A Lady Like Sarah (12 page)

Never had he felt so utterly, utterly alone.

Sarah was no longer in sight, and any hope he had that she would return began to fade.

Holding the baby close to his heart, one hand cupping her tiny head, he rocked her gently. Elizabeth was clearly exhausted, and her eyes began to droop.

"You've got some mighty fine tonsils," he said, soothingly.
"Reminds me of old Mrs.
Spindlemeyer
.
She sang at our church last Christmas and her voice nearly raised the roof." Just thinking about his church in Boston made him feel even more depressed, but since his voice seemed to have a soothing effect on Elizabeth, he continued to talk. Not about his church. Instead, he found himself talking about Sarah.

Calmed by his low, soothing voice, Elizabeth's cries stopped altogether, and her little body grew still.

". . .
and there she was, up to her chin in mire. You never saw such a sight." He chuckled softly to himself. He glanced down at the infant in his arms, noting with satisfaction that she was sound asleep.

Moving ever so slowly, he spread a blanket beneath the shade of a tree. Taking care not to wake her, he laid her down. Elizabeth cried out once before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep again.

Justin stood watching her. Never did he feel so helpless.

"Now what, God?
Now what?"

He knew he was close to the Kansas border, but accordÂing to his
map,
he was still miles away from any town or forts. He doubted there were any farms or homesteads.
But first things first.
If by some miracle Elizabeth survived this ordeal, he wanted to be able to tell her that he gave her mother a decent burial.

He pulled his spade from the mule's saddle, picked a spot a short distance from the sleeping child, and began to dig. The sound of approaching horses made him freeze, a shovelÂful of dirt in his hand. His mouth went dry. He spun around. Three horsemen headed his way, riding fast.

Dear God . . . no! Please don't let it be Indians.

Sarah
rode
away without looking back, her heart so heavy she could hardly breathe. Blizzard's hooves flew over the buffalo grass, pounding the ground and kicking up dust. Prairie dogs scattered from the path and popped into the nearest holes.

Never one to stand around, she had to do something.
Anything.
There had to be a way to save that poor babe.
But how?

Hot tears streamed down her face.

She hated to leave Justin alone, but standing around and watching some poor baby die was more than she could bear. She'd seen enough people die to last a lifetime, but never before had she witnessed the death of someone so young.

Digging her heels into the side of the horse, she rode hard through the valley, blinded by tears. Normally, she would never think of riding through such an area without scrutinizÂing every rock, every shadow,
every
indentation in the ground as George had so patiently taught her. Today she didn't care a pig's tail about her own safety.

There had to be something.
A farm, a town.

Never had she felt so utterly helpless, so completely unworthy. The youngest in her family, she'd never had to take care of anyone, never knew what it was like to be needed. And the moment someone needed her, what did she do? She panicked!

Think, Sarah, think!

She rode until she came to a grove of trees clustered along a sparkling stream. She dismounted and let her horse drink from the cool waters. Falling to her knees, she cupped her shaking hands and splashed water on her tear-stained face.

She closed her eyes, but all she could see was Justin's face as she rode away, the baby's desperate cries ringing in her ears.

If only she were a praying woman—

She glanced upward,
then
lowered her head. Justin believed in miracles, and if ever she needed one, it was now. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she began to pray as she had heard Justin pray so many times before.

"Dear heavenly Father, Almighty God, Creator of heaven and earth . . ." She stopped. What came next? She couldn't remember.

She threw up her hands. This was a waste of time. The words sounded foreign—meaningless even—to her ears. She jumped to her feet and paced back and forth. She gazed at the sky and wondered if heaven really existed, if there really was a God.

"Are
You
up there?" she called. "God, are
You
there?" She listened, but all she could hear was the distant song of a bob- white and the sound of rushing waters.

She fell to her knees again and lifted her hands upright. "God, I've only asked
You
for a couple of things in my life. I asked
You
to save my papa, but he died anyway. I asked
You
to save my ma, but You didn't see fit to help her. After that, I
never bothered
You
again. I figured
You
were too busy for the likes of me.

"Maybe
You
still are, but I'm not
askin
' for me. I'm
askin
' for that little babe who doesn't deserve to die. She needs
Your
help.
God.
If
You
answer this one prayer, I promise I ain't never
botherin
' You again.
I'll. . .
I'll act like a lady, I will. I'll use proper words, and I ain't never
gonna
to throw myself
at.
. .
anyone.

"And that rule—you know, the one about
doin
' unto othÂ
ers . . .
I promise, God, I'll be the best person I can be. If
You
would only grant me this one thing, it'll be the last You ever hear from me."

She dropped her hands to her side and stood. Then she remembered something and quickly fell to her knees again. "Amen."

She waited, for what she didn't know.
A bolt of lightning?
The parting of the waters?
Something.
But nothing changed. The sky, the sun, everything was the same.

And a short distance away, an innocent babe was dying.

"Sarah Prescott," she muttered, "you're nothin' but a fool."

She jumped to her feet and, not knowing what else to do, started for her horse.

A rustle in the nearby bushes startled her. She drew out her pistol and spun around. Heart pounding, she crouched low and called out, "Who—who's there?"

The rustling continued. Moistening her dry lips, she made a wide circle around the bushes and closed in from the rear. Seeing a movement ahead, she froze.

Suddenly, a bleating sound broke the silence, and she burst out laughing. She fought her way through the heavy undergrowth until she spotted a white goat. The rope tied to the goat's neck was caught on a bush. The poor animal shook its head from side to side in an effort to free itself, bleating as if blaming her for its predicament.

Slipping her gun in the waist of her pants, she petted the animal's rump. "If
that don't
beat all." Talking gently to the animal, she dropped to one knee and untangled the rope. That's when she discovered the most amazing thing; it was a nanny goat with teats full as a peddler's bags.

"Well, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes." The female goat must have run away from the wagon train during the Indian raid.

She couldn't believe her good fortune. It was the answer to her prayers. It was a miracle, that's what it was.
A miracle.
Fresh tears streaming down her face, she glanced at the sky.

"Thank You, God. Thank You."

Tugging on the rope, Sarah pulled the goat away from the bushes and led it to her horse. "Let's hope we make it back in time."

It was dusk by the time she spotted what could only be Justin's campfire ahead. Who else but a greenhorn preacher would make a campfire out in the open?

Great snakes! The fool man was going to get himself killed.

He couldn't have made his presence more obvious had he fired cannons. Shaking her head in alarm, she tried to coax the goat into walking faster, but the animal was clearly exhausted.

It was dark by the time she reached the campsite, which only made the fire stand out that much more. She slid off her horse, calling Justin's name.

"You won't believe this," she yelled, "but I done found myself a miracle!"

No one was by the fire, and she stopped, her heart frozen in fear. The eerie quiet filled her with dread. It was too late, she was certain of it. The baby was dead, and Justin was off somewhere digging her grave.

Torn between running away and comforting Justin, she
hesitated. She couldn't do anything for the baby, and she wasn't even sure she could do anything for Justin, but she had to try.

A tall form stepped out of the darkness. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "I never thought you'd find me."

Her brother gave her a crooked grin. "I reckon we'd have to be blind as a fiddle not to see the signs you left."

Robert had Sarah's same red hair and big blue eyes. A man of few spoken words, he nonetheless scribbled up a storm every chance he got, filling notebook after notebook with poetry and prose that he refused to let anyone but Sarah read.

"Where's Jed and George?" she asked.

"Right here," George said, walking out from a clump of trees. George was the oldest and had inherited his father's dark, brooding looks.

Jed walked in George's shadow, as usual. A poor imitation of the older brother who headed the family, Jed was shorter, thinner, and less inclined to give George grief than she was.

Sarah tied the goat to a bush and ran into the waiting arms of her brothers. They all talked at once, except for Robert, of course, ever the watchful one.

"Been trailing you for days," Jed explained. "Ever since that U.S. Marshal got hold of you. Then we bumped into the Mitchell brothers, and they swore up and down that you were travelin' with some preacher. Didn't sound like
somethin
' you'd
do.
"

"You're lucky you're still alive," George said, his face dark. "I swear, Sarah, If you ever disobey me
ag'in
, I'll—"

Sarah paid George no heed. She was too busy looking around for Justin. Spotting him tied to a tree, she cried out in dismay.

"What
ya
have to go do that for?" She reached for the leather sheath at Jed's waist and pulled out his dagger. Before anyone could stop her, she hurried to Justin's side and began working on the rope at his hands and feet.

Justin searched her face as she freed his wrists. "You came back," he said softly.

"Of course I came back. What do you think I am, some chicken-bellied—? "

"
I.
. .
didn't know what to think."

His uncertainty filled her with despair. Did he really think she'd run off when he most needed her?
"The . . . the baby?"

Rubbing his wrists, he pointed to the little bundle a short distance away. "Poor thing cried
herself
to sleep."

Her heart jumped with joy. "Then she's still—"

He nodded. "But I don't know how much longer she can go without milk."

"That's what I was
tryin
' to tell you." She kept her voice low so as not to wake Elizabeth. "I found a goat. We have milk!"

Quickly, she cut the last piece of rope away from his ankles and, jumping to her feet, whirled about to face her brothers.

"Don't just stand there!" she ordered. "We have a baby to feed."

She met George's cold-eyed stare without flinching. He wasn't used to his younger sister giving orders, nor, judging by the dark scowl he gave her, had he forgiven her for the latÂest trouble she'd gotten herself into. But there was no time to worry about that now.

Justin scooped the sleeping baby in his arms, and she immediately began to wail. Sarah never thought she'd hear a more beautiful sound.

Fighting tears of relief, she grabbed a tin cup. "Hold on to the goat."

Kneeling beside the squirming animal, she massaged the animal's udder. "I'm
gonna
call the goat
Mira,"
she announced.
"Short for 'miracle.'"

She squeezed hard, letting the first few squirts of milk dribble onto the ground. Satisfied that any dirt had been
washed away, she held the tin cup beneath the goat. In no time at all, the cup was filled to the brim with pure white milk.

It took four of them to feed the baby. After a few false starts, Robert finally tried soaking a piece of clean fabric with milk and letting the baby suck on it. The baby cried in frusÂtration at first, but once Robert learned how to keep the flow of milk constant, she soon settled down and frantically began to suck.

It took nearly an hour, but little Elizabeth finally had her fill and drifted off to sleep, looking contented as a bear ready to hibernate. Her brothers had gone to unsaddle their horses, leaving her and Justin alone.

Justin gave her a look of admiration and her heart skipped a beat. He wrapped the baby in a warm blanket and placed
her a
safe distance away from the fire. "You saved her life."