Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) (4 page)

"I do not plan to hire a driver," said Sarah quietly.

"Then—I thought you said you had accepted the help of your friends for quite long enough."

Sarah nodded. "That is so," she agreed.

He looked further puzzled.

"But the team and wagon—ah—will make no money sitting in the barn!" he exclaimed, irritation in his voice.

She nodded. "Quite so," she agreed.

"They certainly can't—ah—make the trips for freight on their own." Now sarcasm edged his words and tone. Sarah bit her tongue and nodded again.

"So—if you are not going to hire—ah—not going to presume on the kindness of your friends, who will drive the freight wagon?" he demanded.

"I will," said Sarah evenly.

His head jerked up quickly and his eyes traveled up and down her small frame. Sarah found herself straightening to her full five feet three inches. She hoped that her hat added to her stature.

"You?" He could not hide his amazement. Then he lowered his head and Sarah saw amusement threatening to spill over into laughter, twisting his lips first this way and that as he fought against it.

"I have driven horses before," declared Sarah. "I can handle a team."

He managed to get himself under control. He even tried to look sympathetic and thoughtful. "Mrs. Perry, please—ah—please have a seat," he implored her.

"I don't need to sit, thank you," she replied, her voice rising. "I have informed you of my decision; my business is now complete. You may—may tear up those—those forms—whatever they are. I will see that your payments are made each month—and on time."

"But, Mrs. Perry—I don't think that you fully understand the nature of draying. The freight—it is— ah—not an easy business—for—ah—a man. And hardly the kind of work suitable for a genteel woman."

"I thank you for your concern," said Sarah coolly, "but it is unwarranted."

"But, Mrs. Perry. Draymen not only haul—they load. They—ah—have all of the heavy freight to get on the—ah—wagon and off the wagon. And—ah—"

Sarah had not thought about the loading and unloading. For one moment her face blanched; then her chin came up again.

"I will care for the loading and unloading, Mr. Shuster," she declared. "You just prepare the papers for me as Mr. Perry's widow to take over the business with the same terms you had given to him. I'll drop by to sign them tomorrow."

Sarah spun on her heel and left the office. She stepped briskly, her head up, her chin set, but inside she suffered. She had not thought of the loading and unloading. She had seen some of the heavy crates and bundles that Michael unloaded when he drove his wagon to the local businesses. Even he had strained under the weight of them. How would she ever manage to get the freight on and off the wagon?

"I'll manage," she whispered to buoy up her courage. "I'll manage—somehow." But inwardly she had some nagging doubts. Doubts that brought tears to her eyes in spite of her strong resolve. Would she really be able to take on the awesome task? Would she really be able to provide for Rebecca?

***

"You've been to see Mr. Shuster?" asked Mrs. Gal-van as Sarah came to pick up Rebecca.

"I have," she answered, trying to put some bounce into her voice but failing. "I have everything arranged."

"Come in and sit," said Mrs. Galvan. "Rebecca is still having a nap. Sit and rest for a bit and have a glass of lemonade. You look about done in."

Sarah did not protest. She felt done in as well. A sigh escaped her lips as she lowered herself to a chair. "I didn't sleep well last night," she admitted. "I had too much on my mind. Now that it's settled, I'll sleep better tonight."

Mrs. Galvan looked as if she wanted to ask what was "settled" but changed her mind. When silence continued between them, Sarah spoke again. She felt the need to share her decision with someone. She had become so used to talking over every thought with Michael.

"I'm not selling," she said, hoping that her friend would understand her meaning.

Mrs. Galvan looked surprised but nodded.

"I don't blame you for wanting to keep the horses," she said. "A fine team. Boyd says they're the best team around. He would have been tempted to offer for them hisself—had he a real use for them."

"It isn't that I'm attached to the team," admitted Sarah. "Though I would hate to lose them. Michael—" She stopped that train of thought and continued. "It's just that it seemed the only way to keep things going. Mrs. Galvan—if you still think you could keep Rebecca, I'd—I'd sure be beholden to you."

"I'm right glad to keep her," she said as she stirred about her kitchen preparing the lemonade. "She's such a little sweetheart," she added with a smile.

"Unless she's hungry," put in Sarah. "When she's hungry—she's the most impatient little thing you've ever seen. Just opens right up and whoops at times. Michael always said .. ." Sarah's voice trailed off.

Mrs. Galvan filled the awkward silence.

"You've found work?" she asked.

"I've had work all along—so to speak," Sarah replied, her eyes on her hands.

"You're going to try baking?"

"No-o. No, I still don't think there would be a sale for baked goods. I—I am going to—to continue the freight run."

"The freight run? But I thought the banker said it wouldn't pay to hire—"

"I'm not going to hire," said Sarah. "I'm going to drive the team myself."

The older woman stopped mid-stride and stared at Sarah. Not with a look of frustration. Not with a look of amusement—but with a look of honest concern. She finally moved forward and placed the glasses of lemonade on the table. "Oh, Sarah," she said softly, "do you really think—that it's wise?"

"I don't see any other choice," Sarah replied quietly. "There is nothing much that I can do. Michael's business is there. The horses and wagon are there. If we continue, we can pay off the loan. It's enough for Rebecca and me to live on. We have the house—the garden. We'll make out fine."

"But the work. Do you think you can—I mean—it's hard work, Sarah. Hard work for a burly man. You saw the muscles it built for Michael. I mean—you're a woman. And you are of slight frame even for a woman."

Sarah nodded and fought against the tears that threatened to spill. She had thought of all those things. Since the banker had thrown them in her face, she had mentally tossed them this way and that. There didn't seem to be any other answer than just to go at it. Hard as it seemed, she had to try.

"Maybe Boyd—" began the woman.

"No," said Sarah firmly. "No, I will not be laying my responsibility on another. Either I make a go of it on my own—or I sell."

Mrs. Galvan nodded. She understood Sarah's need for independence.

"When do you plan to start?" she asked simply as she pushed the lemonade toward Sarah.

"I thought I'd ride along with the other drivers for a morning or two until I learn about the pick-ups. Then I'd take over on my own."

Mrs. Galvan nodded and patted Sarah's arm encouragingly.

"They leave rather early," she said very matter-of-factly. "Rebecca won't be awake yet. Best I come to your house and stay with her there until she wakes up. Then I'll bring her on over here, and you can pick her up when you get back in the afternoon."

Sarah nodded. She hadn't thought about the unearthly hour that she would need to be on her way.

"I'd appreciate that," she said simply. "Michael always left early so he could be home and unloaded in plenty of time to have time for Rebecca and me. I'd— I'd like to have that time with Rebecca, too."

" 'Course," said the woman. " 'Course." Then she added emphatically as though to lift Sarah's troubled spirit, "It'll work just fine. Just fine."

Sarah felt a tremble go through her body. She did so hope that the older woman was right. She wanted with all her being for the plan to work. Because if it didn't—what was she ever going to do to provide for Rebecca?

***

"I've heard you are taking over the freight run," Mr. Murray said to Sarah the next time she entered his store. She had already made one trip with Mr. Curtis. It hadn't seemed so bad. Sarah had even tried to help with the loading, though most of the crates and bags had been too heavy for her.

"I'll soon build up my muscles," she had stoutly declared, and Mr. Curtis had smiled sympathetically.

Now she looked at Mr. Murray and nodded her reply. She even tried a brave smile. "It was Michael's business," she declared. "He left it to me—so it seems only right that I make use of it."

He nodded, but his face looked pained. Sarah knew that he was studying the size of her frame but in a much different way than had the banker.

"I've been thinking," the man went on. "This here store doesn't really make enough to merit another clerk—but it sure would be nice to get out for some fresh air now and then. Do you suppose that—that you and I could—could do a swap. I mean—I'll teach you to run the store—and I'll—haul the freight. You know—a swap."

For one brief instance Sarah was awfully tempted to jump at the opportunity. It would be so much easier to mind the store. And she would be so much nearer to Rebecca. Why, she could even see her in the daytime now and then. But then Sarah looked back at the kind gentleman before her and realized he had made the offer, not to get fresh air, but because he felt sorry about her circumstance.
He doesn't think I can do it,
she said to herself. Indeed, she wasn't sure yet that she could. Though she appreciated the concern of the storekeeper, she was not ready to accept charity—even if it was well meant.

"I—I do appreciate that, Mr. Murray," she managed to say. "I really do—but—well—I have a need for a little fresh air myself. If—if I find that—that this— doesn't work well—well, then I just might remind you of your offer." Her smile was a little wobbly.

"You won't forget?" he prompted. "You'll feel free to speak?"

"I'll feel free to speak," she promised and nodded her good-day.

Why should he care
—
that much?
she puzzled as she went to pick up her young daughter from the Galvans'.

"Well, he has always been a caring person," she concluded under her breath. "I have just never thought of it before. I should have realized. At church—he's always helping this person or that person. That's why everyone says he makes such a good usher. He's—what do they say? He's—in tune—that's what the pastor says. In tune—always with an eye for a need. I just never paid much attention before. My own eyes were always so—so filled with Michael and Rebecca, I never paid much mind to anyone else."

And Sarah pushed the thoughts of the kind offer from her mind and hurried to pick up her little girl.

First Day

Sarah tiptoed to the cradle and pressed a kiss on the softness of Rebecca's silken hair, whispering in the stillness that Mama would soon be home again. Then she went to open the door for Mrs. Galvan, whom she had heard on the boardwalk.

The woman entered the house quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping child, placed a small package on the table, and proceeded to the stove to put another stick in the firebox and push the kettle forward for coffee.

"Have you eaten?" she asked Sarah in a motherly way.

"Yes," she replied softly.

"Enough?" continued the older woman, "or did you just grab a slice of bread?"

Sarah's cheeks flushed. That was exactly what she had done.

"You need a full stomach to begin that task," the woman insisted gently, then went on. "Here—I've brought you some lunch."

Sarah accepted the older woman's thoughtfulness with a murmured thanks. "I hadn't thought of a lunch," she admitted. "From now on I'll fix myself one."

Mrs. Galvan nodded.

"And I'll eat a proper breakfast, too," Sarah continued, feeling much like a little girl making promises to her mother again.

Mrs. Galvan did not respond, but her kind eyes looked at Sarah. For one moment Sarah thought the older woman might step forward and gather her into her arms against her shoulder. For the same length of time, Sarah hoped she would. Then she straightened her shoulders with a little shake, stepped back, and lifted her chin. She was not a child who needed comforting. She was a grown woman with a baby of her own to care for. She reached for the package of lunch from the table and fixed a wan smile firmly in place.

"I'll be off. I want to get back early."

Mrs. Galvan nodded and moved back toward the kitchen stove.

Rebecca slept on, oblivious to the change that had taken place in her home—in her world.

***

Sarah had watched carefully as Mr. Curtis harnessed the team, led them out of the barn, and hooked the two horses to the wagon. Even so, a few days later when it came time for her to do the hitching, she found the task much more difficult than she could have imagined.

Sarah had always admired horses—but at a distance. She had never handled the big animals before. A sense of fear filled her at being up close. For one thing, the heavy team of draft horses were taller than she was, and though they were gentle and patient, she had a struggle lifting the heavy collars and getting them fastened properly around the thick necks. She had to resort to standing on an upturned oat bucket to get the job done. Then came the task of lifting the harness up and over the broad backs. In the process everything seemed to tangle in a confusing mess. It took a good deal of work to get things straightened and in proper place; and by the time she had completed the job, her carefully fastened hair was drooping over one ear, her skirt torn at the hem, and her shirtwaist smeared with dirt from the harness.