“It must be a lonely life for you.”
“I haven’t had time to be lonely, though I admit it’s not what I’d hoped for.”
“It’s a pity your father never made the mine pay.” “It gave him hope.” She thought of the journal she was reading. “He was a man who needed hope more than food.”
“You’re right about that.” Carlson sipped at the coffee she served him. “You know, I offered to buy this place from him some time back.”
“You did?” Sarah took the seat across from him.
“Whatever for?”
“Sentiment.” Carlson sent her an embarrassed smile. “Foolish, really. My grandfather once owned this land. He lost it in a poker game when I was a boy. It always infuriated him.” He smiled again and sampled a cookie. “Of course, he had the ranch. Twelve hundred acres, with the best water that can be had in these parts. But he grumbled about losing that old mine until the day he died.”
“There must be something about it that holds a man. It certainly held my father.”
“Matt bought it from the gambler and dived right in. He always believed he’d find the mother lode, though I don’t think there is one. After the old man died and I took over, I.thought it might be fitting somehow for me to bring it back into the family. A tribute. But Matt, he wouldn’t part with it.”
“He had a dream,” Sarah murmured. “It killed him, eventually.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s nothing. I still miss him. I suppose I always will.”
“It might not be healthy for you to stay here, so close to where he died.”
“It’s all I have.”
Carlson reached over to pat her hand. “As I said, you’re a sensitive woman. I was willing to buy this place from Matt. I’d be willing to buy it from you if you feel you’d like to sell.”
“Sell?” Surprised, she looked over. The sun was streaming through the yellow curtains at the window. It made a stream of gold on the floor. Before long, the strength of it would fade the material. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Carlson.”
“I’d be flattered if.you’d call me Samuel.”
“It’s very generous, and very kind, Samuel.” Rising, she walked to the window. Yes, the sun would bleach it out, the same way it bleached the land. She touched a hand to the wall. The adobe stayed cool. It was a kind of miracle, she thought. Like the endurance that kept men in this place. “I don’t think I’m ready to give up here.”
“You don’t have to decide what you want now.”
He rose, as well, and moved over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She smiled at the gesture. It was comforting to have friends who cared.
“It’s been difficult, adjusting here. Yet I feel as though I can’t leave, that in leaving I’d be deserting my father.”
“I know what it is to lose family. It takes time to think straight again.” He turned her to face him. “I can say that I feel I knew Matt enough to be sure he’d want the best for you. If you decide you want to let it go, all you have to do is tell me. We’ll leave it an open offer.”
“Thank you.” She turned and found herself flustered when he lifted both her hands to his lips.
“I want to help you, Sarah. I hope you’ll let me.”
“Miss Conway.”
She jolted, then sighed when she saw Lucius in the doorway. “Yes?”
He eyed Carlson, then turned his head to spit. “You want me to put this team away?”
“Please.”
Lucius stayed where he was. “How about the extra horse?”
“I’ll be riding out. Thank you for the company, Sarah.”
“It was a pleasure.”
As they stepped outside, Carlson replaced his hat. “I hope you’ll let me call again.”
“Of course.” Sarah was forced to snatch up the dog when he came toward her guest, snarling and snapping. “Goodbye, Samuel.”
She waited until he’d started out before she put the puppy down and walked over to Lucius.
“Lucius.” She leaned over, to speak to him as he unhitched the horses. “You were quite rude just now.”
“If you say so, miss.”
“Well, I do.” Frustrated, she ducked under the horses to join him. “Mr. Carlson was considerate enough to drive me back from town. You looked at him as though you wanted to shoot him in the head.” “Maybe.”
“For heaven’s sake. Why?”
“Some snakes don’t rattle.”
Casting her eyes to the sky, she gave up. Instead, she snatched the bottle of whiskey from the wagon and watched his eyes light up. “If you want this, take off your shirt.”
His mouth dropped as if she’d hit him with a board.
“Beg pardon, ma’am?”
“The pants, too. I want you to strip right down to the skin.”
He groped at his neckcloth. “Mind if I ask why you’d be wanting me to do that, Miss Conway?”
“I’m going to wash your clothes. I’ve tolerated the smell of them-and you-quite long enough. While I’m washing them, you can take that extra cake of soap I bought and do the same with yourself.”
“Now, miss, I-”
“If, and only if, you’re clean, I’ll give you this bottle. You get a pail of water and the soap and go into that shed. Toss your clothes out.”
Not sure he cared for the arrangement, Lucius shifted his feet. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll pour every drop of this into the dirt.”
Lucius laid a hand on his heart as she stamped off. He was mortally afraid she’d do it.
Chapter Seven
Sarah rolled up the sleeves of her oldest shirtwaist, hitched up her serviceable black skirt and went to work.
They’d be better off burned, she thought as she dunked Lucius’s stiff denim pants into the stream. The water turned a mud brown instantly. With a sound of disgust, she dunked them again. It would take some doing to make them even marginally acceptable, but she was determined.
Cleanliness was next to godliness.
That had been one of the proverbs cross-stitched on Mother Superior’s office wall. Well, she was going to get Lucius as close to God as was humanly possible. Whether he liked it or not.
Leaving the pants to soak, she picked up his faded blue shirt by the tips of her fingers. Deplorable, she decided as she dampened and scrubbed and soaked. Absolutely deplorable. She doubted the clothes had seen clean water in a year. Which meant Lucius’s skin had been just as much in need of washing. She’d soon fix that.
She began to smile as she worked. The expression on his face when she’d threatened to empty out the whiskey had been something to see. Poor Lucius. He might look tough and crusty, but underneath he was just a sweet, misguided man who needed a woman to show him the way.
Most men did. At least that was what Lucilla had always said. As she beat Lucius’s weathered shirt against the rocks, Sarah wondered what her friend would think of Jake Redman. There was certainly nothing sweet about him, no matter how deep down a woman might dig. Though he could be kind. It baffled her that time and time again he had shown her that streak of good-heartedness. Always briefly, she added, her lips thinning. Always right before he did something inexcusable.
Like kissing the breath out of her. Kissing her until her blood was hot and her mind was empty and she wanted something she didn’t even understand. He’d had no right to do it, and still less to walk away afterward, leaving her trembling and confused.
She should have slapped him. With that thought in mind, Sarah slapped the shirt on the water and gave a satisfied nod at the sound. She should have knocked the arrogance right out of him, and then it should have been she who walked away.
The next time… There would be no next time, she assured herself. If Jake Redman ever touched her again, she’d…she’d…melt like butter, she admitted. Oh, she hated him for making her wish he would touch her again.
When he looked at her, something happened, something frantic, something she’d never experienced before. Her heart beat just a little too fast, and dampness sprang out on the palms of her hands. A look was all that was necessary. His eyes were so dark, so penetrating. When he looked at her it was as if he could see everything she was, or could be, or wanted to be. It was absurd. He was a man who lived by the gun, who took what he wanted without regret or compunction. All her life she’d been taught that the line between right and wrong was clear and wide and wasn’t to be crossed.