The Stranger's Secrets (5 page)

S
arah eyed the cursed shoe with a sneer. Damn thing was deliberately being difficult and she was having a hell of a time getting it on her foot, much less laced. The gray light of dawn coated the room as she tried to hurry and get ready.

Whitman would be there any minute and there was no way she wanted him to see her helpless to the point of being unable to get her shoes on. Her clothes were made specifically for her, so she didn’t have a problem getting those on. However, the boots were an extravagance she bought two days before the trip.

She regretted that impulse now.

When the knock at the door came, she dropped the shoe with a thunk. Damn.

“Sarah, are you ready?” Whit at least didn’t sound chipper. She was not a morning person herself, and God forbid she got trapped with someone who was.

“Not quite.” She bent down and picked up the shoe again. “I need five minutes.”

“We don’t have five minutes. You were supposed to be downstairs half an hour ago. The train leaves in fifteen minutes.” He paused. “Do you need help?”

The dreaded question dropped on her pride like a rock. As Sarah wrestled with whether or not missing the train was more important than her stubbornness, Whit grew impatient.

“Look, I don’t care what you need, what you’re doing or anything like that, but if you make me miss the train, I…”

When he didn’t continue, Sarah got the shoe on.
Finally.

“What will you do?” she egged him on.

He opened the door and charged in, which made her wonder what he would’ve done if she was nude. The thought made her entire body clench, not what she wanted, of course, since she refused to be attracted to him.

“What are you waiting for?” He looked her up and down, noting the packed bags. “Were you hoping to challenge your walking skills this morning or my patience?”

She raised one brow. “Neither. I was hoping to actually walk in shoes this morning.”

He glanced down and grimaced. Before she could stop him, he dropped to his knees and started lacing the boots.

Instead of resenting his interference, Sarah simply gazed at the top of his head, noting the still-damp waves of his chocolate hair, and the lovely clean smell from his skin. Having him at her feet was the most unique, delicious experience.

The urge to feel his hair made her fingers twitch. The fact he was lacing her shoes up sent a tingle up her legs straight to her pussy. If it had been another situation, another man, she might have followed her instincts and taken him into her bed.

Yet, it wasn’t the right man or the right time. When she got to Denver, Sarah must focus on finding someone who was the right person to play with. For certain, she wouldn’t have a man in her bed permanently. She’d made that decision long ago.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t have someone in her bed occasionally, though. She had needs and even if her body was damaged, parts of her worked perfectly.

One part was humming right then for a man she should never have in her bed.

He glanced up and met her gaze. Those green orbs were unreadable. The moment stretched on for so long, Sarah started to learn toward him. What she would do when she reached him, she had no idea.

“Let’s get moving. We’re going to miss the train.” He rose and held out his hand. “If I’m going to be your traveling companion, you and I are going to have to set some ground rules.”

Sarah’s arousal ended as abruptly as it had begun. With Whit.

She accepted his help and stood. “Don’t think I will simply accept your rules without argument.” She hobbled toward the door, the stiffness in her legs almost excruciating that morning. Even after she’d massaged in the liniment Vickie had found for her. Damn it, she hated being crippled.

“We’ll see about that.” Whitman picked up her bags as they headed toward the door. “I can be just as pigheaded as you.”

Of that, Sarah had no doubt. One thing was certain, their trip would never be boring.

Whitman wanted to shake Sarah. She was stubborn, maddening, and damned if he wasn’t attracted to her. As she had sat there on her bed with her boots unlaced and a mulish look on her beautiful face, his world had been turned upside down.

He didn’t want to be attracted to her. She obviously didn’t like Yankees and wasn’t shy about letting him know. Aside from that, she had a big mouth, an even bigger chip on her shoulder, and she was absolutely the wrong woman for him.

Whit was engaged, for God’s sake. Melissa was waiting for him in Kansas City, ready to start their new life in San Francisco. Yet he was traveling with a woman who knocked him sideways, making him question his sanity.

What if she was the girl he’d thought about for the last twelve years? What then? He would definitely be the wrong man for her. He hadn’t helped her, hadn’t reported Booker, had done nothing but swallow the right thing to do, instead of doing it.

Perhaps Sarah was a test for his promise to Melissa, his promise to the future. It would be a very long two weeks if that was the case. He’d need to keep thinking about Melissa’s sweet letters, and the image of what he thought she looked like.

She was a small-town girl, and the simpleness of her life attracted Whitman. He’d lived in a cauldron of complex drama that wore on his nerves. When he’d lived on the farm in New York, it had been such a happy time in his life before his father died. Melissa represented a return to that life and he wanted to so badly, he could taste it on his tongue.

Remembering where he was going and why helped tamp down the insane urge to kiss Sarah. It had come over him when he was on his knees in front of her, and it had stayed on his back as they left the hotel. Until they made it to the platform to board the train, Whit could hardly control his thoughts.

As Sarah was walking up the steps into their compartment, she fell backward into Whit.

“Son of a bitch.”

The fact she cursed didn’t surprise Whit in the least. The feel of her in his arms hit him like a brick wall. Her scent, the softness of her curves, even the way her height matched his. All of it made him curse to himself.

“She pushed me,” Sarah snapped as Whit set her back on her feet. “That bitch pushed me.”

He didn’t have to ask who since he already knew. Apparently Mavis wasn’t going to go quietly into that good night. She was a vengeful creature who wanted Sarah to suffer for firing her. Any normal, sane person would accept it and move on. She’d gotten a train ticket in payment, and probably cash already, so there was no need to harm Sarah.

Whit’s overactive protective instincts roared to life. A soldier was sworn to protect the innocent, and even if Sarah couldn’t be qualified as completely innocent, she didn’t deserve to be harassed.

He helped Sarah to their compartment, then turned to look for Mavis Ledbetter. She deserved an adjustment to her attitude and he was the man to do it, with respect, of course.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sarah’s voice stopped him in his tracks. She sounded annoyed at
him.

“To find Miss Ledbetter.” He never did like bullies.

“Sit yourself back down then. I don’t need you to fight my battles, Kendrick.” She arranged her skirt on the seat, shaking off the dust from the walk over.

“You’ll accept my help on this trip, but not my protection?” He snorted. “What kind of logic is that?”

She gave him an impatient look. “Whoever said I have to be logical?”

Whitman tried not to let his now active temper get loose yet again especially so early in the morning. The damn sun hadn’t even risen yet. A commotion out in the passageway distracted him before he could give Sarah a proper retort.

“I have a ticket for this compartment and I will not allow you to stop me.” Mavis’s screech could be heard two states away.

A low murmur of a man’s voice responded. Whitman stepped out to discover what was going on, grateful to have the opportunity to give Mavis a lesson in polite behavior.

A porter stood there shaking his head. A fuming Mavis, with her hands on her hips, tried to push past him.

“Ma’am, I told you, that ticket is for a seat in the public car up ahead, not the private compartments.” He was a big man with steel gray hair and a square jaw set in stone.

Mavis stamped her foot. “That is not true. I was in there yesterday.” She spotted Whitman and her gaze narrowed.

“Having trouble, Miss Ledbetter? You know what they say, what goes around comes around.” Whitman folded his arms across his chest. He ignored the little voice inside reminding him there were stains on his soul, worse than pushing a crippled woman—far worse.

“It’s none of your business. Porter, this man is in the same compartment as me. Ask him.” She stuck a finger in the big man’s chest.

“I don’t have to, ma’am. I can see on your ticket where you are supposed to be. Now if you don’t want to listen to me, you are welcome to disembark now.” He glanced at Whitman and nodded.

“Tell him!” Mavis shouted. “Tell him I am a passenger in the private compartment.”

“I am certain you are sitting where you deserve to sit.” Whitman was pleased to see a flush spread across her cheeks.

“You have no right to judge me, Mr. Kendrick.” She put her nose in the air. “I saw the way you were looking at that whore last night.”

That was the final straw for Whitman. His temper snapped as he stalked toward her. She must’ve seen something in his face because she yelped, picked up her skirts, and fled.

“This isn’t the end, Mr. Kendrick,” she called over her shoulder.

The porter turned a questioning gaze on Whitman. “Do you know her?”

Whit grimaced. “She was a paid companion who wanted to do nothing to earn her wages.”

“Looks as if someone changed her ticket.” The porter almost grinned. “I don’t blame that someone at all.”

“Neither do I.” Whitman walked back to the compartment to ask that someone what she’d done.

To his surprise, Sarah was reading, looking comfortable and calm, as if Mavis hadn’t shoved her off the train five minutes earlier.

“What are you doing?” He sat down across from her.

“Reading a book. It’s a binding with paper and ink formed into letters and words.” Her sarcasm knew no bounds.

“What did you do to Mavis’s ticket?”

“Nothing.”

Whitman gritted his teeth. How could she get under his skin so quickly? “Yesterday she had a ticket for a private compartment. Today it’s a seat in the public car. Explain that.”

Sarah closed the book and met his gaze. “I didn’t change it. Yesterday I paid the porter extra money to allow her to be in this compartment.”

He had trouble absorbing what she said. Then it dawned on him that Sarah didn’t trust Mavis from the beginning. “You knew she was going to be trouble?”

“No, there are only a few people in this world I trust, and none of them are on this train. I paid Mavis to accompany me. How far was up to her. She chose to stay with me for one day.” Sarah shrugged. “She still has a ticket and a week’s pay.”

Whitman didn’t trust easily either, but he wasn’t nearly as distrustful as Sarah. She assumed the woman she hired to be her companion would leave her.

“Why did you hire her in the first place?”

“I needed someone to come with me. She responded to the advertisement and I hired her.” Sarah opened the book again.

Whitman tried to puzzle out her reasoning but it eluded him. “I still don’t understand why you chose her.”

Without looking up, Sarah spoke. “She was willing to leave Virginia.”

Used to a military environment, Whitman didn’t normally question orders; he carried them out. However, he found himself wanting to find out exactly what made Sarah tick. She was obviously crippled and needed assistance to travel. Yet she hired someone whom she assumed would leave her stranded.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been here to help you?”

A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. “Believe it or not, I’ve been able to take care of myself for quite a while without anyone’s help.” This time when she looked up, her silver eyes were hard. “I always expect the worst and I’m usually not disappointed.”

Her words hit him like blows. He’d said them himself to his mother and his grandfather. Suddenly he knew why he was drawn to Sarah, why he found himself fascinated by her and desperate to know more about her.

Sarah was a kindred spirit, a person with a hardened heart who viewed the world from behind a guarded wall.

She was exactly like him.

Whitman shook off the chill that crept up his spine at the revelation. There were many reasons he should keep his distance from her, not the least of which was his promise to Melissa. Yet he knew his fascination with Miss Sarah Spalding would only grow the more time they spent together.

His journey toward a new life had just taken a hard left turn and all he could do was hold on for the ride.

Sarah felt like squirming under Whitman’s gaze. He was staring at her as she attempted to read. The key word here was
attempted—
she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Having him watch her was an intense experience and she had to stop herself from yelling at him to stop. The man was obviously trying to puzzle out why she’d picked Mavis as a companion.

And perhaps why she hadn’t trusted the woman for a minute. Sarah knew the other woman wouldn’t stay true to her promise and she didn’t disappoint. Whitman might be surprised Sarah would think that far ahead, but she always did. Well, at least for the last ten years anyway.

Life seemed to enjoy kicking her in the teeth. She’d learned to avoid the blow by expecting the worst or hitting back first. What happened with Whitman was completely unexpected. She didn’t have time to duck.

After she’d been nearly killed by the Yankee soldier, Sarah had clawed her way back to life. Despite her mother’s pitiful care, the lack of medicine and food, she’d survived what would have been fatal for most people.

There were too many struggles since then to recount, not that she’d want to. Lean times were the standard for folks in the South following the war. For many, the war didn’t end after the surrender. They were the most dangerous of all.