- •Bittersweet
- •Imogene’s narrow lower lip trembled; she pressed her fingers against it and coughed.
- •Imogene settled back against the seat and tucked the lap robe snug around her waist.
- •Imogene was silent.
- •Imogene ushered them in. “I’d offer you tea or coffee, but my things haven’t been brought from the station yet.”
- •Imogene pointed to the floor.
- •Imogene extended her hand but he didn’t take it, so she tucked it back under her cloak. “I am bigger than most of your bigger boys, Mr. Ebbitt.”
- •It was still light out when they finished supper. Sarah scraped her chair back, poised on its edge for flight. “Can I be excused, Mam? There’s enough light so I can finish with Myrtle.”
- •Imogene’s breath went out of her as though he’d slapped her. She pulled herself up straight and looked down at him. “I am a woman, Sam Ebbitt, and I make my living as a teacher. In school.”
- •Imogene ran down the steps. “Quick, child, run. I can keep up.” She turned to the older woman. “I’ve got to get to her.”
- •Imogene caught sight of Melissa and her mother cowering in the twilight.
- •Imogene mechanically dabbed water from the pail and flicked it onto the inside of her wrist. “Water’s too cool.”
- •Imogene stepped between her and the baby. “What do you mean to do?”
- •Imogene found voice. “Karen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It took me a moment. You look very different. Hello.”
- •Imogene wrung the cloth with a vicious twist. “This will hurt a little.” She washed the injuries tenderly. “I never knew a willow whip to cut this bad.”
- •Imogene sniffed audibly.
- •Imogene came out of her reverie at the sound of his voice. “No, thank you. I’m fine. A bit chilled. Perhaps you’re right, I’d best take myself home straight away.”
- •Imogene stared at the ruined back; the fine white skin cut to ribbons, black knotted blood puckering the edges of the gashes.
- •Imogene looked from the helpless white fingers to her own blunt, capable hands, and a heavy tiredness blanketed her features. Lying down on the cot by the far wall, she let herself sleep.
- •Imogene penned in reasonable rates under the name of the hotel.
- •Imogene sang softly, an old lullaby imperfectly remembered from childhood.
- •Imogene laughed. “Not many.”
- •Imogene thought for a moment. “Yes.” The one word carried the weight of her life’s worth.
- •Imogene sat like a stone. Her jaw jerked once before she spoke. “Of course.” She was overly loud. “I’ll bring the address by tomorrow, if that would be convenient.”
- •Imogene nodded abruptly. “I understand.” She did not tell Sarah.
- •Imogene hugged her, her cheek pressed against the tangled hair. She held her, thinking. Mam’s letter stared up from the mess of blankets.
- •It was a short letter, filled with warmth and caring. When it was finished, Sarah signed her name, a shaky, spidery hand under Imogene’s sure black strokes.
- •Imogene pressed her hand. “It is good to be out of doors. I think we both had a touch of cabin fever.”
- •Imogene was in high spirits as she loaded the last of their things into the wagon. “Sarah,” she called, “are you ready?”
- •Imogene cut her off. “What do you pay her?”
- •Imogene walked quickly, with long clean strides, and Harland Maydley, with his shorter legs, had to skip every few steps to keep up.
- •It was the first time he had ever called her by her Christian name, and she looked up, startled.
- •Imogene turned to Nate. “Please leave, Mr. Weldrick. Your attentions are not appreciated here.”
- •Imogene stirred her tea.
- •Imogene kissed the golden crown of hair. “Take care of yourself, Sarah. Your love is more than a net under me. It is the tower from which I shout down the world.”
- •Imogene looked at the watch pinned on her bodice. “All right, girls,” she said, turning back to her students, “time is up. Put down your pens.”
- •Imogene swirled around the floor, her feet attending to the calls, her eyes and mind on the darkness beyond the lanterns.
- •Imogene spread her shawl over the rock to protect their dresses. “Sarah, would you be happier married?”
- •Imogene smiled wanly. “Oh dear, I’d hoped to slip away without good-byes. I’m glad I didn’t. We’re leaving Reno, Kate.”
- •Imogene sighed and pushed impatiently back from her desk. “The sheriff is letting Nate Weldrick out of jail this afternoon. Mac told me.”
- •Imogene laughed self-consciously.
- •Imogene smiled at her earnestness.
- •Imogene came to bed after midnight, walking softly so she wouldn’t awaken Sarah if she was sleeping.
- •Imogene shook her head and arranged her skirts around the swaddled coyote so he couldn’t reach her with his teeth.
- •Imogene greeted the passengers as Mac and Noisy busied themselves with the livestock. It wasn’t until after lunch had been served and cleared away that Imogene remembered the coyote pup.
- •Imogene leaned back in her chair, her eyes resting on Mac’s gnarled old face.
- •Inside, the six onlookers howled. David laughed so hard his eyes were wet, and Sarah bounced and murmured “Shh, shh,” between fits of the giggles.
- •In the kitchen, Sarah heard the door bang and called out, “How many for lunch, Imogene?”
- •Imogene laved her face and neck. “You’ve even heated the water. What harm can come to me, with you looking after me?”
- •Imogene snorted. “He expected to sleep and eat here for nothing as a representative of Dizable & Denning.”
- •Imogene caught her hand and kissed the palm. “I’ve never felt better. Not in all the years of my life. No one need be sorry for me.”
- •In the morning Lucy would not come down to breakfast, but pleaded illness. “She’s faking so she can stay and make eyes at Mr. Saunders,” the second Wells daughter declared.
- •I all alone beweep my outcast state,
It was the first time he had ever called her by her Christian name, and she looked up, startled.
“The way I figure it, I got no call to go on calling you Mrs. Ebbitt. Either Mr. Ebbitt’s dead or run out on you, and either way, according to my way of thinking, he’s lost his claim. You leave a property unmined for a while and pretty soon your claim’s no good. It’s anybody’s. So I figure you’re just plain Sarah Ebbitt now.” Nate was loud, argumentative.
Sarah sat in the straight-backed chair by the stove, pleating and unpleating her skirt between her fingers.
“You ought to have a husband and kids of your own,” he went on. “Not living with a dried-up old maid, keeping house for her and raising a half-breed Indian kid. You ought to have a man to look after you.”
A war look came into Sarah’s eyes. “I like keeping house with Imogene.”
“That ain’t the point!” He made a chopping gesture and banged the end of his little finger on the chair. “Damn.” He thrust the injured pinky into his mouth and got up to pace in front of the window. The storm had hit; rain drummed against the glass, obscuring the trees on the far side of the yard behind wavering curtains of gray. There had been no single drops to herald the downpour; it had come all at once, dinning on the roof and ringing down the stovepipe. It was dark enough to light the lamps, though it was just after two o’clock.
The bedroom door opened a crack, then all the way, and Wolf came out. “Sarie? I’m having bad dreams.” Sarah’s relief was evident as she turned her attention to the sleepy child. She knelt and pushed the lank hair from his face.
“What’s the matter, Wolf?” She laid the back of her hand on his forehead.
Nate turned from the window. “Damn it, Wolf, go on, get yourself back to bed. Don’t be bothering us now.”
Sarah folded Wolf in her arms. “Your pa doesn’t mean it, honey. What kind of dreams?” When she talked to the child, her shy, uneasy look evaporated, and her hazel eyes were warm, her small mouth soft. Wolf nuzzled into her shoulder.
Nate picked the boy bodily off the floor out of the comfort of Sarah’s embrace. “Come on, kid. This ain’t the time.” To Sarah he said, “You stay put. We ain’t done talking yet.” Before she could say a word he was out the door, Wolf with him.
The storm had broken before Imogene was halfway home, and she ran, her shawl pulled up over her head. Her skirts were heavy with water in a moment, and rain streamed off her face. Wet leaves blew against her, brown with the rain, clinging like seaweed.
As she turned off the river road, up the drive, thunder cracked overhead and a prong of lightning threw the cottage and the yard into sharp relief. Imogene slowed to a walk, clutching her side, panting for breath. Nate stepped out on the porch and slammed the door. Imogene recognized him and stopped. Instinctively she backed against the side of the main house, where she was half-hidden behind the stone chimney.
Nate carried Wolf under his arm; the boy’s face was tight with tears. Nate reached under the canvas waterproof over his saddle and jerked out his hat and coat. He jammed the protesting child into them, pulling the hat down around the boy’s ears. Then, carrying Wolf like a bundle of dirty laundry, Nate plunked him down on the top step of Addie’s back porch, where it was dry. “You stay put, you hear? Don’t you come in till I tell you.” And with that he strode back to the house and let himself in without knocking.
“The nerve of that man!” Imogene whispered. Color rushed to her cheeks and she began to shake. She stepped from the shelter of the chimney and stared at the house. Her lips twitched, thoughts forming and changing as she watched the mute façade of the home she shared with Sarah. Rain formed icy rivulets and ran down her neck and collar.
A chirping sound distracted her. She looked over to the porch where Nate had left his son. Wolf had managed to wriggle out of Nate’s mackinaw, and bareheaded and coatless, he played at boats in the overflow of Addie’s rain gutter. He was as wet as if he’d been tossed in the river. Quickly, Imogene bundled the child in her sodden shawl and ran for the house.
The storm covered the sound of the front door opening.
Nate held Sarah by the shoulders, her narrow frame crumpled between his hands. His face was pushed close to hers. “What kind of a life have you got here? Answer me that,” he was insisting. Sarah would not raise her eyes to his.
Thunder rolled overhead, the wind abated, and for a moment it was still. Into the stillness, Imogene spoke. “A very fine life, Mr. Weldrick.”
She stepped over the sill and put the bundle that was Wolf into Sarah’s waiting arms. “He’s soaked to the skin, Sarah. Perhaps you will take care of Mr. Weldrick’s son. It is clear he will not.”
“Wolf!” Sarah cradled him to her breast. “No wrap.” She fixed Nate with a hard look. “Mr. Weldrick, if he catches cold…” She never finished her threat, but escaped into the bedroom with the child and slammed the door.