Lacy Williams (2 page)

She swung around and bolted out of the alley, not waiting for him to check on or untie the mare. So much for catching up with an old friend.

* * *

Still shaken, Sarah walked slightly ahead of the men as they traversed the rutted dirt road that was the town’s main thoroughfare. She kept one eye on Oscar White’s horses at all times, but they appeared docile enough as he led them with loose reins.

Appearances could be deceiving. She needed to remember that, especially with the jolt of attraction that had surprised her upon seeing the horseman again after so many years. He might be handsome, and he might’ve shocked her with his kindness toward an abused animal, but he was still an irresponsible cowboy at heart.

She’d returned to the train yard and retrieved her schoolbooks, a little worse for wear after she’d dropped them in her haste to get away from the horse. Now she clutched them to her midsection, willing the men to hurry along so she could get in Mr. Allen’s wagon and head for home.

“You’ll want to steer clear of the schoolmarm,” Mr. Piet, the local carpenter, said quietly, but not so quietly that Sarah couldn’t hear him. She pretended to glance into one of the storefront windows, catching a glimpse of Oscar leaning close to him, listening earnestly.

“Everyone in town knows it, but she’s on the hunt for a husband. Wouldn’t do for you to get caught just because no one warned ya.”

Sarah’s face flamed. She kept her gaze on the street in front of her, unwilling to see laughter in the horseman’s face. It was true she wanted to get married—wanted it more than anything—but she had
some
standards. Not a foolish man like her father, for one.

She wanted a caring, unassuming man for a husband. Possibly one who operated a business. Businessmen were safe, reliable. They didn’t chase every whim and endanger themselves.

They wouldn’t leave a family without its provider just for the sake of a thrill.

Cursing her fair skin, which she knew had turned the shade of a ripe tomato, she kept her face averted and waited for this torturous walk to end. There was Mr. Allen’s wagon, parked near the end of the street. She’d have to bear the horseman’s company on the way to Mr. Allen’s spread outside town, but then she could escape to the room she shared with Mr. Allen’s daughter.

“She’s pretty enough,” Mr. Piet went on, “but she’s got some unusual notions about husbands and she’s right bossy.”

Now she was sure she heard Oscar cover a chuckle with a cough. “And a little long in the tooth,” the horseman said under his breath.

She didn’t care if it was rude. She refused to listen to the men poke fun at her. She hurried toward the wagon, leaving the men behind to their chuckles.

She didn’t acknowledge the tears burning behind her eyes. She wouldn’t let Oscar White know his jibes could still hurt her. She wasn’t fifteen anymore, but a grown woman capable of keeping order in a classroom and providing for herself.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have someone, a husband, to take care of her. She just had to find him.

Chapter Two

“I
’ve got fifty cents. Do I hear seventy-five?”

Sarah watched as the mayor, acting as auctioneer, peered over the crowd from his perch on the raised dais some of the townsmen had constructed at the picnic grounds near the church.

“Sixty cents. Come on, folks. Do I hear seventy-five?”

Sarah anxiously scanned the crowd, looking for interest in the faces of several men she’d greeted before the basket auction had begun. Where was Ty Kelly? Clara Allen, her boss’s wife, had said her brother would bid on Sarah’s basket, just as a precaution if no one else bid.

And Sarah’s basket was next, one of two cloth-covered baskets left. The winning bidders would share lunch with the girl who cooked the food. Or in Sarah’s case, packed the basket of food that Mrs. Allen had made.

Sarah hadn’t planned on entering a basket in the auction until Mrs. Allen had insisted. She was too old for events like this. Most of the other girls participating were in their late teens or close to twenty. Sarah was twenty-four.

Very close to being considered a spinster.

She was ready to find a husband and start her own family, but was it necessary to subject herself to this? Surely several of the men she’d taken time to speak to in town lately would bid on her basket. The banker, or the liveryman. At least one of them must be interested. It was only a shared lunch.

The mayor called the bidding on the basket before Sarah’s and her stomach swooped. Another frantic glance did not locate Ty. Where was he? Clara had promised, and if no one else bid...

Sarah adjusted the dark blue bonnet with a cluster of lighter blue flowers on its crown, flowers that matched the cloth on her basket, a little hint for the men as to which one was hers. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. Here was the test. Would anyone bid?

“And now, a fine-looking basket. Smells like...” The mayor took an exaggerated sniff. “Potatoes...maybe some ham? And rolls, definitely rolls. Let’s start the bidding at a quarter. Come on, gents. Who’ll buy this one for a quarter?”

Silence. Not one whisper, not one raised hand.

Sarah craned her neck this time, face blazing, but still no sign of Ty. She’d known this was a bad idea. She’d never been to one of these events where a basket hadn’t sold, but what if no one bid on hers?

“How about twenty cents? Remember it’s for a worthy cause, folks. Church needs a new roof. Twenty cents.”

How humiliating. Could things get any worse? She hung her head, wishing she dared just get up and leave.

“One dollar.” A strong male voice rang out above the crowd and whispers quickly followed.

Sarah glanced behind her, but couldn’t see who’d made the bid. The voice hadn’t sounded like Ty at all.

“Sold! To the horseman. Come up here and collect your prize, sir.”

Chuckles eddied through the crowd.

Noise roared in Sarah’s ears as she stood on wobbly legs and made her way to the back of the dais, where Oscar White was handing over a dollar bill and collecting her basket.

He
had bid on her basket? Why?

After the fiasco with his dangerous horse and his thoughtless words to the carpenter, she’d spent the past week avoiding him. It hadn’t been hard since he’d moved into the bunkhouse with the rest of Mr. Allen’s cowboys and spent his days in the barn or the corral, both places she circumvented unless she had no other choice.

And now she would have to face him for the noon meal. She clutched the folded blanket in her hands and straightened her shoulders. She wouldn’t back out, even though today had turned into a disaster.

“Hello, Mr. White,” she greeted coolly when he turned, basket in hand.

He grinned. “Sarah.”

“Where would you like to sit?” She raised the blanket, almost using it as a shield between them.

“You choose. I’ll follow.”

Conscious of the many surreptitious glances they received, Sarah was careful of her steps as she picked her way through the edge of the crowd spilling across the prairie field. Was everyone interested because of the horseman and his rumored skill with horses? Or was Sarah the spectacle? The spinster schoolmarm with the pity bid on her basket.

Finally, she found a semiprivate place tucked between the edge of the crowd and the line of parked conveyances. She shook out the blanket, surprised when Oscar skirted around and took the other side, helping spread it evenly across the grass.

When he joined her, long legs stretching beside her, the blanket that had seemed plenty big before suddenly shrunk, and Sarah spent a moment adjusting her skirts, trying to gather herself.

“You’re still mad at me, huh?” he asked, surprising her into raising her eyes. “For sayin’ you were too old to be looking for a husband?” One corner of his mouth tilted up in an irrepressible grin.

Was he laughing at her again? She reached for the basket that held their lunch. Her hat slipped, the ribbon shifting beneath her chin, and she took a moment to adjust it, using the action as an excuse to keep her gaze away from his.

“I’ve been trying to apologize all week, but seems like you’ve been avoiding me.”

She wouldn’t grace that statement with an answer, even if it was true.

“I didn’t mean to offend you the other day,” he said. “You still looked so pale and I thought—” He shrugged. “I just wanted to tweak your tail a little. Actually, I expected you to turn around and tell me off. I knew you were listening.”

She focused on keeping her hands from shaking as she flipped back the cloth cover and began unloading the bowls and platters of food. Finally she came to the two empty tin plates and the cutlery.

He caught her fingers in his large paw as she extended him a fork and knife, holding on to her until she lifted her eyes to his face. He wasn’t smiling now, only considering her with intense brown eyes.

“I don’t require an apology and I don’t need your pity,” she said through stiff lips. She jerked her hand away.

He held her gaze. When she couldn’t hold his eyes any longer, she began dishing out the food, filling his plate first with thick slices of ham, mashed potatoes and two rolls. Her bonnet fell over her brow again, but this time she left it. It shielded her from his assessing gaze.

“So will we eat without speaking, then?” He took the plate when she pushed it in his direction.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, still keeping her gaze down as she filled her own plate.

She sensed more than saw him shrug. “Tell me about being the schoolmarm in these parts. Do you like teaching?”

“Most days. It’s been a way to support myself and my sisters before they were married.”

But now she was ready to start making a family of her own.

“You’ve been here for what...a coupla years?”

“Yes. Before that I was at the Normal School in Cheyenne.”

Rude as it was, she would’ve been content to let the conversation die. Embarrassment still heated her cheeks.

“How’re your sisters?” he asked after a short silence.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge whether he was asking after Sally. She couldn’t tell.

“They’re well. Both married.” She wasn’t jealous of her sisters or their happiness. She only wanted to find the same for herself. Her disappointment that today’s event hadn’t turned out differently was perhaps coloring her interaction with the horseman. He seemed sincere in his desire to have a pleasant conversation.

It wasn’t the horseman’s fault that no one else had bid on her basket. In fact, he’d tried to spare her humiliation by bidding. Shouldn’t she offer him basic consideration while they ate? Could she?

* * *

As he enjoyed the picnic food, Oscar imagined his ma would’ve been proud of his manners. He’d apologized for offending the prickly schoolmarm—even if she hadn’t accepted it with grace—and was holding his patience against her short, almost rude, answers. Maybe it was growing up with so many brothers, but part of him took pleasure in getting her riled up.

“Did Sally ever get down to Colorado? She talked about wanting to go to college there.”

Sarah looked surprised. Surprised that he’d mentioned Sally or that he’d remembered something like that? “She did. That’s where she met her husband—a gunsmith.”

There was another pause, and he was considering giving up on them having a decent conversation, when she grudgingly asked. “And how is your family?”

He nodded, wiping his chin before he spoke. “Fine. Jonas—my pa—has had a couple of good years with the crops, which helps because now he’s got a couple new mouths to feed.”

Oscar’s adoptive parents had married five years ago, and having a woman like Penny around had changed the family—in a good way. She’d brought joy and laughter to Jonas, who could be too serious sometimes. She’d worked patiently—stubbornly—on the boys until their manners improved. Her main challenge now was taming Breanna, who wanted to do the same things as her brothers, and not be confined to the kitchen and barnyard.

And their natural children... Oscar missed the little tykes. Walt, at four, idolized the older boys and would follow Oscar around all day if allowed. Two-year-old Ida was precocious, but so adorable that a body couldn’t even argue with her if she demanded the last of the dessert.

“And all your other brothers? And a sister, right?”

Six adopted brothers and a sister. It seemed a little crazy to think his pa had taken them all in when he’d been a single man. Each brother came from different circumstances, some orphaned by illness, others escaping a difficult family situation. And Jonas’s compassionate heart big enough that he made a family out of them all, instead of turning anyone away.

“Maxwell has been away at college the last three years. He wants to be a doctor.”

“That’s a wonderful aspiration.”

He admired his brother. Admired him, but missed him. Of all his adopted brothers, he and Maxwell were closest in age, and had often spoken of their hopes and dreams. He’d heard all about Maxwell’s fears of not doing well at college—and told his brother he was being stupid. He’d known Maxwell would do well with his mind set to a goal, and Oscar had been right. Once Maxwell had gone through the first semester and received top grades, he’d been raring for more.

Maxwell would’ve been the only brother Oscar felt close enough to tell about the deep loneliness that had followed him around the past few months. But without Maxwell around, he hadn’t told anyone.

He shook off those melancholy thoughts, unwilling to go down that path with Sarah Hansen looking on. He’d get this one last job done and go home to his new little cabin and his herd of horses.

“The rest of the boys are workin’ the land with my dad. Once a couple of us hit eighteen, we were able to file for the nearby land and increase the spread. It’s more work, but more land for the cattle to graze.”

Her eyes had glazed over. Bored with life on a farm? She’d left tiny Bear Creek behind to go away to school, after all.

She lowered her face and the flowers on her hat shifted forward. His hand tensed with the desire to tweak the ridiculous ornament. He looked away, and thought he saw a shadow move between two wagons.

One of the saddle horses nearby whickered and Sarah’s head came up, bringing his attention right back to her.

“If I remember correctly, your sister used to suffer from seizures. How is her health now?”

“Breanna’s health is fine. She’s gone a good long spell without an episode and Penny—my ma—hopes they’re gone for good. My pa’s been dealing with the seizures since Breanna was born and he’s not so sure.” He couldn’t help smiling as his thoughts shifted to the last stunt Breanna had pulled before he’d left home this spring.

“What?” asked Sarah suspiciously, using a handkerchief to blot her lips.

“Just remembering. My sister wants to be a cowhand like the rest of us boys. It drives our ma crazy. This spring Breanna dressed in some of my brother Seb’s clothes and tried to sneak along on a cattle drive. Ma was busy with the toddler and almost didn’t notice.”

Sarah’s scandalized look was similar to what Penny’s had been. “But that’s so dangerous! Why, she could’ve been trampled by the beasts or bucked from her horse, or what if rustlers attacked?”

He shrugged. “Breanna’s a good rider. Speaking of riding—”

He meant to ask her about her fear of horses, but another movement among the parked wagons caught his eye.

“Excuse me a second—” He rose and strode over to where he’d thought he’d seen...

There! Someone small darted between two wagons, and Oscar gave chase. They were close enough that the ground-tied saddle horses, like Oscar’s, were getting restless. He didn’t want the kid to end up hurt if they got too near the animals.

“Hey!” He clamped a hand on the kid’s shoulder, surprising the young girl into a shriek.

“Leave her alone!” Another child flew at him, surprising him into banging his elbow on a wagon. It stung, but he didn’t release his hold on the first child.

A nearby horse whinnied. “Calm down,” Oscar ordered, voice as strong as he could make it. Just like he would’ve if he’d been at home.

The girl beneath his hand froze, looking up at him with wide, scared eyes. A second girl, half a head taller and alike enough to be a sister, came and locked arms with the first girl. This child carried a baby on her hip. All three had dark, silky hair cascading down their backs, not in pigtails like the other young girls he’d seen at the picnic.

“See those horses over there? You were scaring them with your playing and scampering around.”

The girl with the baby lifted her chin. “We weren’t playing.”

“Oscar. Mr. White!” He looked over his shoulder to see a pink-cheeked Sarah picking her way through the wagons, glancing often at the horses, though they were too far away to bother her.

“I found these two—er, three sneaking around the wagons and upsetting the horses. I don’t suppose you’re acquainted with them?”

She looked over the girls, and he took the time to take a longer look, as well. Their dresses were threadbare, they had bare feet even though autumn had begun and dirt-smudged faces—much the way he and his brothers had looked before Penny had come into their lives.