A Lady Like Sarah (18 page)

"I know," he said. "I
know."

He bent to pick Elizabeth off the ground and, slinging the baby's blanket over his shoulder, started down the hill.

No sooner had Justin reached camp when he realized that disÂtancing himself from Sarah hadn't accomplished a thing. The temptation of taking her in his arms was too immense, the lure of capturing her lips far too great to be dampened by space or even time.

I like it when you kiss me . . . when you touch
me . . .

The memory of those words blasted a trail of heat through his body.

These last few days, he'd managed somehow to keep his distance from Sarah. It had been difficult and, at times, almost impossible.

Like tonight.

She wanted to talk about it, but he should have known better. Keeping his feelings under control was a matter of self- preservation. The less he had to forget, the easier it would be to say good-bye when the time came for them to part.

Realizing the flaws in his logic, he groaned and covered his face with his hands. He tried to erase the picture of her from his mind, but the vision stubbornly remained. Her words continued to haunt him for the rest of the night.
I like it when you kiss
me . . .

God forgive him.

The
next
day,
they left the Indian reservation behind and followed the hilly trail south. Neither had spoken more than a few words all morning and the tension in the air was like a storm about to break.

Sarah rode ahead,
Mira
the goat straddled in front of her. She didn't dare look back at Justin, but his soothing voice as he spoke to Elizabeth warmed her heart. For most of the morning, they followed a narrow buffalo trail. The trail widened and Justin galloped to her side.

"Sarah, about last night—"

She kept her eyes focused ahead. "Last night?"

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," she lied.

"Then why won't you look at me?" Justin pleaded.

Turning her head, she gave him an indifferent stare that hid the turmoil inside. What could she say that would explain the sense of longing and pain she felt every time he drew near?

The tight set of his mouth was at odds with the tenderness in his eyes, and neither belonged with the uncertainty in his voice. "I'm not good with words."

"Well, if
that don't
beat all," she said. "You're a preacher, ain't you?"

"Preaching's easy. It's talking that's hard." She waited for him to continue, unable to move from his steady gaze. "I don't know what the future will hold." His voice faltered, but the look he gave her was no less intense.

A bugle horn sounded in the distance, its lively tune in blatant contrast to the slow, steady beat of Indian drums.
Two distinct worlds clashing with each other.

"Even if they don't hang me, you and I ain't ever
gonna
be together," she cried.
"That's
what the future holds." She was furious at him for making her want something she could never have.
Furious at herself.
"I'm always
gonna
be a Prescott, and you're always
gonna
be a preacher. There ain't nothing
gonna
change that."

She pressed her legs into the side of her horse and rode ahead, but it was a long time before she could breathe normal again beneath the crushing reality she couldn't escape.

At noon, they reached the Canadian River and were lucky enough to find a ferry owned by a former slave waitÂing to take them across. The man also owned a store where they were able to purchase corn and potatoes. Neither one of them mentioned their earlier conversation, but unspoken words and meaningful glances filled the air with unwanted reminders.

After crossing the river, they traveled for several miles. Moses' pack slid to the side, and Justin stopped to adjust the mule's harness. Sarah lay Elizabeth on the ground and then walked around to stretch her legs and work the kinks out of her back.

Something in the distance caught her attention, an omiÂ
nous cloud
on
the far horizon. Hoping she was mistaken, she shaded her eyes against the sun. Much to her dismay, her susÂpicion was confirmed.

"Quick, grab Elizabeth.
Locusts!"
She ran for her horse, jammed her foot into the stirrup, and swung into the saddle.

She waited for Justin to scoop Elizabeth off the ground and mount his own horse. His eyes fixed on the advancing swarm, he frowned. "You think we can outrun them?"

"Nothin' to it," she assured him.

Laughing at the dark expression on his face, she took
off,
keeping one hand on the goat sprawled across the horse in front of her. Despite Sarah's efforts to keep the goat from bouncing around,
Mira
flopped up and down like an old celÂlar door, bleating in protest.

Galloping down a grassy knoll, she glanced back to make sure that Justin could keep pace. Moses seemed to have no trouble keeping up with Noah. The pots and pans tied to the mule's saddle clinked and clanked and one pot flew off the pack, but there was no time to retrieve it.

Locusts could travel hundreds of miles in the air without stopping, but this swarm appeared to be descending. She felt encouraged. With a little luck, they could miss most, if not all, of the hoppers.

Several miles down the road, she spotted a cluster of sweet gum trees. She reined in her horse and glanced back. GrassÂhoppers poured from the sky to the ground in a steady stream. Even from that distance, she could hear the air vibrate with the rasping sound of flapping wings.

Justin pulled up alongside her. Nestled in the sling on his chest, Elizabeth was crying. "She didn't like that fast ride."

Sarah reached over to stroke the baby's forehead. "You're safe now. So don't you go worrying
none
, you hear?"

A few hoppers began to fall to the ground around them, but they had missed the main swarm.

"Looks like we better stay here awhile and rest the horses," Justin said, lifting
Mira
off her horse.

"I think there's a natural well over there," she said, pointÂing to the green grass ahead. "We better water the animals."

While the horses and mule drank, Sarah rocked Elizabeth in her arms.

Justin had a biblical story for everything and so it didn't surprise her that he would have a tale about locusts. When he finished his story of the ten plagues, she laughed.

"One plague is enough for me. I'd sure hate to live through ten."

The locusts had provided a means by which to break the tension between them.

Elizabeth continued to fuss. "Maybe she needs her britches changed," Justin said.

She handed Elizabeth to him and dug into Moses' pack for a clean nappy. That's when she noticed that the dress he'd rescued from the wagon train was missing.
"Oh, no!"

"What's wrong?"

"The dress is gone," she cried, biting back tears.

"It must have fallen off back there
aways
." His eyebrows rose. "I thought you didn't like it."

"I
ain't never
said I didn't like it." She handed him the nappy and ran for her horse.

"Where are you going? Sarah? Sarah!"

She mounted and kicked her heels into Blizzard's side. The horse took off like a streak of lightning.

A couple of miles down the road, hundreds of hoppers pelted her like wind-tossed hail, all but blotting out the sky's yellow haze. Head held low beneath her hat, she slowed her horse to a walk and frantically brushed the darting insects away from her face.

Barely two inches in length with long wings and brownish bodies, the mass of locusts covered the ground like oozing oil.

The air vibrated with flapping wings and the sound of hard- shelled vermin being crushed by Blizzard's hooves. A smell like stale ale rose up from their crushed bodies.

Swallowing her revulsion, she spotted a patch of blue on the trail beneath a dark heap of ravaging hoppers, and she tightened the reins. Unable to reach the dress from her saddle, she had no choice but to dismount.

Grimacing, her hand over her mouth, she reached down and grabbed the fabric with two fingers, shaking it hard. Already, the hoppers had ravaged the gingham, and the skirt and bodice had as many holes as a barbed wire fence. With a cry of dismay, she tossed the dress down.

She flailed her hands and arms to dislodge the insects from her body. Swiping the saddle with both hands, she sent dozens of hoppers airborne before mounting her horse again. She then rode back to Justin and Elizabeth as fast as Blizzard could carry her, her eyes burning with tears.

The loss of the dress saddened her, though she couldn't think why. It wasn't like she planned to wear it or anything. Why, she wouldn't be caught dead in anything so fussy. Still, it was as close to a gift from Justin as she ever expected to get, and she was sorry to let it go.

That evening she sat bouncing Elizabeth on her lap. The baby stared at her with big blue eyes, and Sarah never imagÂined it possible to love something so small. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed hard. What in
tarnation
was the matter with her? Twice in one day, she'd fought back tears, and that wasn't like her. If her brothers knew their sister had grown all weepy over a dress and baby, they would accuse her of growing soft, they would, and that would never do.

Justin leaned against the saddle at his back, watching her. His eyes mirrored the merry flames from the small campfire, effectively keeping his thoughts hidden from view.

Sarah sighed and settled Elizabeth down on a blanket. She
stroked the baby's head until she fell asleep. Her mouth curved in a smile; she covered the baby with a light blanket and moved closer to the fire.

"Not much farther to go," she said. "We'll reach Red River in a couple of days."

Justin gave a curt nod of his head.

As much as she fought against it, it was getting harder not to think about what lay ahead. She gazed down at Elizabeth peacefully asleep. "You find a good home for her, you hear?" she told Justin, her voice breaking.

"Sarah."

"With a mama and a papa who will love her—"

"We
love her," he said.

His words pierced her already aching heart like arrows. She searched the face she'd come to know so well these last few weeks, a face that would forever be engraved in her memory.

Her gaze met his across the flickering fire. "You're so good with her. You're the kind of papa she should have.
Maybe . . .
if you found yourself a wife—"

He shook his head and looked away. "Nothing will ever seem right without you." He gave her a beseeching look. "Sarah, I want you to put yourself in God's hands."

"What does that mean?"

"Come to Rocky Creek with me."

"No!"

"Trust that God will help us figure out a way to save you," he persisted.

Her temper flared. He made it sound so simple, and it was anything but that. "You know nothin' 'bout Texas. A drunken judge, a loony sheriff, and power-
grabbin
' marshal already decided my fate, and they ain't open to reason."

"Nothing is impossible with God," he said gently.

Her anger gradually melted. She wanted so much to believe him, to put her faith and trust in God. He had sent that
goat for Elizabeth, but helping an innocent babe wasn't the same as helping a Prescott. "I ain't
goin
' back to Rocky Creek."

He gave her a tortured look. "I wish there was something I could do to help you."

"You can take care of Elizabeth. See that she has a good life. Maybe she'll grow up to be a lady. Wouldn't that be
somethin
'?"

"I'll find her good home," he said.

She frowned. "You ain't planning to put her in no orphanÂage, are you?"

He made a face as if the very thought was as distasteful to him as it was to her. "You have my word," he said. "I hope to find a family in Rocky Creek so 1 can watch her grow up. Tell her about you."

Sarah shook her head. "Don't you dare tell her about me, you hear? She
don't
need to know that her godmother was an outlaw."

"That's not what I would tell her."

Sarah tilted her head. "What else is there to say? I ain't
no
lady, and I don't hardly know but a few four-legged words."

"I would say . . . 'Elizabeth, your godmother had long, silky red hair and the prettiest blue eyes you ever did see. She was funny, and her laughter sounded like music.' I would say that she was the bravest woman I ever met. Honest and kind."

Sarah stared at him, speechless. No one had ever said such pretty words to her, not ever.

"Any objections?" he asked.

Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head.

"Anything you want me to add?"

"
Just.
. .
just tell her that I loved her." With that she rose and settled herself in her bedroll with Elizabeth by her side. It was a long time before she fell asleep.

The next morning, neither of them spoke. Instead, they let their eyes say what couldn't be said with words.

On the trail, Sarah caught him watching her and suddenly felt self-conscious. She tucked the hair he described as long and silky into her hat and was careful not to laugh. For the most part, except for the covert glances she gave him, she kept her eyes firmly focused on the trail ahead.