Chapter 7 - The Letter Elias Never Expected
Victor Hale did not look like a villain.
Sarah decided that immediately.
Villains in stories usually arrived dressed for the part.
Black coats.
Cruel smiles.
Eyes that warned everyone nearby to distrust them.
Victor Hale looked like a successful businessman.
His coat was expensive.
His beard neatly trimmed.
His horse better fed than half the cattle in the valley.
He removed his hat when Sarah opened the door.
“Mrs. Thorne?”
“No.”
Something in his expression sharpened.
“Miss Jenkins.”
“Housekeeper?”
Sarah smiled pleasantly.
“You ask many questions for a man standing on someone else's porch.”
He laughed.
“I like you.”
“I imagine you'll survive the disappointment that the feeling isn't immediately mutual.”
Before Hale could answer, Elias crossed the yard.
“What do you want?”
“Conversation.”
“You've had my answer.”
“Circumstances change.”
Victor glanced toward the house.
“Especially financial ones.”
Sarah saw Elias's shoulders tighten.
“You know about the bank notice?”
Hale smiled slightly.
“Business travels.”
“Apparently faster than stagecoach mail.”
Victor ignored that.
“I'll increase my offer.”
“The ranch isn't for sale.”
“Everything is for sale.”
“No.”
Hale replaced his hat.
“February is not far away.”
He mounted.
“Think about your daughter, Thorne.”
Elias took one step forward.
Sarah caught his sleeve.
Victor saw.
A knowing smile touched his mouth.
Then he rode out.
Elias pulled free gently.
“You shouldn't have stopped me.”
“Yes, I should.”
“He talked about Lahi.”
“He wanted you angry.”
“He succeeded.”
“And what would punching him accomplish?”
Elias frowned.
“I didn't say I was going to punch him.”
Sarah gave him a look.
“I have eyes.”
Inside, Lahi sat near the hearth.
She had heard enough.
“Hale bad?”
Elias sighed.
“Not a friend.”
Lahi seemed satisfied with that category.
Sarah returned to breadmaking.
But Victor's words stayed with her.
February.
Debt.
Daughter.
That afternoon another letter arrived.
This one was for Sarah.
Missouri handwriting.
She recognized it immediately.
Her sister Anna.
Sarah waited until she was alone before opening it.
Dear Sarah,
Mr. Whitcomb came by again. He says the boardinghouse position in St. Louis is still available. Twenty-eight dollars monthly plus room. He says if you can come before January, he will make it thirty.
Sarah read the line twice.
Thirty dollars.
Nearly twice what Elias paid.
Enough to send money to Anna.
Enough to begin saving.
Enough perhaps to stop living one illness or bad employer away from desperation.
She folded the letter.
“Bad news?”
Sarah turned.
Elias stood in the doorway.
“Private news.”
He immediately stepped back.
“Sorry.”
She almost told him.
Almost.
Instead she tucked the letter into her apron.
That evening Elias opened every ledger he owned.
Sarah sat opposite him.
“We need to reconstruct every payment.”
“We?”
She raised an eyebrow.
He smiled faintly.
“I learned my lesson.”
“Good.”
They worked until midnight.
Lahi fell asleep in a chair beside the fire.
Sarah found mismatched dates.
One receipt listed April 12.
The bank ledger showed the same payment credited April 19.
Another payment appeared never to have been applied.
“Who received these?” Sarah asked.
“Bank clerk named Morris.”
“All?”
“Most.”
“Still employed?”
Elias stared at the page.
“No.”
“When did he leave?”
“Summer.”
“Where?”
“Nobody knows.”
Sarah sat back.
“That seems important.”
Elias nodded.
They found more.
Numbers that did not match.
Initials changed.
A signature that looked close to Elias's but too careful.
Sarah traced it without touching the ink.
“When you sign your name, the T crosses through the h.”
“So?”
“This one doesn't.”
Elias leaned closer.
She pulled another document.
“Neither does this.”
He looked at her.
“You notice everything.”
“No.”
Sarah folded her arms.
“I simply spent years working for people who assumed servants could not read.”
Elias's expression changed.
“Someone treated you badly.”
Sarah looked toward the stove.
“Most people are decent when they think you matter.”
“And when they don't?”
She smiled without humor.
“You learn useful things.”
He wanted to ask more.
Again, he didn't.
Close to one in the morning Sarah carried Lahi upstairs.
The girl stirred.
“Sarah?”
“Yes, little bird.”
“Stay?”
Sarah stopped.
Lahi's eyes were barely open.
“Tonight?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
Sarah thought of Anna's letter.
Thirty dollars monthly.
A new life.
A city.
Security.
Then she looked at the child in her arms.
“I'll stay until you fall asleep.”
Lahi nodded.
Sarah placed her in bed.
She sat beside her.
Within minutes the child slept.
Sarah remained much longer.
Eventually Elias appeared in the doorway.
“She out?”
“Yes.”
“You're going to hurt your back sitting like that.”
Sarah stood.
He saw the folded letter sticking from her apron.
His gaze lingered.
She noticed.
Neither spoke.
Downstairs, Elias poured two cups of coffee.
“Tell me something.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“If you weren't here…”
Sarah waited.
“What?”
“If you weren't working here, where would you be?”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Curious.”
“Missouri, perhaps.”
“With family?”
“My sister.”
“You miss her?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Sarah expected another question.
Instead he said:
“You've done more here in three weeks than I had any right to expect.”
She tried to joke.
“The stove would dispute that.”
“I mean it.”
His voice quieted.
“I don't know what I would have done if Samuel hadn't sent you.”
Sarah's throat tightened.
There it was.
The reason she could not show him the letter.
Gratitude was not love.
Need was not love.
A lonely child depending on her was not a reason to build her entire future around a ranch that might be taken in two months.
Sarah had learned that lesson before.
Never confuse being useful with being wanted.
So she smiled.
“You would have burned more pots.”
Elias laughed.
The moment passed.
Upstairs, Lahi slept beneath the unfinished quilt.
Outside, snow began again.
And beneath Sarah's apron was an offer that could take her away before Christmas.
But before she made any decision, another problem struck the ranch.
At dawn, they discovered the north pasture fence cut open.
Six cattle were missing.
May you like
And in the snow beside the broken wire were hoofprints leading directly toward Victor Hale's land.
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