Sourdough Creek (4 page)

Sam wondered if Cassidy—Cassie, he corrected himself, was still around, hiding. Bristol must not know that she was masquerading as a boy. She’d fooled his brother Klem a short time ago. Was she doing it to avoid the two men?

Bristol mounted. He thunked the horse’s side and loped down the deserted street and back. Then, dismounting, he handed the reins to Sam. “Pleasure doing business.”

“He have a name?”

Bristol pointed to the animal’s head. “Split Ear.”

Taking the gelding’s reins and gathering up Blu, Sam walked down the street toward the boarding house. So, his skinny little friend was really a girl. What a surprise. Sam felt stupid for not seeing through the deception on his own. He had to admit it was good thinking on her part to follow him over. No telling what might have happened if she hadn’t.

At Hawthorn’s Boarding House, Sam turned Blu out into a corral. He unsaddled Split Ear, and for the moment set his rig on the top of the fence rail. The horse cast a disgruntled look his way and pinned his ears. With a chuckle, Sam gave him a rub on the neck, and then turned him out, too. The gelding cautiously made his way toward the mare that was cropping away at the green grass.

Leaning against the weathered boards of the corral, Sam removed his hat to feel the cool breeze in his hair and on his face. He glanced at the quiet house. He’d play along with Cassie for a while—until he could figure out what she was up to. One thing troubled him, though. Taking the claim back into his possession didn’t feel quite as simple now as it had an hour ago.

Chapter Six

C
assie peeked out the kitchen window as Sam turned his mare out, noticing that he took extra time with the new gelding. He seemed gentle with his animals, a good sign for any man. Then, when the gelding laid his ears back in warning, Sam’s lips tipped up into a lopsided grin, as if he understood the horse’s edginess in a new place. Surprisingly, like a perceptive father might do, Sam stroked the cranky horse’s neck anyway.

Cassie’s cover gave her time and the proximity to finally get a good look at Sam Ridgeway without seeming curious. He was tall and muscular. His profile was distinctive, with a strong jaw, high forehead and ample eyebrows. His expression, when not threatening to thrash a body, was contemplative and calm and seemed more than a little intelligent. A mild breeze played with the fringes of his brown hair, and when he looked up at the house, it tousled over his forehead in a boyish manner.

“Should I go feed the horses?” Josephine asked from the other side of the room. Cassie, embarrassed at being caught looking, felt her cheeks tingle with warmth. “Good idea. Pepper and Meadowlark will be sorely put out if you don’t hurry. Supper will be ready when you get back.”

“Is it biscuits and gravy again? I’m tired of them. That’s all we ever eat.”

“Have you forgotten so quickly? There’s cherry pie for dessert. And, I’ll open the last can of corn syrup for the biscuits. You always like that, right?” Josephine’s eyes lit with pleasure as she ran from the room.

As she watched her sister go, a longing so deep swept over Cassie, almost stealing her breath. “I’m trying my best, Ma. I am. But, things have gotten a bit complicated. I hope I’m doing the right thing going to California. It’s hard to know.”

Taking this opportunity of quiet, she went into the bedroom and shut the door. From her satchel she took out the Bible that had belonged to her mother and her mother’s mother before that. Opening it, she withdrew the deed to the claim Uncle Arvid had left in her dresser drawer, and set it aside. She thumbed through the pages until she reached a yellow, dog-eared page. In the dim light, a tingle slipped down her spine knowing her mother and grandmother had read the exact same verse at some trying time in their lives. That thought alone bolstered her confidence. “For I am convinced,” she read quietly, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creatures will be able to separate us from—” She stopped reading as voices were heard in the kitchen. Sam and Josephine must be back.

She finished the sentence and replaced the deed into the Bible and closed it. A moment passed. “Ma,” she said into the stillness of the room. “I’m relying on my own smarts, just like you told me. I won’t forget what you said about men, no matter how good intentioned they seem, that they will only let me down, and—” she stumbled to a stop. She hated to remember that her mother had told her that her father was a liar. What a horrible thing. But she knew her mother had felt a need to warn her and Josephine when she was dying and they were going to be on their own. “I’ll remember your words, Ma, I will. I know they were hard for you to say. I’ll do my best for Josephine, I promise.”

Cassie returned to the kitchen to find Sam and Josephine setting the table for supper. The pot of thin gravy she’d put on the stove earlier was bubbling gently. “You don’t have to set the table, Mr. Ridgeway. Joey is capable.”

“Call me Sam,” he said, setting a napkin and fork beside each plate Josephine placed on the tablecloth. “We’re going to be traveling together so there’s no need to be so formal. Since you’re kind enough to feed me, I’m going to help.”

“That’s just it. We’re not going to California with you. We want to take our time and I’m sure you’re in a hurry.” That was the only fib she could think of to get him off their backs. When Sam stopped what he was doing and looked her way, she avoided his gaze by grasping the long wooden spoon and stirring the pot.

“That’s nonsense. I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t extend a helping hand to Arvid’s kin. And besides, you just saved my hide from Bristol Sherman. He was in a mind to kill me for my horse. I owe you and won’t take no for an answer. I’ll be your guide and guardian.”

She placed the bowl filled with biscuits on the table, next to the can of sweet corn syrup and pitcher of milk. Miss Hawthorn had sold her cow for traveling expenses just days before, but the leftover milk and a crock of butter she’d kindly given to the girls. They’d been using them sparingly. The milk, kept in the root cellar, was on the verge of spoiling.

Cassie searched her mind for another reason not to travel with Sam but knew it would sound contrived if she made a bigger fuss about the arrangement. It made more sense for them to go together than for her to argue. She and Josephine needed to get out of Broken Branch. Maybe trusting him for a few days wouldn’t be all that bad.

“Well, sit yourself down. It’s ready.”

Sam and Josephine sat and Cassie passed the bowl of biscuits. She poured a little milk into Josephine’s glass, but Sam declined.

Sam took a bite of biscuit and chewed, prompting Cassie to pass him the pot of gravy. “They’re dry without this, Sam. Have some.”

“Or you can put corn syrup on ’em,” Joey added. “I like that the best.”

Silence fell around the table as the three ate hungrily, not slowing down until every biscuit and all the gravy was gone.

“What do you do?” Cassie asked finally, looking at Sam.

Sam glanced up from his plate. He scooted his chair back and stretched out his legs.

“I’m a rancher.”

“Cattle?”

“No. Horses. That is, in the future when I buy the land I need and get my breeding stock. My mare is bred for working cattle. A horse many men would pay good money for.”

A sizzling sound came from the oven.

“The pie!” Josephine shouted.

Sam lunged for two dishtowels lying on the drain board. He opened the oven door and stuck his hands inside as bubbly syrup overflowed the crust and spilled onto the hot cast iron. Steam hit him in the face but he held onto the pie tin, unwilling to give up the prize without a fight.

“Careful. Careful! Don’t get burned,” Cassie cautioned. He felt her hovering behind him, looking over his shoulder. He was amazed at himself for ever having believed she was a boy, even for a second.

Heat seared through the dishtowels and the pie bobbled in his hands. He straightened quickly and swung around, looking for a spot to drop it.

“Here,” screamed Joey, pointing to an open spot on the counter. “Here. Here. Put it here.”

He did. With a shove. It came to a halt with half the pie teetering over the edge of the counter.

Cassie’s face flushed with surprise. Her eyes glowed with astonished pleasure that he’d saved the pie. When she laughed, happiness filled Sam’s chest. He had to drag his gaze away from her face before he gave himself away. This was going to be one long trip to California, no doubt about it. And he was looking forward to every step of the way.

Chapter Seven

“Y
ou saved the pie!”

Cassie fussed over the sweet pastry as a mama cat does over her kittens. She’d forgotten her manly Cassidy façade entirely for the moment, her eyes sparkling with delight and her laughter filling the room. She moved the bubbling-hot dessert from the edge of the drain board and put it on the sill of the open window to cool.

Sam was waiting for realization to hit her as she brushed some tendrils from her forehead. “I was just so sure you were going to drop it,” she said on a breath, looking over at him. “I can’t imagine how hot that was.” She gazed at the pie and fanned it with her napkin. “It would have been just dreadful if it’d been smashed to bits on the floor.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Sam replied, captivated by her pretty face.

“Cassie…
dee
,” Joey spoke up for the first time since the hullabaloo had settled down. “It looks yummy even if the edges are burnt some.” The boy poked at the blackened crust with a small finger.

When Joey fumbled her name again, Cassie turned from Sam’s gaze to compose herself. Her boy façade slid down over her lovely features as she remembered her masculine pretense.

“Is it cool enough? Can we have a slice?” Joey asked eagerly.

“Not for a while yet, little brother,” she replied, this time with the deeper voice. “Help me get the kitchen cleaned up first and by the time we’re done, it’ll be ready.”

Both Sam and Joey cleared the dishes from the table as Cassie pumped water into the dishpan.

“Sam,” she said over her shoulder, “why don’t you pick a room down the hall. They’re all empty except the last. That’s Joey’s and mine.”

The clock over the parlor mantel chimed seven times. “All right, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

She nodded.

Sam went to the front door and retrieved the bedroll and saddlebags he’d left there earlier before heading down the hall. As Cassie had said, all the rooms were unoccupied, a condition unusual for a boarding house. He entered one and looked around. The cat was curled in the middle of the bed.

Unpacking for him consisted of draping his saddlebags across a chair. That took all of two seconds. He sat on the bed, testing the firmness. The cat opened her eyes and looked at him. She yawned once and laid her head back between her paws.

Before returning to the kitchen, Sam veered down the dimly-lit hall and stopped at the door of Cassie’s room, which was cracked open a few inviting inches. Temptation was strong. He stilled, listening to make sure no one was coming his way.

Where was the deed? Directly in his line of vision a satchel leaned against the wall and a few garments covered a rocking chair in the corner. He listened again for any sound of footsteps. Nothing but some clattering of dishes from the kitchen. He pushed the door gently with the toe of his boot. Regardless of it squeaking, he took one step in before his conscience stopped him short. He just couldn’t do it this way. It felt wrong for so many reasons. He turned to leave.

“Sam?”

Joey was standing in the hall. The trust shining in the boy’s eyes filled him with remorse.

“What are you doing in there?”

Sam hunkered down to his level. A moment passed. “Thought I heard something coming from inside this room. After I took a look I realized it was yours.” He shrugged. “Must have been the cat.”

As soon as the words were out Sam regretted them. Lying straight to Joey’s face reminded him all too much of the times his own father had done the same to him and his younger brother Seth. And even worse, to his mother before her death. The memory made his stomach burn bitterly. Trying to retrieve the claim was one thing, but lying like this was another. His father’s deceit had ripped his family apart. It had heaped mounds of shame on his mother as she tried to scratch out a living for her and her little sons. Brewster Ridgeway was now paying the price for those lies, and his other nefarious deeds, rotting away in prison.

“Ashes is sleeping on
your
bed. Didn’t you see her when you put your saddlebag away?”

He reached out and put his hand on the boy’s tiny shoulders. “Why, come to think of it now, I suppose I did,” he mumbled, thinking how one lie always led to another. He ruffled the fuzzy golden head before him and then stood, shouldering the heavy burden of guilt. “The pie cooled off yet?”

Joey preceded him out the door and up the hallway. “Almost.”

He entered the kitchen right behind Joey and ambled over to his seat. Nonchalantly leaning his palms on the back of his chair, he watched Cassie as she dried the last blue dinner plate and put it in the cupboard.

He glanced at Joey, fearful the boy might mention his nosing around their room. If Cassie’s suspicions were raised now he might never see the deed to his claim. He decided to ask Joey a question to distract him. “Son, do you know anything about Split Ear, the horse I just bought?”

Cassie was in the process of wiping the drain board with a dishtowel. What an odd question for him to ask Josephine. A child wouldn’t know anything about a horse she didn’t own.

“All I know is he’s ugly as mud,” her sister replied, screwing up her face in a grimace.

Turning, Cassie folded the dampened dishtowel and set it aside, all the while avoiding looking at the man who was too handsome for his own good. “Joey doesn’t know anything about the horse, but I do.” She took three small plates from the cupboard and placed them on the table.