California Romance (3 page)

Other letters arrived, secretly delivered by Seth’s friend. Usually they were short, with just bits and pieces of news about Seth’s new life. He loved the mild climate and the opportunity to make something of himself by working hard. He was happy, Sarah could tell. She only wished—

A crash and a piercing scream jerked Sarah abruptly from her musing. She leaped from the mattress and scrambled down the ladder. Ellie and Timmy were at each other’s throats—biting, pinching, and hitting. Timmy was crying; Ellie shrieked at the top of her lungs.

“Stop that at once!” Sarah ordered, grasping the back of Timmy’s overalls. She gave a yank, which forced the little boy to let go of his sister. “What’s going on?”

Ellie threw herself at Timmy. Sarah had all she could do to avoid the child’s flailing fists. “He stole it!” Ellie screamed. “Give it back, you crybaby!”

Timmy howled. “She’s killin’ me, Sarah! Make her stop!”

Just then the door to the cottage burst open. Ian and Peter strolled through—dirty and rumpled. They whooped in delight at the scuffle but made no move to aid Sarah. Instead they watched from the doorway as their stepsister fought to control the two children.

“You two give me a hand here,” she ordered the boys.

“We’re hungry,” Peter answered, ignoring her request. He and Ian grinned, stepped around the ruckus, and began opening and closing cupboards in search of something to eat.

Ellie and Timmy screamed louder. Sarah held them at arm’s length and tried to make them hush. A swift kick from the little girl sent a chair tumbling over.

“Can’t a man return to his home without finding it in an uproar?” A bellow from behind Sarah sliced through the commotion.

Silence fell. Sarah released the children. They turned to stare at Gus Stoddard and a dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger standing in the open doorway of their tiny cottage.

“Here I am bringing a guest home and what greets us?” Gus roared. “A barroom brawl! Shame on you all.” He turned and focused most of his wrath on Sarah. “You, Sarah. You’re a grown woman. I expect you to keep these kids under control.” He waved an arm toward the cluttered room that served as both the kitchen and sitting room. “Look at this mess. You’ve let it fall apart the past couple of weeks. Rubbish everywhere.” He kicked at an empty whiskey bottle. “You’re to be keeping the place clean, girl. I’ve told you time and time again.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flame in red-hot anger.
Keep this place clean? How dare you!
She wanted to shout into his face that it was he and his disheveled pack of rowdy youngsters who turned this tiny shack into a garbage heap most days. If Mama hadn’t worked so hard that she collapsed a few days before the baby came, perhaps both of them wouldn’t have died in childbirth. Sarah had been too overwhelmed with trying to care for her dying mother to keep the place straightened up.

Gus glowered at her and continued his rampage. He waggled a finger in her face. “You, m’girl, are not making a very good impression on Mr. Edwards. I told him you kept a tidy house.”

Sarah shoved her anger to a corner of her mind and shifted her gaze from her stepfather to the stranger. So this was Tice Edwards, with whom her stepfather did business. An older man, but not as old as Gus, he stood tall and proud, with coal-black hair cut short and slicked back. No ragged beard or mustache marred his chiseled face. Above a straight nose, his dark eyes gleamed with interest and amusement. When he caught Sarah’s appraising look, he nodded slightly. “Good evening.” His words were refined, silky, polished, but his bold stare made Sarah squirm.

She dropped her gaze and stared at a crack in the floor, mind awhirl. Just who was this obviously wealthy and high-class Tice Edwards? Certainly not one of Gus’s usual companions. Many a night Sarah and her mother had been forced to endure the company of rowdy and ill-mannered guests crowded into the house, but Mr. Edwards had never been part of those gatherings. Whatever did he see in her stepfather?

While she was still trying to piece together the significance of Mr. Edwards’s unexpected visit, Gus strode across the room, draped a heavy, dirty arm across Sarah’s shoulders and grinned at his guest. The matter of the filthy cabin suddenly seemed insignificant. “So, what do you think of her, Tice? We sort of caught my daughter unawares, and I know she ain’t dressed for company, but you can see she’s a real looker. Think she’ll do?”

Sarah flinched at her stepfather’s touch and twisted free. Her throat went dry.
Do?
What kind of employment was Gus arranging for her
this
time? Scullery maid? Cook? Upstairs maid? Probably not, she reasoned, if the cottage was intended to be a job reference. It really
was
a jumble tonight. Perhaps Mr. Tice Edwards would turn up his nose and stalk out the door in a huff. Judging from appearances, the man could afford many servants. Why would he consider hiring anyone Gus Stoddard put forward? Sarah swallowed and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. Perhaps working in a fine home would be a step up from serving as a drudge to Gus.

The next instant she saw the intense, eager look on Tice’s face. Sarah decided she did not want to work for him after all—no matter how much he might pay. As unpleasant as her life was with Gus Stoddard, now that her mother was gone, she didn’t like the looks of this expensively clad stranger. He stared at her like she was a slab of prime beef hanging in the butcher’s window. She couldn’t abide the thought of those probing eyes watching her carry out her duties in his home. Sarah steeled herself to refuse his offer of employment.

Tice strolled leisurely across the floor and came to a stop a few inches from where she stood next to Gus. He caught her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “She’ll do nicely.” He chuckled. “Needs a bit of cleaning up, but you’re right. She’s real pretty.”

“Then it’s a deal?” Gus asked eagerly.

Tice dropped his hand and smiled. Straight, white teeth flashed. A line from a fairy tale crossed Sarah’s mind.
“The better to eat you with, my dear.”
“It’s a deal.”

Sarah rubbed her chin and turned on her stepfather. “What’s a deal?” she demanded. “If you think I’m going to work for Mr. Edwards, you’re mistaken.”

Gus’s slap sent Sarah reeling. He shot an apologetic look toward Tice. “She’s a mite feisty sometimes, Tice. Didn’t have real good bringing up, I’m afraid.” He waggled a finger at Sarah. “You’re not going to work for Mr. Edwards, m’girl. You’re going to be his wife.”

S
arah staggered to her feet. “His—his—
wife?”
she stuttered, unable to grasp what Gus was saying. The stinging pain of her stepfather’s slap went unheeded. She stumbled to the crude table and leaned against it, breathing hard.
This can’t be happening. Please, God, let it all be a bad dream
.

Tice Edwards quickly joined Sarah. “If I may?” he offered, pulling out a chair. His silken words flowed over Sarah like sweet, sticky honey.

She shivered and closed her eyes then crumpled into the chair. She buried her head in her arms and fought against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, but she forced them back.
This is not a crying matter
, Sarah told herself fiercely.
I must think. I must get control of myself
.

A whimper brought Sarah’s head up. Timmy stood at the end of the table, biting his lip. His light brown hair curled around his ears and fell into his wide, dark eyes. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his overalls, and he sniffled. When Sarah caught his gaze, he blinked hard and whispered, “Sarah?”

Her heart softened at the uncertainty on the little boy’s face. But before she could respond to him, Gus barked, “Get outside—all of you. Don’t come in till I tell you.”

“I want Sarah,” Timmy pleaded. He’d swiftly changed from the screaming, fighting little tiger of a few minutes ago to a scared child in need of a hug. No matter how irritated Sarah found herself at the antics of Gus’s children, it was clear Timmy knew where he could find shelter during his father’s many angry storms. He reached for her in spite of his father’s order.

“Git, I told you!” Gus took a swipe at Timmy, but the boy was too quick. He ducked under Gus’s arm and scampered outdoors with a frightened yelp. The other children had already disappeared through the door, away from their father’s rotten temper and heavy hand.

Sarah heard the harsh teasing of the older boys and Timmy’s sobbing through the open door. She clenched her fists. She wanted to rush outside and gather Timmy into her arms. Of Gus’s four children, Timmy was the sensitive one, the child who had known Sarah’s mother as his only mother and Sarah as his real sister. When he wasn’t being influenced for evil by his older siblings, he was a loving little boy.

The brush of Tice’s hand across the braid on the top of Sarah’s head brought her around. She shook herself free of his touch and stood. She looked up, gripped the edge of the table to steady herself, and took a deep breath. Ice tinkled in her voice as she said, “I will not marry you, Mr. Edwards.”

Gus lurched forward, hand raised, but Tice motioned him away with a curt wave. “No more of that, Gus. I don’t want my future wife marred for her wedding day.” He gave Sarah a rueful smile. “I’m sorry the arrangements are not to your liking, Miss Stoddard—”

“Anderson,”
Sarah corrected between clenched teeth.

Tice bowed. “My mistake, Miss Anderson. I apologize. I regret I haven’t made a good impression on you, but contrary to what your stepfather told you earlier, you
have
made a good first impression on me.” He grinned. “Actually, a second impression.”

Sarah’s stomach lurched. “I’ve never seen you before. How could I have made any impression on you?”

“You’d better explain it to her, Gus,” Tice suggested quietly. He waved toward the chair Sarah had recently vacated. “Please sit down.”

Sarah sat. Her palms turned clammy. She rubbed them against her skirt and then clenched them in her lap. She kept her expression stony when she turned to face her stepfather, dreading and fearing what he would say.

Gus sauntered over to the cookstove and peered into the speckled enamel coffeepot. He grunted, poured himself a cup of the steaming brew, crossed the room, and plunked himself down into an overstuffed armchair that had seen better days. “Well now, Sarah, the truth of the matter is this: My friend Tice has had his eye on you for quite some time. He saw you one day down by the docks and decided you were the girl for him. O’course, that was a few years back, but I promised I’d make arrangements for your—
betrothal
—as soon as an opportunity presented itself.” He paused and looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

Sarah saw in Gus’s steely eyes the truth of the past three years. He had used her mother from the very beginning—used her as nothing more than a slave. He had run her ragged taking care of his four kids and trying to keep everyone fed. He took, took, took and never returned a shred of decency, never regarded Virginia Anderson Stoddard as the companion and confidante that God intended a wife should be to her husband. Now Gus planned to use her, too. But why would he be willing to have her marry Tice and leave his children without anyone to care for them?

An ugly thought sprang to life in Sarah’s head, and she leaped to her feet.
Money. It’s got to have something to do with money
.

Disgust permeated her. It blotted out fear. Slow, hot rage slowly worked its way from the pit of her belly to the roots of her strawberry blond, braided coronet. “You waited until my mother died,” she lashed out in sudden realization. “She never would have stood for this, you—you—
swine;
I despise you!”

Sarah’s outburst brought a bark of laughter from Tice. “Yes sir, Gus. I like her. She’s got spirit. I’ve had more than my share of clinging, simpering females over the years. Your girl will be a welcome diversion. I’ll be proud to stroll with her along the deck of the
River Queen
and show her off to all those luckless gentlemen who missed such a catch.”

The gumption inherited from her strong Scandinavian father now served her in good stead. She drew herself up to her full five-feet, four-inch height, raised her chin, and slowly paid out words like a miser pays out gold. “I already told you, Mr. Edwards: I will not marry you—
ever.”
Sarah felt stronger now. Her angry response to Gus had helped her gather her wits and prepare for battle. It
was
a battle—one she dared not lose. She took a few steps toward the ladder that led to her attic sanctuary. “If you will excuse me, I’m tired.” She nodded at Tice. “I could say it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Edwards, but it wasn’t. Good evening.”

Gus lurched from his chair and hurled his half-empty coffee cup across the room. It slammed into the ladder steps, inches from Sarah’s face. Dark brown liquid splattered her skirt. She froze. “You stay put and hear us out, girl.” Gus’s eyes blazed. “Your playacting and putting on fancy airs won’t get you anywhere.” He caught Sarah by the wrist and gave it a painful twist.

“Gus,” Tice protested, “that’s enough.”