Unbroken Hearts (9 page)

    
Before long the twilight cast long shadows
across the dim parlor. Emily beat Roy at checkers for the third time. Roy threw
up his hands in a dramatic surrender.
 

    
"I've met my match," he
grumbled. Roy stacked the checkers and put them into a box. "I'll get Mama
ready for bed. I'll sleep in the extra bed in her room tonight. Emily can have
my room." He caught Emily's serious blue eyes and held them. "Come
with me now and I'll show you where to put your things. Cal needs to talk to
your sister." Roy winked knowingly at Cal. Sarah colored fiercely, but remained
silent, her hands twisting nervously in her lap as she pretended to look
carelessly out the window. Roy turned and pushed his mother down the hallway.
Emily dutifully tagged along behind.

    
Sarah's eyes scanned the room and came to
rest on a handsome oak cupboard which held a gleaming silver service, the most
beautiful table wares she'd ever laid eyes on, and likely among Mrs. Easton's
most cherished possessions. The polished surfaces, with their smooth curves,
reflected a world of elegance, laughter, and the love of a close-knit family.
Sarah bit her lip and speculated on the value of the pieces. Would they be
missed by the men if she borrowed them? Could she light out with Emily in the
dead of night, when the vast ranch was sleeping? These men would barely miss a
pair of horses, and, truth be told, their mother was in no condition to use the
silver anyway. They could get established in a little town, she thought. Would
these men follow them? And if she were caught? Surely they wouldn't hang a woman
for stealing--

    
"A wedding gift to my parents,"
explained Cal, breaking into her ruminations. His dark eyes had followed hers
to the silver tea set.

    
Sarah blushed, ashamed of her scheme, and
at the same time shocked that the man had read her mind.

    
Cal's expression darkened, and he ran the
palms of his hands over the buckskin pants pulled tautly across his muscular
thighs. An uneasy silence ensued and lengthened until Sarah was ready to do
just about anything to break the tension growing between them.

     
Finally a
nervous cough rose from Sarah's throat. She took a deep breath and held it. She
couldn't bring her eyes to meet his, so instead she looked at the braided rug
that covered the floor. "I s-still can't believe all that has happened today,"
she stammered, her voice breaking. "I need to tell you I've never, um,
done this --"

    
"Sarah, I know and it's all right," he
interrupted. Cal, equally flustered, sputtered the words he'd rehearsed twenty
times in the stillness between day and dusk.
 

    
"This was my brother's fool idea of a
birthday surprise. I've never forced any woman, and I'd sooner burn in hell as
start tonight." He looked into her eyes to drive his point. "Roy
won't ever know." His words were gruff.

    
Sarah worked it over
in her mind, wary of believing in his display of gentlemanly compassion. But
there it was, his kindness spoken plainly and directly. Roy had handed Lola
cash money for him to take her but he wouldn't. It was like being a child and
believing in St. Nick, even though you suspected he wasn't real, but the
presents showed up on Christmas all the same. This man gave his gift freely.
She berated herself for her earlier thieving thoughts, looked up at him
wide-eyed and bewildered.

    
"I have to go
back to Lola's anyway, so I 'spose it doesn't much matter." Sarah's voice
was just above a whisper.

    
Cal looked into the green pools
threatening to spill over.
You aren't ever going back to Lola's.
As he struggled inwardly to shake off the vile image
of Sarah's body being defiled at the local brothel an overwhelming urge to
protect her took root. If not for Roy's interference, the woman would have been
suffering a horror at the hands of Jack Dullen. As if losing her uncle wasn't
enough grief for one day.
 

    
Suddenly Cal reached out, took her hands
and drew Sarah close, and set her gently on his knee. His rough palm gently
stroked her cheek. "Don't go back. Stay here."

   
Sarah hadn't felt such a comforting touch since her father died. His simple
gesture was the final assault on her frail emotional state. She sobbed and
poured forth her pain.
 

   
"You don't understand," she choked. "I must go back until
the end of the week to get my share of what Roy spent, because I owe all of it
and more to Lola. She's paid all the funeral fees so my uncle and cousin can be
buried. She said it was advance on the pay I'll collect for working the rest of
the week."
 
She slumped her
shoulders forward and hung her head.

    
Cal nodded, listened, and slid his arm
lightly around her waist. For a few moments he thought about offering to pay
her debt to Lola. Would she refuse such charity? She'd accepted a brief
friendship, but he would have to earn her trust. He was so tired, and sorely
needed time to think.
 

 
   
"Don't worry about
it." He plowed his hand through his dark hair. "You look tired,"
he added. "Sleep in Roy's room with Emily. Everything will work out in the
morning." He murmured the advice soothingly as he kicked down the urge to
caress the length of her back.
 

    
Cal was stunned at his sudden feelings for
the young woman.
Slow down. I'd be helping anyone in her predicament. It's
the right thing to do
, he told
himself, figuring on how it was natural to kindle a small fondness, owing to
how, like him, she had lost so much and still kept forging ahead. And he was
suddenly struck by the irony of his fear of having someone to cherish and
losing that someone, set against Sarah simply not expecting it to happen for
her at all. She'd lived a life of need for so long she likely didn't know how
to want.

    
Something about that touched a vacant
place inside Cal. Could it be time to want for himself, to reach for something
he'd abandoned long ago back on the trail? If she had the fortitude to do
whatever it took to survive, then should he find the courage to confront his
own demons, to let his heart desire a woman again?

    
Slowly Sarah slid off of Cal's knee,
stood, and walked to the doorway. She hesitated just a moment before she
turned. "Good night. And thank you for your kindness. I hope to return the
favor some day."

    
"You already have," Cal
whispered hoarsely.

     
Sarah was halfway up the stairs and
didn't hear his words.

Chapter 8

    
Cal slept restlessly, his body weary, but
his mind racing, as he worked to solve Sarah's dilemma. Tossing and coming up
empty, he thought instead about eager young women he'd met at a recent
social.
 
It had been a kissing
party, where Roy convinced him to stand in the middle of the "pond"
while young women swarmed all over him in their attempts to be the first to
kiss his cheek. Feminine smiles and 'accidental' touches had stroked his ego,
but now all their flirtations faded as his thoughts went back to Sarah sitting
on his knee in the parlor.
 

  
Cal was finally drifting off to sleep before dawn when he heard the
church bell, furiously ringing in town. Cal bolted upright. Only one good
reason existed to ring the bell during the night. Cal rapidly pulled on his
pants, hastened down the stairs, strode out onto the porch. A dim glow burned
on the horizon, and instantly he knew. Fire. He ran back through the house and
knocked on mama's door.

    
"Roy, wake up. Fire!"

    
Roy opened the door, rubbing his eyes.
"Huh?" The bell rang again. Roy's eyes widened. "Where?"

    
"In town. I'll meet you at the
barn."

    
As he flew back down the hallway, Cal ran
right into Sarah. She'd also heard the bell and had descended the stairs,
wearing a thin, faded white night gown, which covered her primly from neck to
toe. Cal put his hands to her shoulders to set her back a respectable distance,
but not before he'd felt her softness pressing against the length of him, and
not before she felt his raw whiskered cheek graze against her face.
 

    
"What is it?" she asked
breathlessly. She gawked at Cal, who was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a
pair of buckskin pants.
 
In the dim
light she could make out powerful shoulders carved with muscles. Dark hair was
sprinkled across his chest, and this tapered to a thin line where it met the
waist of his pants. Her flush deepened and her hand flew to her throat.

     
"A fire somewhere in town. I'm
going. Don't know how much use I'll be with one good arm, but there must be
something I can do. You keep an eye on Mama? I don't know when we'll be
back."
 

    
She nodded, and by force of will kept her
eyes on his face. "Yes, of course.
 
B-be careful."

    
"Always." Cal spun and headed
back into his room to finish getting dressed.

    
A steady hum came from the bunkhouse,
where some of the ranch hands had also woken. Five men were already saddling up
to go along.
 

    
Minutes later Sarah watched from the
parlor window as they all rode away, men slapping their horses to a full
gallop, the hooves beating a fast tempo as they dug up the dark prairie.

                                                           
*
    
*
    
*

      
Ned Kingman cursed. Wiping
night sweat from his bare head, he wiggled out of his twisted bedroll on the
tack room floor.

     
They were back. He'd gone two months
without the terrors, and he'd dared to hope he'd licked the problem. His heart
pounding, he stumbled out into the darkness.

   
Just minutes earlier the low drone of men talking outside the stable had
interrupted Ned's sleep. Except for the thick smell of smoke and kerosene, he
might have waved it off as just a couple of drunks staggering out of Lola's.

    
He was grateful he didn't.

    
He saw men running from the brothel.
Flames licked the side of the house, and steadily they climbed higher. Despite
grave danger and a throbbing leg Ned ran. Straight into the burning house he
loped, shouting at the top of his lungs like a crazy man.

    
"Fire! Fire! Git out!" Ned
banged on doors and yelled over and over again until his throat was sore from
smoke and yelling and his fist was raw from slamming it against the heavy oak
doors.

    
As he proceeded down halls women came
flying out and down the stairs in various states of dress, some in nightgowns
or robes, all fighting against the heavy stinging smoke which left tears running down
their faces. A few barefoot miners were in the fray, clutching boots, shirts,
and britches and women.
 

    
Miss Lola stood ramrod stiff at the front
door, clad in a red robe, moccasins, and tense lines carved into her face. She
hastily told the girls to assemble across the street. Everyone yelled to roust
the town.

    
Someone rang the church bell. Mr. Watkins
was summoned, and he opened his store and handed buckets to passers by.
 

    
A chain of men soon formed; they stretched
from Lola's backyard pump up to the edge of the flames. The buckets were passed from one man to the next and water was thrown against the building.

    
Miss Lola looked across the street to
count noses. It appeared all of her girls had escaped safely, thanks to Ned.

    
Then a knot formed in her stomach.
December.

    
"Where's December?" Her shout
reached the women. Assembled in a tight circle, they consoled each other.

    
"Not here. Haven't seen her,"
they wrung their hands and shouted back.

    
Lola's heart lurched. December had the
room farthest from the stairs. Without another thought Lola hitched up her
skirts and ran back to the house.

    
"Don't you go in there!" Jake
Farrel shouted above the roar of the fire. He moved to block the woman.

    
But quick Miss Lola skirted his warning.
As Jake Farrel was a man built for lifting, not speed, she easily flitted past
his girth and rushed through the doorway and up the stairs, holding a
handkerchief to her mouth.
 

    
"December! December!"

    
Lola felt a searing sensation across her
back. The smoke was thick as pie filling. Breathing was nearly impossible; her
cries quickly turned into feeble croaking. Lola fought her way to the top of
the stairs, where she stood choking. Cracks sounded, and she felt a beam hit
her right shoulder. She looked up and saw her collection of painted porcelain
dolls staring down at her from their fancy cabinet in the hallway. Their smooth
china faces were the last image in her mind when she fell lifelessly to the
floor.

          
                      
*
      
*
      
*

    
Cal and Roy galloped in on lather-covered
horses. They jumped from their mounts and ran to Jake and Earl, the men leading the firefighting efforts.

    
"What can we do?" shouted Cal.
He stared helplessly at the growing blaze.

    
"Your men can relieve some on the
water chain!" shouted Jake.

     
Roy looked at the clutch of robed
women. "Lola's inside?"

    
Jake's rage was nearly out of control.
"Bloody hell! The woman went back to find a girl! She never came back out.
Over my dead body is anybody else going in there, so don't get any ideas.
They'd all be goners if not for Ned Kingman."
 

    
As he spoke the roof collapsed onto the
second floor.

    
"Get back!" Earl Watkins
yelled.
 

   
 
The women wailed at the
sight; one doubled over and vomited and another dropped to her knees.

    
Lumber cracked and tumbled, driving the
bucket brigade back to a safer distance from the house.

    
Mr. Jack Dullen drove up to the frightful
scene. He took one look at the inferno and pounded his fist on the side of his
carriage. Then he straightened up and strode over to Jake and Earl, shook their
hands furiously, and spoke with them briefly, as he made a good show of
thanking them for their efforts to save his building. When he spotted Roy his
lip curled contemptuously.

    
Roy had also spied Dullen from the corner
of his eye, and he strode over to where the man was stationed.
 

    
"A shame you lost your house, Mr.
Dullen. Even worse that lives were lost." Roy's voice was tinged with
anger.

    
Dullen lunged forward slightly as his
glare struck.

    
"I don't like being cheated,
Easton!" He growled. "The new whore was mine."

    
Roy frowned.

    
Dullen studied Roy carefully; the leather cowboy
appeared detached and unaffected. Dullen stoked up the heat.

    
"I'll overlook your little
indiscretion this time Easton, since the girl was killed in the fire. Hell, you
probably saved my neck."

    
Roy opened his mouth to speak, and then he
closed it and opened it again.

    
"Yes."
Thank God, Sarah and
Emily are safe.
"An' don't you
forget it Jack." Roy's gaze was granite.

    
Satisfied he'd hit his mark, Dullen turned
on his heel and loped away.

                                         
*
    
*
   
*
  
*

    
Two hours after the first alarm sounded
the fire was extinguished.

    
All that remained of Lola's was a massive
stone chimney amidst smoldering ashes. The merchants, miners, and cowboys
hauled their heavy hearts home.