He’d begun the journal on the day he’d left her to come west. The love and the hope he’d felt had been in every word. And the sadness. He’d still been raw with grief over the death of Sarah’s mother.
For the first time she fully understood how devastated he had been by the loss of the woman they’d both shared so briefly. And how inadequate he’d felt at finding himself alone with a little girl. He’d made a promise to his wife on her deathbed that he would see that their daughter was well cared for.
She remembered the words her father had written on the yellowed paper.
She was leaving me. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Toward the end there was so much pain I prayed for God to take her quickly. My Ellen, my tiny, delicate Ellen. Her thoughts were all for me, and our sweet Sarah. I promised her. The only comfort I could give was my promise.
Our daughter would have everything Ellen wanted for her. Proper schooling and church on Sunday. She would be raised the way my Ellen would have raised her. Like a lady. One day she’d have a fine house and a father she could be proud of.
He’d come here to try, Sarah thought as she tossed back the thin blanket. And she supposed he’d done as well as he could. Now she had to figure what was best. And if she was going to think, first she needed to eat.
After she’d dressed in her oldest skirt and blouse, she took stock of the-cupboard again. She could not, under any circumstances, face another meal of cold beans. Perhaps he had a storage cellar somewhere, a smokehouse, anything. Sarah pushed open the door and blinked in the blinding sunlight.
At first she thought it was a mirage. But mirages didn’t carry a scent, did they? This one smelled of meat roasting and coffee brewing. And what she saw was Jake Redman sitting cross-legged by a fire ringed with stones. Gathering up her skirt, she forgot her hunger long enough to stride over to him.
“What are you doing here?”
He glanced up and gave her the briefest of nods. He poured coffee from a small pot into a dented tin cup. “Having breakfast.”
“You rode all the way out here to have breakfast?”
She didn’t know what it was he was turning on the spit, but her stomach was ready for just about anything. “Nope.” He tested the meat and judged it done. “Never left.” He jerked his head in the direction of the rocks. “Bedded down over there.”
“There?” Sarah eyed the rocks with some amazement.
“Whatever for?”
He looked up again. The look in his eyes made her hands flutter nervously. It made her feel, though it was foolish, that he knew how she looked stripped down to her chemise, “Let’s say it was a long ride back to town.”
“I hardly expect you to watch over me, Mr. Redman.
I explained that I could take… What is that?” Jake was eating with his fingers and with obvious enjoyment. “Rabbit.”
“Rabbit?” Sarah wrinkled her nose at the idea, but her stomach betrayed her. “I suppose you trapped it on my property.”
So it was her property already. “Might’ve.”
“If that’s the case, the least you could do is offer to share.”
Jake obligingly pulled off a hunk of meat. “Help yourself.”
“Don’t you have any… Never mind.” When in Rome, Sarah decided. Taking the meat and the coffee he offered, she sat down on a rock.
“Get yourself some supper last night?”
“Yes, thank you.” Never, never in her life, had she tasted anything better than this roast rabbit in the already-sweltering morning. “You’re an excellent cook, Mr. Redman.”
“I get by.” He offered her another hunk. This time she didn’t hesitate.
“No, really.” She caught herself talking with her mouth full, and she didn’t care. “This is delightful.” Because she doubted that his saddlebags held any linens, she licked her fingers.
“Better than a can of cold beans, anyway.”
She glanced up sharply, but he wasn’t even looking at her. “I suppose.” She’d never had breakfast with a man before, and she decided it would be proper to engage in light conversation. “Tell me, Mr. Redman, what is your profession?”
“Never gave it much thought.”
“But surely you must have some line of work.”
“Nope.” He leaned back against a rock and, taking out his pouch of tobacco, proceeded to roll a cigarette. She looked as fresh and neat as a daisy, he thought. You’d have thought she’d spent the night in some high-priced hotel instead of a mud hut.
Apparently making conversation over a breakfast of roasted rabbit took some skill. Patiently she smoothed her skirts and tried again. “Have you lived in Arizona long?”
“Why?”
“I-” The cool, flat look he sent her had her fumbling.
“Simple curiosity.”
“I don’t know about back in Philadelphia.” Jake took out a match, scraped it on the rock and twisted the end of his cigarette, studying her while “But around here people don’t take kindly to questions.”
“I see.” Her back had stiffened. She’d never encountered anyone to whom rudeness came so easily.
“In a civilized society, a casual question is merely a way to begin a conversation.”
“Around here it’s a way to start a fight.” He drew on the cigarette. “You want to fight with me, Duchess?” “I’ll thank you to stop referring to me by that name.”
He grinned at her again, but lazily, the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes. “You look like one, especially when you’re riled.”
Her chin came up. She couldn’t help it. But she answered him in calm, even tones. “I assure you, I’m not at all riled. Although you have, on several occasions already, been rude and difficult and annoying.
Where I come from, Mr. Redman, a woman is entitled to a bit more charm and gallantry from a man.”
“That so?” Her mouth dropped open when he slowly drew out his gun. “Don’t move.”
Move? She couldn’t even breathe. She’d only called him rude and, sweet Mary, he was going to shoot her.
“Mr. Redman, I don’t-”
The bullet exploded against the rock a few inches away from her. With a shriek, she tumbled into the dirt. When she found the courage to look up, Jake was standing and lifting something dead and hideous from the rock.
“Rattler,” he said easily. When she moaned and started to cover her eyes, he reached down and hauled her to her feet “I’d take a good look,” he suggested, still holding the snake in front of her. “If you stay around here, you’re going to see plenty more.”
It was the disdain in his voice that had her fighting off the swoon. With what little voice she had left, she asked, “Would you kindly dispose of that?”
With a muttered curse, he tossed it aside, then began to smother the fire. Sarah felt her breakfast rising uneasily and waited for it to settle. “It appears you saved my life.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let it get around.”
“I won’t, I assure you.” She drew herself up straight, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her skirts. “I appreciate the meal, Mr. Redman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a number of things to do.” “You can start by getting yourself into the wagon.
I’ll drive you back to town.”
“I appreciate the offer. As a matter of fact, I would be grateful. I need some supplies.”
“Look, there’s got to be enough sense in that head of yours for you to see you don’t belong out here. It’s a two-hour drive into town. There’s nothing out here but rattlers and coyotes.”
She was afraid he was right. The night she’d spent in the cabin had been the loneliest and most miserable of her life. But somewhere between the rabbit and the snake she’d made up her mind. Matt Conway’s daughter wasn’t going to let all his efforts and his dreams turn to dust. She was staying, Lord help her.