Duty & Desire

By Nita Meakes

Scottish lass Sabrina Gutherie has spent her young life caring for her family. She longs for someone to care for her. When her father and sister decide to travel to tour America in 1882 and he dies in Oklahoma, Sabrina is forced to go and see to her sister. There she meets two men who vie for her favor; Drue, an army captain, and Hill, a banker. Hill wants only to grant her wish and fulfill her every desire. Drue infuriates her at every encounter, but when she gets in trouble he is there to help. As the months go by Sabrina must decide whether to stay in the beautiful American West she’s come to love, and to whom she’ll give her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nita Meakes
• Release date: Jul 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540158987

Nita Meakes

Hi, Everyone!  I've been a small town Southern transplant from the hectic northeast for 40 years and love it.  I wrote my first book at 13 and have several others, as well as dozens of stories.  Some are historical romance and some are quirky romance.  Each story has its own voice and I hope you have as much fun as I do getting to know my characters.  As I look into other genres keep an eye out for something different than my usual.  Happy reading!

Book preview

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER ONE

It would be dark before the train reached Eugenia.  Even now the brown mid-Western plains dimmed in the distance.  The winter clarity of air defined every detail of the prairie and made the long distances seem deceptively near at hand.  Sabrina Gutherie sat gazing tiredly at the train's black shadow racing alongside the track bed.  She would be relieved to reach her destination, though her journey had been the result of a sad affair.

(Father's dead, Brina.  'Twas a malady got in Texas that took him down.  But I'm shamed to say he truly died of a broken heart.)

Nearly three weeks Sabrina had been on this train from New York, after having voyaged through a difficult winter's journey from Scotland first.  Until this afternoon she had had traveling companions, Mr. and Mrs. Langley of Texas, but two hours ago Sabrina had changed trains to one passing upward through Oklahoma.  Here her father had been buried eight months ago beneath this strange, wild and unexpectedly beautiful American soil; and here her sister waited with the child whose conception had destroyed him.

(I was afeared to be telling him, and he so ill, but it must be done.  He was upset, as was I, though meself more with the folly of it.  He must revenge himself, father said, and rose up from his sickbed to do it, though I begged him to stay.)

So now the elder daughter came, clothed in black and wrapped in grief for both her father and her wayward sister, across half the earth.  It had been almost a year and a half since they'd parted.  Glennis, blonde and blue eyed and malleable of nature, had been her father's pet.  Sabrina, with her auburn hair and green cat's eyes had been like to her mother's family, the feisty, bold and roaringly alive Buchanan Clan.

Father had always yearned to see America and stories of its Wild West had finally teased him into buying passage for a year's tour.  Glennis, his favorite, had not hesitated.  Sabrina elected to remain with her maternal grandmother, the last of their kin close to the family, after a long heart-to-heart consultation with the old lady.

(I say to you again, daughter, headache' you no desire to see aught of America?  No, father, though I thank ye.  I'm comfortable to home.)

It hadn't been so bad with the Langleys along.  They had told her the names of states and territories they crossed, with information about them.  The United States had actually enacted a law forbidding settlement of the Oklahoma Territory by white people; in this year of 1882 it still belonged to the Five Civilized Tribes of Indians.  However, around its edges the past few years pioneers had been bleeding through, often with the Indians' sanction.  The Chickasaw, who owned southeastern Oklahoma, sold permits to many of the white settlers for the rich grazing and cropland of the area. 

So had the miles passed.  The Langleys made Sabrina eat with them when the train stopped for meals.  They made her feel cared for without making her speak of her mourning, though she'd told them part of the story.  They kept her mind occupied and she had not had to think.  Now as twilight rapidly became night and the train drew ever nearer her destination and journey’s end, Sabrina felt the pent-up fatigue of the long travel catch up to her and began to nod.

The train rattled quickly over a switch and jogged her awake again.  Less than an hour away, according to her watch.  The Langleys, going to Denison on the original train, had calculated the time for her.  They had also soothed her fears.

The Indians—, Sabrina said hesitatingly.  Scots feuds she understood, but wild men who did the unspeakable things she'd heard tales of, quite another.

Don't you worry your mind about it, Mrs. Langley told her firmly.  All that's over with.  Everything's as peaceful as a Sunday afternoon these days.

Mr. Langley agreed.  It's true those uprisings you’re talking about were somewhat of a nuisance a few years back but it's quiet now.  In any case, as I recall there's a troop of men from Fort Towson stationed in Eugenia so you'll be as safe as a chick in a nest.

This came as dubious news to Sabrina, who wondered if the district claimed to be as secure as that, why need there be soldiers to guard the town?

To this question her informant said, Most of the border towns have a contingent or two.  They serve as peacekeepers and marshals in a land where our government has no jurisdiction.  In fact, Uncle Sam would as soon not have his citizens living there at all, but I predict it won't be too many more years and Oklahoma will belong to the States.

Kind Mrs. Langley repeated, You'll be fine.  You'll see your sister and her family and everything will turn out all right.

(Have no fear for me, Brina, for Johnny and I shall be wed soon.  I wish Father had not been so hasty. If the child be a boy I shall name him Liam in his memory.)

All the way through the trip Sabrina had imagined stepping from the train into Glennie's arms and they would be reunited.  She saw her mistake now, for Glennis had only a vague idea when Sabrina would arrive.  Even when she got to Eugenia, Sabrina still had to find her sister, but not tonight.  It would be ten o'clock when she disembarked, probably everyone would be abed.

Sabrina yawned.  She watched the lighted square of her window fleeing alongside the train, flashing across the ends of the wooden ties, over rocky bare ground, now and then stabbing through grasses, all faster than the eye could blink.  It grew hypnotic and Sabrina simply stared, chin in her hand.

The town lay about half a mile from the Red River.  The railroad track had more or less paralleled it for hours.  Sabrina felt the train slowing and sat up, her heart quickening.  She tied her bonnet on and ran a hand to tuck in loose strands of hair.  There came a staccato chugging as the engine cut back and then a pull of her body when the engineer applied the brakes.  She squinted her eyes through the window and in a moment could see the light of the depot.

The wheels whined down against the rails, barely creeping now.  In half a minute the train stopped with a screech and a jerk.  Handbag and fur muff dangling on her arm, Sabrina opened the compartment door.  She saw no one in the dim corridor but then at the front end the connecting door between the cars opened and a uniformed porter came toward her.

Are we here?  she asked.

Eugenia, ma'am, he confirmed.  He stepped in and dragged out her large leather portmanteau and suitcase.  As she followed him to the door Sabrina dug hastily in her change purse for a coin.

He thumped her bags onto the wooden platform and she gave him a silver piece, not exactly sure of its value.  He touched his cap and white teeth gleamed in the low light in a broad smile.

Much obliged, ma'am.  Enjoy your stay.

She stood alone, the only passenger off.  From the end of the platform she could see the lights of town.  The rear of the train vanished into the night.  To her right the engine whispered and rumbled faintly, wraithlike smoke drifting against dark heavens.  Sabrina went inside.  There she found the station agent talking with one of the train's officials.  When they paused she asked,

Is there someone to take me to the hotel?

I'll do it myself, ma'am, if you can wait five minutes.  This'n's the last train of the night and I'll be leaving too.

Thank ye.

Sabrina went back out onto the platform though the cold evening air nipped at her.  She tucked her fingers deep into her muff and in spite of her weariness her heart thrilled with pleasure in the greatness of this land.  The dark sky glittered with countless stars.  Truly there could not be as many stars in Scotland as in this great American West.  She felt a largeness to the night, a sense of open spaces and unrestrained motion, reminiscent of the weeks at sea. 

Nearby a horse snuffled and she turned.

Ma'am?  The station master tossed her bags into the wagon bed and helped her onto the seat beside him.

The icy breeze stung Sabrina's face and she shivered, glad they hadn't far to go.  With one hand she held onto her handbag, with the other she braced herself on the seat as the buckboard jiggled down the rutted road.

Don't get many pretty young ladies in, the station man said, breath pluming.  Mourning dress or not, he knew a looker when he saw one.

I've come to find me sister, Sabrina told him, trying to counterbalance the bouncing.  As she would do a number of times in the coming hours, she said, Her name is Glennis Gutherie.  Or it was.  Her husband is Johnny Parker.

She watched his face hopefully, not really disappointed when he said,

Sorry, ma'am, don't know 'em.

The town mayn't be large, but against the broad dark sky the tops of boxy buildings melted together to form an impression of bulk.  It might have been noon on the street they drove down by the number of passers by, even at this hour.  It took but a moment to identify the pedestrians as drinking men.  Saloon succeeded saloon and through their windows Sabrina caught glimpses of gaiety within.  Doors burst open as merrymakers emerged from one establishment to lurch into the street and seek the next source of fun.  A small party of men clad in military uniforms strolled by, neither of the revelry nor regulating it, but impressing Sabrina with their alertness.  Then a crash startled her as a bottle came flying out a window to shatter in the street.  The soldiers headed briskly in that direction.

Mercy!

Don't worry, miss, yonder's the hotel, the driver assured her.

There is certainly an abundance of—entertainment, Sabrina observed.

Tends to get a little rowdy at night, he agreed.  Wouldn't know these were hard-working cowboys a few hours ago.  He peered at her.  Wouldn't be one of those missionary ladies now, would you?

She shook her head.  His face relaxed.  Seems like there's a new saloon going up every month.  We got nine already.

She raised an eyebrow.  Is there a church?

One.  We needed a burying place, he grinned, then as quickly looked embarrassed as he remembered her mourning.

Sabrina sucked in a deep breath of the chilly air.  She wondered how the months her sister had spent in this place had changed her.

They stopped at the hotel, its bright lamps flanking the doors a welcome sight.  As she followed the station agent and her luggage inside warmth enveloped her, accentuating her exhaustion.  She longed to lie down.

Staying long, ma'am? the clerk asked.  Dollar-fifty a night or six dollars the week.

Certainly she would stay with Glennis once she found her.  Her innate thriftiness bartered with caution.  Two nights.

She let him choose from among a handful of coins those he wanted.  She paused, then said, I'm searching for me sister.  She was Glennis Gutherie but she's married since.  Her husband's name is Johnny Parker.  They've a new baby.

He looked shrugged.  Don't know her.

She's young, eighteen, no, nineteen now.  Blonde, blue eyes, pretty.  She came with our father but he died here last April.

I've only been here since September.  Maybe the day clerk can help you.

A boy carried up her bags and at her request returned with a pitcher of hot water.  Sabrina stood for a moment before the single window, which overlooked the shadowy street.  Two men staggering across the road stopped to engage in a faintly discerned argument, quickly leading to a pushing match.  A passing horseman in uniform stopped and broke it up, and the combatants stumbled on out of sight.  She pulled the drape across, undressed and washed.  Somewhere not far away Glennie slept. 

(Oh, there's the baby kicking.  He's getting restless.  I'm glad you're coming, Brina, I've been a wee lonely for you.  I'm still at the hotel but soon we'll leave.  I canna tell you where I'll be, but ask about, someone will know.  Bless you and safe journey.)

Surely this town could not be too large to lose a person in.  Sabrina felt confident she would find her sister tomorrow.

She lay down gratefully beneath the warm blanket, letting her muscles relax.  A light outside glowed past the edge of the curtain, painting a shining stripe on the far wall like a lamp left burning comfortingly in a strange house.  The motion of the train still vibrated within her and Sabrina eased into sleep.

Morning brilliance made little of the drape and the white washed room glowed.  The oak furniture gleamed like honey.  In the transitory mist between sleep and awareness Sabrina lay for a moment looking about and listening to the street noises, remembering her whereabouts.  Feet pounded on the wooden walkway below her window, dogs barked, carts creaked and jingled. 

She rose and peeked out from behind the curtain.  The street blazed with sunshine and activity.  Horses trotted down the road, stirring up the dust into shimmering clouds.  On the far side an old man rode one mule and led another, laden with leather bags and prospecting tools.  Here two dogs got into a wrangle and there on a corner a knot of ladies met beneath their parasols to chat.  Heavy carts and slender gigs met and passed.  An Indian boy on a pinto pony wove through the traffic and a few military men patrolled.  If only Glennie would walk by!

Her stomach growled. 

Sabrina had forgotten to wind her watch last night and had no idea of the time.  She dressed hurriedly and rolled her rich auburn hair into a roll with expert fingers.  It seemed almost a shame to be gowned in black on such a beautiful day.  She locked her baggage and tucked the keys into her handbag.  Then, bonnet and gloves in hand and cloak over her arm, she set forth.

The daytime desk clerk had his back turned placing envelopes into pigeonholes, and Sabrina waited.  A round black stove in the lobby crackled contentedly, over-filling the small waiting room with heat.  Beside it two men, one slim and elegant, the other portly, sat plying their teeth with toothpicks and talking of cattle.  On the wall behind them she noticed a clock and set her watch at eight-ten.

Mornin', ma'am.  The clerk found himself gazing with unexpected pleasure into clear green eyes when he turned around.

Sabrina introduced herself.  My father Liam Gutherie and my sister stayed in this hotel last spring.  He died here and me sister left.  I'm tryin' to find her.  Do you remember them?

Yes, ma'am.  We were sure sorry about Mr. Gutherie, he seemed a right nice feller.  Stayed here sick some time before he died.  I believe they buried him out at the church back of town.

Sabrina's heart beat faster.  And me sister?  Glennis?  Might you know where she's gone?

She was having a little problem,  he said delicately.

Sabrina said shortly, Niver mind that.  I know about it.

I remember the feller she was going about with, tall man, with long sandy hair.  If I ever heard his name I disrecall it now.  Pale skinned, looked like a cardsharp.  Reckon she's with him?  Maybe they've got married.

I believe they have.  Her stomach delivered a reminder.  I see I'll have to look for her.  But first, have you a dining room?  Can I have breakfast?

The clerk grinned.  Finest eatin' in town.  Right in there.

Sabrina followed his finger and at the rear of the lobby found the dining room, the double doors of the entrance propped open.  Diners appeared to fill the interior.  The spicy scent of sausage, the bracing aroma of coffee and the sweetness of molasses syrup teased Sabrina's tastebuds.  She swallowed.

Girls in mob caps served the tables and a boy in a smudged apron cleared them.  Conversation and the rattling of plates and glasses created a remarkable din.  She had pictured these rough Westerners eating with both hands, without napkins or manners, so it surprised her to see linen-covered tables and a full complement of silverware.  Though Sabrina had never suffered from timidity, her black mourning dress stood out starkly in the bright and busy room.  She spied a unoccupied table at the side under an enormous and incongruous painting of a harbor scene, and headed for it.

The sight of the meals she passed daunted her.  She could no more eat a plateful of eggs and potatoes, or a saucer sized steak under a mound of beans, or a six-inch stack of hot cakes dripping with syrup, than she could climb a tree.  The coffee smelt wonderfully strong.  She sat down and waited.  Before long one of the girls came up to her with coffee pot in hand and deftly filled the waiting cup.

What to eat, miss?

Do I have to have—all that?  Sabrina waved a hand at the next table where a stout man ate simultaneously from three heaped plates, each containing enough food to last her an entire day.

The girl looked and laughed.  Mr. Tarlton do put most folks off their appetite.

Could I have one egg, poached, a bit o' ham and some bread or oatmeal?

The girl tilted her head.  How about over easy?  Jim's been known to turn an egg into a rock poaching it.  Oatmeal, she sounded doubtful, then winked.  I'll make Sam cook some fresh, tell him we got a nice lady out here.  Sugar for your coffee's in that jar and I'll bring you some condensed milk if you'd like.  Most of the cowpokes who eat here got more milk and sugar than coffee in their cup.  They're so used to that awful coffin varnish they make themselves they don't recognize the real thing.

All right.  Sabrina couldn't help returning the girl's cheerful smile.  How forward these Westerners were!

The waitress returned in minutes with her plates.  The cured ham and the egg set before her had been cooked exactly right, but the slice of toast had become a plateful of grilled slabs and the bowl of oatmeal practically a tureen. 

The waitress asked, More coffee?

No, thank you.  She'd barely sipped half her cup yet.  Others around her drank the boiling brew as if it was lukewarm.

You need anything else, miss, just holler for Marie.

As the waitress moved on Sabrina watched with some shock as Mr. Tarlton poured a generous amount of liquor from a silver flask into his coffee cup.  When he glanced up and saw her he smiled politely.

Morning, ma'am.

Good morning, she managed faintly.

She had almost finished her meal when he lit a big black cigar.  Before the fumes could encompass her, Sabrina gulped the last of her coffee and rose.

She stopped her waitress.  How shall I pay?

You staying here?

Yes.  I'm Sabrina Gutherie.

I'll tell Bill at the desk.

While eating she'd thought of a possible way to find Glennis and stopped now at the desk to ask, Where is the post office?

Don't have one, ma'am.  Eugenia don't rightly exist.

She had forgotten this territory lay outside American borders.

Most folks use the general store as an address.  It's down across the street.

A man in a buckskin jacket coming into the hotel held the door for her as Sabrina went out.  The bright morning felt not much warmer than the night before.  The hotel’s porch roof over the wooden sidewalk shielded her from the sun but shone on the street with an abusing radiance.  Down the road she could see the sign for Bailey's General Store.  Sabrina tucked her hands into her muff and tugged the brim of her bonnet down a fraction further.

She walked down her own side of the street.  The bawdy houses dozed quietly now.  Sabrina passed their gilded doors and walls painted with pictures of spangled dancing girls, wondering why such women lived as they did.  The window broken last night had been covered with a rough board. 

Across from the general store she paused and waited for a dray to pass, its bed loaded with crates of squawking chickens. When it hit a hole the entire load leaped and rattled, the hens screeched and a handful of feathers shot forth to strew along the roadbed.  Then, with skirts in hand, she stepped out.  Two boys on horses chasing one another wheeled suddenly around the corner toward her and Sabrina abandoned dignity for a frank dash.  She gained the other side, breathless but unscathed, and shook the dust from her dress.

The general store occupied a large building with two wide windows on either side of its door.  Women made up most of the shoppers but Sabrina saw a uniform or two and, to her fascination, several dark skinned Indians who stood fingering a length of red flannel on a nearby table.  Obviously her mental image of distant tepees and proud isolation had to be discarded.

All around her worn tables held piles of different things.  Rope, candles, oil lanterns, matches and hunting knives on a table against one wall; gold beaded hats, cut glass atomizers, ladies white gloves and lacy handkerchiefs on another.  Tables lining the center of the room offered bushel baskets of nuts, apples, raisins and other dried fruits beside salted meats and fish.  Alongside one line of tables stood a row of barrels full of dried beans, coffee, pickles and crackers.  The scent of freshly baked breads struggled feebly against the pungent aroma of the vinegar barrel.  Shelves beneath the counter and on the walls held canned goods, from baked beans to coffee to ketchup.

A young girl with a basket on her arm turned toward Sabrina without warning and they sidestepped each other.  Sabrina joined the line of customers waiting to pay.  Two women worked behind the counter and a man about seventy wearing a faded vest and in shirt sleeves totted up charges with a pencil stub on torn scraps of paper.  Sabrina stepped forward as an old soldier in front of her paid for a tin of coffee and left, giving her an opening.

Though busy, the woman spoke courteously to a lady in mourning.

Morning, ma'am.  May I help you?

Yes, I hope so.  Sabrina explained her mission.  Do you know her?  I've sent letters to her, surely she must have been in here.

I've seen her.  Don't know her name or where she lives.  She looked to the others behind the counter but they shrugged.  Sorry, miss.  A lot of people come in and out.  Anything else?

No.  Sabrina stepped aside.  Outside again she stopped on the sidewalk, her