings?"
Emily's eyes were wide with curiosity.