Lacy Williams (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

B
y the time Oscar banged inside, shaking a thick layer of snow from his person, Sarah had Cecilia and Susie somewhat calmed and sitting on the sofa. Their eyes were red-rimmed, but they’d retained a sparkle that even their cruel stepfather couldn’t dim. Once Sarah had shared her story about her past and that she wouldn’t let Mr. Caldwell bring harm to the girls, Susie had thrown herself into her teacher’s arms. Cecilia’s reception had been cool, but there had been a new trust in her eyes. At least Sarah hoped that’s what it was.

Sarah was determined to settle things with Mr. Caldwell tonight, whatever she had to do.

Except the girls’ stepfather did not follow Oscar inside. The younger man’s mouth was set and expression grim as he took off his hat and coat and spread them on a chair near the fire.

Sarah went to him in the kitchen area, where she’d started a pot of coffee—that much she could do in the kitchen without burning it. “Are you all right? Where’s Mr. Caldwell?” she asked in a low voice.

“He’s gone. Not in the barn. I checked the privy, too.”

“What?” She glanced over her shoulders to the pair on the sofa. They were whispering to each other and didn’t appear to have heard.

The horseman’s fingers were like blocks of ice when she pressed a mug of the hot beverage into his hands. “Thanks.”

“But he can’t be gone,” she whispered. “This is his place.”

“He leaves sometimes when he’s drunk.” Cecilia’s sudden words fell loud into the silence.

“But, honey, it’s snowing.” Sarah tried to reason with the girl, tried to understand what would make a man go out in this weather.

“It’s not just snowing.” Oscar ran a hand through his dark hair. “It’s a blizzard. Practically a whiteout.” He turned to Sarah, frowning. “I’m sorry. I won’t be able to get you home like I promised.”

She froze momentarily, mind spinning with all the repercussions of his words, then a look over his shoulder to the two urchins huddled on the sofa steadied her. If she couldn’t get home, she couldn’t. The girls needed her now.

She went to them, perching on the couch next to Susie, who leaned into her side naturally, as if Sarah was her older sister. Oscar pulled one of the kitchen chairs close and sat in it, propping his elbows on his bent knees.

“I thought about going out after him,” Oscar said.

“You can’t!” Sarah admonished. “What if you get lost? Or can’t find him? Or get hurt? You’ll freeze.”

His eyes stayed steady on hers and his ever-present grin was nowhere to be seen. “It is dangerous. Do you girls know where he might’ve tried to go?”

Cecilia shook her head, little face set but fear deep in her eyes. “Sometimes the next morning we find him in the wheat field. Once down by the creek. Sometimes he makes it into town and stays at the saloon.”

Oscar shook his head. “Even if I went looking, I couldn’t get far from the cabin for fear of getting disoriented and losing my way. Let’s pray for him.”

The girls looked skeptical, but Oscar bowed his head and led them in a sincere prayer for Mr. Caldwell’s safety.

After his “amen,” Susie looked up at Sarah and asked, “What if...what if he doesn’t come back?”

“It’s best not to think like that.” She squeezed the girl’s shoulders.

“Good riddance,” muttered Cecilia, but before the girl turned her face toward the fire, Sarah saw her lower lip tremble.

“But who will take care of us?” Susie asked, still shivering against Sarah’s side.

“Whether your stepfather comes back tonight or in the morning—” Sarah refused to say aloud the other option “—I’m still your friend. I still want to help you, whatever comes.”

“But what if you get fired from bein’ the schoolteacher?” Cecilia demanded.

“I won’t get fired.” Sarah hoped she was telling the truth.

“Girls, it’s late,” Oscar said. “We’ll get everything figured out in the morning. Hopefully your stepfather is holed up somewhere warm for the night.”

“Fine.” Cecilia gathered up her sister and they moved toward the bedroom where Velma still slept.

“I’m going to talk to Miss Sarah for a minute and then I’ll be in the barn, as usual.”

Sarah watched the girls as they disappeared into the room, closing the door with a soft click behind them. She would open it once they’d dozed off, so the fire’s warmth would reach in there, as well.

Oscar motioned her up off the sofa as he moved back into the small kitchen and reached for his hat. He didn’t put it on, just knocked it against his thigh a couple of times—a sign he was nervous.

“I’m sorry I can’t get you home,” he said softly.

“It isn’t your fault.” The sense of panic that had started in her belly when she’d heard the word “blizzard” went spiraling out of control now that the girls had left the room. “It’s mine. I’m the one who challenged Mr. Allen and dared come here in a snowstorm.”

She turned away, afraid he would see the rising anxiety in her face. She was the one who’d made the decision and she was the one who would pay—possibly with her job. Would she be able to get employment elsewhere if Mr. Allen refused her a letter of recommendation? Her savings were negligible, more so now that she’d spent money on the girls’ pageant dresses.

She did have one other option. The man who’d answered her mail-order bride letter from Montana. But there was a risk in that decision. What if the banker wasn’t the right man for her—what if he turned out to be as reckless as her father had been?

“Sarah. Sarah! Quit worrying so much.”

Oscar touched her shoulder and she turned to him, surprising them both by burrowing into his chest. His arms came around her shoulders; she heard a soft sound as his hat fell to the floor.

“What am I going to do?” she asked, the words muffled in his chest.

“What you’ve been doing.” His reply rumbled in her ear. “Comforting those little girls. I expect they’ll have more to worry about tomorrow. And right before Christmas, too.”

The thud of his heart was steady in her ear. A comforting sound. His flannel shirt soft against her cheek.

Even with the very male distraction, she couldn’t stop her mind from whirling. “But, what—”

“You leave Allen to me. If I have to go to every school board member’s home and explain that I slept in the barn and everything was proper, I will.”

She suspected he might have to follow through on that. “But you’re leaving. Aren’t you? Now that your job is finished?” She pushed away from his chest slightly, the better to see his face.

“Sarah—” His voice sounded strangled and he reached up to touch her cheek with one calloused hand. When he drew away, she saw the sparkle of tears on his fingers. Her tears. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Darlin’—” He cupped her cheek again, this time drawing her face up toward his.

He was going to kiss her.

She saw it coming—he even paused just before their lips brushed. He held her so gently, she could draw away if she wanted to.

But she wanted his kiss. Raised up on tiptoe to meet his lips.

And it was everything she’d expected.

* * *

Oscar lay awake in his straw cradle, wrapped in his bedroll in the pitch-black barn, listening to the wind buffet the walls outside. He was warm enough, not uncomfortable. And he’d grown used to the animals’ soft nighttime sounds over the past few weeks sleeping out here.

No, what kept him from sleep was Sarah’s kiss.

First, she’d gone into his arms as if she’d
needed
his comfort. She’d trembled against him, and when he’d seen her tears, he’d been undone. Hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking her mouth with his.

And she’d kissed him back. She’d curled her arms around his neck and responded to his touch and it had completely surprised him.

Her eyes had been luminous when he’d said good-night a few moments later and rushed into the cold night.

What had she thought about his kiss? He’d been afraid to stick around and find out if she was angry or regretted it.

He’d thought they were friends, enjoyed spending time with her. When his brothers had visited and she’d first shown her playful side, he’d realized how much he enjoyed being with her.

But now he wondered if he might be falling in love with her.

He loved spending time with her, was impressed with her compassion toward not only Susie and Cecilia and Velma but toward all her students. Didn’t even mind any more when she was bossy. Actually found it kind of cute.

But when you loved someone, it made you vulnerable to them. They could leave you.

Just like his parents had left when they’d died. And his uncle had abandoned him. Even Maxwell had gone, moving on with his life, and then Jonas got busy with the kids....

Oscar didn’t know if he dared to love her. And she’d made it very clear before that she wasn’t interested in marrying a cowboy.

His gut churned. Had he done the wrong thing by kissing her? It sure hadn’t felt wrong.

* * *

Tucked beneath a blanket and her shawl on the uncomfortable sofa, Sarah stared into the fire, unable to sleep. Replaying Oscar’s kiss in her mind.

His lips had been warm and firm. He’d held her so carefully, as if she was precious to him.

She’d wondered briefly if he’d thought of Sally, but other than the occasional mention in casual conversation, Sarah’s younger sister didn’t seem to cross his mind. True, they’d both been young when they’d been sweet on each other, and Sally now considered him a friend. And his passionate kiss certainly didn’t seem to indicate he was thinking of her sister in any fashion.

But could she really trust a man like him, a man who made his living working with dangerous animals?

She was afraid she’d already trusted him too much. He hadn’t answered her whether he was leaving immediately. He’d often said how much he wanted to return to his cabin and get started on his herd. With his job finished, what was keeping him here in Lost Hollow?

Insecurities flooded her. She hadn’t been enough for the man who’d courted her while she’d been at the Normal School. In the beginning, Oscar had found her bossy and independent. Had his feelings really changed?

She didn’t know.

It was a long time before she was able to fall asleep.

* * *

Morning brought a decrease of dimness and more snow, but no Mr. Caldwell. After fighting his way through the gusting wind to the snug cabin, Oscar remained concerned about going out to find the man. Could Caldwell have even survived the night?

He burst into the cabin, startling Sarah, who stood near the stove, staring out the window into the white morass.

He sniffed appreciatively. “Coffee’s on, I guess?”

“Yes. Let me get you some.” Her cheeks were that interesting shake of pink as she rushed to get a mug from the sideboard and fill it.

But he couldn’t tell if she was regretful about their kiss, or not. She could just be embarrassed to face him.

When she pressed the mug into his cold hands, he intended to link his fingers with hers and make her look at him, but the girls tumbled out of their room, hair in crooked braids, wearing the dresses his ma had sent down for them.

Any important conversation with Sarah would have to wait.

“Is our stepfather back?” Cecilia asked.

“No. Visibility is a little better this morning, so I thought after breakfast I’d see if I can do a little searching in the yard. It’s still coming down pretty bad out there,” he said as an aside to Sarah. “It’d be risking the horse to try and get you home.”

She shrugged, not fully looking at him. “I suppose the damage is done already. Perhaps it will let up later this afternoon.”

“What’s for breakfast?” Susie asked.

Now Sarah did look at him with a slightly panicked look on her face. “I didn’t attempt anything. I was afraid I’d ruin it....”

The girls dissolved into peals of laughter and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I think she was asking me,” he informed Sarah, who blushed rosy pink. “I fed and watered the animals in the barn. They’re comfortable, at least. Why don’t I escort you ladies to the privy—make sure you don’t get lost—and then we’ll start on breakfast?”

The girls bundled up, even Sarah, and followed him out into the blowing snow toward the privy. He’d insisted they link hands, and he was glad he’d done so. The outline of the small building was visible, but that was about it. And the girls were so slight, it was easier to navigate the yard as one group.

Not wanting to embarrass them while they took care of their needs, he shuffled off behind the nearby barn, looking out past the corral into what he could see of the woods behind.

His eyes scanned the area, mostly by rote, but he froze when he saw a dark shape at the base of one of the trees.

The wind changed and snow blew and he squinted, trying to get another glimpse of the thing he thought he’d seen. The dark shape could’ve been a man, lying on the ground. Or it could’ve been a downed tree. An injured—if large—sort of wildlife.

But what if it was Caldwell? He couldn’t just leave the man out there.

Oscar poked his head out from behind the barn to see Sarah still standing beside the privy with one of the girls. He waved his hat at her and she returned the wave, raising one mittened hand.

It took him several labor-intensive minutes to skirt the corral in the high snowdrifts. Longer to cross the open space between corral and woods, with the wind shoving him until he was bent like an old woman.

The closer the got, the lower his spirits sank. And when he knelt next to the man’s frozen body, Oscar’s heart pinched for the girls, who now had no one to take care of them.

Chapter Thirteen

W
hen Oscar didn’t return for them and the girls were shivering beside her, Sarah ushered them back to the cabin, of which she could only see a faint outline. It seemed the sky had darkened further in their few minutes outside. Could the storm be worsening again?

Inside, it seemed blessedly quiet after the roar of the wind in their ears. She helped the girls take off their outer garments and shake free of the snow. The trio immediately went to the fire in the hearth and sank down beside it.

Sarah returned to the window, relieved when Oscar’s bulky form could be seen crossing the yard toward the cabin.

But when he came inside, she immediately knew something was wrong. His face was drawn and tight—even worse than it had been last night after Mr. Caldwell’s disappearance.

He took off his gloves, but not his coat, and motioned her to the doorway. She didn’t even have a thought of not going to him.

She clutched his cold hands between hers. “More coffee?”

“No. I found the stepfather,” he muttered, pulling her closer to speak in her ear.

But it was too late. Cecilia popped up off the floor. “Is he alive?” Her voice shook.

Oscar’s shoulders slumped. He released Sarah’s hands and went to the girls, kneeling on the floor next to them. “I’m sorry. He’s not.”

Susie dissolved into tears and Sarah moved to gather the girl into her arms.

Cecilia remained standing, a defiant tilt to her chin, until Oscar put his arm around her shoulders, and then she, too, starting crying. Soft, almost-silent tears like the ones Sarah had often shed at night, not wanting her sisters to hear.

Velma looked between her sisters then started bawling. The tot likely had no idea what was going on, but could read her sisters’ emotions well enough. Sarah scooped up the baby and held both her and Susie close. Remembered many nights where she herself had wanted a comforting embrace.

She would be that for these girls. No matter what.

“We’ll get things figured out,” she said. “But I want you to know that I’m here with you.”

“Will you stay with us, Miss Sarah?” asked Susie, voice quivering.

Cecilia pierced Sarah with her eyes, daring her to answer. Maybe daring her to follow through on the promises Sarah had made last night.

Oscar watched her, too. Sarah could feel his eyes on her but couldn’t look at him. Would his expression tell her not to make a promise like that? But with her past, how could she not?

“We’ll stay together,” Sarah promised. “I’ll take care of you girls.”

Cecilia’s eyes darkened and her lips tightened, but she didn’t protest Sarah’s words.

Susie clung to Sarah’s neck, and Velma finally calmed.

After several emotional minutes, they finally got the girls calm enough to settle on the couch and Oscar went to the kitchen. He pulled a tin from one of the high shelves and showed it to Sarah. Baker’s chocolate.

“To make a hot chocolate drink. I was saving this for a treat for tomorrow,” he said.

He went and scooped a pot of snow from outside the door and then put it on the stove to boil into water. Into a second pan went the chocolate, pushed farther back on the stove where it wouldn’t be quite so hot.

“What do we do now?” Sarah asked, voice low. The girls talked among themselves, and played with Velma, trying to cheer their little sister.

“Try to make the best of things today and tomorrow. I imagine this will stain their Christmases for some time to come.”

Sarah felt stubbornness rise within her. “Not if I can help it. We’ll still celebrate. The girls deserve that much. I suppose funeral arrangements can wait until after the holiday.”

That one corner of his mouth lifted briefly before he returned to the task of mixing the chocolate. “I’ve also got to figure a way to get the body moved. There’s a chance wild animals could get to it and maul it. Need to bring it to the barn lean-to.”

Her heart beat faster at the morbid thought. “Weren’t you able to...carry him?”

He shook his head. “His clothes were soaked through and refrozen. He was too heavy for me to lift alone. I thought about going for help, but the nearest neighbor isn’t close and I wouldn’t be much use to you if I got lost in the storm.”

“What about a sled? Do the girls have one? Or you could hitch up the sleigh for a bit?”

“Couldn’t reach him with the woods and trail’s too thin. But you’re onto something with the sled idea. There’s some poles in the barn and I can fix a travois, take one of the horses with me to do the real work.”

She remembered the way the sky had darkened just while they’d been visiting the privy. “Isn’t the storm getting worse? Should you really be out there in it?”

“Don’t have a choice,” he said matter-of-factly.

She helped him serve the hot chocolate to the girls and then explain that they needed to move the stepfather’s frozen body. The girls worried about Oscar and his safety, and he promised them he’d be careful.

At the door, Sarah held his hat while he shrugged into his coat. Worry niggled at her, but she bit her lip to keep from asking him to stay. If he thought it was important to retrieve the man, then it must be.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “Don’t get lost.”

“The horses know their way around here by now,” he said with one of those cocky grins. “They’ll want to get back to the warm barn, so as long as I stay with Pharaoh, I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Sarah had been right. The storm had worsened noticeably by the time Oscar got the
travois
lashed together and Pharaoh convinced to go out in the blowing wind. Leading the horse by its reins, he was able to follow the corral to where he thought he should veer off to the woods.

It was sheer chance that he stumbled onto the body. By then, Oscar’s extremities were going numb and it was difficult to maneuver the body onto the travois, but finally he had it strapped into place good enough that he thought he could make it back to the barn.

He’d gotten the horse turned back—hopefully—toward the corral, though he couldn’t make out the fence through the blowing snow, but they’d only gone a few steps when Oscar’s foot sank deep into the snow—too deep. The ankle wrenched and he was thrown off balance, losing his grasp on Pharaoh’s reins. He cried out, pain searing through the coldness and up his leg.

The horse whinnied at the sudden movement, but Oscar could only pray the animal wouldn’t bolt as he struggled to fight off the pain causing black spots to dance before his eyes.

* * *

He’d been out too long.

Sarah couldn’t fight the worry churning in her gut. What if Oscar was hurt and needed help? Did she dare leave the girls to go to him? Would she be able to find her way back if she did?

“D’you think the horseman needs help?” asked Cecilia. She was concerned about the man but had hardly responded to Sarah’s overtures since last night. It stung a little.

The sound of a horse’s whinny cut above the screaming wind.

Cecilia and Susie exchanged a wide-eyed glance even as Sarah reached for her coat.

“Wait!” Cecilia cried. She rushed into the bedroom and came back with a thick woolen sweater that had seen its share of wear. “It was our mother’s. It’s plenty cold outside but maybe an extra layer will keep you warm.”

Touched by the girl’s surprising show of kindness, Sarah shrugged on the sweater, which was a tad too large, and then her coat. Finally winding her scarf around her neck and donning her mittens, she took a deep breath with her hand on the latch.

“Here.” Susie handed her a knitted cap.

“Thank you. Girls, you’d better pray. And stay inside. No matter what.” The worried expressions on their faces did not reassure her as she stepped out into the blustery, driven snow.

She was able to find the cord Oscar had tied to the back of the cabin. Her skirt pressed into her legs, tangled with her feet. She fought the wind as it burned her cheeks and whipped her hair out from under the cap. By the time she reached the barn, her legs felt like lead and she was exhausted. And Oscar had been out in this for much longer than she had.

She followed the barn, keeping one hand on it at all times, until she’d reached its back side, then stood with her back to the wooden wall, attempting to peer into the swirling white for the broad-shouldered man she’d come to care about.

By herself in the whistling, disorienting wind, she admitted it. She was falling in love with the horseman. It had been building for a while now, with his jovial nature and compassion for three hurting girls. But seeing him comfort the girls and his bravery in fighting the storm to bring back a man he didn’t even like had sealed it for her.

“Oscar!” she tried calling his name, but the wind snatched her voice.

The blowing snow made it impossible to see anything. She couldn’t even glimpse the corral. What if he’d misjudged the distance and gotten lost in the woods?

What should she do? If she got lost in the blizzard, too, who would care for the girls?

But she couldn’t just leave him out in this....

“Please, God,” she begged, voice erased by the wind again.

Another whinny.

For a moment, a lull in the wind allowed her to see the corral, twenty feet in front of her, and farther around its contour, the hulking figure of a horse. Oscar’s horse.

She ran forward, toward the corral, and when the wind came again it nearly blasted her off her feet. Instantly, she was blinded by the snow and tears the wind brought to her eyes. She struggled on, and after a moment, rammed into the corral fence, letting out an unexpected “oomph!”

She used the top railing to guide herself around the corral. “Oscar!” she yelled again.

She thought she heard a groan, and she definitely heard a sound like a horse stomping its feet. But she still couldn’t see anything.

Breathing hard, she releasing the railing and strode out into the wall of snow, heart pounding frantically at her daring.

She tripped over him, sprawling facedown in the soft snow, then sitting up and spluttering, attempting to brush her face clear with snow-covered mittens.

“Sarah?” He gripped her shoulders almost painfully. “What’re you doing out here?” he demanded.

“Coming after you, you foolish man.” Silly tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. No doubt the moisture would freeze to her face if she let them fall.

“I should be angry, but I’m just glad to see you. I’ve managed to turn my ankle. I don’t think it’s bad, but I can’t put my full weight on it. I tried to get up on Pharaoh’s back, but the wind caught my coat or scarf or something and it flapped and frightened him. If you can hold his head, I think I can manage to mount up.”

Sarah gulped. He wanted her to approach a dangerous animal—and hold on to it?

Oscar caught her face in his gloved hands. The fact that she couldn’t tell a difference between his hands and the air temperature worried her. He had been out here for too long. They both needed to get back inside.

“Trust me. Trust the horse. We need him to get back to the barn. I know you can do this.” Oscar’s steady voice and gaze reassured her, right until after she’d helped him stand and the moment she was to approach the beast.

“H-hi, boy. Remember me?” she asked, trembling voice betraying her.

The horse only looked at her with those large brown eyes.

“He’s a little out of sorts from being out in the wind. Just be firm with him, hold him steady while I hop on his back.”

Oscar’s words rang in her ears as she reached out—taking her life in her own hands—and grabbed the animal’s halter. The small piece of leather didn’t feel as if it could control the animal. It only felt as if her arm could be ripped off if the horse decided to rear its head.

Oscar huffed and hopped awkwardly, swinging one leg over the horse’s back.

The animal didn’t move, didn’t blink.

“All—all right,” said Sarah. “Let’s go.”

The horse still didn’t move. Then Oscar clucked from the animal’s back and it began slowly trodding through the drifting snow. Hopefully toward the barn.

She’d done it. Faced her fear. She was still holding the animal’s halter, half guiding and half being led toward safety.

* * *

Oscar was elated at Sarah’s victory with the horse. He really was. But by the time they’d reached the barn, unloaded Caldwell’s body into the lean-to and unattached the travois from Pharaoh—with Oscar awkwardly hopping on one foot the entire time—he’d gone past cold, past numb, to drowsy.

Which a faraway part of his brain knew was dangerous, but he couldn’t seem to rouse himself to care.

“Need to get back to the house,” he slurred, propping himself upright near the barn door.

Sarah’s worried face swam in front of his vision. He fought the urge to close his eyes. Just for a second, it would be such a relief.

“C’mon,” she said, very close to his ear. She put one arm around his waist and tugged him until his feet started moving. At least he thought they did.

He felt the cold envelop them again, but this time it didn’t sting as it had before. He could barely feel the wind even though Sarah seemed to be struggling to follow the cord across the small yard to the cabin.

And then she pushed him inside and it felt as if a furnace blasted across his face. Unwelcome, tingly prickles crawled across his exposed skin.

“Miss Sarah!”

“You found him!”

Two young voices chorused, sounding loud in the sudden quiet of being out of the wind.

“Yes, I found him, but I think he’s half-frozen.”

She pushed and prodded him forward until he toppled onto the sofa, closer to the fire and the overbearing heat.

He allowed his eyes to fall half closed, but still saw her struggling to take off her mittens and unwind her scarf from her neck. He wasn’t the only one half-frozen.

Little Velma came up to him and pounded on his knees. He saw it, but couldn’t feel it. Was he suffering from frostbite? Hypothermia?

He struggled to sit up, knowing that he needed to keep his blood flowing, no matter how painful this was going to be.

Cecilia reached for one of his gloved hands and Susie the other.