Married by Midnight

by Christine Sterling

  The woman must have jumped too, because suddenly she was in front of Sarah.

  “You shouldn’t be out here in this weather, my dear,” she said.

  Sarah brushed away the hair that was sticking on her forehead. “Neither should you.”

  “I’m just headed towards town.” The woman’s gnarled fingers held tightly to a walking stick. She had a basket in her other hand.

  Sarah could see the side of the road had washed away. That would be dangerous come night. “Why don’t you come in and wait until the rain has passed?” The thunder roared once more. Sarah could see a bolt of lightning in the distance. “It isn’t safe for either of us out here.”

  The woman nodded and Sarah lifted the shawl covering her head and lifted it above the old woman. “Once we get inside, I’ll make us a hot pot of tea and you can warm yourself by the fire.”

  The old woman nodded. “That sounds lovely,” she said patting the air above Sarah’s arm. “What’s your name, dear?”

  “Sarah. Sarah Abrahams.”

  “Sarah Abrahams.” The woman rolled the name off her tongue. “I had a childhood friend named Sarah. That was a long time ago.” The woman looked at her with crystal blue eyes. “She wasn’t as pretty as you.” Sarah opened the door to the house and led the woman inside. She appeared to float above the ground. Sarah shook her head. She must be seeing things. “My, what a beautiful home you have.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah draped the wet shawl across some pegs to dry. “You can take off your jacket and hang it up here by the door. It should dry rather quickly in here.”

  The woman looked at the puddle of water collecting around her feet. “Oh my. That isn’t good is it?” She looked at Sarah. “I’ll just keep my jacket on for now. Thank you.” She looked at the mud that had collected on the bottom of Sarah’s skirt. “You should probably get that off and into a bucket of lye to soak.

  Sarah looked down. Her boots as well as the hem of her skirt were coated in mud. “I should get these off. She quickly slid her feet out of the boots and placed them by the door. Lifting her skirt over her arm to stop the mud from mopping the floor, she moved further into the house.

  “The fireplace is right in there,” Sarah said pointing to her father’s office.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” the woman said. “I should be dry in a jiffy.”

  “I’ll quickly change and make us a pot of tea.”

  “Yes. Yes, that would do nicely. You don’t happen to have any of those tarts from the bakery in town, do you?” Sarah shook her head. “Georgina just makes the most wonderful jam tarts.” The woman closed her eyes. “The smell of them baking is just intoxicating.” She opened her eyes and looked at Sarah once more. “Never mind me. Shoo!” she said waving her hands at Sarah. “I’ll just be in here warming up by the fire.”

  “Alright.” Sarah turned to leave and realized she didn’t know what to call her guest. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said returning to the door.

  The woman had settled into her father’s chair by the fireplace. She had placed the basket by her feet and was holding her hands out to the fire. “I can never get warm, no matter what I do. I guess it comes with the territory,” she quipped. “My name? Oh, you wanted my name.” She quickly stood and gave a curtsey. “Mrs. Louisa Pennyworth at your service.”

  Sarah nodded and went to her room to change out of her wet clothes. Mrs. Pennyworth must be drenched with those heavy layers of fabric she was wearing. If Sarah didn’t know better, she would think it was a mourning gown.

  Carrying her dirty dress to the kitchen she put it in a bucket of water on the stove to soak. She would deal with it later.

  Sarah stoked the fire under the kettle. It was still hot from earlier, but not hot enough for tea. It would only take a few minutes to boil. She used her mother’s favorite china pot that was brought from a merchant who traveled all the way from England.

  Once the water was boiling, Sarah poured it into the pot and added the last of her tea leaves. She didn’t know when she might be able to afford more tea. Might as well enjoy the cup, it could be her last for a while.

  She placed the tea pot, strainer, some cream and two china cups on a tray. Remembering her guest asked for a snack, she slid a plate with a few crackers and some cheese onto the tray as well. How she wished she had jam tarts from the bakery, but cheese and crackers would suffice for now.

  She carried the tray into her father’s study and placed it on the desk. Mrs. Pennyworth had disappeared. Looking around she couldn’t fathom where the old woman disappeared to.

  “Mrs. Pennyworth?” Sarah walked into the hallway. She didn’t hear footsteps when she was in the kitchen, so she knew that her guest hadn’t left the house. “Mrs. Pennyworth?” she called again.

  “In here, dear,” Mrs. Pennyworth called from the dining room.

  Sarah walked to the dining room and Mrs. Pennyworth was looking at the cupboard with her mother’s things. Sarah noticed that her clothes appeared completely dry and there was no water anywhere to be seen.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Mrs. Pennyworth peered over the glasses she was wearing. “I lost my way for a moment. I hope I’m not intruding.” She turned back to the hutch. “Your mother has a beautiful teapot collection.”

  “She loved tea.”

  Mrs. Pennyworth tapped her finger at the glass, but it didn’t make a sound. “I had a teapot like that. I think it came from Japan.”

  “Yes. Father got it from one of the merchants that was traveling through Creede.”

  “It is just lovely. My Edward bought me one in … oh, when was it?” She tapped her finger against her cheek. “Eighteen thirty-something.”

  “That was a long time ago. I didn’t realize it was that old.”

  “Quite valuable too. If you can find the right buyer. I guess I should go back to that front room.”

  “I made some hot tea and a little snack.”

  “Oh lovely.”

  Sarah turned to leave but her skirt caught on the handle of the sideboard, spilling the contents to the floor. “Oh bother.”

  “What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Pennyworth said pointing to the papers Mr. Mathews had dropped off earlier.

  “It’s nothing,” Sarah said rushing to return the contents of the drawer back to the sideboard.

  “It looks important. That looks like a seal on the document. Most folks don’t use a seal unless it is important.”

  “I’m just dealing with some issues since my father died. That is all.” Sarah slid the papers in her pocket and closed the drawer. “Let’s go back to the office.”

  “This was your father’s room?” Mrs. Pennyworth asked, returning to her seat by the fire. Sarah took the opposite seat. It was the one her mother would sit in when she was spending time with Father.

  Sarah nodded. “They passed just a few weeks ago.”

  “I am so sorry, dear. How are you recovering?”

  “I’m really not.”

  “I understand. When I lost my Edward, I thought I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Of course, I didn’t. I’ve been mourning for years.”

  Sarah looked at the gown Mrs. Pennyworth wore again. It was a mourning gown. Layers of black lace and fabric were peeking out between her long cape with a hood.

  “I couldn’t imagine losing someone as close as a husband. Losing my parents and my sister was hard enough.”

  “You have a beautiful farm. I walk by it occasionally. There is a beautiful little stream that winds around the property. I like to listen to the water rush over the rocks.”

  “Do you live close?”

  “Close enough.”

  Sarah looked at the flames in the fireplace. It was mesmerizing. “I am just trying to figure out what I can do about the farm.”

  “What would you like to do?”

  “I’d like to keep it. It is the only thing I have left from my parents.”

  “Then keep it you shall.”

  Sarah snor
ted. “If it were only that easy.”

  “Why isn’t it?”

  “I have a neighbor that wants to buy the property and the tax collector saying they will sell it if I can’t come up with the funds.”

  “Tsk. Such a shame that they would run you off your property like that.”

  Sarah nodded vehemently. “Yes. That is exactly what is happening.”

  “I know laws have changed, but where I lived before, if the man died then all property reverted to the first male heir.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m the only heir right now.”

  “In that case, it should go to your husband.”

  “As if I have one of those?”

  “You aren’t married?” Mrs. Pennyworth blinked behind her large glasses.

  Sarah shook her head. “No. I doubt I ever will be.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “No one here would have me. My sister received all the attention. Then there was plain Sarah in the background.”

  “Harrumph. Those men don’t know what they are missing. I bet you like animals.”

  “Of course.”

  “What kinds?”

  “All of them.” Where was Mrs. Pennyworth going with her questioning.

  “I bet you are the kind to take an animal in and care for it, if it gets injured.”

  Sarah laughed. “My father said that he built the barn just for my stray collection.”

  “I bet you would do the same for people.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You came rushing out to get me from the rain and cold.” Mrs. Pennyworth fixed her skirt and then placed her arms towards the fire once more. “Only a person with a kind heart would do that.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I saw markings on the side of your barn.”

  “Where?”

  “They were painted on the corner, facing the road.”

  “Oh, those.” Sarah sunk down in her chair. “My mother designated this a safe place for the train jumpers. They can stay out in the barn and get a hot meal before they jump the next train.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “For us? Or the jumpers?”

  “To be able to travel anywhere like that. Imagine all the things they have seen.”

  “I guess. I never really thought about it.”

  “You need to find someone that isn’t from around here. Someone who will remind you of your inner beauty.”

  Sarah shrugged. “I can’t imagine that happening.” Her eyes were getting heavy as she looked at the fire. “Oh! I forgot about the tea.”

  “Don’t worry, Sarah. I’ll pour myself a cup.” Mrs. Pennyworth stood and floated over to the desk. Sarah could hear her hum. “Pretty soon, I believe you will meet such a man.”

  Sarah’s eyes opened. “What makes you say that?”

  “I just know these things. It will be up to you to help him remember who he is. In return, he will help you find who you are.”

  “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. What makes you even say something like that?”

  Mrs. Pennyworth looked at her once more. “Because, Sarah, I’m your guardian angel.”

  Sarah scoffed. “Angel? I don’t think so.” She looked Mrs. Pennyworth from top to bottom. “Don’t angels have wings?”

  “Not all of us. Believe what you want, Sarah, but it is true. My husband and I were sent to Creede to help couples in need find love.”

  “I don’t want to find love.”

  Mrs. Pennyworth shrugged. “Alright. How about an answer to your problem?” Sarah turned and looked back at the flames. She caught Mrs. Pennyworth standing next to her from the corner of her eye. “Keep looking at the fire, Sarah. Fire is wonderful for forging things. Refining things. Refining people. Soon you’ll realize everything I said was correct.” Sarah felt her eyes grow heavier as she listened to the soothing sound of Mrs. Pennyworth’s voice. She tried to fight falling asleep, but she was so tired. Maybe a five-minute nap would be alright?

  Sarah woke up with a start. She forgot she was in her father’s office. The fire had turned cold and it was getting darker outside. Sarah listened. She could hear rain hitting the glass but nothing else.

  “Mrs. Pennyworth?” She tilted her head to listen for the older woman but didn’t hear anything. “Mrs. Pennyworth?” The basket at the foot of the chair was gone. Mrs. Pennyworth must have let herself out while Sarah was asleep. What kind of hostess was she that she fell asleep on her guest?

  She stood and stretched. Then she spied the tea tray and groaned. The pot was still under its wrap and the cups were untouched. Even the cheese and crackers remained.

  Sarah felt the tea pot. It was still warm. Not hot, but warm. Picking up a cracker, she shoved it into her mouth and chewed, thinking about her discussion with Mrs. Pennyworth. How dare that woman insist she was her guardian angel? Sarah found it hard to believe. She must have dreamed up the whole thing. She did feel rather tired even though she just had a nap.

  Sarah poured herself a cup of tea from the pot and added a drop of milk. Taking the cup, she walked back to the window facing the road. The rain was coming down harder.

  The road will be completely washed out now, she thought. She said a quick prayer that Mrs. Pennyworth would make it to her destination safely.

  With the road washed out, Sarah knew she wouldn’t be able to get to town for at least two days. The water would have to subside and then drain off into the field. Sometimes living on the side of a mountain could be a bother, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  She walked over to the other window to look at the barn. Dusty and Dell appeared to be arguing over something. Dusty had his hands in the air as he moved closer to Dell.

  Dell said something to the younger man as Dusty dropped his arms and disappeared into the barn. Dell followed and soon came out of the barn carrying something.

  Sarah couldn’t see what it was from this distance and through the rain. It looked rather large though. Was it an animal?

  Dusty followed with what looked like a package. Sarah sipped her tea and grimaced. It was cold. She placed the cup on the table and returned to watching the events in the yard.

  She could see that Dusty was still upset about whatever it was. He would occasionally punch the air towards the Snyder homestead. As the pair moved closer, Sarah was able to see what Dell was carrying.

  It wasn’t an animal at all! It was a man.

  She lifted her skirts and ran to the kitchen to open the door.

  Chapter 4

  Sarah opened the door to greet Dell and Dusty. “What’s this?”

  “One of the cows got spooked and bolted right out of the barn. I went to go get her and found him in the crik.” Dell answered.

  “Oh, my goodness. Was that with him?” She pointed to the bag Dusty held in his hands.

  He nodded. “Yes, but everything is wet. We didn’t open it.”

  “Take him into Lacey’s room.”

  “Miss Sarah,” Dusty protested. “We don’t know who he is. He could be one of those cowpokes from over at the Snyder place.”

  “Hush, Dusty. We don’t know that. He’s injured and needs help.” She looked at the man’s face. It was covered in blood and she could see a gash where he must have fallen and hit it. “I don’t recognize him.”

  “Neither did I,” Dell offered, moving past Sarah with the wet cargo.

  “Get him out of those wet clothes and under the blankets. I’m going to get my sewing kit.”

  Dell kept moving. “Come on Dusty,” he called back. “I’m going to need your help.”

  Sarah heard the two men bicker as they closed the door to tend to the man. Sarah quickly filled the kettle and placed it back on the stove. While she was waiting for the water to warm, she looked for her sewing kit and an old sheet she could tear into rags. She returned to the kitchen where Dusty was pouring water into the bowl she set out.

  “I don’t like this, Miss Sarah.” Dusty was a few years older than her. H
e started working for the Abrahams three years prior. “I don’t think it is safe for you to be here alone with him.”

  Sarah placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Dusty. I appreciate that. I don’t think he can do me any harm in the state he’s in.”

  “What about when he wakes up?”

  “Then I’ll deal with that at the appropriate time.” She grabbed a bar of soap from the cabinet and headed out of the kitchen. “Will you carry that bowl for me?”

  Sarah pushed open the door and spied the man lying there on the bed.

  The man was pale lying on the sheets. He was covered in a quilt of pink, yellow and blue. All of Lacey’s favorite colors. Sarah tried to stifle a sob as she pulled a chair to the side of the bed. Taking the bowl from Dusty, she placed it on Lacey’s nightstand.

  “I’ll need some cool water, if one of you can get that for me.”

  “I’ll get it,” Dell said as he hurried from the room.

  Sarah looked at her patient. He was rather handsome if you could look past the swelling of his cheek and the gash on his forehead. She tore a strip of linen from the sheet and put it in the water, swirling it against the bar of soap in the water.

  She washed his face, trying to remove as much of the dirt and blood as possible. The gash wasn’t as bad as she expected. Her mother always told her that head wounds bled worse than any other types. “It’s still going to need stitches.”

  Now that she could see his face, she took a good look at him. His skin was tanned, as though he had spent some time in the sun. Given that it was early spring, he must have lived somewhere south. Everything north was still covered by snow or was overcast.

  He had a sharp nose and high cheekbone. She could see that his hair was a lighter brown, now that she managed to remove most of the blood that was caked in it. He had long eyelashes and Sarah would bet that his eyes were brown as well.

  He had a square chin with a dimple at the bottom. She had never seen anyone with a chin like that.

  He had broad shoulders. Sarah could see the discoloration on one shoulder. Since it was on the same side where his gash was, she would venture a guess he hit that along a rock too.

  Sarah went to lower the quilt covering him. She would try to remove as much dirt as she could.