Redemption In Sarah’s Creek
A WORK IN PROGRESS
By
Sandra Rarey
Caleb Barland was introduced to his first whore when the old hag who delivered him laid him in his mother’s arms. His early education had consisted of learning every conceivable way for a man and woman to sell their souls to Satan for a few moments of passion. He grew up determined to avoid the pitfalls of hell by avoiding the lure of that passion.
When Caleb finds himself with the opportunity of a lifetime--a saintly woman to put upon his empty pedestal--he does the very thing he’s been determined, all his life, to avoid. He sullies this woman, taints her virtue and compromises her reputation.
His failure to maintain his own standards of morality comes at a time when Mother Nature turns vicious, battering the town of Sarah’s Creek with a brutal fist, bringing the residents to their knees and Matthew, his best friend, to the brink of destruction.
It’s during this holocaust, when every able-bodied man is desperately needed, Caleb slinks away, leaving his town and the people he loves to fend for themselves.
He intends to disappear forever. But the temptation of a glimpse of the life he might have had draws a much-changed Caleb back to Sarah’s Creek, three years later, to face a wife and child he never knew he had.
This time there would be no running away. This time the entire town of Sarah’s Creek would see to it he got things right.
Maria is an earthy woman who doesn’t need or want a man to worship her from afar. She needs a man whose blood beats with the same strength and rhythm as her own. And Caleb Barland, her lawfully wedded-by-proxy husband is the man she wants.
She knew he’d return to Sarah’s Creek, someday. And he had, to a town where every man would gladly kill him and every woman flushes with fury at the mention of his name. To a town where his name is Anathema. It’s now up to Caleb to redeem himself. And up to Maria to seduce a man who still thinks she’s an untouchable angel.
A Work in progress . . .
NEBRASKA, 1871
The bed. It had taken on a ridiculous importance in Maria’s mind. Ridiculous, that she would agonize over something that was none of her business.
Self-pity was something in which Maria seldom indulged. For one thing she didn’t have time and for another it was a useless, non-productive pastime. But Toddy and Malechi Hershaf had just picked up their woolen rug, the one she’d woven for them as a wedding gift from Toddy’s grandparents.
All the months Maria had labored over the loom she’d paid little attention to the rug except to follow the pattern and colors that had been approved before she started.
Now, an hour after the newlyweds had come to view the finished product before she bound the salvage edges, Maria could think of nothing but the rug. The rug Toddy and Malechi had told her would lay at the foot of their bed. The bed in which they would happily make love for the rest of their lives together. Try as she might, Maria couldn’t get the picture of that bed and the indistinct, definitely naked bodies rolling around on it, out of her head.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself, fanning her warm face and loosening the top button of her shirtwaist. “My goodness, just stop.“
“Stop what?” The words came close to her ear and ruffled her hair as strong hands closed around her waist.
“Oooh!” She clasped the hands with her own and pried them away. “For heaven’s sake, Jack! You frightened me.”
“Did I now?” he rumbled. “What were you mumbling about when I came in?”
“None of your business.” She smiled to soften her words. Then blushed as she recalled why she had been mumbling at all.
Maria glanced through the open bedroom door, making certain Luke was still asleep. One good thing about the tiny shop that doubled as her home was that her son was never far from sight. She pressed her hand to her heart against the love expanding in her chest. At two and a half, he was a hellion when he was awake. And when he was asleep, like now, he was an absolute angel.
She turned around and caught Jack’s gaze where his hands had been. “Stop looking at me like that.” She hefted a wicker basket of hand-dyed yarn skeins and stepped onto a stool so she could set it high on the shelf that ran the length of the back wall.
“I can’t help it, Maria. You’re the prettiest thing that’s crossed my eyes today. Here, let me help you down.”
Maria held her hand to Jack, but he bypassed it and grasped her around her waist again.
He lifted her up and slid her down his body until her feet touched the floor, then he continued to hold her.
The familiar tremors settled in, along with the familiar guilt. Maria stepped out of his arms and pushed her curls off her face. He felt so good, she thought. So hard and warm and tempting.
She was going to be twenty-four years old next week. A prime year for a woman. She should have a husband in her bed at night. A man to take care of her material needs during the day and her physical needs at night. Then she wouldn’t be so flustered by thoughts of someone else’s newly-wedded bliss or the forbidden touches and caresses of a man who had no business being with her while she was alone. “Shame on you. What are you doing here? I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“Your door was open.”
“But the shop is closed. The awning is rolled and the shutters are locked. Anyone can tell I'm not open. You really should leave before someone sees you.”
His deep chuckle set her skin to pebbling. “I’d be a fool to walk away from such a tempting flower.”
“I’m not a flower,” she snapped. “I’m a married woman.”
“You’re an un-plucked rose in the middle of a desert wasteland, Sugar.”
“And you want to pluck that rose? Jack, you’re a rascal and a womanizer.”
“Not true, Sugar. I may be a rascal, but there hasn’t been another woman since I met you.”
Maria plopped into her chair and began to unwind the remnant of yarn from her shuttle. “I’m married. And we‘re friends, Jack. Friends. Nothing more.”
“Get an annulment. We’ll get married.”
Maria laughed. “Honestly. I think if I ever said yes, you’d run for the hills.”
He reached for her mutton sleeve. “If you ever said yes, I’d have a ring on your finger before you could change your mind.”
She looked down at his tanned fingers against the yellow pinstriped fabric. Strong fingers, with short, clean nails and a sprinkling of black hair on the knuckles. His hands were like the rest of him--very manly, very tempting. And he smelled so good, like fresh-mown hay and cherry tobacco. She grinned. “You’d entice the devil, himself.”
“I’m trying to tempt an angel, not Ole Scratch.”
“I’m already married,” she reminded him softly.”
“I don’t rightly think a few words spoken by a traveling preacher over you and your own brother make you lawfully wedded. There was no groom at your wedding. If it weren’t for the fact everyone else in this town knows him, I’d think he didn’t exist.”
“Proxy weddings are perfectly legal, and you know it.”
“I know a marriage has to be consummated to take.”
Maria stood abruptly, the shuttle falling to the floor. Fury turned her cheeks so hot it was a wonder she didn't burst into flames. “Don’t talk to me like that. It’s not proper or respectful.”
“Maybe not, but it’s truthful.” He tugged one of her errant curls, letting it spring back. “That husband of yours is a fool as well as a coward.”
“Get out.”
“Aw, Sugar. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
She snapped her skirt as she maneuvered around him to reach a spool of indigo-dyed cotton binding. “What did you mean to do? Make me unhappy? Dissatisfied?” She hefted the spool into her arms like it was a precious baby. And indeed it was precious. The cost had been exorbitant, like most of her other supplies.
“I want you to realize you have other options.”
“In a small town like this, options are dangerous.”
“Your brother’s dangerous. But I think he’d more than likely take after me, than you, if we gave him reason.” Jack stepped close. He ran his thumb across Maria’s bottom lip, plumping it, distorting it with a slow stroke. “I’m willing to chance it.”
Maria jerked her face away and set her burden on a pine table. “Maybe you are,” she huffed. “But I’m not. I’ve already asked far more from Matthew than a brother should have to give. I won’t put him in that position again.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “You haven’t lived here long enough to realize what an uphill climb my life has been. My position and reputation in Sarah’s Creek were hard-won. I won’t jeopardize them. And I will never embarrass my family again.”
“I’ve been here long enough to know what everyone else in this town knows--you took up with a sorry excuse for a man.” He tugged her close. “Your problems were all that scoundrel’s fault.”
She pulled away from him and untwisted the wire that held the binding together. Layers of deep turquoise slid down to puddle around the spool. “I’m very fond of you, Jack. You’re a good friend. But I’ve asked you to stop calling Caleb names. He’s the father of my son.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “You have a mean streak. You promised you’d stop but you continue to dig at him when he can’t defend himself. That hurts me.”
“You’re the angel, here, Maria. Not me. I’m just an ordinary man. I’ll try to be more respectful of you, but I can’t change my feelings about Caleb. He stands in the way of our happiness.”
“You need to find a girl to court and quite pestering me.”
“If I left you alone, you’d miss the hell out of me.”
She would, indeed. But she’d never let him know. “I wouldn’t miss that cussing mouth of yours.”
“Cussing isn’t the only thing I do with my mouth.” He took the wire strap from Maria and set it aside. His hand slipped behind her head, drawing her close. Ignoring her squeak of protest, he closed his lips over hers, working them gently until she relaxed.
Maria’s mouth opened. With a resigned hiss, her breath joined his. Her tongue explored the forbidden, mysterious, wet heat of his mouth. Her body vibrated while her mind remained detached so she could remember every sweet, illicit second. After all, it wasn’t like she was kissed every day. In fact, this was only the second time in her life she’d been kissed with passion, and she couldn’t afford to get lost in the moment. She might forget the sensations if she didn’t examine them as they happened and store them away.
She participated with gusto until Jack’s hand slid from her hip to her breast. “Whoa!” She pulled away with a flustered laugh. “My mother warned me about men like you.”
“I’d like to say I’m sorry.” His smile was anything but remorseful.
Maria couldn’t blame Jack for the liberty. She’d encouraged him. “Pshaw.” She waived her hand as if it were nothing. “You’re just an ordinary man. Now, go on with you. I have work to do.”
“Your mother would have been better off warning you about men who love women, then leave them,” Jack said, slapping his hat on his head. Whistling, he left without a backward glance--the perfect picture of a man who’d just won a hand of high-stakes cards.
Maria realized she should have given Jack a resounding slap alongside that stubborn head of his. She should have discouraged him instead of acting as if he’d done nothing terribly wrong. He would take her response as an invitation to do it again. She just knew he would. What a fool she was.
But a hint of anticipation brewed in the far recesses of her mind. She was a good girl. She was. But she had a streak of badness in her. She must have to let a man not her husband stir up needs like Jack had done.
Caleb caught a whiff of the cheap perfume Handy was fond of. He’d have to do something about that. Couldn’t ride into town smelling like a woman. He had enough problems to face without folks thinking he’d gone queer.
From his vantage point on a sandstone bluff, he could tell the prosperity the railroad had brought to Sarah’s Creek. There were a more buildings at the edge of town. Several neat ranches with lines of straight fences and cattle-filled pastures were new to the landscape.
His horse nickered as if he caught a whiff of something familiar on the breeze. “Looks like we’re the only ones worse for the wear, Boy,” he murmured, patting a scar on the gelding’s neck.
Caleb’s duster was so laden with years' worth of dirt it felt like it was made of lead. His beard was full, long and filthy. Another thing to feel uncomfortable about, though it hadn’t bothered him much all the years he’d left it unattended.
He might cut it off when he got settled in, if he could bring himself to announce his arrival, and, maybe, stay a while. Or he might just keep it, seeing as the nights were getting right brisk and it would most likely be all he‘d have to keep him warm in his bedroll.
Besides, Handy liked it. And he liked Handy. She was about the only person he’d gotten close to in all the time he’d been gone from Sarah’s Creek. She was a fine woman, though a little rough around the edges. He laughed. Maybe it was that that had appealed enough to him to lower his defenses and get to know her.
Besides, he had no business thinking of another person as rough when he looked like he’d been wrestling grizzlies for a living.
The fact Handy was a loose woman didn’t faze Caleb one bit. He’d realized somewhere in his childhood, the carnal needs that drew men and women together were momentary itches for men to scratch, and a means of survival, and often death, for women.
For his mother it had been death.
A preaching man who’d befriended Caleb helped him weather his grief by convincing him the men who’d killed her with their base usage of her body were destined to burn forever in hell. Caleb grew up determined to avoid the pitfalls of hell by avoiding the lure of passion.
Too bad the man didn’t have the determination of the child, he thought, plowing his fingers through his snarled hair. It was like touching the week-old carcass of a coyote. Worse. He swiped his hands on his thighs and slapped his weathered hat back on his sorry head.
“Well, Boy, should we go on into town and test the waters, or turn tail and leave before anyone finds out we’ve come home?
bravenet.com