"But that's so unfair," Caroline cried.
"Maybe." Sara shrugged.
"But that's the way we feel."
Caroline looked shocked.
"You don't mean that."
Sara's lips tightened.
"I was raised to believe that everyone has to accept whatever lot is theirs in life. Standing up to every fast gun in Texas is Thad Con way's. Being left alone to raise two children is mine."
"Not necessarily."
Caroline was aware of Sara's sharp-eyed look.
"And what does that mean?"
Caroline shrugged.
"Thad could put aside his guns and concentrate on the horses he loves.
And you, Sara. You could always marry again. If you're lucky enough to find a man who loves you and your children." Beside them, Emma, who had been listening, brightened." Reverend Symes doesn't have a wife. "
Before Sara could respond, her daughter added,
"There's something about Reverend Symes that makes me feel good. I like his laugh. And I like his eyes. Mama. They're just about the kindest eyes I've ever seen."
"He said he's going to teach me how to drive his horse and rig," Ethan piped up.
"Ethan Waverly, you're too young to handle the reins."
"I'm not a baby, Mama. At least Reverend Symes doesn't think so."
Sara shot a glance at her young son.
"That's exactly what you used to say to your father whenever you thought I was holding you back from something you wanted to do." For a moment she clamped her mouth shut. But the little frown line on her forehead grew deeper as she murmured, "Funny. Your pa always agreed with you. He used to say, " Stop being a mother hen, Sara, and let the boy make a few mistakes along the way." But now, now that I know what it's like to lose someone I love, I just can't seem to let go of you.
Of either of you." For a moment her eyes grew misty. Then, squaring her shoulders, she said curtly,
"You two run along and play now. Caroline and I have work to do before the picnic starts."
As the children joined their friends, she stood for long minutes staring after them. Then she tightened her grip on her basket and caught up with Caroline.
Men stood off to one side of the church, tossing horseshoes. With each clang of the post, a cheer would go up from the onlookers.
The older boys had returned to the pond for a final day of swimming.
The younger children raced around in frantic games of tag, knowing that this was their last chance to be together. Tomorrow they would return to the routine of ranch chores and lessons.
A cluster of women sat in the middle of a shady patch of grass, finishing up the binding on a quilt. While they worked they exchanged recipes, child-rearing tips and even remedies for infections, broken bones and toothaches.
When Caroline and Sara joined them, Bel va fixed Caroline with a penetrating look.
"Did I see you dancing with Thad Con way last night?"
Caroline felt the heat begin at the base of her neck. She glanced up to see Morning Light and Jessie watching her. "Yes. I also danced with Sheriff Horn and Manuel Alvarez."
It was apparent that the others didn't count. Among these curious women, the only one that caused any interest was Thad Con way.
"I believe that's the first time I've ever seen your brother in town for one of our socials," Bel va said to Jessie.
Jessie merely smiled and said nothing. But Caroline could feel the curious stares of the others.
At the tolling of the church bells, they all looked up.
"Looks like we'll have to stop." Bel va began rolling her thread and the others followed suit. When the quilt was folded, they stood and made their way to the grassy knoll beside the church, where the bidding on the women's baskets would take place.
"How will the men know whose basket they're bidding on?" Caroline asked Jessie.
"They aren't supposed to know. It's supposed to be a surprise." Jessie laughed.
"But if a woman's wise, she lets her man know which one is hers.
Or else she'll find herself eating supper with someone else's man." " Has that happened? "
Jessie and her sister-in-law. Morning Light, shared a laugh.
"It happened last year. Becky Carver's basket looked just like Sara Waverly's. But the men quickly straightened things out, and everyone went home happy."
"What happens to those who don't have a man to do the bidding?"
"Don't worry," Jessie soothed.
"Sheriff Horn sees to it that every woman's basket is bought." Her eyes twinkled with laughter.
"I happen to know a certain someone has already made plans for yours."
"Who is it?"
"You'll just have to wait and see." Jessie thought about the dollar young Jack clutched in his hand. If no one else bid on his teacher's basket, the prize would be his.
"Shh. The sheriff is about to begin," Morning Light cautioned.
They gathered around to watch the fun.
The first basket offered for bidding was a pretty thing, pale yellow in color with red and yellow ribbons tied around the handle.
Sheriff Horn, clearly enjoying his job, lifted the cover to display the contents.
"We have a whole roasted chicken," he said, "and buttermilk biscuits.
And will you look at these." He held aloft a pair of blueberry pies, causing a roar of approval from the men in the crowd.
"Who'll start the bidding?"
"One dollar" came a boy's high-pitched shout.
Everyone turned to see Ben, seated in his wheeled chair, holding up a dollar.
"One whole dollar," Sheriff Horn called.
"That's a lot of money, son. Do I hear more?"
"Two dollars," called Ab Meadows, standing behind Ben's chair.
The boy and his father shared a secret smile, while Cora Meadows giggled.
"Two dollars." The sheriff made it sound like a hundred before he called out,
"Do I hear more?"
In the silence that followed. Sheriff Horn announced, "Going once, going twice, sold to Ab Meadows for two dollars. Will the lady who made this basket come forward to claim it?"
Cora Meadows blushed like a schoolgirl as she made her way to the front of the crowd. Her husband, clutching the basket, walked to her side. The two joined their son and watched as the bidding on the rest of the baskets continued.
Some of the women poked their husbands in the ribs when their baskets came up for bidding. The men dutifully held their money aloft and claimed the proper basket.
A few of the young, unmarried women had several men bidding on their baskets.
Though the bidding never got too heated, it caused a stir of excitement among the crowd.
"Now here's a pretty little thing," Sheriff Horn said, holding Bel va's basket aloft. As he opened the lid he said, "Cold slices of beef and sourdough bread. Mmm." His eyes glazed.
"And a whole mess of cherry tarts.
And could this be." He sniffed at a flask and rolled his eyes heavenward.
"Elderberry wine. I think I may have to bid on this basket myself, folks."
He cleared his throat and stole a glance at Bel va Spears, whose cheeks had gone as red as the ribbon on her dress.
"I bid three dollars, and I dare anyone to offer more."
In the laughter that followed, he shouted as quickly as he could without pausing for breath,
"Going, going, gone. Would the lady who made up this fine basket please stand up?"
Bel va made her way through the crowd to stand beside him.
Handing her the basket, he said,
"If you'll find a shady spot, I'll be there to share this food as soon as I've disposed of the rest of the baskets."
She stepped back to the applause of the crowd.
Caroline watched as Reverend Symes bid two dollars on Sara Waverly's basket and threw in a dollar more to have Emma and Ethan join him. The children beamed with pride as their mother stood to claim the basket, and the
four of
them, looking very much like a family, stood restlessly in the crowd, eager to enjoy the bounty of Sara's kitchen.
Sheriff Horn held up a basket woven with bright ribbons. As he lifted the lid, Rosita blushed, and it was clear that she had prepared a very special meal for Manuel.
"What do I see here?" the sheriff called loudly. He inhaled the scent of spices and gave a sigh of appreciation. "This smells of heaven or Mexico, but I'm not sure which. I see tortillas, beans, biscuits and..." He held up a little straw doll.
"What could this mean?"
Seeing the doll, Manuel looked thunderstruck.
His voice, always deep and formal, climbed several notes higher in excitement.
"Does this mean...? Rosita, are you truly...?" He struggled, but no more words would come out.
Her eyes were bright pools of unshed tears. Her voice wavered with emotion.
"Si. Yes. It is true."
The handsome young man gave a shout of triumph and lifted his wife high in the air, swinging her around and around until, at her insistence, he lowered her until her feet once more touched the ground.
To the assembled he shouted,
"We are having a baby!"
To the cheers of the crowd he swept her into his arms and hurried forward, where he thrust a handful of bills at Sheriff Horn and took Rosita's basket from his hands.
The crowd was still cheering as he carried her away to the banks of the river. The look on her face spoke more than any words.
"Well now," Sheriff Horn said with a laugh,
"I don't see how we can top that excitement." He picked up another basket and lifted the lid.
"What do we have here?" Rummaging through the contents, he said,
"Looks like enough food here to feed most of us. There's a couple of chickens and some proper biscuits. But then there's..." He held up a roll of dough laced with plums, walnuts and dried meat. Breaking off a tiny piece, he chewed, swallowed and gave a wide smile.
"I don't know what this is called, but it's just about the tastiest thing ever."
"It is pemmican," Morning Light said.
"And of all the Comanche food, it is my husband's favorite."
"I can see why," Sheriff Horn said.
"If I hadn't already bid on Bel va's basket, I might bid on this myself."
Glancing at Dr. Clan Con way, he gave a laugh. '"Course, the doc might decide to leave my next bullet in if I was to do that, so I guess I'll just leave the bidding to him."
As the crowd laughed good-naturedly, Clan said,
"I was thinking of bidding two chickens for my wife's basket, but I've decided I'd better stick to dollars. So how about three dollars, Sheriff?"
"Sold," the sheriff called, handing Clan the basket.
Runs With The Wind, Danny and little Kate followed Clan to claim the basket.
Minutes later they were joined by Jessie and Cole and their brood, when Cole successfully bid on his wife's basket.
"Will you look at this pretty thing," the sheriff said, holding up a basket adorned with sprigs of wildflowers.
Caroline felt the heat rush to her cheeks and wondered who would bid on her basket.
Peeking inside. Sheriff Horn said,
"Well now, some- one's going to be lucky enough to taste venison and sour milk biscuits and the finest-looking cherry pie this side of the Rio Grande. It looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to make this. What am I bid?"
"One dollar," young Jack called loudly.
"Teacher's pet, are you?" the sheriff asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Looks like you have a buyer for your basket. Miss Adams."
The crowd roared and Jack's cheeks darkened to a deeper shade of pink than Caroline's.
"I guess this basket is going once..."
"I hate to bid against my own kin," came a deep voice, 'but I think that pretty basket is worth more than a dollar. I'll bid two dollars. "A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. Caroline spun around to see Thad leaning casually against the. trunk of a tree.
At her questioning look he bowed slightly.
"After a day of chores, a man can get mighty hungry, especially for venison and cherry pie."
"Well now," Sheriff Horn called, "isn't this interesting?" With a smile in Caroline's direction he said,
"I guess our schoolteacher is as good in the kitchen as she is in the classroom."
He turned to young Jack.
"Sorry, boy. It looks like your uncle has bought himself a fine supper.
Going twice. "
"I bid one hundred dollars," came a man's voice.
The crowd was dumbstruck. Men craned their necks to see who had made such an outrageous bid.
"Did I hear--one hundred dollars?" The sheriff's tone was disbelieving.
"You did."
The crowd parted as a man strode forward. He was taller than most and wore a wide-brimmed black hat and an expensive black jacket that almost covered a pair of dangerous-looking six-shooters at either hip. He reached into a vest pocket and made a great show of withdrawing a handful of bills, which he handed to the sheriff, who immediately counted them.
"It looks like you just bought yourself a supper," the sheriff said, handing him Caroline's basket.
The man turned and the crowd seemed to fall back at the sight of his face.
Though he might have once been handsome, with deep-set dark eyes and finely sculpted features, his looks were marred by a jagged, puckered scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. A pipe was clenched tightly in his teeth, emitting a cloud of sweet smoke. His lips split in an imitation of a smile, but there was no warmth in his narrowed eyes as he scanned the crowd.
"Miss Adams," the sheriff called, "you can be mighty proud of the fact that your basket brought the largest contribution ever made to our church.
Come on up and claim your basket." The silence was broken by the sudden buzz of voices as everyone began to look around for the teacher.
"Miss Adams?" Perplexed, Sheriff Horn turned to the edge of the crowd, where Caroline had been last seen.
His gaze fell on young Jack, who seemed as surprised as the others around him.
"Jack, have you seen Miss Adams?"
"She was here a minute ago," the boy called.
"But I didn't see her leave."
The sheriff turned to where Thad still leaned against the trunk of a tree.
Though he seemed relaxed enough to the casual observer, the lawman knew him well enough to see that he was coiled as tightly as a rattler about to strike.
The sheriff sensed that The Texan had seen more than he let on. But whatever he knew, Thad Con way would keep to himself.
There was only one thing Sheriff Horn knew for certain. And the crowd, unleashing a roar that added to the confusion, had just discovered it, as well. Their new schoolteacher, Caroline Adams, was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Brambles tore at Caroline's gown and hair as she raced through a thicket.
Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, burning her throat, as she forced herself to go on. She had no idea where she was headed. It didn't matter.
She knew only that she had to flee this place now or she was lost.
Fool, she berated herself as she plunged deeper into the thicket.
Fool.
She had never escaped him. Even traveling to the other side of the country hadn't brought her freedom. From the beginning he had known where she was.
The attack on the stage was his plan. It had to be. As was Fox's escape.
He had done it so that no one was left alive to identify him except her.
And she didn't matter.
He had no need to fear her. By the time he had finished telling the townspeople about her, no one would care what happened to her. Nothing she could say in her defense would matter.
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. She had to keep her wits about her if she intended to evade him.
It was two hundred miles to the nearest railroad. Two hundred miles.
And she had no money.
She couldn't return to her cabin. That would be the first place he would look. But if she could stay hidden until tonight, she could use the cover of darkness to begin her journey.
She paused for a moment, struggling to gather her jumbled thoughts.
Though she had seemed to be aimlessly running, she had unknowingly chosen a route that led away from town. Just beyond she could hear the swift flow of water, and she knew she was very near the river. That sound would be her guide. As long as she heard it, she would know that she was headed in the right direction. Though the brambles snagged her skirts and slashed her tender flesh, she pushed on, too terrified to stop or even slow down.
Thad stood very still, watching the stranger. The man seemed not the least bit concerned at Caroline's disappearance. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
He turned and caught Thad's eye. For a long moment the two men studied each other in silence. Then the stranger's lips curved in the slightest hint of a smile.
All around him, the people of the town seemed thrown into a state of chaos.
For the moment, electrified by the drama that was unfolding, they buzzed and chirped like a swarm of insects. The women were alternately repelled and fascinated by the stranger's disfigurement.
The men were visibly impressed by the cut of his clothes and the wad of bills he had displayed. They seemed unconcerned by the pair of pistols at his hips. To them it indicated that he was determined to protect his wealth. To Thad, it marked the stranger as a seasoned gunfighter.
Sheriff Horn, thrown off balance by the turn of events, made several feeble attempts to restore order to the throng. But the damage had been done. Two days of festivities, ending with such mystery, had sent them into a frenzy of speculation.
"One hundred dollars. Do you think she's his runaway wife?" one of the women muttered, loud enough to be overheard by her neighbors.
"He's old enough to be her father," another huffed.