Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (14 page)

"Put it down for now and hold this board for me."

The boy laid the worthless nest beside him and took the
board Rocky handed him. It wasn't particularly heavy, but he
huffed with all his might to hold it steady. "That's right," said
Rocky. "Now hold it still while I put this nail in place."

The two worked companionably, Seth firing question after
question at him, most pointless in nature. "Why is that board
crooked?"; "How far over that hill does the fence go?"; "When
will it be warm again?"; "Who lives in that house down there?";
"How strong are you?"; and the clincher, "Do you like Sarah?"

Rocky managed to answer each one but the last. That
one he simply disregarded until Seth brought it up again. He
might have known the scalawag wouldn't let it go.

"I suppose I like her," Rocky finally admitted.

"Sarah says she married you so she could take care of us."

"That's right."

"And she said God told her to do it."

"Yeah?" Rocky nudged the boy on the shoulder and urged
him to a spot further down the hill, bee's nest tucked under an
arm, where another repair job waited. The boy complied but
kept up his chatter. Since when was he such a babbler? Not two
weeks ago, Rocky'd been hard-pressed to get the lad to put two
words together. Now all of a sudden he was spouting off about
anything and everything.

God told her to marry him? Highly unlikely, but a nice thought
anyway. Sarah's coming along when she did was a stroke of
luck-nothing more. Of course, he didn't really believe in luck,
but neither did he believe in divine intervention-at least not
anymore. Perhaps he had at one time, but that was long ago,
before he'd lost his Hester to a terrible disease and then, more
recently, his beloved son.

Plain and simple, the notion that God had led Sarah to
Little Hickman for the sole purpose of marrying him bordered on impossible.

he days passed in steady succession. Sarah found herself falling into a routine of sorts, rising early to prepare breakfast and rouse the children. After breakfast, she
and the children washed the dishes together, and then, while
they tended to their assigned chores and Rocky headed for the
barn, she scrubbed more floors and shelves and dusted and
polished more furniture.

Never had she worked so hard or had the aching muscles
to prove it. Even her once beautifully manicured nails showed
signs of wear and tear. It seemed that every time she moved a
chair away from a corner or a table from its long-held home,
she discovered more dirt. It made her wonder what, if anything, her husband had done to keep the place clean once his
wife had passed on. Had he counted on his elderly mother to
tend to all his housekeeping chores?

Around-the-clock maids and hired cooks had been a way
of life for Sarah, so taking to a broom and dust cloth didn't
come naturally. Still, a keen sense of satisfaction filled her
being at the end of each day when she at last fell atop her
bed of straw. She was learning how to keep a tidy house, and,
although it may have seemed an easy undertaking to some, it
was a great accomplishment, to her way of thinking.

You'll never accustom yourself to this mud-hole town, Sarah.
You've been pampered your entire life.

Stephen's words came back to sneer at her more than once, usually when she found herself crouched on the floor or
stretching for something on a high shelf. Usually she brushed
the remembered criticism aside, but some days were tough,
particularly since she'd received little affirmation from her
husband. Most mornings he greeted her with half a smile and
an occasional "Mornin'." She wanted to ask him how she was
doing, but at the risk of rejection, she kept her mouth shut.

Another matter of distress was the children. They had
been more than helpful with the chores, even eager, although
neither one had smiled much since that first day. Sarah was
beginning to wonder what it would take to draw them out of
their cold, dark shells. Although Rocky had taken Seth with
him the day he'd tended to the fence, he'd failed to invite him
again, and the boy's disappointment was clear whenever Rocky
set off for his afternoon duties.

Rachel, although seemingly willing to help around the
house, quickly took her leave when her jobs were finished.
She was an avid reader, but while Sarah was thrilled with her
uncanny ability to decode even the most difficult words, it worried her that the child used her books as a means of escape.

Sarah had taken to her Bible like a starving child every
morning before rising, desperate for promises from the Lord
that would sustain her, keep her encouraged, and fill her with
tidbits of wisdom as to how to help this dismal household.
Today she'd read from the book of James a passage she'd
long ago memorized. "If any of you lack wisdom, let him
ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth
not; and it shall be given him." She'd certainly needed those
words this morning and had drawn comfort from them. Now,
however, some ten days into her marriage, as she watched a despondent seven-year-old bury her face in a volume of Little
Lord Fauntleroy, her small frame curved into a rickety chair,
she wondered what had happened to that dose of promised
wisdom.

"Are you enjoying the book?" Sarah asked while washing a
couple pairs of Seth's denim trousers, taking care not to speak
too loudly since the youngster had crawled up on the couch
next to the woodstove and fallen asleep. It appeared to be a
lazy afternoon. Bitter winds blowing in from the west whistled around the little cabin, seeming to send out some kind of
admonition.

Rachel looked up from her wobbly perch, her spindly legs
tucked under her long dress, bare feet sticking out at the hem.
Sarah made a mental note to fit the girl with some more new
dresses. Her wardrobe was painfully meager in comparison to
Sarah's, and the realization produced guilt in the pit of her
stomach. How could she have let the matter go untended? It
didn't take more than a few hours to stitch a simple dress.
Maybe she would even fashion a few pairs of pants for Seth,
even though it did seem his wardrobe wasn't nearly so scant.

"I like it fine," Rachel responded glumly.

Sarah left the soaking denims in the basin and crossed the
room to where the girl sat. Once there, she hovered over her to
peek at the book. It appeared she'd read nearly three-quarters
of the novel already.

"You're an excellent reader, Rachel."

"My mama taught me even before I went to school."

Sarah noted a distant look creep across the child's face. She
hadn't pushed the girl with regard to her deep loss, but then
neither had she spoken of her own. Some nights, as she lay in bed, the tears flowed freely from her own profound sorrow.
She could only imagine the grief a mere child felt at the loss of
a loved one. It must be akin to losing a part of one's soul.

"She was very smart to have exposed you to books at so
early an age, but then you are very smart to have learned so
quickly."

Rachel's expression turned even more introspective.
"Mama always said I was smart. 'Course, so did Mrs. Riley"

"Mrs. Riley?"

"She was my second-grade teacher in Columbus, Ohio."

"I see. Is Columbus a large city?"

"I guess. We lived in a big building in the city, but we didn't
go nowhere 'cause we was poor."

Sarah's heart lurched at the simple statement. "Was the
school big where you attended?"

She nodded her head slowly. "There was an upstairs floor
with lots more classrooms."

"It sounds like the school I attended in Winchester."

Rachel's eyes found hers. "Winchester?"

"Yes, it's where I grew up."

"Oh"

More quiet moments followed. "Do you miss your friends
in Columbus?"

"I didn't have that many. Mama wouldn't let me visit no
one. I do miss my school, though, and Mrs. Riley"

A tragic fire had destroyed Little Hickman's schoolhouse
shortly after Sarah had arrived, forcing the town to cancel
classes until the men of the village erected a new building.
Talk was that the work would begin in the spring, provided
sufficient funds came in. Already the townsfolk had held a bazaar to raise money, and more activities were in the works.
Sarah intended to get involved in the efforts herself once she
felt more settled.

"You will attend school here in the fall," she said, hoping
to cheer the girl's spirits.

"I don't know none of the kids here."

`Any of the kids," she carefully corrected. Rachel was
indeed intelligent, but it appeared her manner of expression needed improvement. "You will make friends easily once
school starts. Perhaps you would enjoy meeting the Broughton
girl. She is just about your age, I believe. We could drive over
there one day soon if you like. Her stepmother has invited us
to come anytime."

"What's her name?"

"Lill, I believe. Yes, Lill. Her parents attended our wedding festivities. You remember Mr. and Mrs. Broughton."

Rachel nodded. "I guess. My grandmother told me everyone's name, but I forgot."

Sarah smiled. "Everything has been so new for you. I imagine it's hard for both you and Seth to make such an adjustment."

At this, the girl stuck her head back in her book, so Sarah
took this as a signal to change the direction of their conversation.

"Can you tell me about the book you're reading?" Sarah
asked.

"I found it up there." Rachel pointed to the dozens of
books tucked side by side on the bookshelf beside the fireplace. "Uncle Rocky has lots of books."

"I've noticed. I dusted behind every last one of them, remember?" She recalled that Rocky's Bible appeared to have
accumulated the most dust of any book there, and the realization had saddened her.

At last, the girl smiled, reluctantly. "And I helped."

"Yes, you did, and I appreciated it very much. Now, back
to the book."

"It's about a poor little boy from New York named Cedric.
His papa dies and it's very sad. But then he finds out that his
grandfather in England is very rich, and so he moves there
with his mama. His grandfather is very mean and grumpy,
though, like Uncle Rocky. I think Cedric might become the
king or something, but I haven't got that far in the book yet."

Sarah smiled at the simple description. "I remember the
book, but I was much older than you when I read it."

Rachel's expression perked up. "Did you like it?"

"I enjoyed it a great deal."

"Did Ceddie become king of England?"

"Not exactly, but oh, I can't tell you how it ends, sweetie.
That would spoil the whole book. You might not want to read
it if you learned the ending ahead of time."

Rachel grew thoughtful again and her large blue eyes went
misty. "Sometimes I wish I knew how things were gonna turn
out ahead of time so I could be ready for them."

Sarah's heart turned over with Rachel's straightforward
pronouncement. Such a carefully thought-out statement for a
mere child.

"I think it's best that we don't know. Life would be much
harder, I think. God knows all of our tomorrows, honey, and
He wants us to trust Him."

"I believe in God. My mama taught me to love Him."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Again, the child's eyes traveled back to the book, but it was
apparent by the way she stared at the page that she wasn't truly
reading.

"Well, I suppose I should finish washing Seth's trousers."

Just as Sarah headed toward the sink, Rocky came through
the door, his face reddened from the cold, his wool cap pulled
down low on his forehead, almost, but not quite, shielding his
dark eyes.

Sarah checked the clock on the wall. It was mid-afternoon.
"Are you finished early with your chores?" she asked, searching his expression for a hint of warmth, but finding none.

"Need to make a run into town for some supplies," he
answered.

It'd been nearly a week and a half since Sarah had laid
eyes on another human being besides Rocky and the children.
The prospect of a trip into town on the buckboard, regardless
of the cold, suddenly thrilled her. "Oh, may we come along?"