Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) (15 page)

She wasn't sure if she was speaking to herself or the memory of Michael.

She looked at another gown. "This is the one Michael bought for me when we learned that Rebecca was on the way," Sarah remembered with tears in her eyes. "He said he wanted me to always remember what a lovely mother his son would have—Michael was sure it would be a boy. Later he—he said that Rebecca was—was even better than a boy."

Sarah smiled through her tears and studied another gown.

"That one I bought for our first anniversary. Michael always teased about the sash. He said it made me look like a little girl playing house."

Her hand caressed the dress before she moved on.

"He said this one made my eyes look even bluer."

At last Sarah was able to select a gown with no special memories attached. It was rather a simple flowered frock, unextravagant in style. Sarah felt that it would be appropriate for an evening out among town folk at the community school.

She poured herself a bath from the reservoir of hot water on her kitchen stove, and immersed herself for a lingering soak. It had been months since she had enjoyed the luxury of
time.
It felt so good to just relax. She closed her eyes and felt that with the least opportunity she could nod off to sleep.

She couldn't do that. She had to be ready by seven-thirty.

***

Sarah could not deny that she enjoyed the evening. The Kenville school had worked hard to put on the play to raise funds for some new sporting equipment. The cover had come off their last softball, and there wasn't a single bat without a crack being held together with twine and binding tape.

After the play ended, refreshments were available for purchase. Alex was one of the first in line.

Sarah had opportunity to chat and laugh with neighbors. She felt like a different person than the small, determined woman who had been riding the delivery wagon for the past several years. Her dress softly rustled when she moved and her hair was fashionably secure. She even smelled like the lady she used to be, thanks to the luxury of the bottle of cologne Michael had purchased for her on one of his rare trips to the city.

But anytime that Sarah glanced down at her hands, the feminine illusion quickly left. There had been nothing that she could do about her calloused and chapped brown hands. She had rubbed lard into them. It just made them greasy. She cleaned it off and tried the cream from the top of the milk bottle supplied by farmer Tarkington. The cream wasn't that much better. She wiped it off as well.

The nails were short and uneven, broken by moving crates and harnessing horses. She hated the look of her hands.

"Rebecca's hands will never need to look so—so neglected," she had told herself. At least that was some consolation. Though it was fashionable to wear gloves, no other woman in the room was wearing them while partaking of the refreshments. Sarah looked longingly at her gloves in her lap and tried to hide the worst of her hands beneath the plate of small sandwiches and squares of cake that Alex had bought for her.

But no one seemed to pay much attention to her hands. There were many warm greetings and a few well-meaning remarks about her weight loss. Sarah was aware that her dress hung on her rather than fitting well-rounded, feminine contours. She didn't need to be reminded of her weight, either by meddling comment or sidelong glance.

But for all that, Alex did not seem embarrassed to be seen in her company. In fact, his eyes seemed to twinkle with pleasure at having her by his side. Sarah found that fact a relief.

Before Sarah was ready, the evening ended and it seemed there was nothing to do but to leave the school-house and start the walk home through the autumn evening.

"That was fun," Sarah said as they slowly ambled down the wooden sidewalk, the dust lifting gently to brush the edges of her trailing gown.

"It was," agreed Alex.

They walked on in silence, listening to voices of the town folks calling good-naturedly to one another as they left the school premises.

"We must do it again—soon," continued Alex.

Sarah looked at him. "Are they doing another play?" she asked.

"No. No—not that I've heard. Mr. Holmes said he'd never get talked into
that
again." Alex laughed at the thought of the teacher and his emphatic little speech.

"Then what—?"

"We'll think of something," Alex stopped her.

Sarah half turned to look at him. He met her eyes, his own undeniably sparkling.

Sarah felt concern wash through her whole being. Was this evening as harmless as she had tried to convince herself? Did Alex see it as something that she did not? It frightened her. Surely—surely he didn't think that they were—were stepping out or anything. Was that what the town folk would think? Was it what Michael would have concluded about the evening?

Sarah was very quiet for the remainder of the walk home. They had reached her gate before Alex asked gently, "Tired?"

Sarah nodded. She was tired. Now.

"I have to be up early for the freight run," she admitted.

"I know," he answered. "I'm sorry."

"I really don't mind it," responded Sarah. She was not looking for pity.

"It shortens our evening," he replied, then chuckled to soften the words.

"Our evening." The words hung in the air to haunt Sarah. He had totally misconstrued the outing. She felt panic.

"I really must get in," she said too quickly. They had not even reached her door.

"I know." He sighed now, entirely serious. "But it's been—been—"

Sarah did not let him finish. "Great fun. The play. The chance to see neighbors. The lunch. It was all—all a very nice change and I thank you. Now it is back to business for me. I have freight to haul in the morning. But thank you for—for inviting me along. I enjoyed it."

And Sarah managed a smile, then let herself in at her door.

She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply. Then she opened them and gazed at her gown.

She had made a terrible mistake. She had been dreadfully wrong to accept the invitation of Mr. Murray. She would never be caught so totally off guard again. She had no business going out for an evening with a man. What would Michael think?

Guilt washed through Sarah, making her cheeks burn and her eyes fill with unbidden tears.

"I will never, never do that again," she promised herself. But even then her tender, painful memories would not let her quit condemning herself.

***

Three days later Sarah saw a tall figure climb down from the stagecoach and survey the streets of the familiar town. Then he lifted a hand and greeted her with a wave. Boyd was finally home. Sarah could hardly contain her eagerness. How had the trip gone? Was Rebecca safely and happily settled in the new school? What was it like? Was he sure that the young child would be well cared for? That she wouldn't be lonely?

She had so many questions—and she still had freight to unload.

But he was walking toward her, his small bag in his hand and a bundle on his shoulder.

"Howdy," he called before he even reached her. Sarah wished to run to meet him but she held her place, her feet shuffling agitatedly in the dust of the trampled street.

"Hello," she managed in reply. She waited for him to come closer, then asked in a husky voice, "How is she?"

"Took to the school like a duck to water," he offered, giving Sarah a big smile. "I think you were quite right. She will do well at the school. Already she has made some friends. She just bubbles—about everything."

Sarah felt her eyes filling with tears. She blinked quickly to try to remove them. She managed to give Boyd a nod. "I'm—I'm glad," she said under her breath.

"Why don't you come for supper tonight and I'll tell you all about it?" he offered.

"But—"

"Ma will be glad to have you. I'll need to give her and Pa a full report of everything anyway. It'll save me goin' over it twice."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

Then he looked at her closely. "How have you been?" he asked quietly, seeming to study her very thoughts.

"I'm—I'm fine," she answered and tried a smile to prove her declaration.

He nodded. She wasn't sure if he was accepting her acclaim or vowing to discover things for himself, but he dropped the subject.

"Need a hand with the deliveries?" he asked instead.

"No—No, we're almost done. This is the last of it and Newton is doing most of the unloading."

"Guess I'll git on home then and git cleaned up from the trip. I sorta feel like I'm dusty all the way through to my soul."

Sarah laughed softly at Boyd's declaration.

"See you soon then," he said as he hoisted up his bundle. "I'll tell Ma to set an extra plate."

Sarah nodded. It was nice to have an excuse to eat with the Galvans. She could hardly wait to hear a full report on Rebecca. She would hurry with her deliveries and stabling the horses.

As she moved toward Newton, who was lifting the last crate, her mind was saying its own little prayer of thanks.

"Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Boyd says she's settled. He says I did right. Thank you, Lord. Now I—I know that if this is where Rebecca is supposed to be, then you'll help me with the expenses of keeping her there."

And for the first time Sarah felt confident that she had made the right move.

Rebecca

The supper hour was pleasant, with Boyd telling story after story of his trip and Rebecca's reaction to all she experienced. He had not left the city to return home until he was sure she was well settled and content to be on her own. Sarah was more grateful than she could express for Boyd's care of her daughter.

"I'm sure she'll do well," he proudly informed the table of interested people. "They did some testin' of some sort, and the teacher said thet she is more than ready for the first year. 'Very mature and advanced fer her age' was the way she put it. She said thet Becky was bound to make the school proud."

Sarah beamed. She was sure that her little girl would do well.

"There are three other girls in her
room. Two are from the South. The other from the city. Becky and Annabelle—thet's one of the girls' names—took to one another right away. Declared immediately that they would be best friends. Different as night and day, they are. The other girl is taller than Becky and thin as a pole, with hair so fair it looks white, and pale blue eyes and the palest of skins. Looks almost sick—but Becky told me Annabelle's mama wouldn't let her in the sun at all and should she be out she had to always wear a bonnet and carry a parasol.

"This new friend of Becky's, Annabelle, she's already lost her two front teeth. Becky figured Annabelle quite grownup. By the time I left she was pesterin' me to see if her teeth were gettin' loose yet." Boyd stopped to chuckle and Mrs. Galvan laughed outright. Even Sarah smiled at Rebecca's attempt to hurry growing up.

"Becky and I were invited to the Fosters. That's Annabelle's folks. They're a fine family. Annabelle is the middle of five children. The two boys are the oldest. They are at an—Academy, I think they called it— somewhere in the East. The two younger ones are both girls. They are too young yet fer schoolin'. He's a lawyer with a big firm in the city. The mother is a woman from the South with a soft voice and fine manners. They have strong Christian principles. Annabelle will be a good friend for Becky.

"They have devotions each day at the little school chapel. Then on Sunday the staff takes all the girls to a large church in the town. It's within walking distance so they get 'exercise for the body and food for the soul,' according to Miss Peabody.

"Miss Peabody—now that is some woman." Boyd paused to consider his description. "She's a typical boarding-school matron, to my way of thinkin'. She's as stiff and starched as a fresh-ironed shirt, with her hair pulled back real tight in a biscuit—no, a bun at her neck, high-standin' collars, and eyes that would make a grown man squirm. I don't think one would do much of questioning Miss Peabody. A teacher I talked with said she's strict but fair—and the girls soon learn thet they are there to study, not to be pampered. 'Good for 'em,' says the teacher, and they don't really have thet much to do with Miss Peabody 'less they misbehave. I could guess by her bearin' thet she runs a tight ship.

"Teacher of the first grades seems kind. And they have a school nurse—right there, should they need her. An' a woman in the living quarters, 'Dorm Mother' they call her, to sort of care for the needs of the girls."

Sarah was delighted with all she was hearing. Her sacrifice on behalf of her daughter was more than worth it. Rebecca would get a good education and excellent training in her faith.

Sarah had never heard Boyd talk so much. She wondered if he really enjoyed it or if he was simply going on and on because he knew the two women at the table would give him no rest until he had told them everything he had learned of the school where Rebecca would be.

At length he stopped and looked around the table. "An' I reckon thet's about the sum of it," he said, and Sarah wondered if she detected a bit of relief in his voice.