Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) (18 page)

She felt both excited and frightened. What if it didn't work? What if she ended up losing both runs? It could happen. It had happened to others in the past. They had become too greedy, too aggressive, had spread their resources too thin and lost everything. Sarah prayed that wouldn't happen to her.

"Will you help me with the horses?" she asked Boyd humbly.

He nodded.

"I heard of some that might be got cheap," he told her. Before Sarah could exclaim her joy he went on hurriedly, "But they're just green broke. Hardly what a lady—what a person would be wantin' fer haulin' freight."

Sarah nodded, but she did so wish that she could find horses at a reasonable price.

"You gonna git a lighter wagon?" was his next question.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, remembering what had happened to her former competition. "It didn't work well for Fast Freight Lines."

"Well—he went far too light. There should be something in between what ya got now and what he went for. I'll do some lookin' around."

Sarah nodded and smiled her appreciation.

He found her a lighter wagon that seemed to be sturdy enough to take the shaking of the rough roads it would be traveling. He also found some horses, reasonably priced, that seemed as if they would behave fairly well in harness.

The price still was frighteningly high to Sarah. She swallowed several times at the thought of needing to pay off another bank loan. But she decided she would do her best to make it work. With that settled firmly in her mind, she approached the town banker. She was surprised that he agreed to lend her the money. "Of course," he explained carefully to be sure she was perfectly clear, "if anything happens that you are unable to repay, the assets belong to the bank."

Sarah swallowed hard. She had no intention for her assets to go to the local bank. Her hand trembled slightly as she accepted the bank note along with the challenge. Then she left with the money to take it to Boyd so he could pay for the purchases.

***

With the lighter wagon and the extra horses, Sarah's days were longer than ever. From early morning until sundown, she urged her teams over the rough roads to pick up the two freight runs at the depot and deliver them to Renville's businesses as well as High Springs. By the end of the day she was so weary and aching from all the jostling and lifting that she wished only to fall into her bed.

Even her letters to Rebecca were shorter now. There was simply no time during the week, and by Sunday she was so exhausted that it was hard for her to even make it to church. By the afternoon she just wanted to be left alone to catch up on much-needed sleep.

If she had been so inclined, now there
simply was no time to come home and change garments and tidy her hair so she
might feel more like a lady. She dressed more plainly than ever in simple heavy
skirts and ribbonless shirtwaists. Her hair was brushed and knotted to be pinned out of her face and tight to her head.

Her whole existence was tied to those horses and wagon. She came to think of herself not as Sarah, a woman, but as Sarah, the driver of the town drayage.

***

Boyd had been right. She did need the extra horse. She had operated for less than two weeks when one of her morning team went lame. It was all she could do to make it back with the wagon of loaded freight.

After a number of days of rest and some administration by Boyd, the horse seemed fine again and ready for harness, but then a second horse began to limp. Sarah had to rotate the team once again.

And so it went all through the long winter and into the spring. Sarah dreaded the soggy, rutted roads during the spring thaw. It made the wagon harder for pulling. At times she was afraid her lighter team would not be able to make it through. Once she had to unload part of the delivery, take half a load through the muskeggy section of road, and return to bring the other half. It slowed her down dreadfully, and by the day's end her back and shoulders ached until she was unable to sleep in spite of her weariness.

But summer came again—and with it better weather and better traveling. Each month Sarah was able to make the payment on her loan. Each month there were enough funds for Rebecca's schooling. In spite of her tiredness, Sarah felt that things were going well.

Growing Up

"How do you like it?" It was Annabelle who asked the question. She twirled in a circle, making the skirt of the flowing dress swirl about her ankles.

"It's lovely," Rebecca said enthusiastically. "It's the prettiest dress I've ever seen."

Annabelle's smile acknowledged that the dress was pretty.

"Well—" she said, her head tipped to the side, "it's better than those old navy-and-white uniforms anyway."

Rebecca agreed. She thought she had never seen anything so beautiful.

"What will you wear for the party?" asked Anna-belle.

The question brought a furrow to Rebecca's brow. What would she wear? She had almost outgrown her dresses—again. It seemed that each time there was an end of term and they moved back to Annabelle's house, the dresses that had remained behind in the dorm closet were too short and too tight when they returned.

"Mother Perry hasn't sent money for new ones yet," said Rebecca slowly. "Perhaps it has been held up in the mail."

"I s'pose you could wear one of my old ones," offered Annabelle generously. "Maybe Mother could alter it some. She's very good at that."

Rebecca nodded. Mrs. Foster was a skilled seamstress—though she scarcely ever sewed for her daughters. Usually she had the sewing done by a woman who came to the house.

At eleven, Rebecca still had not caught up to her roommate in height. She was beginning to think she never would. At one time it had bothered her. Now she wasn't sure. Annabelle had grown quite tall. Rebecca had noticed that the boys at church seemed to ignore her. She was taller than most of them.

Rebecca, on the other hand, got plenty of attention from the young lads. Untied sashes, pulled ribbons, and chases with frogs or spiders seemed to be a Sunday occurrence. Annabelle pretended she was glad that it was Rebecca getting the teasing and attention, but at times Rebecca wondered if that was really so.

There were other differences. Both girls were studying piano, but Rebecca played with a natural talent, while Annabelle had to work hard at it.

When it came to singing, Annabelle was ahead of Rebecca. She had a clear, bell-like soprano, surprisingly vibrant and mature for a child so young. Many people remarked on young Annabelle's singing talent, and the local pastor liked to use her in the service whenever she was home from her school.

Although the girls were so different in size, in temperaments, and in aptitudes, they got along well. They never seemed to tire of spending time together. Annabelle would have been lost at home had Rebecca not accompanied her for the summer months or holiday times, and Rebecca was so used to traveling to the Fosters at the end of each school term that she felt like one of the family.

So it was not an insult to Rebecca when Annabelle offered her one of her hand-me-down dresses. She began mentally reviewing Annabelle's closet, thinking which dress she would pick if allowed to choose.

"I think the green one might fit you," suggested Annabelle. Rebecca had never liked the green one— though she had never told her friend so.

She shook her head slowly now. "I think the money from Mother Perry will be here before the party," she said thoughtfully. "She knows I need it early summer so she always sends it along then."

"But what if she doesn't?" prompted Annabelle. "What will you do? You must have a dress for Carolyn's birthday party. You just
must.
You can't wear any of last year's. They don't fit and they make you look like a—a child. And you sure can't wear your school uniform. What will you do?"

"Mother Perry will send it. I'll write her a letter," insisted Rebecca, but her insides were twisting round and round, making her feel a bit sick.

"Well—if she doesn't, then you can wear my green," offered Annabelle with a toss of her light blond hair.

Her words did nothing to make Rebecca's stomach feel better. She didn't like the green. The shade reminded her of riding too long on the merry-go-round or eating too many candy apples—in Rebecca's opinion the color of the dress looked sick. She hoped with all her heart that she would not need to wear it.

Dear Mother,

(Rebecca consistently used that form of address now.)

One week from next Saturday is a very important birthday party. It is for Carolyn one of the girl's at church. She doesn't go to our school so we only see her when we come to the Fosters at end of term. Her Papa is a
politition politi
s
ion
politician. He is very important but he is never home so I don't know if I like him or not.

I have grown out of all my dresses again. I know that you just sent money for new ones at Christmas but they are already too small for me. Mother Foster says I am growing up. Annabelle says that I can wear her old green one but it really is an awful color. It makes my skin look yellow. I know because I held it up to my face one day. There are going to be boys at this party. It is the first time that I have gone to a party where there were both boys and girls. Of course you do not need to worry because it will be well
chaporoon
e
d
chaperowned. We are to play games and everything.

I hope you liked my last set of marks. Miss Peabody says that I am doing very well. I can play quite nicely now too. I still am not very good in e
qu
e
stron
e
qu
e
str
e
an
eques riding horses. I get a little scared when I know I have to go over a jump. I am learning tennis better and Annabelle says that I swim like a fish. I got 100% on my last Bible exam. I knew all my verses but I like to memorize things. I even memorized some poems by Tennyson. I hope you are doing quite well.

Affectionately,

Your daughter,

Rebecca Marie Perry

Sarah held the letter with trembling hand. Again she checked the date. It was too late. The party was in two days. There was no way to get the money there in time. Poor Rebecca. She had no new dress for the occasion. Would she need to wear the sickly green that she thought so ugly?

"I should have thought. I should have thought," Sarah scolded aloud. "I thought the Christmas dresses would still fit. I didn't realize how quickly young children grow. I should have sent money."

But where would she have found the extra money? It was all she could do to handle all her obligations. "Once I get the loan paid off—" she said to herself again. She had been living for that day. It would mean that money would be easier for her to come by. She was almost there. Almost. In a few months the profits from both freight runs would be hers. Hers for Rebecca. Then she would be able to send money for new dresses. New bonnets. Needed items. But what would Rebecca do about the party?
What?
Poor child. She would be so—so humiliated. And Sarah chastised herself over and over, feeling that she was a terrible mother for not fully supplying Rebecca's needs.

***

"I told you it might not come," said Annabelle, her tone a bit cocky.

It was the night before the big party, and no money for new clothes had arrived.

Rebecca said nothing. Inside she was churning again.
Why didn't she send it? Why?
she kept asking herself.

"Well—you can wear my green. You'd best try it on to see if Mother needs to have it shortened for tomorrow."

Rebecca nodded glumly. She hated the green dress. She looked woefully toward the closet where her own dresses hung. "Maybe I can still wear the white one with the pink ribbons," she said hopefully.

"I bet it's too small," was Annabelle's comment.

Rebecca did not answer. She crossed to her wardrobe, lifted out the white dress, and laid it on the bed while she slipped her everyday dress over her head.

The white dress with all the lace and the lovely pink bows slipped on easily. For one moment Rebecca dared to hope.

"Here—I'll do up the buttons," offered Annabelle companionably and came to give Rebecca a hand.

"Oh—oh," she said before she had scarcely begun. "They're not going to work. I can see it already."

Her voice was so singsongy that it angered Rebecca. She swung around to face her friend, jerking a button from her fingers.

"You haven't even tried yet," she accused.

"Did too," defended Annabelle.

"Did not."

"Did too. You're just mad 'cause it doesn't fit."

"Does too."

"Does not. You'd pop the buttons if you tried to wear it."

It was too much for Rebecca. She flung herself on the rose-colored spread and began to weep.

"Then I won't go," she said through her tears.

"You've got to go. Carolyn asked you."

"I don't care. I won't go."