The Strong One (Cutter's Creek Book 2) Page 4

  Sarah watched them talking and laughing together, and soaked in the warmth of their loving home. Perhaps she was being unreasonable trying to escape being seen about town. What harm could it do to go to a community dance at the local church? She’d be with Sam, Estelle and Bill the whole time. What could go wrong? And it might even be fun.

  Chapter 8

  The red chapel was decorated with the finest adornments that the Cutter’s Creek Christian Women’s Club could gather. The center of town, around the church, was illuminated by lanterns of all shapes and sizes hanging from the branches of the trees surrounding the church, and adorning the front stairs and entrance of the building. The entryway was bedecked with blue and white striped bunting hung above the doorway and sweeping down each side to graze the landing below.

  Sarah walked slowly behind Sam and Estelle, dragging her feet and scanning the streets uneasily. She watched the townsfolk file up the front stairs of the chapel, and inside. There were families with small children, elderly folk holding onto each other with smiles. The single men timidly eyed the single women, who were giggling together in packs behind dainty fans and gloved hands. Hairstyles sat high on feminine foreheads, with curling tendrils drooping to their shoulders and framing their rosy faces. Sarah smoothed her faded skirts self-consciously, and looked down at her own gloveless hands – white knuckles shivered in the cool evening air. She reached for her hair, wishing she’d put more time and effort into the simple chignon she’d fashioned of her long, dark tresses.

  “Come on, Sarah dear,” said Estelle, gesturing for her to catch up. Sarah hurried to Estelle’s side, and Estelle looped her arm through Sarah’s. “You look lovely; this is going to be such fun.”

  Sarah nodded her head silently, feeling awkward and out of place in this lively, loving community. She’d worn her best dress, the green wool with a low neckline over her only crinoline petticoats. Estelle had lent her a sweet, brown, fur-lined cape for warmth, but even still, she felt ragged and out of place. They reached the stairs leading into the chapel. Sarah looked up and saw Bill Hanover standing on the landing, watching out for them. Leaning against the wall, he shot Sarah a half-grin, his brown eyes sparkling as he stepped forward to take her hand.

  “Good evening, Sarah. Is it all right if I call you that, since I don’t know your last name?”

  “Sarah is fine, Mr. Hanover.”

  “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Todd,” he turned his attention to the older couple standing behind Sarah.

  “Mr. Hanover, good to see you again,” answered Sam, guiding Estelle into the chapel.

  “You look lovely,” his gaze returned to Sarah’s face. “Shall we?” Bill’s eyes shone as he offered his arm to Sarah, who slipped her small hand over it, holding it gently, and followed him into the church. Inside, the building shone with candlelight and lanterns. Wreaths of flowers and wild grasses hung on the walls. Folded and cut-out paper snowflakes and stars dangled from strings attached to the edges of the ceiling above their heads, giving the room the feel of a winter wonderland.

  On one side of the room, the women of the town had stacked a long table with delicious food and bowls of punch. Children hovered around the edges of the table, cramming their mouths full of sandwiches, fruit slices, and johnnycakes slathered thickly with creamy butter and homemade strawberry jam. Larger bowls and trays lined the back row of the tables, out of reach of small hands, holding blackberry cobblers, pumpkin pies, potato salad, and loaves of freshly baked breads and pastries. The aroma filled the small sanctuary, and made Sarah’s stomach grumble in anticipation.

  A band gathered at one end of the chapel, two men held fiddles and bows, another lifted a fife to his lips. A woman smiled from the bench seat of the small, church piano, and a cowboy straddled a wooden stool, a mouth organ poised and ready. Cheerful music filled the space, and excited couples filed to the middle of the room, ready to dance.

  “Sarah dear, may I introduce you to someone?” asked Estelle, beckoning her over with an outstretched hand.

  Sarah glanced at Bill and stepped forward. “Yes, of course, Estelle.”

  “Sarah, this is Reverend Howard Latsch, and his wife Mary.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Sarah curtsied and tipped her head. Mary Latsch did the same, and the Reverend nodded at her, a sincere smile on his lips.

  “We’re so glad you could join us, Sarah. We do hope you’ll enjoy yourself,” he said.

  “There’s plenty of food and drink to go around, so please help yourself. And I do believe the dancing is about to start,” added Mrs. Latsch.

  “Thank you, Reverend and Mrs. Latsch.” Sarah turned to watch the couples forming a circle in the center of the room.

  “Care to dance?” asked Bill, his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Well, I guess so.” Sarah frowned, unhappy she wasn’t able to think up an excuse on the spur of the moment. “Excuse me,” Sarah curtsied again to the group, and gave Bill her hand.

  “Not a very enthusiastic response, but I’ll take it.” He grinned at her, and led her to join the circle of dancers who were already two-stepping with vigor about them. Sarah watched them closely, her eyes wide.

  Over the past months she’d danced a few times at the various inns where she’d worked, and thankfully the two-step was one of the dances she’d learned. Even so, she found the steps confusing and awkward. Bill pulled her toward him by the hand and she tripped over her own feet, landing with a thud against his chest. She heard a chuckle bubble up inside him, and lifted her face to meet his gaze. He was staring down at her with an amused look, his eyebrows raised.

  “Are you all right, there?”

  “Fine. Thank you.”

  Sarah pushed away from him, and placed her hand on his arm. He gripped her around the waist and spun her into the circle of dancers who were whirling about the room, making her gasp. Two quick steps, a slow one and a turn. They flew around the hardwood floor, heels clacking loudly on the sturdy oak, toes shuffling, and a slow grin spreading across Sarah’s upturned face. This time the dance didn’t feel awkward at all, as Bill twirled her expertly around the floor.

  ***

  Bill was grateful that his mother had insisted he learn to dance as a youngster. His mother had always loved music and dancing. And since his father was always busy working on the ranch, she’d dragged young Bill into their small dining room, pushed the furniture to the side and danced to the music of an imaginary ensemble. Bill would stand on her feet until he was old enough to lead, and they would twirl about the room, his mother humming a melody under her breath. He would complain out loud for all to hear, but deep inside he enjoyed those special times together. And now he was especially appreciative of the time she had taken to teach him.

  He still didn’t know Sarah’s last name. She hadn’t offered it to him even when he’d hinted at it earlier. But for now he didn’t care. All he could think of was the way the lantern light sparkled in her green eyes, and the hard-won smile that transformed her features the moment it snuck across her heart-shaped face. The curve of her waist beneath his calloused fingers, and the delicate hand he held up high as they wove their way around the dance floor.

  The energy in the room was electric, and Bill was soaking it up, wondering what excuse he could devise to see her tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. He laughed as Sarah twisted her lips into a pouting shape, trying to master a new step she’d seen one of the other couples doing.

  As he watched her, she glanced up and caught his eye. Her own eyes sparkled with life and he gazed deeper – seeing past the mask and the defensive demeanor, to the vulnerable woman beneath the layers. He swallowed hard, pulling her closer. She looked away and the moment passed. But it was too late. He knew now that he had to learn everything he could about her.

  Just as they spun about to move in the opposite direction, Bill caught sight of a man watching them. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps the man was simply enjoying the dancing. No, as they turned about the room, it
became abundantly clear that the man’s eyes were tracking them, and them alone.

  He wore a ten-gallon black hat pulled low over his dark eyes. His weather-worn face was heavily tanned, and he held a long piece of straw between his teeth which he spun about and chewed as he watched. He dressed like a wandering cowboy, his dirty, worn, clothing hugging his lean, muscular body. His riding boots were crossed casually at the ankle as he rested against the wall behind him.

  Bill leaned down and whispered into Sarah’s ear, “Let’s get something to eat.”

  She nodded, and they moved from the dance floor, over to the side of the church where the food was spread. There were an abundance of chairs scattered on that side of the room, and the older folk, matrons and the menfolk stood and sat about, eating, drinking, and talking together in groups while the young ones continued dancing.

  “Would you like some punch?” asked Bill, reaching for a ladle and dipping it into a large bowl, filled with the fruity drink.

  “Yes, please.”

  Filling two cups to the brim with the sweet juice, he turned to hand one to Sarah only to find her filling a plate to overflowing with every good thing she could reach, her eyes wide with glee. Bill laughed out loud.

  She glanced up at him, confused. “What?”

  “You must be a tad hungry.”

  “Mmmm…” she nodded, reaching for a fork. She sliced off a piece of pumpkin pie and slipped it between her plump lips. Closing her eyes she let out a soft moan of delight, then went back for more.

  “You like pumpkin pie?” Bill was hungry too, but right now he’d rather watch Sarah eat. There was something so innocent about her, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. Long, black lashes framed brilliant, green eyes, her skin was softly tanned and almost seemed to glow in the room’s dim light. Strands of her thick, brown hair had come loose while they danced, and curled about her face, bordering it with soft waves.

  Sarah nodded at him, then swallowed. “Never had it before, but yes. I like it. Aren’t you going to get some food, too?” she asked, before taking another bite.

  Bill bobbed his head, and grabbed a plate. He decided to select all of the foods she hadn’t been able to fit on hers, in case she wanted to try them. After he’d filled his plate with slices of ham, apple sauce, beans, and venison casserole, they found two empty chairs beside a window and sat down, carefully balancing their plates on their laps.

  Bill placed the cups of punch on the floor beside the chairs, grimacing as juice sloshed over the edges onto the scratched boards below. They sat in silence for a few minutes, happily devouring their bounty. As Bill had guessed she might, it wasn’t long before Sarah was eying his plate with an envious glint in her eye. He handed it to her with a chortle, and took hers instead, returning to the table to fill it with more of his favorites.

  When Bill had piled as much as he could onto the plate, he turned to find someone else occupying his seat. The man with the black hat and dark eyes sat there, speaking quietly to Sarah. Her face was unreadable from where Bill was standing, but as he watched them, Sarah stood, and the man was beside her in a moment, and leading her onto the dance floor.

  As they began to waltz, Bill shook his head in dismay. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to speak with Sarah yet, and there was so much he wanted to ask her. Perhaps he could cut in for the next dance.

  Bill knew now that he hadn’t been imaging things, the man had obviously been watching him and Sarah. But why? Was it just that Sarah had caught his eye? That was entirely possible given how strikingly beautiful she was. Or perhaps he knew her? He certainly seemed to, the way he was leaning in toward her and whispering into her ear as they danced. Who was this man? Was he a resident of Cutter’s Creek?

  Whoever he was, Bill was determined to find out more about him. If he had designs on Sarah, Bill would rather find out sooner than later. He lay the plate of food down on a windowsill and walked to where Sam and Estelle sat, talking and eating with friends.

  Chapter 9

  How had Angus Colt found her? He was at the dance. As soon as Bill stood up to get more food, Angus sat beside Sarah. She felt his presence before she saw him. A feeling of dark foreboding, as though something bad were about to happen right as his shadow fell across her.

  With a spoonful of banana cream pie in her mouth, she paused and looked up. There he stood. Towering over her, a sinister grin on his bearded face. Sarah was terrified. He sat beside her in Bill’s chair. His voice was soft and pleasant, but his eyes were hard and cruel.

  “Hello Sarah,” he said.

  Sarah tried to jump to her feet and shout, but he clamped his hand around her arm and pushed her back into her chair. Only a squeak escaped her tightly pressed lips.

  “Now, now. Don’t go doin’ anything stupid, will you?” he hissed through tobacco-stained teeth. His black eyes snapped at her, daring her to move. He pulled her in closer.

  “What do you want?” Sarah asked, her eyes scanning the room frantically for Bill or the Todds. Anyone who might be able to help her.

  “You know, darlin’. I just want us to be friends. That’s all. Nothing terrible about that now, is there? I even have a kind offer for ya. How would you like me to take you all the way back to your home, to the Crow? Wouldn’t ya like that?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, her teeth clenched tightly. His grip on her arm was hurting her, and she wished she knew one of the people standing about her. Panic had stripped her of her voice and her entire body shook with fear. She pulled away from him, digging her fingernails sharply into the hand on her arm.

  “Well now, that’s no way to treat an old friend.” Colt’s eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip, drawing a gasp from Sarah. “I tell you what. Let’s dance, and I’ll forget all about it.”

  He pulled her to her feet, and laying a hand in the small of her back, guided her onto the dance floor. The couples were waltzing now, and the music from the band lilted and drifted softly about the room. Cheek to cheek, the dancers twirled and spun, one-two-three, one-two-three.

  Sarah submitted to Colt’s insistent push, and lifted her hand to his shoulder. He grasped her back firmly, and squeezed her other hand in his. As they spun around the room, the music sounded vague and distant compared to the sound of her heart pounding loudly in her own ears. Sarah caught a glimpse of Bill. He was walking away from her, not even looking in her direction. He held a glass of punch cupped loosely in his hand and didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned over her situation.

  She tipped her head toward Colt, reeling at the stench of sweat, horse, tobacco, and alcohol that emanated from him. “What did you come back for? I thought you left town.” Her voice was filled with a confidence she didn’t feel.

  Colt’s forehead wrinkled as he fought back the urge to put her in her place. “I came back for you, princess. I did leave town, but after asking around I figured you hadn’t ever left this place. There weren’t a sign of you in any direction about these parts, so I knew you had to be in town. When I came back, what do you know? There was a party goin’ on, right here.

  “Now, I thought to myself, what better place to find a pretty girl than at a party? And you see, I was right. My instincts always work things out in my favor. Every time. There ain’t no use in you runnin’, cause ‘ol Colt here will always find ya. And I got my heart set on ya. Ain’t nobody else who wants you, for a fact, which means no one’ll come a lookin’ for ya neither. So, that’s that. Might as well get used to the idea, princess.”

  “I don’t want to go with you,” hissed Sarah, her eyes narrowing, “and why do you keep calling me princess?” She tugged at her hand, pulling away from him, but he held her steady in his iron grasp.

  “I asked ‘round about you, back in Hardin. Turns out your old granddaddy is the Crow chief. That makes you a princess, don’t it?” He grinned lasciviously at her, “I know a lotta folks who’d pay good money to get to know a princess. If ya know what I mean.”

  Sarah shivered, trepidat
ion creeping from her stomach into her chest. By now they had waltzed their way to the top of the group of dancers, and were spinning about beside the entryway. The paper cutouts of stars and snowflakes above her head danced and spun in the breeze coming through the doors.

  Sarah considered how surreal it was to be surrounded by pretty, homemade decorations, dancing with a stomach full of good food to the sounds of a gentle waltz, while paralyzed with fear and being held against her will.

  Round and round they went, one-two-three, one-two-three. The paper decorations spun about overhead. The band played. The children ran and shouted. The townsfolk talked and laughed as she swung past in Colt’s arms.

  Sarah felt dizzy. Her shoulders slumped and she tried to focus on something to quell the rising nausea. Her gaze landed on Bill. He was standing with Estelle and Sam, and they were staring at her. Estelle’s face dropped, and her hand flew to her throat. She cried something out loud, but Sarah couldn’t hear what it was over the din of noise in the room. Bill’s head spun in her direction, concern marking his handsome features.

  Colt drew to a stop, he lifted his hand to her chin and pushed her face toward his. Looking deep into her eyes, he snarled, “Darlin’, it’s time we got goin’.”

  With that, he yanked her up in one smooth move over his shoulder and ran from the chapel. Sarah’s scream tore from her body in a tide of raw emotion. It ripped through the noise of the festivities, startling the crowd gathered there, and brought silence in its wake.

  Chapter 10

  Bill Hanover stood fixed in place. The dark stranger just threw Sarah over his shoulder and disappeared out the front door of the church. Sarah’s scream reverberated throughout the room, followed by a wail from Estelle at his side.

  “It’s Angus Colt,” said Sam. His face was solemn.