Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) (22 page)

She began at last, "I—I don't understand—"

"You don't?" His voice was almost a sneer. Then he turned and leaned back on the rail. "That's not surprising. No one ever does," he said.

"I—I think I—must go in," she said, her voice trembling. He did not answer, only nodded his head toward the door as though to give his consent. Rebecca wasted no time. She slipped past him and through the wide French doors of the patio.

She was shaking when she entered her own room. What had happened out there in the semidarkness? Why was Stanley so upset? She had been longing for expressions of endearment—or at least of interest—and he had offered only words of frustration and gloom.

Rebecca slipped out of her full-skirted gown. It was her prettiest one yet. The cut showed off her slim waist, her rounded feminine curves. And the color enhanced her creamy skin and the deep brown of her eyes. Everyone had admired her throughout the evening. She had felt eyes on her wherever she went.

She began to peel off the layers of crinolines.

This was to have been the most exciting day of her life—the celebration of her graduation, her carefully prepared speech, the splendid "coming out" party. The pleasure of having Stanley home. But she didn't feel like celebrating. She felt like crying. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't fair. But she couldn't sort out just what had gone wrong.

***

Rebecca is coming home!
Sarah reminded herself of the fact over and over. She could not believe that in just a few short weeks, the long, difficult years would finally end. It was over. She and Rebecca had made it. And the future looked so promising.

Sarah was actually making money now. She would no longer have to scrimp to make payments each month. She and Rebecca could do things, buy things. They would be cared for. Not live in luxury, but certainly not live in want. Things were going very well. Sarah felt a thankfulness welling up within her as she thought of her present circumstance. Already she had laid aside some funds. And she would add to it, month by month. Year by year. She and her little girl were going to get along just fine.

***

Sarah had gone back to driving Gyp and Ginger and they once again pulled the heavier wagon. She was so glad for Boyd's advice to keep the team and wagon. She had turned the lighter team and wagon over to Seth for the longer run of the day, and she drove the sturdier team.

They were plodders. Up in years by now, they were slow but dependable. Sarah felt that she had slowed down a good deal herself. They were matched, she and the horses. Sarah appreciated the fact that she could just sit back, holding the reins for communication with her horses, not needing to fight them to keep them moving on course. She appreciated the more leisurely pace. She welcomed the chance to sit quietly and think while the miles slowly rolled by under wagon wheels.

She was so thankful for Seth. His desire to work and his quiet confidence were a daily encouragement. She had learned to depend on the young lad. Not just to haul the freight, but to link her once again to the world. She had locked away her thoughts, her feelings, for so many years that she feared she had become a mindless machine, meant only for hard work and counting money. Seth was freeing her again—to think—to feel—to search for God in new ways.

It was good for Sarah to have daily contact with Seth.

***

"What happened?"

Sarah recognized Seth's voice. She attempted an answer but no answer came. She felt hands on her shoulders gently restraining her. She was lying down. Where? Why wasn't she on her feet? What was the strange buzzing in her head? The dreadful pain? Why were the sounds and movements beside her so many miles away? She strained to sit up but the weight on her shoulders increased.

"Just relax, Miz Perry," the husky voice said near her ear.

"What—? Seth?" Sarah managed.

He was close beside her, leaning over her, one hand moved from her shoulder and gently rested on her arm. Even with the look of concern on his face, she still sensed a quiet peace.

"It's okay, Miz Perry," he said. "You had a bad bump. Just try to relax. It's okay."

He patted her hand rather awkwardly. "It's okay," he whispered again.

Sarah leaned back and let her body go limp. Seth was there. He said it was going to be okay. She wanted to believe him. She just wanted to sleep. To sleep and sleep. That's all she wanted.

The Lesson

Little by little they put together the pieces. From what they could determine by following the wagon tracks, Sarah must have either fallen asleep or else fainted. The sturdy team carried on, wandering back and forth across the rutted road to some extent, but generally following the well-trod trail.

They most certainly would have made it home on their own, but near the river crossing they had been spooked by a large grizzly. The usually gentle horses had thundered their way over the rough terrain in their frantic effort to get away from the bear. The wagon had overturned and Sarah was thrown out on the ground. The team had eventually been found by a passerby, miserably entangled in the harness and a length of wagon tongue, the only part of the wagon that still remained with them. The rest had been scattered piece by piece along the trail.

Both horses were badly shaken from the experience. Gyp had a gash torn along one flank where the bear must have assaulted him. Ginger had a lame leg, but no one knew where and when she had received the injury.

But Sarah, remarkably, was only shaken and bruised. The doctor informed her that she was a very lucky woman, much of it due to the fact that she had not been conscious before the accident and had flown from the wagon, limp and unresisting.

Sarah was thankful to be alive. But beyond that she didn't know how lucky she should feel. Her team was injured and her wagon was wrecked. Bits and pieces were gathered up. Three wheels were still in fair shape. But it was going to cost money to get a new wagon built. Sarah could have cried. She had just begun to lay money aside for Rebecca—and now she had lost it all.

"Rest for a week," the doctor had told her. "Let your body's bruises heal."

"But I have a freight run," she had tried to argue.

"Your boy will look after the freight," the doctor insisted. So Sarah had been required to go to Mrs. Gal-van's. Folks didn't seem to trust her if she were left on her own.

She fidgeted and fretted. Mrs. Galvan tried to get her to relax. To rest. But Sarah had forgotten how.

"Here's some tea," Mrs. Galvan said, entering Sarah's bedroom one afternoon. "Boyd said if you're up to it, he'll play checkers with you when he gets home."

Checkers,
Sarah wished to retort.
There's work to do
—
plans to make
—
and they expect me to sit around and play checkers.

But Sarah did not voice her thoughts. They were trying to be kind. Instead she said, "Mrs. Galvan, can you get word to Seth? I need to see him."

Mrs. Galvan looked troubled by the request but nodded her head. "I'll have Boyd give him the message," she said.

***

Seth came by late that afternoon. His face showed his concern as he pulled a chair up to Sarah's bed.

"How are you?" he asked softly, searching her face with those calm eyes.

Sarah didn't answer. She was afraid that her voice might betray her. The only thing she really felt was anger.

"How are you making out with the runs?" she asked instead.

His quiet confidence showed through again. "Fine," he answered. "Just fine."

And then he leaned forward and took her limp hand and held it, gently massaging the back with one thumb as he spoke. "I do the runs the way you did before you hired me on. I leave early and do the first run. Get into town, unload, change teams, do the second run to High Springs. It works fine. But it does make a full day. Sure don't know how you managed all of those years."

He didn't give her a chance to comment.

"Then I care for the horses. Gyp is already healing nicely. I use a special ointment that my pa thinks is a miracle cure. Ginger still limps quite bad—but she's a strong horse. Doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the bone or muscle, so she'll heal."

Sarah felt relief.

"I talked with the smith," he continued. "He says he can have that new wagon done by end of next week. We saved all the parts we could. Boy—they sure were scattered. That must have been some ride."

He released her hand and patted her arm. "So—all we need now is for you to get some rest," he said and smiled.

Sarah stirred uneasily. Everyone was telling her to rest. But it was so hard knowing that—that her business needed her.
But did it?
she wondered. Hadn't Seth just told her that everything was under control? What was she stewing about? Why didn't she just relax and get well so when Rebecca came home she would be back to normal?

She finally managed a wobbly smile of her own. Then she gave Seth a bit of a nod. "I will," she managed to say. "I will."

He patted her shoulder and stood to his feet. "Good," he responded with deep feeling. "Good."

Then he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and lifted his hat from the nightstand where he had placed it.

"Well—I'd best be goin'," he said. "Mornin' comes early when you have two runs." He grinned as though it were a private little joke just between the two of them.

He turned to go. "Now don't you go worryin'," he admonished her gently. "Whenever you are tempted to fret, just think on Philippians 4:13. And if that doesn't do it—then go on to verse 19."

He smiled again and was gone.

***

Sarah could hardly wait to get home to
her Bible and look up his verses. He always knew Scripture passages to fit the
occasion. Sarah realized now that they were the source of his inner strength.
They were what gave the young man such uncommon confidence and peace. Not just
that he knew the verses but that he believed them with all his heart—and
lived
them out in his daily life.

Suddenly Sarah knew that she could not wait until she got home to look up the verses. She might be held here as a beloved prisoner for several more days.

"Mrs. Galvan," she said the next time the woman was in her room, "would you mind lending me your Bible. I don't have mine here with me."

"I'll get it," said the woman, then added, "I'll send Boyd over to fetch yours tonight. Something personal about a Bible. Like a dear, dear friend. You know right where to find things in your own. I'd be lost if I had to borrow someone else's."

While Mrs. Galvan went to get her Bible, Sarah had some thinking time. Was her Bible like a dear friend? Did she know right where to turn for what she needed? Or was her Bible simply something to carry with her on Sunday morning when she left for church? Sarah felt her face flushing. She had greatly neglected her Bible—her God—over the past years. She had been so busy—so busy—with her business, with earning money for Rebecca's needs, with the demands of her life.

Mrs. Galvan returned, a worn Bible in her hand. She patted Sarah's shoulder as she left her with it. Sarah hastily looked up Philippians. With a rustling of pages she located the fourth chapter. First she read verse thirteen:

I
can do all things through Christ which strengthened me.

She read it again and again.

"I think I started out on the right track, but somehow—over the years I've switched my thinking," mused Sarah. "Somewhere along the way I began to stop after the first five words. I—I forgot to add
the
next two. 'Through Christ.' That's where my strength must come from."

Sarah let her eyes pass on to verse nineteen;

But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.

Had that verse—that promise always been there? Why hadn't she seen it before? Maybe she had seen it and just not believed it. She didn't know. Didn't she believe the Bible? Of course she did. But she certainly hadn't been living like she did.

To Sarah's mind came one of the other verses that Seth had shared. From John:
For without me ye can do nothing.

She had to think. She had to pray. She had to get these things all properly sorted out. She needed time. She needed to—

Suddenly she stopped. Didn't she have time? Wasn't she lying in this bed? Had the accident not been an—an accident? Was there some purpose for her being here?

Suddenly Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "Yes, Lord," she whispered into the silence of the room. "I'm willing to listen. Speak to me, please."

Sarah lay back against her pillows and let her tears fall unchecked. She had so much to learn. She had neglected her spirit while trying so hard to care for the needs of her body. She had failed Rebecca as well. She had been so intent on caring for the physical needs of her little girl that she had forgotten about the spiritual needs. Oh, she had made sure that Rebecca was getting a good grounding in Bible knowledge, but was Rebecca, like Seth, able to appropriate the promises of the Scriptures to her life? Who had seen to that? Had Mrs. Foster? Had the teachers of the school? Had Miss Pea-body? Sarah did not know. Had never asked.