Page 1 of Loved to Death

Part One: Thomas

Chapter One

1875, Eugene, Oregon

Thomas walked into Rusty’s Saloon and scanned the dimly lit establishment for Jeffrey. He spotted the young man serving drinks to a group of rowdy lumberjacks in town for the weekend to spend their wages on whiskey and women. Thomas avoided eye contact with the unkempt men who were likely employed by his father’s mill and looked around for Sarah. She wasn’t on the main floor with the other two saloon girls, so he walked up to the bar and fished some coins out of his pocket.

Rusty, the proprietor of the bar, watched Thomas with narrowed eyes.

Thomas put a half eagle on the counter. “An hour with Sarah when she’s available.” He added a silver dollar. “And Jeffrey to stand guard.”

Instead of taking the money, Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Your pa know you’re here?”

Thomas had to clench his jaw and take a deep breath before responding. “If you don’t want my money, I’m sure Jack will.”

The old man’s gaze darted to the left where his competitor’s bar stood three buildings down across the street. He scooped up the coins with a scowl and leaned forward. “Don’t expect me to hold my tongue if your pa comes looking.”

“William Clarke doesn’t go looking for anyone, Rusty,” Thomas said bitterly. “Not even his own son. William Clarke waits for people to come to him.” He doubled the money. “I’ll have them both for the entire night.”

Rusty huffed, took the money, and waved to get Jeffrey’s attention. “It’s your funeral.”

Thomas nodded. He was certain he’d be carrying the welts from his father’s strap for days if William found out he’d been to the saloon again. But then he caught Jeffrey’s eye and it simply didn’t matter. The lanky young man’s clean-shaven cheeks turned pink and his tired expression morphed into a sly grin. By the time he’d made it to the bar, Jeffrey’s head was tilted down so he could look through his eyelashes at Thomas.

The urge to grab a fistful of Jeffrey’s jet-black hair and press their lips together was almost overpowering, but Thomas restrained himself.

Rusty waved a hand toward the stairs. “Take him to Sarah, see if she’s done with that farmhand, and stand guard as long as Mr. Clarke likes.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeffrey drawled, but kept his eyes on Thomas. “The farmhand left a few minutes ago.”

Smiling, Thomas followed Jeffrey up the stairs and took note of the swing in the man’s hips as he walked.

Sarah greeted Thomas with a delighted squeal before tossing herself against him for a thorough kiss.

After reciprocating enthusiastically, Thomas pulled back, brushed his fingers down her pale freckled cheek and said, “I take it you’re pleased to see me.”

Grinning, she grasped both men’s hands and pulled them into her room.

Jeffrey shut and locked the door behind them.

The sparse little room held a single bed, a dresser with three drawers, and a solitary wobbly wooden chair, but, for Thomas,thiswas heaven. His opulent bedroom in his father’s home was a prison he would never be brave enough to escape.

Jeffrey took the chair and set it in front of the door for extra security and then turned to Thomas expectantly.

Thomas took off his coat, rolled his shoulders, and let the stress of the past week fade away. He held a hand out to Sarah, and once she put her hand in his, he pulled her close. He leaned down and gave her a light kiss before looking deeply into her green eyes. “How are you, darling?”

She put a hand on the side of his face. “Better, now that you’re here.”

Thomas turned to Jeffrey. “And you?”

“I’ve missed you.”

“And I you.” Thomas looked back at Sarah. “Both of you.”

Jeffrey started to unbutton his shirt. “So let’s make the most of the time we have.”

Thomas tsked and shook his head. Jeffrey froze while Sarah smirked.

“He’s rather impatient tonight, isn’t he?” Thomas asked Sarah.

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