The Kindness of Strangers

By Bakerj

Chapter One

The blade of the axe sank into the wood, splitting it and traveling down to the block below.  Bending, Joe tossed the two pieces on the pile and set another log on the block, readying himself to take another swing.  Half an hour under the baking sun, sweat shimmered over his bronzed skin.  He’d stripped off his shirt before he’d begun.  His other flapped on the widow’s line, but he saw no reason to add this one to her next washing basket.

Thinking of the lady, he looked around.  There she was again, standing at the kitchen window.  This time, she didn’t step back out of sight.

Women had looked at him like that before.  Young, middle-aged, good-looking, and plain.  They’d all looked, and he sure didn’t mind.  A fella stayed away from the married ones, but widows?  They’d proved to be interesting and fun, not like this one.  Her welcome had been about as warm as an icy wind off Lake Tahoe. 

Walking to the house, he’d passed broken fences and scattered stock.  The low single-story building had seen better days, but he was hopeful of getting a bed for Cooch and himself in the barn.  The lady wasn’t making it easy.  His pleas met with a cold look, and waving the rifle pointed his way off toward the road, she’d told him, “Town’s eight miles that way.” 

“Ma’am, my horse is stone bruised.  He’s been walking all afternoon, and I’m not walking him another mile.”  Reaching inside his jacket, Joe pulled out his wallet.  “I’ve got money to pay for the stabling, and I’ll gladly do chores for my supper.”

The money seemed to convince her he wasn’t the saddle tramp she’d accused him of being.  She lowered the rifle.  “I’m sorry.  But a woman alone has to be careful.”

“I understand, Ma’am.  Let’s start again.  I’m Joe Cartwright.”  Joe smiled, but she didn’t return it. 

“I’m Mrs. Brackett.  Go put your horse in the barn.”

It was a rocky start, and the frosty widow hadn’t thawed much since.  Aside from when he’d spotted her watching him wash up the evening before, she remained buttoned up tight as her dresses.  No amount of charm had broken through that ice.  Yet that look he’d seen in her eyes said she’d like to get a lot closer.

So, why not give her something to enjoy?  Gripping the axe, Joe flexed his muscles and took a few energetic swings.  Glancing back at the window, he stopped and rolled his eyes.  She was gone.  What a waste.  Then he heard the voices—visitors—and, by the sounds of it, not welcome ones.

“Again, Mr. Haile.  The answer is no.  Now, please leave.”

Driving the axe into the block, Joe reached for his shirt and gun belt.

“Why can’t you call me Frank like you used to?”

“That was different.  Jeb was alive then.”

“Sarah, this place is too much for you.  Sell to me, move to town.  I’ve the best room waiting at the hotel.  You can stay there and enjoy life for a change.  C’mon, why not see sense?”

Striding around the house, Joe saw two men.  The one doing the talking stood in front of Sarah, and the other, a big barn of a man, stood a few steps behind him.

“The lady asked you to leave.”

“Who’s this?  You hire a new hand?”

Before she could reply, Joe moved beside the widow.  “I said, you’re leaving.”

“Stay out of this, kid.  It’s none of your business.”

“I’m making it my business.” 

The big man took a step forward.  He wore a gun belt, but it sat high on his hip.  This fella was the muscle, not the gunfighter.  His job was to scare a man down.  Joe wasn’t for scaring.  Without taking his eyes off Haile, he let his fingertips brush the cool ivory butt of his gun.

“Settle down, boy, there’s no need for fuss.  My offer stands, Sarah.  You know how I feel.  It’s the best thing for you.  Give it serious consideration.  All I want is to see you happy.”  Tipping his hat at the lady, Haile turned to Joe.  “When you leave here, you be sure an’ look me up in Buford.  I’ll buy you a drink.”

Mounting up, the men rode out.

“You all right, Ma’am?”

She gave a shaky laugh, the first he’d heard.  “I think so.”

“Who was he?”

Brown eyes met his.  Pulled tight, her bun harshened her angular features.  “C’mon.  There’s coffee on the stove.”

It was the friendliest offer she’d made since he’d arrived.  He followed with a spring in his step.  The kitchen looked as neat as when he’d fixed the broken sash on the back window.  Mrs. Brackett had fed him, and fed him well, but he’d eaten outside or in the barn with Cooch.  Now she offered him a seat at the table.

The lady always made a good cup of coffee, and they’d taken a few sips before she began her tale.  “Since my husband died, Frank, Mr. Haile, has been offering to buy my place.  It’s been a struggle to keep it up.  What hands we had work for him now.  I couldn’t compete with the salary he offered.”

“He squeezing you into selling cheap?”  She shook her head, and Joe gave a low whistle on hearing the offer.  “That’s more than fair.” 

Joe took another slow sip of his coffee.  Two days he’d been fixing up this place, and he wasn’t done.   With no hands, the work would be impossible.  His curiosity took hold.  “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me asking—”

“Why don’t I sell?  Simple.  If I did and moved to town, it would be even harder for me to say no to Mr. Haile.”

“Say no?  I don’t understand.  You’d have already sold him the place.”

“I don’t mean that question.  You’re right that the offer for this place is generous.  But Mr. Haile can afford to be when he has every intention of getting his money back.”  

“I don’t understand.”

“When a woman marries, everything she owns becomes the property of her husband.  Mr. Haile wants more than to buy this land.”

“You mean—?”

“Yes.  If he gets his way, Mr. Haile will get my land and a woman to bed.  And all for free.”

“Ma’am, a man can’t force you to marry him.”

The look she gave him made Joe doubt he had a brain in his head.  “Imagine being a woman alone, living in a hotel owned by Frank Haile, in a town where everyone sees him as the kind of man any woman should be grateful to marry.”

He’d never considered the problems of women in Sarah’s situation before, but listening to her, he began to understand.  “I see.”

“Well, you’re the first man who has.  Thank you for that.”   

“Can I help?”

“You’re helping by fixing up the place.”

Having finished his coffee, Joe rose.  “And I’d better get back to it.”

With a smile and a nod, he returned to the woodpile.  This time, he didn’t check if she was watching. 

When the shadow fell over him, Joe looked around from where he was kneeling to replace Cochise’s poultice.  Mrs. Brackett smiled—another first.

“How is he?”

“Doing fine.  No sign of infection, and the bruising is healing well.”

“I’m glad.  He’s too good an animal to lose.  Supper’s ready.”

“Great.  I’ll wash up and come get it.”

“Actually, I figured you could eat with me tonight.”

When she left, Joe tossed more straw into the stall and gave Cooch a pat.  “Things are looking up, boy.”

And things were.  Stepping into the cozy kitchen, Joe found dishes already set out and a pie cooling on the counter.  Instructed to take a seat, he made for the table.  “Thanks, Ma’am.”

“Y’know, I think it’s time you called me Sarah.”

“Sure.”  Joe grinned, glad to see the lady thawing at last. 

For the first time, conversation flowed.  Sarah asked about home, and Joe told her a few funny stories.  The more she laughed, the prettier the widow got.

Everything changed.  The cool distance vanished, and the next morning, Sarah again invited Joe into the house to eat his breakfast.  He’d been happy to work to earn his keep, but doing so with a lady who spoke to him and smiled now and then made for a nice change.

***

Chapter Two

“Lemonade?”

Dropping the pole he was hefting, Joe grinned and wiped his brow.  “Thanks.  Just what I need.”

He downed the sharp beverage in one gulp.  Sarah refilled the glass from the jug, and Joe took his time with this one. 

“Can’t say you’re not earning your keep.  The corral’s looking fine.”  Joe grinned at the compliment and draped an arm over the fence.  Savoring more of the lemonade, as he lowered the glass, his eyes narrowed, searching the tree line.  Sarah turned her head in the direction he was looking.  “What is it?”

“I thought I saw … no.  It’s nothing.”

“We get a lot of deer around here.”

“Guess that was it.”

Sarah’s gaze dropped to his chest.  Joe shifted at the intensity in those brown eyes and glanced around to where his shirt hung from a post.  She blinked.  Aware of what she’d been doing, a flush crept over her cheeks.  “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Walking away, she stopped and turned back.  He waited for her to speak.  But she bit her lip and headed for the house.

Joe looked back toward the tree line.  No deer.  He’d caught a flash of sun against metal or glass.  Could Haile be watching him?  Joe shook his head.  Why would the man care what he was doing?

Over lunch, they discussed what needed to be tackled the next day.

“The barn needs attention.  I picked up timber to replace the rotting pieces on my last supply run to Sierra Springs.”

Joe frowned, recognizing the name of the town he’d passed through a few days ago.  “That’s a long way to go.”

“I prefer to make that trip than go to Buford.”

“Fair enough.  The barn it is.”

There had been no calls to supper, so Joe wandered over to the house.  Walking through the open doorway, he called out.  A door flung open.  Sarah appeared, still tidying her hair.  Rushing to the little dresser in the kitchen, she gasped, “I’m running late.  I haven’t even laid the table.”

“Let me do that.”

When he reached out to take the plates, his hands covered hers.  She froze.  Their gazes locked.  Fingers quivered under his.  Her breath caught, and the look that entered her eyes was the same as a man dying of thirst who sees the water that would save his life.  Joe stepped back.  Sarah held out the plates. 

In silence, he laid the table.  Sarah fussed at the stove.  After serving the stew, she sat down.  She hadn’t looked at him or spoken once.  This was no way to enjoy a meal.

Scooping in a mouthful of meat that melted in his mouth, Joe smiled.  “This is delicious.  Better than Hop Sing’s.  But don’t tell him I said so.”

The smile she returned was tight, but it was an improvement.  Launching into a funny, colorful, and highly exaggerated story about the time Brother Hoss fed him cow fodder, her stiff shoulders had relaxed.  By the time he said, ‘goodnight,’ he’d got their relationship back on track.

Joe gazed through the open barn doors at the moon, bright and big in the night sky.  If Sarah wanted something, why not just say so?  The widow Lovett never had that problem.  When she’d pinned him against the wall of her chicken coop, she’d scared him to death.  He hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough.  But the next time, he’d been ready for her.  That was one fun afternoon.  The happy memory faded when Sarah’s expression returned to him.  The one thing Joe understood was women, but not this one.  She plain baffled him. 

***

Chapter Three

The sound of splintering wood filled the air, and Joe tossed the piece onto the pile behind him.  He stopped when Sarah joined him.

“Lands sakes!  I’d no notion it was this bad.”

Stepping away from the hole he was creating, Joe twirled the hammer like his Colt.  “Pa always says, anything worth doing is worth doing well.”

Sarah laughed.  “Mine said the same thing.  I’ll get the barrow and start clearing that old wood.”

“I’ll do that.  That’s no job for you.  ”

The lady’s hands went to her hips, and her delicate eyebrows rose.  “Mr. Cartwright, I can move some old wood.”

Knowing when not to argue, Joe got back to work. 

The air in the barn hung heavy with the smell of dung, leather, and straw.  Sweat dripped, running down his arm.  After every nail hammered into the new piece of timber, Joe stopped to wipe his palms and eyes.  Taking a firm grip of the smooth handle on the hammer, he went at it again.  The heat sure wasn’t helping.

He turned when the shadow fell over him, expecting to see Sarah, maybe with another welcome glass of lemonade.  The fist that connected sent him reeling onto the floor.  Rolling away, he came up to his feet and faced Haile’s muscle man.

“I’ve a message for you from Mr. Haile.  Move on.”

“Fine.  You delivered it.”

The man smirked.  “Sonny.  I ain’t even begun.”

Joe grit his teeth.  His Colt sat in his gun belt, hanging on the sawbuck outside the barn, along with his hat.  No way was he beating this guy in a fistfight.  Now wasn’t the time to play fair.  Snatching up a piece of timber, Joe stepped back.  “You sure about that?”

The man came at him like a bull, and Joe swung.  His sinews cracked like the plank when it made contact.  Snapping from his hands the timber spun away, and Joe jumped to one side.

Rubbing his chest, Muscles glared at him.  “Now you’ve made me mad.”

Joe broke for the door.  Barreled into and carried off his feet, he crashed into the side of Cochise’s stall.  He heard the animals’ protests above the grunt of air knocked from his lungs. 

“Now I’ll deliver that message.”

Joe curled his body tight.  The boot connected, sending pain jarring up his spine.  The second kick buried into his side.  He had to move or become mush!

The clang snapped his head up.   Sarah brandished the shovel she’d just whacked Muscles with.  “You get off my land.  D’you hear?  And don’t you come back!”

Joe pulled himself to his feet, keeping his eyes on Haile’s henchman, ready in case he tried anything.  He didn’t.  Rubbing his head and cursing, the big man grabbed his hat and left. 

Dropping the shovel, Sarah ran to Joe’s side.  “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You’re head.  It’s bleeding.”

Joe’s fingers touched where the big brute’s fist had connected with his forehead.  “It’s nothing.  Good job, I’ve got the Cartwright’s hard head.  Never figured you being so handy with a shovel.”

He grinned, meeting her look.  “Best come inside and let me check you over.”

Meek and mild, he followed the lady into the house. Told to straddle a chair.  He sat.

“I’ll get some hot water to clean that cut.  Take off your shirt.”

Resigned, Joe did as he was told while she bustled about.  Tilting his head, Sarah wiped and dabbed his wound.  “You’re right.  It’s not too bad.”  Finished with his head, she examined his side and back.  He flinched when her touch hit the sore parts.  “You’re gonna have some fine bruises come morning.”

Her examination continued.  Joe dropped his chin onto his hands.  The fingertips that prodded before began to glide, raising gooseflesh and sending a tingling deep within him.  His eyes slid sideways, and when she sighed, he asked, “Is it bad?”

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she snatched her hand away.  “I’ll get the liniment.  That should help.”

Clenching his fingers around the chair back, he grimaced and wondered where her soft touch went as Sarah’s fingers dug deep to massage in the liniment.  

“I can’t believe Haile sent that brute to beat you up.”

Rolling his eyes as her hand worked even harder, Joe gasped, “I’ve taken worse.”

“You shouldn’t have to.  Getting beaten up just because you’re helping me.  He had no right!”

“No, Ma’am,” he squeaked.

“All done.”

Letting out a breath, Joe reached for his shirt.  “Thanks.  I’ll get back to it.”

“Don’t you want to rest?”

Standing in the doorway, Joe grinned and winked.  “Don’t worry, I’m a big boy.”

Sarah watched the young man leave her house and dropped down into the empty chair, clutching the bottle of liniment between trembling fingers.  He certainly was.  She’d known it from the minute he’d walked in, fighting for the right to stay and tend his horse.  When she watched him chopping wood, she hadn’t been able to turn away from that lean, strong back and bare chest.  Her stomach fluttered, remembering the feel of that bronze skin and honed muscle.  For a moment, she’d lost herself in the yearning that swept over her, washing everything else away.  What a fool!  And yet, she wasn’t sorry.

***

Chapter Four

The call to supper was welcome.  Stepping through the kitchen door, Joe got a surprise.  The drab blue dress, buttoned up to Sarah’s chin, had been replaced by a green one with a frill around a neckline that sat much lower.  She’d also changed her hair.  The bun sat loose and low on the back of her neck, softening her face.  She looked real pretty. 

Her smile was nervous but warm.  “I hope you’re hungry.” 

“Starved.”

He tucked in with ravenous glee.  They talked while they ate, but Joe noticed Sarah wasn’t eating much. 

“You still upset about that fight?”

“What?  No.  Although I’m still mad at Haile.”

“Long as it’s not me.  The way you’re picking at your food, I wondered.”

Sarah bit her lip.  “Well, actually, there was something I wanted to … well, ask you.”

“Sure, ask away.”

“Not here.  Finish your supper.  We’ll have coffee in the parlor.”

A lamp burned low, and Sarah turned it up just enough to add a warm glow to the polished wood on the settle that faced the empty fireplace.  His first time in the cozy room, which smelled of beeswax and lavender, he sat next to Sarah.  Drinking his coffee, Joe waited.  This was her play.

Sarah’s fingers played with her cup, turning it on its saucer, building up her courage?  She took a breath and looked him in the eyes.  “Being a widow is hard.  I miss … the touch of a man.  Making … making love to me.  Do you understand what I’m asking?”

He expected the question, but this wasn’t like Widow Lovett.  There was no fun and frolic in Sarah’s plea.  The weight of her desperation made him hesitate.  It would be easy for him, but did she understand the possible consequences? 

“Sarah.  You’re just lonely.  I can’t take advantage of that.”

“I’m the one doing the asking.”  Her voice was firm now, laced with determination.

“Look, I know what to do to help protect a woman, but there’s no guarantee.  What if—?”

“Don’t worry.  I can’t have children.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her hand clutched his arm, the fingers biting into his flesh.  “Don’t be sorry.  Just tell me you’ll do what I ask.  You’re a good man, Joe.  Believe me, I wouldn’t ask this of anyone else.”  Yearning lit her eyes.  “I want you.”

Smiling, he laid a palm on her flushed cheek.  “How can I say no to that?”

Relief softened her face.  “Give me a minute, then come in.”

The door of her bedroom closed.  A flicker of doubt tightened his chest.  This wasn’t something he could tell his brothers about, let alone Pa.  Well, maybe Adam.  He’d understood about Widow Lovitt, but Sarah?  Older Brother would be sure to point out how this wasn’t the same.   He didn’t need Adam’s righteous anger in his head right now, so he pushed those thoughts aside and removed his boots and shirt.  Then, he took a breath and counted to fifty. 

Standing by the side of the bed, Sarah’s bare skin glistened in the soft halo of light from the lamp.  Stunned, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.  What man could when faced with that kind of beauty?

Loosened from its bondage, auburn waves of hair cascaded to coil around slender shoulders, softening those sharp angles of her face.  But it was her body that captivated him.  The drab ugliness of her dress had hidden a masterpiece worthy of those painters and sculptors Adam praised.

She stepped close.  One small hand came up to rest quivering fingers on his cheek.  The wonder in her eyes made him blush.  He leaned down to meet those soft, trembling lips.  Their warmth told of her desire.  Drinking deep of their soft sensuality, her passion flowed through him.

She broke the kiss and reached for the buttons of his pants.  Joe caught her hands, stopping their hurried movement.  He smiled and then finished removing them himself.  Naked as she, they faced each other.   

He’d been taught there were lines a man didn’t cross — but standing there, seeing that look in her eyes, he realized those lines had been drawn by men who’d never seen loneliness.  When she took his hand, he followed without hesitation.

Sarah lay down.   Spreading her legs, she waited passive and motionless for him to mount and take her.  His jaw clenched.  Julia had taught him that a woman’s pleasure mattered as much as his.  It was a memory he cherished, and a lesson he’d never let go.

Capturing Sarah’s chin, he turned her to look at him.  “You asked me to make love to you.  That’s what I’m going to do.”

The gratitude in her smile shook him to his core.  This wasn’t just about being touched by a man.  This was about being desired.  That wasn’t a problem.

He teased her lips with soft, slow kisses.  Flesh soft as a peach met his gentle touch.  He brushed the swell of her breast, where his thumb began a delicate caress of her nipple.  Breath catching, her fingers tightened over his shoulder.  

Trailing a feather-like path down her neck with his lips, his tongue danced over her soft mound.  As he explored, he could feel her heat rising.  Teasing the curls above her legs drew a groan of pleasure that delighted him.

Leaving her erect nipple, his lips returned to hers.  Touching her thigh, Sarah obeyed the gentle pull of his hand and rolled on her side to slip her leg over his.  He slid fingers into her moist folds and began a rhythmic glide back and forth.  Her back arched.  Moisture pooled on his fingers.  Her lips parted.  His tongue danced with hers.

Crushed together, hot skin against skin, Joe slipped one finger, then two, inside her.  Pulsing them in and out, he increased the speed.  With every thrust, Sarah pushed up to meet his hand.  His fingers slick and dripping, he moved his thumb.  With the lightest of touches, it tantalized the nub that sent all women over the edge.  She broke their kiss, groaning into his ear, begging him to take her.

With smooth, slow movements, he drove his manhood into her.  His muscles tightened.  He fought for control until Sarah’s pulsation of her rapture gripped him.  Driving him over the edge, he buried deep and gave in to release.  Gasping, breathless, they collapsed into each other.

Sliding onto his back, Joe turned his head and met Sarah’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

His lips found hers again.  “My pleasure,” he told her, before sitting up.  “I’d better get to the barn.”

A hand stopped him.  “Stay.”

Joe obliged.

Rolling onto her side, Sarah’s hand rested on his chest.  “That was wonderful.”

“Why, thank you, Ma’am,” he quipped.  After a beat, he added, “I had a good teacher.”

He saw the question in her eyes, but she didn’t pursue it.  “Jeb never touched me the way you just did.  Even in the beginning, when things were good.”

“Your marriage wasn’t happy?”

“At first, yes.”

When she hesitated, he said, “If you don’t want to talk.”

“It’s all right.  I just haven’t told anyone before.  Jeb wanted a family, like any man would.  But the years went by, and no babies came. To Jeb, making love was for the creation of children.  It wasn’t about pleasure.  And I couldn’t.”

“He was unkind?”

“No.  He never even reproached me.  He was just polite.”  Sorrow haunted the back of her eyes.  “We became polite strangers living under one roof.”

Joe traced a finger down this beautiful woman’s cheekbone.  How could any man not want to love her?  He leaned in and kissed her again.  When he broke the kiss, her tears glistened in the lamplight. 

She touched his cheek.  “Thank you for giving me this.”  Then, reaching out, she turned down the lamp.

***

Chapter Five

Sunlight woke her.  Turning her head, Sarah smiled to see the tousled-haired head of the young man beside her.  Perhaps she should’ve felt shame at the night she’d just experienced, but that wasn’t the feeling that filled her heart and elated her spirit.  She smiled when he stirred and opened those hazel eyes.  “Morning.”

Scuffing his hair, Joe sat up, and she again got to appreciate the sight of his firm chest and muscles and the thrill they gave her.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Thanks.”

Naked, she slipped out of bed, bare feet padding on the wood floor.  Hearing the appreciative, “Mm mmm,” stopped her at the door.  Looking back at her admirer, she gave him a shy smile. 

Fire stoked, she’d set the pot on the stove when Joe flashed past her out the door.

“’Cuse me.  Need to pee!”

Watching Joe hotfoot it across the yard, Sarah laughed at his youthful exuberance.  She bit her lower lip and tilted her head.  Men’s butts weren’t something she’d paid much attention to in the past, but she had to admit those firm, pert, white buttocks were something to be admired.

When he returned, coyly covering his manhood, she told him to get back to bed.

Setting down the coffee, she climbed back in next to him.  The warm glow in his eyes made her heart quicken.  No man had looked at her that way, as if she were the only woman in the world.  His hand reached out, drawing her close.  Lips fluttered over hers before pressing home, taking her breath away.

When he drew back, the naked desire in his gaze set her heart pounding.  Emboldened, she straddled him.  Her hands cradled his face, drinking in the brilliance of those eyes and the knowledge of what was to come.  She kissed him, taking the time to savor the taste of his lips.  Hands glided up her arms.  He held tight as if he never wanted to let her go. 

Joe moved, and she was beneath him.  A stranger, barely twenty-one, yet she could give herself over to him completely—a man who knew how to fire her body and soul. 

His tongue licked and nipped at her nipple, and the muscle deep within her vulva pulsed in response.  Wetness slicked the fingers that explored her inner womanhood.  She bit back the groan as fire exploded over her skin.  When his thumb found her nub, she melted, losing herself in the flames of their closeness. 

Just before she tipped over the edge, he’d move position and begin again.  She writhed under such glorious torment, and, digging fingers into Joe’s back, thanked God for his teacher. 

When he mounted her, she opened her legs to welcome him.  A shaking hand reached for his erect member.  Guiding it, her pelvis rose to meet the swollen length that pressed down.

She gasped when he filled her.  The rest of the world fell away, giving herself over to final ecstasy.

***

Chapter Six

Tossing the tools into their box, Joe rushed his wash and dashed to the house.  The smell of Sarah’s fried chicken had been driving him crazy for the last twenty minutes.

Meal over, they took their coffee to enjoy on the bench outside.  Sarah’s sigh resonated with satisfaction.  “You’ve sure got the place looking fine.”

“Least I could do, after you let me stay and look after Cooch.”  Her soft chuckle made him ask, “What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Curious, he squinted down at her, but the shadows hid her expression.  Whatever amused her, she could keep to herself.  The evening air, settling like a cooling cloth on a fevered man’s brow, washed over him.  Letting his head drop back against the house, he listened to Sarah’s soft breathing.

His family would never approve of what they were doing, but he didn’t care.  He’d seen a part of Sarah few would see, and no one would ever convince him he’d been wrong to share what they had.  It might not be love, but it was lasting.

Sarah leaned against his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin.  He breathed in the scent of roses.  Resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head, they sat in silence, side by side, enjoying the calm and the cricket song rising from the scrub. 

~~~

Each morning, Sarah woke up next to Joe more conscious than the day before of the change within her.  Careful not to disturb him, she sat up and watched the sleeping young man.  He was beautiful.  Foolish to use such a feminine description, and yet handsome didn’t seem to do him justice. 

Tentative fingers pushed back his thick curls.  She’d asked for a moment of feeling the touch of a man again, but he’d given her so much more.  Years ago, she’d been entranced listening to a man playing his Spanish guitar.  Just like that master of his instrument, Joe’s touch drew music from the depths of her being.  And each time she put her trust in him, the song soared through her stronger than the last.

Last night she’d asked about that teacher, who’d taught him so well.  The look in his eyes shifted to a faraway place for a moment before he replied.  “Her name was Julia.  She was one special lady.  Beautiful, feisty, and able to hold her own in a man’s world, but all woman.”

“You loved her.” 

It wasn’t a question but a statement.  He answered it anyway.  “Yes.”

Sarah knew she loved him—the kind of love for someone generous enough to share part of themselves.  For three glorious days, they’d enjoyed each other.  When he left, she’d miss him, but her gratitude would last a lifetime.

***

Chapter Seven

Fine dust stirred under Cochise’s hooves as Joe walked him around the yard.  The whole time, he watched the leg.  The poultices had done their job.  Back in the barn, he plonked down on an upturned bucket and uncorked the liniment with his teeth, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of camphor, turpentine, and alcohol.

Sarah’s voice interrupted his massage of Cooch’s leg.  “Saw you walking him.  He’s looking better.”

“One more day’s massage with this liniment you gave me, and he should be right as rain.”

“Then, I guess you’ll be moving on.”

Joe’s head snapped around at the regret, even sadness, in her voice.  Had he made a mistake?  Stayed too long?  Given the wrong impression about the two of them?

Sarah chuckled at his expression.  “Don’t worry.  It’s just been nice, having you around.”

A soft smile, shy and warm, bloomed on Joe’s face.  Finishing his task, Joe plunged his hands into a bucket of water and scrubbed them clean.  “If I don’t send a wire to my pa soon, though, he’ll have the cavalry out looking.”

Sarah slipped an arm under Cooch’s head and stroked his muzzle.  “Must be nice.  Having a family like that.”

Joe watched that fine, gentle hand caressing his horse.  His mind took him back to how she caressed his flesh the night before.  Tearing his gaze away, he focused on Sarah’s troubles.  “You thought any about what you’re gonna do?”

“Do?”

“This place.”

Her sigh was melancholy, like the dying sunlight of fall.  “I’ll have to think on it.”  Taking a breath, she smiled.  “Thank you, Joe, for all you’ve done around here and … everything else.”

Joe balled the towel he’d been drying his hands with and tossed it to one side.  “I’m not going yet.  I’ve got that fence to fix first.”  He moved toward Sarah.  Today, she looked fetching in a white cotton blouse and blue skirt.  Tied in a ponytail, her long tresses lay over one shoulder.  Reaching out, he ran the soft strands between his fingers.  “As to the other.  That was my pleasure.”

She moved close, an invitation in her eyes.  He answered it.  Her lips tasted of the apples she was baking in a pie.

“I’d better get to that f—”

Her kiss silenced his words.  She took a step back, but her eyes never left his when she undid the top buttons of her blouse.  She smiled.  “The fence can wait.”

Two hands thrust him back against the stall wall.  Sarah’s lips crushed his, and her fingers writhed through his hair.  Returning the fevered kisses, he turned her against the wood.  One hand circled her waist, while eager fingers pushed through the open shirt to find her breast.  The nipple already hard and upright.

Joe gasped when Sarah’s hand pushed down his pants toward his manhood.  Exhilaration coursed through him like lightning.  His cock responded, hardening under her touch. 

His lips found hers again.  Demanding and hungry, she gave back kiss for kiss.  Breaking free, he murmured in her ear, “God, I want you.”

“Then, take me.”

Their eyes met.  The burning thirst in hers fired the blood in his veins.  This wasn’t the woman who’d waited for a man to take her.  This was someone else.

Boots and trousers flew, and Sarah unbuttoned her skirt, kicking it aside.  Joe couldn’t wait for more.  Running his hands up her bare legs, he lifted her petticoats and slid a hand between her thighs.  Hot skin met his palms.  His manhood pulsed for release when his fingers plunged into warm, engorged, slick folds. 

The groan she let loose when he entered her thrilled him.  Fervid breath panted against his cheeks.  She urged him on.  Harder.  Deeper.  Sinking fingers into the flesh of her buttocks, he lifted her.  The lean muscle of her legs tightened around his hips, and she clutched the top of the stall.  Her back thudded the wood behind.  A drumbeat pounding out the rhythm of his thrusts.  Her moans spiraled him out of control.  He gave in to the lust that drove him to release—slamming hard and deep.  Her body bucked and jerked when she came.  He joined her in climax, his legs shuddering under him as he emptied himself within her.

Flopped down onto a pile of straw, Joe drew in deep lungfuls of air.  Letting the frenzy of their lovemaking sink in.  He turned his head and grinned at the disheveled beauty stretched out next to him.  “Y’know, you’re what my Pa would call a bad influence.”

“Are you complaining?”

He lifted his eyebrows and stuck a piece of straw in his mouth.  “Oh, no, Ma’am, not me.”

Her laughter was soft and lilting as she reached for her clothes.  “I’ll see you at supper.”

Joe winked. 

After she left, he lay back, breathing in the scent of the hay and the feeling of being drained.  He scuffed a hand through his hair and marveled at the difference in Sarah.  That the change was all his doing never crossed his mind.

Joe glanced through the doors at the sun climbing in the sky.  A haze rose off the hard earth, and dust motes flitted all around.  He glided to his feet and reached for his pants.  That fence was calling his name.

Setting the last pole in place, Joe grabbed his canteen.  Cool water refreshed his throat and trickled down his neck.  A hand wiped his mouth.  This land was good, rich farmland, and he could understand Haile’s keenness to buy the property.  For one man alone, it would be tough to run, but for a woman.  Sarah had a mountain to climb.

Perched on top of the newly repaired fence, he scratched the back of his neck and took another look at Sarah’s problem.  Too far from the Ponderosa to be of use to them, he considered friends looking to settle down on a property of their own but dismissed the idea.  With Haile in the picture, that was out of the question.  Jumping down, he slapped the wood beneath his hand.  He’d figure out a way to help Sarah if it was the last thing he did.

***

Chapter Eight

A fit Cochise meant Joe was eager to get home.  But guilt gnawed at him.  Leaving Sarah alone to deal with Haile didn’t sit right, but when he suggested staying, she put him straight.

“Your place is at home, not here helping me.”

“But—”

“No, buts.”  Rolling onto her side, Sarah faced him.  “What you’ve given me is special.  Don’t spoil it by handing me pity.”

He hadn’t meant to do that, but staying here wouldn’t work either.  “Sarah, you’re a beautiful woman.  Too young to waste away as a widow.”

“Are you saying I should marry Haile?”

“Of course not.  But you deserve to be loved.  You won’t find that here.  Sell up.  Leave.”

“You know I can’t.”

“I get it.  If you sell to Haile here, the money won’t leave the bank in Buford.  But there’s an alternative.  Silver Springs.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They have a bank there, and I bet even a lawyer.  Next time you go for supplies, open an account.  Then find a lawyer.  Draw up the deed.  Have Haile go to Silver Springs to make the sale.  Put the money in that bank.  Once you’ve got a bank draft, you can take the stage anywhere you want to go.”

“He’d never agree.”

“Don’t give him a choice.  Send a wire from Silver Springs.  Tell him you’re ready and waiting to make the deal.  He’ll come.”

Sarah bit her lip.  “I’ll think about it.”

He kissed her.  “That’s my girl.”

***

Chapter Nine

Joe didn’t take Haile up on his offer of a drink.  Instead, he skirted Buford and sent a wire home from the next town.

They hadn’t lingered over the parting.  Offering him her hand, he’d taken it and she’d given him that beautiful smile he’d come to know so well.  “Thank you, Joe, for everything.”

At the bend in the road, he’d pulled Cochise to a stop and looked back.  He’d probably never see this woman again, but that’s how life went.  Some folks stayed a long time, while others were as fleeting as a summer breeze.  But Sarah, he’d never forget.

Would she take his advice?  Joe grinned.  Of course, she would.  In his mind’s eye, he could see her, head held high, walking into the bank in Silver Springs.  Every man in the place would turn to look at that beauty.  Who could blame them?  Then she’d get herself a good lawyer.  Hell, knowing Sarah, she’d get a recommendation from the bank manager.  How long would she wait was the only question.

He’d been on the Ponderosa for over a day.  The sharp mountain air greeted him.  It was a welcome relief from the stuffy lowlands.   Riding into the yard, Joe smiled and waved at his family relaxing on the front porch, enjoying Hop Sing’s lemonade and cookies.  Pa’s voice traveled the distance between them, “Well, the wanderer has returned.”

Hoss reached him first to take hold of Cochise’s rein and grin.  “ ’Bout time you dragged your sorry behind back home.”

Joe slapped his big brother on the shoulder.  “Miss me?”

“Missed you doing your chores.”

Joe laughed and dodged the playful punch that came his way—then held out a hand to take Pa’s.  “Good to have you back.  What happened?”

“Nothing much.  Cochise picked up a stone bruise, and I stayed with a nice widow till he healed.”

“Really?” Adam’s question dropped like a boulder flattening the air.  How did he make one word sound like an inquisition?  He met the look that seemed to know everything he was thinking.  It was a bluff, but it had gotten him to spill a lot of secrets in the past.  Not anymore.  His brother’s gaze was returned with a cool one of his own.

Pointing at the mark on his head, Pa asked, “Take a tumble?”

“Huh?  Oh, this?  No.  I was helping Mrs. Brackett with some chores and caught myself on some wood.”

“Mrs. Brackett?  Sure sounds like one pretty gal.” 

Hoss cut his guffaw short when he caught his father’s look.  “I’m sure she’s a very nice lady.”

Joe flashed a grin at Big Brother’s discomfort and replied, “She was, Pa.” 

Patting Cochise, his thoughts drifted back to Sarah—the woman, the lover, and what they’d shared. 

“Little Joe?”

He turned to meet his father’s curious look and smiled.  His voice was soft and low when he said, “She took pity on a stranger and showed me real kindness.”

Pa slapped him on the back, shaking him out of his reverie.  “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear that you’re just in time to help with the haying.”

“Thanks!  At least let me have some of that lemonade and cookies before you send me out to the fields?”

Chuckling, his father extended one arm toward the porch.  “Right this way, son.”

~~~

Sarah did exactly as Joe predicted.  Opened the bank account and found a lawyer to draw up a deed.  But packing her bags didn’t happen until the day she was certain.  Three months later, she turned her animals out to pasture, hooked up the buckboard, and drove to Silver Springs to send that wire.  Frank Haile was about to find out this lady had a piece of maverick in her.

In all her years of marriage, Sarah never once doubted that she couldn’t have children.  How wrong she’d been.  With courage and bliss in her heart for the life within her, she headed for a new future.

***

EPILOGUE

The following spring, Joe passed through that country again and couldn’t resist taking a detour to check out Sarah’s place.  Would she still be there? 

Seeing the activity around the newly painted house, Joe took a deep breath and let it out.  She’d gone. 

Begging a drink of water for himself and Cooch, he dug around for news.  Just as he expected, Haile now owned the place.

When he asked about Sarah, his informant stiffened.  “We don’t talk about her.”

Joe raised his eyebrows.  “Why not?”

The man flicked a glance around, making sure no one was within earshot.  “I heard Haile wanted to marry her.  When she skedaddled on him, she made him look like a fool.  He’s still mad as heck.  If he heard us talking about her, we’d lose our hides.  Take my advice, don’t go asking about her in town.”

Restraining a grin, Joe drained the dipper.  “I’m not going into Buford.  Thanks for the water.”

The Ponderosa beckoned, and Joe rode the whole way with a smile on his face. 

~~~

When Sarah arrived in Beaver Creek, Utah, and opened her little café, the townsfolk took to her right off.  How could they not?  Her spunk, after the tragedy of losing her husband while carrying his child, showed in the way she always had a ready word of kindness.  Her beautiful baby boy was the heart of all her joy.

Eligible bachelors soon came calling—like bees to honey—the ladies joked.  No one expected William Felden to be among them.  With two young children, the matchmakers had been trying to marry him off for three years.  He’d cherished his late wife’s memory, and most had given up, figuring he’d stay alone forever.  But Sarah changed that.

Sarah held back on marrying again—no doubt (the wiser ladies agreed) because of her late husband’s memory.  But William was a man in love, and sixteen months later, the entire town celebrated their union.

Sarah lived to eighty-four, surviving her beloved William by three months.  The last photograph taken on her eightieth birthday showed them hand in hand, surrounded by their seven children, eighteen grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren.  No one, folks said, was loved more than Sarah. 

Whenever anyone asked about the secret to her happiness, she’d smile at some tucked-away memory and say, “It’s all thanks to the kindness of a stranger.”

~ The End ~

[Nov 2025]

Episode referenced: The Last Hunt Written by Donald S. Sanford