Southwestern Saga by Sara Orwig

Author:Sara Orwig
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-62681-628-2
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

16

When Tuesday night came, as April sang, she couldn’t help but keep thinking about Melissa and Patrick. She prayed that Melissa had made the right choice. Life with either man could be risky and dangerous because of her father. Ned Hatfield was the only man who disapproved of Patrick, however, whereas every lawman in the West was after Tigre, including the bounty hunters and his enemies.

April couldn’t keep from glancing at the table where Noah used to sit night after night. When she finished singing a song, before the next performance, she went to her dressing room to change. She tried to force her thoughts to Melissa’s problems, to try to avoid facing the ones that plagued her own mind.

Melissa Hatfield paced April’s parlor, waiting for Patrick. For the tenth time she peered at her face in the mirror, straightening the braids that were looped and pinned over her ears, frowning at the wayward curls that had already escaped from the plaits. She smoothed her pink lawn dress, adjusting the full sleeves and smoothing the lace that fell over her wrists. If Papa saw her in her good dress, his suspicions would stir! She was thankful he had been at the store when she came to April’s, and she hoped he would work late and go to bed early. She stared at her image, her eyes wide, her lips rosy. Which one did she really love, Patrick or Tigre?

Where was Patrick? Impatiently she went into April’s darkened bedroom to peer out the south window. The field behind the house was empty and dark. A bright harvest moon hung low on the horizon, a big yellow ball that looked almost like the sun. Stars glittered and an owl hooted, a forlorn cry in the night that made Melissa shiver and move away from the window.

A quarter of an hour later she heard a faint rap on the back door. When she went to the door, her heart pounded. For an instant she thought of the break-in. Praying it was Patrick, she opened the door.

“Melissa,” he said, slipping inside quickly and closing the door after him. With the deliberation that characterized all his actions, he removed his hat and hung it on a hook by the door. His white cotton shirt and tight denims were spotlessly clean, his red hair parted in the center and combed down. She thought he looked so handsome.

“I had to see you.”

Torn with indecision, she gazed up at him, wishing he had stepped through the door and swept her into his arms the way Tigre would have. “Come into the parlor, Patrick.”

“Why couldn’t you see me last week or the week before? Or talk to me at church?”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a strained voice. He turned her to face him, frowning, his brown eyes clouded with worry. A stray lock of red hair fell over his forehead and he brushed it away.

“I can’t keep sneaking around to see you. I want you to be my wife.”

“Oh, Patrick!”

He slipped his arms around her, pulling her to him as he lowered his head to kiss her.

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