A Heart Divided (25 page)

Thanksgiving, two days later, was a far more somber affair than usual. Though the spread of food on the big dining room table was as generous as always, from roasted wild turkey, creamy mashed potatoes, cornbread stuffing, canned green beans from their long-gone summer garden, and, of course, pumpkin pie with real whipped cream, the only people stuffing themselves and exclaiming over the delicious food were Danny and Pedro. The adults tried their best, for the sake of the boys, to smile and make conversation, however stilted it frequently ended up being, but at times the flow of talk around the table faded, and the silence grew strained.

His father’s absence was partly to blame, Cord mused as he sat alone in the kitchen, nursing a now tepid mug of coffee that evening after everyone had gone to bed. The rising tension between him and Sarah, however, had only intensified the problem. Since her visit with her father and brother the day before yesterday, she’d been uncharacteristically subdued, avoiding him whenever possible. And, if the truth were told, he hadn’t particularly wanted to seek her out either.

Indeed, what could he say to improve the situation? He’d never lift a finger to help Jacob Caldwell. And his two sons needed a good lesson fast, before they permanently sank into that inescapable quagmire their father had dug himself into over the years.

A part of him was also annoyed with Sarah for even putting him into such an unfair and untenable position. How had
he
ever contributed to this insufferable feud, until the Caldwells had finally crossed the line with the robbery and cattle rustling? Then, all he’d done was what any man would do to protect his property—demand that justice be served.

Sarah had most definitely backed him into a corner. Until she gave ground on her demands, they were at a stalemate. It was an unfortunate battle of wills, and one that he intended—

The kitchen door erratically inched open, propelled along by Nick’s wheelchair. Cord rose and hurried over to hold the door for his brother.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Cord asked, managing a welcoming smile.

“That, and a case of mild indigestion from that third piece of pumpkin pie, I’m thinking,” his brother replied. “Could you get me a glass of milk?”

“Sure thing.”

Cord retrieved a glass from the cupboard, then pulled the milk pitcher from the small icebox that, in winter, served as a far more convenient substitute for the springhouse that was a good distance away. He carried the glass and pitcher to the table, poured a full glass for his brother, then put the pitcher back in the icebox. Finally, Cord again took his own seat.

Minutes ticked by without either of them speaking. Nick sipped his milk until it was finally gone. Then, with a contented sigh, he set down the empty glass.

“I feel better already. Still, I think I’ll stay sitting up for a while until the indigestion totally subsides.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Cord shot him an amused glance. “You’d think, after all these years, you’d learn not to overindulge on Thanksgiving.”

Nick shrugged. “Well, someone besides the boys needed to show some appreciation for all the work that went into making the meal. You and Sarah, I noted, hardly ate enough to keep a . . . a mouse alive.”

Cord stared down at the mug he now clasped between his hands. “I reckon we both had other things on our minds.”

“Like who’s going to win this battle over what to do about Jacob Caldwell?”

Irritation surged through Cord. He jerked up his head, his glance slamming into his brother’s. “Not to sound rude or anything, but this really isn’t any of your business.”

“Oh, really?” Nick leaned back in his chair. “That might be true, if this little fight of yours wasn’t affecting the entire household. In case you didn’t notice, it pretty much ruined Thanksgiving for most of us.”

“And what do you expect me to do about it?” Cord snarled, his temper fraying by the second. “Are you suggesting I give in, and tell Sarah I’ll defend her father and brothers in court? The same people, lest you forget, responsible for
our
father’s death.”

“As hard as this may be to hear, little brother, that was an unfortunate accident.”

“Hogwash!” Cord gave a derisive snort. “Jacob Caldwell has wanted Pa dead for years now, and you know it.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t think that thought necessarily entered his mind when he started the stampede. I think he was just desperate to escape.”

“Well, we’ll never know, will we? And Caldwell is just as easily convicted on the robbery and cattle rustling.”

“Cattle rustling, yes. He was caught red-handed with our cattle. But the robbery . . .”

“What do you mean?” Cord impaled his brother with a steely glance. “Sarah admitted to . . .”

His voice died away. Sarah admitted to it because she, of all of them, was the only one who hadn’t been masked. She was the only one he could identify. And her father had never returned the money. He could claim in court that he didn’t have it to return, because he hadn’t taken it.

“Sarah’s your only suspect, isn’t she?” Nick asked softly. “So I guess it comes down to the question of whether you really want to force her to testify against her own family, doesn’t it?”

Nick was right. Only Sarah could corroborate his story of the robbery, and Cord knew he couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—force her to do that. He risked far, far too much in such an attempt, not the least of which was losing Sarah once and for all.

“What does it matter?” he asked. “Cattle rustling is, at best, a prison term. At worst, it’s punishable by hanging. And I, for one, am hoping Jacob Caldwell gets sentenced to hang.”

“That’s pretty bloodthirsty, Cord.”

“Yeah, well, this feud isn’t going to be over until that crazy old man is dead. And the hold he has on Sarah . . . well, I’m beginning to think we don’t have a chance to make it even to a wedding, much less have a successful marriage, unless Caldwell’s out of the picture.”

“So, now we’re finally getting to the heart of the matter,” his brother said. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose Sarah.”

“Wouldn’t you be, considering what’s been going on? I thought she loved me, but I’m beginning to think it’ll never hold a candle to her foolish, self-destructive devotion to her family.”

Frustration coiled within Cord like some knot twisting on itself, and it hurt. Hurt bad. He fisted his hands so tightly his nails dug into his palms.

“She isn’t making a lot of sense of late. I’ll give you that.” Nick sighed. “But I do see her struggling with it too. Sarah’s just not the sort of person to turn her back on those she loves, no matter how badly they’ve sinned.” His mouth quirked. “Kind of like God’s unending love for his errant children.”

“Yeah, well, God has also been known to mete out punishment where it’s due. But just try convincing Sarah her family deserves punishment for what they’ve done.”

“I don’t think Sarah would claim what they’ve done doesn’t merit punishment. I just think it goes deeper than that.” Nick paused to finger the rim of his glass. “For some reason, Sarah imagines she’s responsible for saving her family. And, as unfair a burden as that is, she keeps hoping against hope that she can do it.”

“Well, she can’t. In the meanwhile, she’s ruining her own chances at happiness.”

“So, I reckon the dilemma is how to get her to see that and finally step back from this mess her family has created. To accept that what they choose to do of their own accord carries consequences they alone must bear.”

“The same also applies to her.” Cord shoved back his mug. “These are choices she’s making, and though the consequences might not be the best for her, I can’t—I
won’t
—stop her from making them.”

“You’re right about that, little brother.” Something enigmatic flashed through Nick’s eyes. “All anyone can do is learn to make their own choices in the best way they can. Just one word of advice. Before you judge the mote in your brother’s eye, be sure the beam in your own eye is gone. It’ll make things a whole lot clearer.”

Cord scowled. “And exactly what is
that
supposed to mean?”

His brother smiled. “Nothing. Or maybe everything, depending on what you care to make of it.”

“No, I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to come with us to church,” Sarah said three days later as she buttoned her coat closed and looked down at her brother. “It’s frigid today, the winds are blowing pretty badly, and you’ve still got a slight fever. Next Sunday, maybe. But not today.”

Danny stomped his foot. “But I’ll miss out on the children’s service and the cookies and milk afterward. Plus, I want to see my friends!”

Sarah rolled her eyes.
Children! Why do they all have to be so stubborn?

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Danny, but the answer is still no. You’ve done so well since you’ve come here, and I’m not going to risk your health. God will understand.”

“Well, my friends won’t!”

Behind them, Nick chuckled. “Easy there, young fella. How about I make a special point of explaining your absence to them. And, to top it off, I’ll also bring back a sample of any of the snacks they serve after services. You have my word on it.”

“Really?” Eyes bright, Danny turned to Nick. “That’d be swell, Mr. Wainwright.”

Amazing
, Sarah thought,
how everything always sounds better if anyone besides family suggests something to a child.
She wasn’t about to take any chances of ruining what Nick had orchestrated, and held her tongue. She also held her tongue a few minutes later as Cord arrived to help Nick outside, down the porch steps, and into the carriage.

There wasn’t a whole lot to say to him these days at any rate. They’d slammed into a barrier that couldn’t easily be gotten around, and this time Sarah wasn’t about to budge. Whether Cord liked it or not, if they married, family was part of the bargain. Of course, she thought ruefully,
his
family these days wasn’t the problem.

“You’ve got the rifle, don’t you, Nick?” Cord asked as Sarah, followed by Emma, climbed into the carriage beside his brother.

“Yes, it’s right under the seat where it always is. As if there’s going to be any need for it on the way to town and back. Anyone with any grudge against us is in jail, or have you forgotten that, little brother?”

“Actually, maybe
you’ve
forgotten that one of Sarah’s brothers is still on the loose.” Cord assiduously avoided looking at Sarah. “And he might well be getting pretty desperate and willing to try just about anything.”

“Like what? Holding us for ransom?”

Cord’s jaw went rigid. “Don’t make light of this, Nick. Be on the lookout and have a care.”

Nick shot Sarah a quick glance, then nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Maybe I should send a few of the hands along as escort.”

“Or maybe you could just come along yourself. Some time in the Lord’s house might do you a world of good.”

“No. It wouldn’t.” Cord stepped back. “Believe me, it wouldn’t.”

“Okay. Suit yourself.” Nick gathered up the reins and handed them to Sarah. “Want to drive the team today?”

Pleasure filled her. “Yes. I’d love to.” She slapped the reins smartly over the two horses’ backs. “Let’s go!”

With a lurch, the carriage moved out. Nick turned and waved at Cord.

“See you in a few hours.”

She was never so glad to be gone from the ranch and Cord’s increasingly oppressive presence. The day was bright if cold, but the winds calmed after a time and it didn’t seem all that chilly. The heavy throws tucked around their middles and covering their legs and feet, combined with the warm hats, jackets, and scarves helped a lot too.

“You handle the team well,” Nick observed from beside her. “You’ve got a light but authoritative touch.”

Sarah beamed at his praise. “Thank you. I’ve had an excellent teacher. My papa was always so good with horses—”

Her cheeks burned, and she cut off further mention of her father. As kind and tolerant as Nick was, in sharp contrast to his brother of late, Sarah knew he must have mixed feelings about her family. It was just so hard to have to excise her family from her heart and mind. Hard and, in many ways, unfair.