Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) (16 page)

Mrs. Galvan relaxed in her chair and took a deep breath. Even Mr. Galvan had been listening to every word as though the fate of the world rested on Boyd's report.

Sarah stirred restlessly in her chair. She was so thankful for the good news Boyd brought back to them. Had he not gone with Rebecca, they all would still be wondering about the young girl. Now Sarah felt she could relax and get on with the business of earning the funds that would keep Rebecca in the school.

"I see you glancin' at the clock," Mrs. Galvan observed. Sarah didn't realize it had been noticed. "I know you have lots to do. You run along now. I guess we've heard all we're gonna hear."

"Let me help with the dishes," said Sarah, quickly getting to her feet and beginning to stack plates.

"No—no. You've enough to do before bedtime. Now run on home. It was good to have ya visit. Seems a long time since you've been here. I've been missin' our little chats."

And Sarah was handed her cape and bonnet and gently pressed from the room.

"I'll walk along," said Boyd, reaching for his hat and falling into step beside Sarah.

The lovely fall evening was crisp and clear. The fragrance of burning leaves reached to them, seeming to curl warm and comforting fingers around Sarah's very soul. She loved the fall. God always seemed so close. So faithful in His provisions. The harvest grains and bountiful gardens were a reminder that He was always at work on behalf of His creation. Beneath their feet the fallen leaves rustled and a gentle breeze brought the perfume of late-blooming roses.

They did not speak. Boyd probably was already talked out, and Sarah was much too busy with thoughts of her own.

When they reached her gate, they stopped and Boyd opened it to allow her to enter. Sarah said, "Thank you." But she was not speaking of the courtesy of opening the gate. She was speaking of other things. So many things. She didn't suppose she would ever be able to put them into words.

"Ma says you been seein' Alex Murray," Boyd said when they were almost to the back door. His candid comment was neither condemning nor prying.

Sarah turned to face him. Her eyes grew big. "Is that what folks are—the way they see it?" she queried, concern in her face.

"Isn't thet the way it is?" he asked gently.

"No. No," said Sarah a bit too forcefully. "No— we—I just—just went with him to the school play to— to—I was finished with work and had nothing to do and didn't want to be all alone—all evening, and he asked if I'd like to see the play at the school and I said yes and ..." Her voice trailed off. What difference did it make? Why did she feel that she had to defend her actions?

She looked up at Boyd in silence, wondering if he understood what she was trying to say. She saw no condemnation in his eyes.

"I—I was foolish," she added lamely, dropping her gaze. "I didn't think. Afterward, I—I was afraid that folks might think that—well, that I—"

She couldn't finish that sentence either.

"Look," said Boyd gently. "You've got every right in the world to step out with a gentleman if you want to. No busy tongues should stop you. It's been five years. Five years already. You don't have a need to apologize—or—or make excuses."

"Oh, but I—it's not like that," insisted Sarah.

"I—I'm sorry," said the man, reaching out to touch her arm. "I had no right to pry like thet. It's jest— jest—I felt I had to know—how—how things stood. I mean—I didn't want to—"

It was his turn to stop without finishing his thoughts.

"Well," said Sarah, straightening herself to her full height. "If you wish to know—then I'll tell you. I have no secrets. My act was impulsive—foolish. I was lonely and I acted without thinking. But I wished later that I had not. I still love Michael. I felt—wrong—in doing what I did. Alex—Mr. Murray—is a fine gentleman. I will not deny that I had a good time. The best time that I have had since—for a long time.

"But I've no notion of repeating the mistake." She went on, her voice firm. "I will not be keeping company with Mr. Murray—or any other man again. I've made the promise to myself—and I intend to keep it."

Sarah may have expected to see relief in the eyes of the man before her, but it was something else that showed there. She wasn't sure just what it was. Pain? Regret? Disappointment?

Boyd said nothing, just reached in his shirt pocket and withdrew a crumpled and dirtied envelope.

"I have something for you," he said. His voice sounded low and strained. "I tried to keep it clean and unwrinkled, but a long trip doesn't make it too easy.

"It's from Rebecca. She told me what to write and I wrote down what she said—word for word. I think it will say more than all my stories. I thought you might like to get it when you could read it all alone. Uninterrupted."

He handed the envelope to Sarah, tipped his hat, turned, and was gone.

Sarah did not wait to watch him go. She hastened into her kitchen, threw her hat and cape on a chair, and settled herself to read Rebecca's letter.

Dear Mama,

The Tall Elms school is nice. They have a swing with a seat that moves. They even have tables for an outside picnic but we have to eat in the big room indoors. There are lots of girls but some of them are big.

I like Miss Brooker. She will be my first teacher. She has red hair and wears funny shoes.

I have a friend. Her name is Annabelle. She is
bigger than me and has her teeth gone. I like her. She showed me a picture of her family. She gots two big boy brothers and two little girl sisters and a dog.

We have four beds in
our room. One is for Annabelle, one is for Priscilla, one is for Jo, and one is for me. My bed is by the door.

I get to learn the piano. I can hardly wait. It has lots of keys all up and down. I didn't know that pianos had so many keys. I get to play them all but now I just get to play on a few in the middle.

It was fun riding in the stagecoach, but I got hot and tired. Then one horse hurt his leg in a hole and we had to wait for another horse. Uncle Boyd lifted me up on a high rock in the shade while we waited.

It was dark when we got to the town where the train was. Only the train wasn't there anymore. It already went away without us, so Uncle Boyd made a bed for me with coats and I slept pretty good. The next day we had to wait, too. We waited three days before the train came to get us. Then we went on the train to the school.

Sarah stopped reading, her eyes filled with horror. What if Rebecca had been all alone? What could she have done? Sarah had not even considered problems like horses with broken legs and missing the scheduled train.

We saw lots of things in the town while we waited for the train. Uncle Boyd got me a room with a boardinghouse lady. She was nice and made good cookies. We looked at houses and stores and things. I even saw a goat. And when we were on the train I saw buffaloes and deer and even a coyote. And lots of birds and prairie dogs too.

And that's all I seen. And some rabbits.

Uncle Boyd says that if I work hard I will soon be able to write you letters all by myself. I will work hard.

This is a real long letter. Uncle Boyd says that if I don't soon stop he will run out of paper and you will be up all night reading and your lamp will go out.

Sarah could almost hear Rebecca's childish giggle. She blinked away tears and continued her reading.

And I need to tell you about Miss Peabody. She is big and wears her hair back tight and looks at you like she's cross when you haven't done anything bad yet. But Uncle Boyd says I don't need to be afraid. I just need to be good.

There are lots of books here. I like them. Some have pictures. I looked at a picture book today and Annabelle has a picture book too that she let me see.

We all wear the same clothes here. Even the big girls have to share the clothes. Not share the clothes 'cause we each have our own dress but the dresses all look just the same except Priscilla got a tear in hers and Jo has a spot that won't come out on her collar. My dress is just fine but a little big and I have another one just like it in the drawer by my bed.

They have big trees here and they have squirrels that live in them and eat the things that fall on the ground and bury them in holes. I like the squirrels. They have funny tails. Not like Cat. Please take good care of Cat until Uncle Boyd gets home to take care of her. Don't let her kittens play in the street where they might get runned over by a wagon or boys running.I love you. I will miss you but I promise to be a good girl.

Rebecca

By the time she finished the lengthy letter, Sarah was weeping so that the words on the pages blurred before her eyes. Oh, how she missed her. Her little girl. The hand that held the letter trembled. How long would it be before she saw her little girl again, she wondered. It was all she could do to pay the school fees. How would she ever save money for a ticket so that Rebecca might make a trip home? Sarah feared that by the time Rebecca returned, she would not be a child any longer. Sarah would have to content herself with little scraps of sharing on sheets of stiff paper. It was not easy for Sarah to face the fact that Rebecca might not come home for Christmas—for the summer. Would they both need to go on and on—alone? It would not be easy living the empty years without her—waiting— ever waiting—for the day when there finally would be enough money for the train fare. Sarah prayed that the day might come soon. That God might work a miracle. She needed her little girl.

***

With little change in the routine, the days that followed seemed to slide from one to another. Only the weather fluctuated. The freight was hauled. On some days Sarah was so weary when she reached home that it was all she could do to care for the horses.

Week by week she carefully counted up her earnings. There never seemed to be quite enough. Week by week she denied herself one more thing to make the pennies stretch further. Soon her diet consisted of bare necessities, mostly garden vegetables taken from her cellar. Now and then she was invited to a church home for a meal. Sarah feared that her eagerness might show as she devoured the meat and fresh bread. Occasionally someone sent something home with her or brought it to her house. These were welcome gifts, and she made them last as long as she could.

Each Sunday Sarah sat at her small writing desk in the corner of her living room and wrote a long, long letter to Rebecca. There really wasn't much news from the town, so Sarah filled the letters with her own thoughts and feelings, and encouraged Rebecca to listen well to her teachers and follow closely the promptings of her God.

Alex Murray suggested evening outings on three occasions. Sarah always found some excuse to decline, though she longed for adult company. Yet she had no intention of giving reason for further speculation. Had she known that one town matron had suggested that Sarah had sent Rebecca off to school so she might accept the attention of gentlemen callers, Sarah would have been mortified. But Sarah was protected from the ugly comments and never suffered from the sting of those words.

That first winter without Rebecca to gladden her heart and bring a ray of sunshine to her day was long and lonely for Sarah. As spring neared, she realized that it would be impossible to bring Rebecca home. There had been no miracle. With a heavy heart she wrote to the school, asking them if they knew of a home willing to take Rebecca in for the summer. She knew with her tight money situation, she could not afford the ticket home. Besides, she now feared to let Rebecca travel so far alone. There would be no Uncle Boyd to see to her well-being should something unforeseen happen.

The letter that Sarah received in return informed her that the Fosters would be happy to have Rebecca join their family for the summer months. Sarah was more than relieved. She was ecstatic. She rushed to the Galvans, letter in hand, her cheeks flushed with her good news.

But even though she rejoiced, she still felt sadness. Oh, how she missed her precious daughter! It would be so wonderful if she could have Rebecca home with her for the summer months. It would be so wonderful to see in person how Rebecca was growing and maturing instead of reading between the lines of Rebecca's first attempts at letter writing or the reports of the school officials.

But Sarah brushed all of that aside and concentrated on adding up the bills and coins that would keep her young daughter in the school for "proper young ladies."

Changes and Chances

Sarah felt that she was always counting money. Over and over, week by week she counted and recounted, scheming and figuring and working toward the next payment due for Rebecca's schooling.

For many months there simply was not enough. If the funds were short a small amount, Sarah found ways to deny herself so she could make up the difference in time. Other times she had to devise ways of making up larger amounts.

One month she found a buyer for the mantel clock, on another the pin her mother had given to her, and on another the pocket watch that had been passed on to Michael by his grandfather. And so it went—whenever Sarah needed additional money she looked to her possessions for something else that might bring the needed dollars. Each time she had to sell one of her few dear possessions, her heart broke a little bit more, but each time she reminded herself that it was for Rebecca's future. That made it easier to bear.