Sara's Honor

By Christy Stephens

           Could a simple stop-over in a small town change someone's life forever? Wade Cameron was about to find out.

          Would c

• Language: English
• Publisher: Historical Romance
• Release date: May 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869288592

Book preview

Present Day:

Sara Whitcomb couldn't help but laugh at her husband as he carried two heavy boxes into their house.

          Here, let me take the top box at least. She offered.

         She reached for it but her husband swerved the boxes away from her.

          "Not on your  life. You only have a few weeks left and I don't want a heavy box sending you straight into labor. Besides, they're not that heavy."

           Then what are the grunt noises lifting them? She teased.

           Michael chuckled as he stood upright holding his back achingly. Sympathy for tonight. I'm going to wrangle a back rub from you later. I have to sound pitiful.

           Giving him a baleful look, she moved around him to lift the lid from the first box. "In your dreams, macho man. I'm the one about to have a baby. You can rub my  back tonight."

          He chuckled then kissed her cheek.

         Deal. Now tell me why we lugged these boxes home from your Gran's house?

          Sara pulled a book from the box. After dinner when you and my Dad went to look at his new lawnmower, Gran pulled me aside and asked me if Mom had let me read the journals yet.

          Your Gran kept a diary?

          Yes. So did Mom. It's kind of a tradition in our family for the women to keep a journal of our lives.

           He looked at her curiously. I've never seen you writing in a journal.

          And don't think she didn't scold me for that tonight. They both laughed because Sara's Gran was a force of nature. And when she scolded, everyone listened.

           So these are hers? He asked, pulling  a book out to examine its cover.

             Sara ran her hand over the leather bound book.

             No. She said I can't read hers until she's good and gone. So they must be spicy. They chuckled knowing her Gran. These  journals are from my great-grandmother five or six generations back, Sara Newman.

             The one you're named after?  He questioned, placing the book back into the box.

             Me and about every other cousin, Aunt, and distant relative.

            Was she famous, this great-grandmother of yours?

           No. Not to anyone other than family I suppose. Dad was named after Sara's husband. And since I was his first born, he honored Gran by naming me Sara.

          Well, you'll have plenty of time to read them. He kissed her cheek again then went to the refrigerator for a drink. You've been bored while on maternity leave, now you'll have something to do.

           Sara frowned, accepting the juice he handed her.

          I could have stayed at work until time-

         Doctor's orders, Sara. Just be glad he didn't put you on complete bed rest.

         Sara made a face then put the book back, trading it for the journal marked with the year 1869, Volume I.

         Joining him on the couch she set her drink on the coffee table then tucked her feet in.

          Gran said to start with this one. Volume I. There are fifty of them.

           Michael looked it over curiously as well.

         Fifty? She wrote fifty journals?

        One for each year when she started writing them at 18 years of age. This first one looks really beat up. It held a musty smell compared to the others and the leather was battered and frayed along the edges, as well as slightly warped.

        Yes, it does. The other ones don't look like this one. It's been through something harsh, that's for sure. You can ask your Gran about it tomorrow. Let's go to bed. Michael lowered his hand to help her from the couch.

       You go ahead, Michael. I'm still too wound up from dinner with the family. I think I'll read a bit.

        Michael sat down beside her as he kicked off his shoes. Tomorrow is Sunday and we can sleep in. Read to me.

        You wouldn't mind? I mean, you'll probably get bored, but I wouldn't mind the company.

       Tell you what. You get all settled in, I'll make us some popcorn and we'll read together about your great-grandmother, generations back. I doubt there is anything interesting to keep us awake, but I'm willing if you are.

       Get the popcorn. Gran said once you start reading, you're hooked.

       We'll see. He said doubtfully.

       Sara thumbed through the book reading a few paragraphs here and there, her eyes widening.

        She snapped the book closed guiltily as Michael came back in with popcorn, grapes and chocolate. The staples of cravings she'd been having lately.

         Hey, no cheating by reading to the end. He admonished.

Sara  punched his arm playfully. I only read a few paragraphs. Listen to this . . .

         Opening to the middle he stopped her hand.

        From the beginning, Sara.

        Right. From the beginning. I'll let you know when we get to the juicy paragraph I just peeked at.

        They chuckled together and settled back.

                                    My new friend, Angelia,

gave me this journal as a gift.

Since I am bored so far away from home,

I figured I might as well write something down.

Glib little lady wasn’t she? He teased.

Hush and listen, Michael. She admonished playfully.

Sorry, read on.

This whole mess started about two months ago when my

stupid brother Aaron got drunk in Moss Creek. That’s where I live,

Moss Creek, Colorado. Pa said I was the one who

would have to go and bail him out since he couldn’t

 spare anyone else at the time.

Now, because of that day, my life has changed forever . . .

Chapter 1

Moss Creek, Colorado 1869

The Moss Creek saloon was fairly empty at this time of day considering it was just after one in the afternoon. For a weary traveler however, it was a welcomed sight.  

Wade Cameron watched the few men sitting at a nearby table playing a game of cards as he stepped in the opened doorway. He stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust from the blaring sun, get his bearings, and make sure it was a safe place to come in from the unseasonably warm day.

Strangers in town were often met with animosity so he knew to move carefully, slowly, and without drawing too much negative attention to himself.  He had no desire to find trouble today. He was hot, tired, and road weary. He was simply looking for a cool place to sit and a hard drink to wash his parched throat.

At the rough pine bar stood two men talking in low tones and just to his left sat the Sheriff, noted so by the badge he wore. Around him sat several of the Sheriff’s cronies, all eyeing him warily.

Wade found an out of the way table and sat down tiredly then ordered a drink from a comely girl who appeared at his side. Soon enough, the curious lost interest in him and went about their business seeing he was keeping to himself. He had to admit that he did look a bit on the rough side. With the growth of a grizzly beard, his clothing smudged and covered in dust and sweat beading his brow. In all likelihood, he looked more like a trouble-maker than a weary traveler.  The guns swung low on his hips didn't help, but he never traveled without their protection. He simply made sure his hands stayed visible on the table in front of him. No need to make these cowpokes nervous.

        Relaxing into his chair, he was reminded of how long he had been on the trail and how tired he really was. This trip had been a good business venture however, and the sale of the stud horse he had just delivered to Denver brought him a hefty profit.  

He had hoped for a town with a telegraph but that was not to be. This sleepy little town was lucky they had a stage run through to deliver mail once a month and take on passengers. To hope for a telegraph office was just too much.

Counting the last of his funds, he had just enough for a bed, bath, and hot meal.  He shook his head ruefully. He should have kept a bit of cash from the sale of the horse, but didn’t like to carry too much money on him when he traveled. Now he regretted that decision as he had exhausted himself of funds.

Maybe he should just spend the last of his money on a poker game. That should get him the funds he needed to get home more comfortably. He stared at the empty glass in front of himself trying to decide if he should or not, then waved the girl over for another drink instead. He knew he couldn’t take the chance on a poker game. What if he lost? He was tired of roughing it. He wanted to feel human for at least one night before he hit the trail again. It didn’t matter really.  This little town of Moss Creek was near the Wyoming border so he wasn’t that far from home. One week at the most depending on how he pushed himself.  So it was with these thoughts he was near dozing in his chair when a loud and humorous conversation caught his attention and brought his head up from a sleepy nod.

            Hey Sheriff! The smaller of the two at a nearby table called out.  Heard you locked up Aaron Newman last night. Both men rippled in laughter and Sheriff Donovan couldn’t help but shake his head and join in.  

        I swear that boy thinks he’s all growed up and can hold his liquor and his women. Tore Mae’s dress in two places and never did get ‘neath her skirts. He smiled and winked at Mae Bronson, the best known light-skirt in town. Well into her forties, with a brightly painted face and outdated clothes too small for her buxom figure, Mae thought she was at the height of fashion and tried extremely hard to hold on to her youth. For Mae, her lifestyle had stolen any fringe of youth long ago. Too much Henna rinse had turned her unruly hair dry, wiry, and strangely orange, clashing with everything else she wore. Mae was not the epitome of womanhood, but she served her purpose and pocketed her earned coin like a miser.

          The boy’s green, She shrugged. He’ll learn not to rush so much the next time. Again the men laughed.

           Are you gonna be his teacher, Mae? Jed asked her as he snickered.

The woman sashayed over to the man at the gaming table.  I’d be happy to teach you too, Jed. Mae patted his reddened cheek as the other men in the saloon laughed outright.

I’ll betcha Aaron’s Daddy sends ole Leather Thighs out to pick the kid up again.  Pete, the man behind the bar, raised his own opinion on the matter of this person they called Leather Thighs.

            The Sheriff gave the barkeep a stern look. Sara would box your ears for saying that, Pete.

Sara. Pete snorted with humorous sarcasm in his voice.  I'd rather that girl do more than box my ears if you catch my drift.  More laughter filled the bar by the other patrons and Wade mentally shrugged at their in-town joke.

Best be careful, Pete. Leather thighs don’t take too kindly to that. Another warned. "Don't take kindly to being called Louie neither ."

                Still, Sheriff Donovan added seriously. I wish Aaron’s Pa would send somebody else to town every time that boy got into trouble. Why does he always have to send Louie? I’ll tell ya true, I almost sent the boy home just to avoid all the chaos that one can stir up. His sentence was cut short just as a loud commotion was heard from outside of the saloon and the Sheriff’s deputy came bursting in with an anxious look on his face.

Better come quick, Sheriff! Louie is over to the jail raising one hellacious fit! Deputy Baker shifted from one foot to the other in nervousness.

            You fool! The Sheriff growled, coming to his feet. Did you open the cell? Are they in there together?

            The deputy had the good grace to flush. Well Sheriff, Louie said just to talk, that was all. Sheriff Donovan’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he moved quickly and placed his hat on his head.

            "You know darn well Louie’s temper too! Come on; let’s get over there before I got  no jail left!"

            Well, what would you do? The deputy was heard to ask as he followed the Sheriff out of the saloon. Louie threatened to kick me into a higher voice if I didn’t open up!

            Comical glances were exchanged by all the men as the saloon grew suddenly quiet. Then, almost as one, the men stood rapidly and headed for the door and onto the boardwalk, followed by the patrons at the bar and the barkeep, Pete.

            Curiosity overcame Wade. Besides, he had been sitting there long enough and was more than a few drinks in. It was time to go over to the hotel and order him up a bath before he spent the rest of the afternoon nodding off at the table.

            Stepping onto the boardwalk, Wade stood next to one of the men who had been teasing the Sheriff and looked across the street to the jail house where all eyes were cast. Sure enough, shouting could be heard from where they stood.

                 Three men soon came out of the Sheriff’s office. First to come out was the Sheriff, followed by a tall, slender man, holding the side of his head and staggering a bit. Following them was a third man walking out with a strident and determined walk.  Evidently, he was Louie, the one they had nicknamed Leather Thighs. Wade couldn’t see much of him as the other two had been blocking his view until now, but this man was far from what Wade had imagined him to be. Although the man’s back was to them as he stepped around the much taller two men, Wade stood surprised at what he was seeing. He had imagined a rough, large, burly man with a name like Leather Thighs. A man who could intimidate with his size alone. Not a short, skinny, wimpy looking man. Was he for real? No wonder the townsfolk teased about him .

            From the looks of the little man he looked as if a strong wind would take him down. And these men weren't kidding when they said he'd be mad. Anger radiated from him. Wade knew some smaller men had to exude meanness in order to protect themselves, and this little guy needed a great deal if his sissy walk and small physique indicated anything.

            Leather Thighs’s back was still to him but he could see he was arguing with the Sheriff. The third man next to the little guy still held his head and kept it lowered as he clumsily attempted to mount the horse waiting for him.

            Wade couldn’t hear what they were saying, and didn’t really care if truths were known. However, the scene had been rarely funny and had broken up a monotonous day.

            He shook his head with silent laughter. Leather Thighs, huh? Sissy Thighs was more like it. And the way those tight black pants molded to the little guy’s backside, he would say that his rounded rear end didn’t properly-. All his thoughts slammed to a halt when Leather Thighs turned around.

            What the- He couldn't help but speak aloud as the black shirt Leather Thighs wore molded itself to very notable female curves. He couldn't help but stare at two perfectly rounded breasts that strained beneath the tight material as Leather Thighs continued ranting at the sheriff aggressively.  

         Leather Thighs was a girl!?

         He watched along with the rest of the men as, instead of mounting her horse, the girl went to the younger boys’ side and pulled him away from his horse until he crumpled face first into the dirt in the street. His nervous horse began prancing away as the boy was then half dragged by the girl to the horse trough and his head was dunked inside and held there.

            Seconds passed before the boy's head was pulled out, dunked again, and then pulled out as he gasped for air. Water splashed the trough, the dirt streets and  the girl. No, this was not a mere girl; this was a woman full of the feminine curves that attested to her gender. Though she was not overly well endowed, she had just the right amount of curves to strike a man right in his crotch.

            "Makes a man wonder why he don’t   just go jump  her bones don’t  it, Mister?" Pete asked the stranger.

            Is it that  evident? Wade responded, unconsciously wondering if his interest was  that noticeable.

            Don’t know ‘bout you stranger, but rocks are softer than me right about now. Though, if she heard us, we’d probably never be able to get it up again. She's got a hot temper and a hard right hook. The man chuckled to himself.

            Wade scoffed with a hard puff of air drawing chuckles from those around him. You scared of a little bit like that? Hell, I'd bet any one of you hard earned cash a little thing like her would run home to her Daddy in tears if a man looked at her wrong. Wade looked around at the snickering men. "A real  man I suppose. From the looks on your faces, I see she's got you all running scared."

            The men around him laughed at that before Pete spoke up again.

        "Mister, that girl has been raised by five brothers and her Pa. Her brother Ryan, why he’s the best shot in this and all our neighboring counties, and he’s the one who learned  her to shoot.  Her brother Nathan taught  her to sit a horse  better than most cowpokes who sit one for a living. Then there’s Morgan. He's a hot tempered one just like her, that's for sure. He's the one taught  her how to fight like a man. And her Pa, he lets her just run wild. He quickly pointed to the girl who was still arguing loudly with the Sheriff. That little gal can tackle any job on the ranch her Father owns. She puts up fences, ropes steer and works as hard as most men. I even heard she stepped right in the middle of a rattlers nest once and didn't even flinch. Just stood there, pulled her sidearm, and killed three of the critters without blinking an eye. Then I heard, one of the snakes had already bitten her, but got its fangs caught in her boot. Story is, she leaned down calmly, unhooked the offender, then made herself a snakeskin hat rim. Stranger, that little gal could probably piss on a wall if she put her mind to it. Her brothers probably taught her that too." Pete surmised sarcastically.

Wade looked over at him incredulously. Look at her! She's barely five feet tall! You can't be serious about this. He laughed mockingly.

            Pete snorted comically. Ain’t a man in three neighboring counties kin get that girl to even give up one kiss. Besides the fact, who would want to? She doesn't even own a dress. Why, we had a town shin-dig a couple weeks back. Did she get out on the dance floor like the other women looking all cute swishing their skirts to the fiddler? No. She went and joined the men while they passed around the whiskey and sat the rest of the night on a fence rail, talking to the cowpokes the whole night. There ain't a drop of woman in that girl. Kissing her would be like kissing another man, I reckon.

         The opinion of the gathering continued as others around him regaled Wade with more stories of this boyishly abrasive woman.

        Now hold on and think about it. Jed put in the conversation slyly. "Didn't that cowpoke who worked for her Pa get cozy with her in the back of their barn?  He sure was braggin ’ about it. He said she was one good romp."

        All of the men were quiet for only seconds before letting out raucous laughter. Then the deputy, who was now hiding behind the men from the bar rather than on the street with his Sheriff,  spoke nervously.  "That was Monty. Remember him? When was the last time you saw him around here after he was braggin ? The small question gave the group a quiet mumble, then the deputy gave in to the answer. Yep, that's right. All the boy did was try to kiss her. She broke his nose.  He was too embarrassed to tell everyone why he moved on, but word got around he quit because of her. Just for one kiss. So you see boys, that little spitfire girl out there would lay any one of us out for just thinking of it."

            Wade stood quietly for a moment then said in a lighthearted jest that would change his life forever. Maybe the men in this town just aren’t man enough to break that little filly. I could get her to give up a kiss and more if I were to try. He bragged loosely, finding their conversation rather funny.

        Though the men around him quieted only a moment before they burst out into complete laughter again, the barkeep Pete, the loudest. Boy, you ain’t got a lick of sense if you think you could get out of that little gal, what many here have tried. Or at least, thought of trying.

        Not only try, but succeed, gentlemen. Wade goaded. I made a bet with a friend of mine I could get this prissy little girl back in New York to do a lot of very unladylike things in the back of her carriage. He had to turn over a good chunk of money on that bet. Wade laughed. She wasn't as shy and ladylike as she'd have liked everyone to believe. At least, with me she wasn't. Of course, Wade hadn't told his friend he had already heard of her reputation, but he'd enjoyed the fun of the bet.

        The ever funny Jed looked at him with round eyes. You mean you took her virtue right there in that carriage and then didn't marry the girl? Tain't right to make a bet like that.

        Wade laughed a bit at the funny little man. No. I did not. I'm not a cad. Her virtue remained intact. I just set out to prove my point and pocketed ten dollars from my friend.

        "Well, that mighta worked on that New York girl, but this girl here is a mite  different. She would bloody your nose and take out a few of your teeth."

        "As I said gentleman, it sometimes takes a real man to get what he wants out of a woman. All I am saying is-"

                 You think you are man enough? Pete interrupted him. I'll wager five dollars you can't get one little kiss from that gal in a week's time. Without a broken nose at least. Pete prodded as the men behind Wade smiled knowingly and agreed in soft murmurs with their friend. And a bloody lip to boot. He edged, enjoying the way he was stirring up trouble.

                       Wade crossed his arms over his chest, You think so, barkeep? I’ll take that bet. Whoops and laughter ran through the group standing around listening to their debate. Money talks, gentlemen. He told them laughing out loud and couldn’t believe his own ears that this conversation had turned the way it had.  He was amused however, and knew somewhere inside he must be pretty trail weary to be heading down the path of this conversation as he was. Maybe he should have passed on that third whiskey. Or was it the fourth?

I’ll wager on it, Another named Grayson told them all. But take heed, that little gal ain’t to be harmed. Her virtue ain't a part of this bet.

        Grayson's right. She may be as prickly as a cactus, but she's one of our own. Pete warned, with agreeing nods from all. Understand our meaning, boy?

        Wade looked back across the street. Understood.  He said with a strange smile on his face as the men gathered around to place their bets. I promise you the girl will not be harmed. I’m an honorable man and keep my promises. And who knows fella’s? I just might soften her up for one of you. He teased. He wanted to laugh at the craziness he was agreeing to, but once someone challenged him, he just couldn't resist. Just as he'd done in New York.

Did Mae slip him another drink? He hoped she had as he continued to think about this bet he was making. Would he ever have done this on just the first drink? Probably not. He had been drinking steadily with his friends before he'd gotten Marilee Gibson to give up that kiss.

 Of course, he had been an exuberant youth of eighteen at the time. Not a man of twenty-eight who knew this was a bad idea, but didn’t have it in himself to stop it. Most likely because of the third or fourth drink.

            Aside from the fact that Wade enjoyed a challenge, there was something oddly funny about this entire scene. He had never seen a female that would dare dunk a man, brother or not, into a horse trough. Women were supposed to be pristine and faint at the sight of a spider on the wall. At least, the women in his family were that way. He had never seen such fire in a woman, and he wanted to see what she was about.  Then again, maybe the sun had fried his senses because the part of him that told him this was a crazy notion on his part, seemed to fade

with the reality of the challenge he was about to embark on. Yes, definitely the whiskey.

Chapter 2

            Sara Newman looked across the street as a commotion started taking place in front of Pete's saloon. She knew this little spectacle her brother caused had drawn a small crowd, but she wondered why suddenly a group of men across the street were laughing and passing money to the barkeep. All but one of them. One man, a stranger, stood grinning in her direction. It must be the sun playing tricks on her eyes because she could swear his  eyes were directly on her.

         Hell and damnation, Sara! Aaron choked as his sister finally pulled his face from the water a third time. "I told you I was sorry! Shit girl, you like to near drowned  me!"

            You're at least a bit more sober for the ride now. Sara pulled her focus back to her brother. Because of you, Pa wouldn’t let me go out with the men to find those missing heads roaming the North hills. Instead, I had to come to town and get you again. He figured you were in trouble when you didn’t show by dawn this morning. He was right too; here you are, tossed in jail like a criminal. She sneered. Again!

            Aaron hated it when his little sister was this mad at him. She was downright dangerous when she was mad and that was a fact. I thought he found them yesterday.

        Not the last nineteen. If you would have stayed home where you belonged instead of trying to get under that tart's skirt again, you would have known that!

 About that Sara, did Pa happen to send some extra money? He asked sheepishly.

            Wade couldn’t believe his eyes. The brother stood at least a head taller than the girl that soundly embarrassed him right in the street! This little gal needed to be straightened out for her own good.

Wade wasn't a big gambler like some men he knew who would blow their week's wages on one card game. He enjoyed a game of cards now and again and tossed down a coin or two on a horse race, but nothing like this bet. He would convince himself at a later hour that his brain was simply exhausted from too much trail dust and whiskey, but for now, he'd been challenged and he'd accepted. It had been funny at first, then men started passing around money and the reality of the bet just hit him. On the other hand, he had a feeling he just might enjoy this one.

            A plan was already forming in his mind. Sensing the others were watching him expectantly, he figured he might as well not disappoint them. Adjusting the hat on his head, he nodded toward the snickering men and started to cross the street.

            His pace was slow and deliberate as he crossed the street at an angle to come in beside the trio in front of the Sheriff’s office. Wade tipped his hat to a passing woman crossing the street, more than likely to avoid the scene in front of the Sheriff's office. He stopped just short of the group to overhear her saying: . . .and you can tell that saloon tart I said so too!

            "Sara, Mae just wants her due . Your brother tore her dress." Sheriff Donovan tried to cajole.

            Ice blue eyes looked from the Sheriff to her brother and then back to the Sheriff. "For her line of work she don’t  need a dress. I ain’t paying for the damages and neither is Aaron. If she wants it fixed, send it round to Nathan’s house. Mary can sew it for her."

            "I can’t send a saloon tarts dress to your brother’s wife to sew! She’s a christian lady, taint   proper !"

            Wade could almost laugh. The little spitting kitten just turned into a mountain lion, claws bared. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to the Sheriff putting her face as close to his as she could get from her diminutive height.

            "You won’t allow my proper christian sister-in-law to fix the tarts dress cause she’s a lady, but you have the nerve  to want me to pay for it!?" She screamed.

            Sara, this ain’t really meant to be aired on the streets. Her brother said, flushed with embarrassment.

            Shut up Aaron and get on your horse. A heated gaze transferred back to the Sheriff. You can tell that tramp if she had taught him better, her dress wouldn’t have gotten ripped. She finalized her last words with a few sharp jabs of her fingertip into the sheriff’s shirtfront. Get. My. Meaning?

            Wade finished crossing the street and started down the boardwalk towards the arguing trio. He walked slowly and tipped his hat as a few ladies came out of a store. The sound of his footsteps resounded just a few feet from where Sara had finished her tirade.

            Come on Aaron, we need to get to the livery and then on the road. We're heading to the hills to see if we can catch up with Pa before dark. Her head unconsciously swiveled at the sound of Wade's boots clicking on the wooden slats of the walkway behind the Sheriff as they stood in the street, just down the steps from where the man now passed. Her eyes rounded a bit at the sight of the stranger as he looked straight into her eyes.

She swallowed unconsciously as she looked at the bigger than life man. Sara was accustomed to big men. All of the men in her life topped her by a foot, but this man seemed to take up all of the space around them. Bold brown eyes speared right through her until she felt the air around her had thinned. Her breath held, throwing her totally off guard as he lifted a tanned hand to tip his hat to her. Time seemed to slow around her.

With his hat tipped, his deep resonant voice said one word that gave her the goose bumps down her arms.

Ma'am.

She might have thought to nod to his greeting, but her mind merely tried to