Sarah's Surrender (14 page)

A large, bearded man in overalls walked toward him, hands in the air. “You don't need that gun. We didn't hurt the boy. I reckon we scared him. He was sound asleep when my dog Rascal trotted right up to him and licked him on the cheek. Shocked the sleep right out of the poor kid.”

Keeping his gun trained on the man, Jack shifted Cody higher on his hip and glanced at the younger men, all of whom looked to be related. “Who are y'all? And what are you doin' here?”

One of the younger men helped the woman to her feet. “We're the Peterson family, and we're lookin' for a Miss Sarah Worley. Is this her land?”

Jack's gaze zipped from the woman to the younger men, none of whom looked threatening. In fact, they all seemed quite relaxed in spite of the fact he still held his gun on them.

The black-and-white dog crept toward Jack, stopping five feet away. His black eyes seemed focused on Cody. Whining, the dog eased forward, sniffing Jack's boots, completely oblivious to the gun aimed at his master.

Hoofbeats sounded behind him, but he didn't move. Sarah dismounted and rushed to his side, pressing his gun hand toward the ground. “Put that thing away. This is the family I hired to build my house.”

Feeling like a fool, he holstered his gun then got a better grip on his son. At six, Cody was already getting heavy. “You all right?”

Cody nodded and laid his head on Jack's shoulder. “I got scared when I woke up and saw that dog. I thought it was a wolf and he was gonna eat me.”

Sarah walked up to Mr. and Mrs. Peterson. “Thank you for coming, but I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow.”

“We start work in the morning, so we needed to arrive today to get our camp set up. Where would you like us?”

Sarah looked at Jack as if asking for his help. He walked toward her and held out his hand to Mr. Peterson. “I'm Jack Jensen, Sarah's brother—of sorts. Sorry for the misunderstanding. I reckon I jumped to conclusions when I heard my boy yellin'.”

Mr. Peterson shook his hand so hard he thought he'd drop Cody. “Perfectly understandable. I'd'a done the same thing.”

Mrs. Peterson moved over to her sons and waved her hand. “These here are our boys. Amos, he's the oldest at twenty-seven.” She swatted a chubby fist at the blond man with a red beard then turned toward the two dark-haired men. “These are our twins, Zeke and Zach. They're both twenty-five.” Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head, smiling. “And this is my baby, Johnny.”

The youngest man scowled. “I'm twenty-one, Ma. I ain't no baby.”

She tweaked his cheek. “You'll always be
my
baby.”

Johnny sighed and rolled his eyes, while the man's brothers chuckled.

Zeke—or was it Zach— walked over to stand next to Sarah, but his gaze rested on Jack. “How can you be her ‘sort of' brother? Either you are or you ain't.”

Sarah covered her mouth, hiding a snicker. “His family is my adopted family. So that makes him
sort of
my brother. You see?”

“I care for Sarah as much as I do my two sisters by birth.”

Cody wiggled. “Can I pet the dog?”

By now the animal had flopped on its back, practically begging to play with the boy.

“All right, but stay where you can see me. Don't wander off.”

“Yes, Pa.” He slid to the ground then stooped down and scratched Rascal's belly. The dog wagged its tail, hopped up, and licked Cody's face.

The other twin sidled up beside his brother and gazed at Sarah. “So, he ain't your beau then?”

Sarah's cheeks darkened. “No, he isn't.”

“That's true,” Jack said, struggling to keep a straight expression. “But don't forget I still have a gun.”

The twins' eyes widened.

“C'mon and get to work, you two,” Amos shouted.

Mr. Peterson ambled over as the twins drifted away. “Have you decided where you want to put your house, Miss Worley?”

“We were out looking over the land right before you arrived, but I can't decide. The river is that way. I don't want to get too far from it.”

“If I was you, I'd have a well dug. That river is mighty silty.”

Sarah nodded. “That's what Jack said.”

“He was right. What about the house then?”

Sarah turned and studied her land. For a brief moment, a shaft of jealousy speared Jack before he pushed it away. God had spoken clearly that he was to be a preacher, not a landowner, at least for now, but it wasn't clear yet if he was supposed to go back to his old church on Gabe's land or start a new one in Anadarko. God would tell him when the time came. Right now he planned to keep his promise to Lara and make sure Sarah had a snug house built and was safely settled before he decided what was next for him and Cody.

Sarah walked away with Mr. Peterson, pointing out various places to put her house, and the gazes of the man's three youngest sons followed. All were of marrying age. Jack blew out a sigh. Luke had better hurry up and get out here before he lost Sarah.

Carson strolled through his brand-new, fresh-smelling building, feeling a surge of pride. When the townsfolk had learned he was a doctor, many halted work on their own businesses and houses to help get his place done quickly. They all knew that a doctor could mean the difference between life or death and had seemed happy to pitch in and help.

He removed his spectacles, tugged a clean handkerchief from his pocket, and after blowing a puff of breath on the lens, he cleaned the dust from them. He returned them to his face then crossed his arms, leaning against the open back door, and stared out. He hadn't gotten land right on the edge of town but almost. Only a row of lots separated him from the open land.

The only sad thought to darken the day was that his father wasn't here to witness Carson's first practice—one that was his alone. He'd grown up learning medicine by his father's side and by assisting his father in procedures. He'd furthered his education in college and had the good fortune to work for six months at the brand-new Johns Hopkins Hospital before he returned to Indian Territory to work alongside his pa. But then one horrible event shattered all his dreams.

He shook his head, scattering the disturbing thoughts. This was a day to celebrate, not dwell on things that couldn't be changed. Hammers rang out overhead as the workers continued their attempt to finish the roof today as promised. Needing something to do, he grabbed the broom he'd purchased from one of the tent vendors and swept the floor for the third time.

The August heat made closing the windows impossible, and thus dust constantly blew through them. Maybe things would improve once all of the town's building had been completed, but that day was a long way off.

He tugged out his pocket watch and checked the time. The train bringing many of his supplies was due to arrive at two. He'd be able to move in his furniture and equipment, unpack his supplies, and get everything organized in the next few days. Then he'd open up shop. With all the building going on, there were bound to be some mishaps, not that he wished that on anyone, but it was a fact of life, and he wanted to be ready to give the best care possible.

Grabbing the satchel that held his clothing and personal toiletries, he crossed to the back of the building and jogged up the stairs to the two rooms that made up his private quarters. He would put his bed in the rear one and set up a small parlor and kitchen at the front of the building. It wasn't much, but it was a whole lot better than the noisy bunkhouse he'd once slept in or when he'd camped outside on the trail last year. The only thing that concerned him was whether his future wife would be happy here.

Setting the satchel in a relatively clean corner, he laughed and shook his head. “What wife?”

Carson walked downstairs, putting a buffer between him and the pounding overhead. It was a futile effort to wonder if his future wife would like his apartment when there was no such woman on the horizon. But now that he finally had a place of his own, maybe it was time to pray for God to bring him a wife.

The aroma of frying bacon drew Sarah from her tent. She should have been up an hour ago, but between attempting to sleep on the unfamiliar cot and the excitement of finally seeing her house built, she'd tossed and turned until the early hours before dawn. Standing, she stretched the kinks from her back and tugged off her nightgown. She made quick work of dressing.

Mrs. Peterson was probably a much better cook than she was. She hoped Jack and Luke would be satisfied with her cooking and not abandon her and join the Petersons. Once her house was up and the stove in place, things would be different, but she had rarely cooked over a campfire.

As she brushed her hair, she smiled at the sound of sawing. In her mind, she saw her folk Victorian–style home rising up on the prairie with its square angles and large porch. She'd ordered decorative brackets for under the eaves, scrolled porch spindles, and gingerbread gable trim from a company in Illinois. The color was another issue. She had settled on white with blue trim, but now that the house was being built, she wasn't so sure. She pushed the pins into her hair and tried to imagine the completed house in several different shades. Yellow was her favorite color, but she was leaning toward a light green with dark green and ecru-colored trim.

“Sarah? You still in there?” Luke called.

“Coming.” She rose from the chair Jack had placed in her tent and shoved back the tent flap. “Good morning.”

“Morning. I thought you were going to sleep the day away.”

“Very funny. I imagine you're just hungry and wanting me to get started on breakfast.”

“I was hungry for a glimpse of you.” His blue eyes blazed, revealing the truth in his statement.

Her heart fluttered and cheeks warmed. “Lu–uke. Don't say such things.”

“Why not? It's true.”

“Someone might overhear you.” She tied her tent flap shut.

“I don't care if they do, especially those Peterson brothers. I don't like the way some of them were eyeing you last night, like a man who'd been on the trail and got his first glimpse of a saloon.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “You sure know how to charm a woman.”

“Glad to know my efforts are working.”

She fingered her black-eyed Susan necklace and stared at him, not knowing what to say. Even though she'd turned down his proposal, he seemed to have doubled his efforts to woo her. Why couldn't he take no and leave it at that? She didn't want to have to push him away or distance herself. His friendship meant too much. “How did things go in town?” she asked, more than a little curious what he's been doing. “You got here so late last night that we didn't get to talk much.”

He smiled, revealing his straight white teeth. He really did have an intriguing smile. “I sold my land. Got more than I'd hoped for it, too.”

“You sold your land?” Sarah stared at him, wondering what had gotten in to him. “Why in the world would you do that?”

“Because it's farther than I want to be from you. I've decided to buy a lot in town and open a livery.”

She started toward the Petersons' camp, not sure about Luke's surprising news. It would be nice to have him closer, but then again she wanted her independence. She needed a cup of coffee. “And did you find a town lot to purchase?”

He fell into step beside her. “Not yet, but I did get a job.”

“A job?”

“Yep. Gonna work for a Mr. Best. He's starting up a hardware store.”

She paused and searched his eyes. “Why would you want to work at a place like that?”

He shrugged. “I might as well be making some money while looking for a lot to buy.”

“But I thought you planned to work on my house.”

“I can't work for Mr. Best until his building is up. Besides, you hired a bunch of men to help you, so I didn't think you needed me. If you do, I can work on it in the evenings.”

She resumed walking and smiled at Mrs. Peterson, even though her excitement had dimmed. Luke had never actually told her he'd help build her house, but she'd assumed he would want to. She couldn't fault him, though, for working. He'd need all the money he could get to start a business. Still, she'd miss seeing him during the day.