Amelia sighed. “Of course I will, if we’re still here. Jacob’s leave is almost over. He has to report for duty at Fort Laramie soon. When is the wedding?”
“We haven’t set a date yet, but don’t worry—you’ll still be the first bride.” Sarah didn’t know how she could stand to be separated from her best friend. From across the barn, Ben motioned for her to join him. “I’ve got to go, but we’ll get together tomorrow and make some plans. Okay?” She hurried off, pinning her smile back on.
By the time all the well-wishing and hugging were over, the rest of Sarah’s family had left to go home. She’d hoped they’d all be in bed by the time Ben dropped her off.
At Sarah’s house, a dim light still shone through the parlor window’s lace curtains as Ben helped her down from the buggy. The window was open, and she could smell the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Evidently no one was going to bed anytime soon.
He leaned down to kiss her. “You’ve made me very happy tonight, my dear.”
She flinched a bit as his lips grazed her cheek. She’d better get used to it. Ben grasped her waist and started to pull her closer. In spite of her resolve, Sarah quickly pulled away from his grip. “I’d better go in. My father is waiting up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She rushed up the stairs without waiting for a reply, her heart lightening a bit with every step. When she walked onto the wide front porch, she glanced back. Ben watched her with an unsmiling stare. Had she upset him?
She dragged her eyes from his gaze and called out a cheerful “Good night,” hoping she’d misread his look. Weary from the long night, she pushed herself through the front door.
The murmur of voices echoed from the parlor. She hung her shawl on a hook and walked into the room. The thick rug muffled her footsteps, but Wade looked up from the overstuffed chintz chair beside the fireplace. Her father lay on the matching sofa, his breathing labored and his face pale in the dying light from the fireplace.
She quickly knelt at his side. “Papa, are you all right? Should I call Doc Seth?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Just tired.” His breathing seemed to ease as he took her hand and drew her into an embrace. “You remind me so much of your mama the first time I met her.” He closed his eyes and grimaced. “I’m going to miss you when you go. It will be almost like losing her again.”
Wade’s wife came into the parlor carrying a tray laden with cups of steaming coffee. Sarah reached for her sister-in-law’s burden. “Here, Rachel. Let me take that. It’s much too heavy for you in your condition.” Sarah eyed the gentle bulge under Rachel’s skirt.
Rachel handed it over with a tired smile of thanks and a glance at her husband.
Wade took a cup of coffee. “Congratulations, Sarah. Ben is quite a catch. Just see you don’t forget your family when you’re rich.”
Was money all he ever thought about? Sarah bit back an angry retort. She didn’t want to upset her father. “Why would you say such a thing? You know money isn’t important to me.”
Wade laughed. “It’s all right. You’ll see soon enough the difference money makes in this world. Besides, I always thought you could do better than Campbell.”
Sarah curled her fingers into her palms and inhaled to fire back a comment. Wade would never listen to her anyway.
Her father’s tender gaze lingered on her. “You were only eleven when your mama died, much too young to take over the household and your new brother the way you did.” He wiped a shaking hand across his brow, beaded with drops of sweat. “But I just was so blinded by my own grief, I wasn’t thinking clearly. All these years you’ve managed our home like it was your own. It’s time for you to leave here and have your own life, your own home.”
Wade slammed his coffee cup down on the table, and some of it sloshed onto the polished walnut surface. “Sure, Sarah played house, but I was always out in the fields working my fingers to the bone to support this family. If not for my hard work, this place would have gone on the auction block long ago. You never seem to remember we all worked together.”
His father looked up at him. “You’re right, son. I don’t tell you often enough how grateful I am that you shouldered the responsibility.” He sat up and swung his legs off the couch. “You get on up to bed now. That’s where I’m headed.”
At least his voice seemed stronger.
Her father laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Why don’t you go on up to bed? You can tell us all about your plans tomorrow.”
Her anger faded, and she gave a weary nod. It didn’t do any good to argue with Wade anyway. He had never liked Rand, probably because he was one of the few people Wade couldn’t intimidate. She kissed her father and bid them all good night, then walked upstairs, running her hand along the smooth oak banister. She looked back down into the entryway as she thought about her father’s words. She was going to miss this place.
Once in the sanctuary of her room, she stepped out of her hoopskirt and crinoline and struggled with the buttons on her dress. She looked around her bedroom. She’d miss this house, this large room furnished with dainty white furniture stenciled with pink. A lacy coverlet topped the feather bed, and dozens of pastel pillows offered a plump, safe haven to curl up and read. Rand had made the bed for their wedding before he went off to war, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to take it with her to Ben’s. The very thought was hideous.
She took the pins from her long hair and let it fall to her shoulders, then pulled her nightgown over her head. She smoothed the two braids loose, then ran her brush through the tresses before rebraiding it in one long plait.
The smooth sheets welcomed her, and she pulled her feather comforter up to her chin. She was filled with a strange foreboding as Shane’s words came back to her. “What if Rand’s not really dead?” She’d indulged in such daydreams in the first months after his death. But tonight the idea followed her into her dreams.
TWO
After a long day of negotiating with the railroad for some land he owned, Ben approached the stately brick two-story with a profound sense of pride. Everything he wanted was within his grasp. He swung off his fine quarter horse and led him into the barn, calling for the stable boy.
Who would have thought that Ben Croftner, son of the good-for-nothing drifter Max Croftner, would pull himself up by his own bootstraps out of the dirt and live in a house that was the envy of everyone in Wabash—and Indiana, for that matter? He’d done what he had to do to get to the top. There had been much opportunity since the war, and he discovered he had an aptitude for exploiting it. He’d made a fortune the last six months.
And now Sarah Montgomery was finally his. Beautiful Sarah with her mesmerizing green eyes and red-gold hair. He’d be the envy of the men in town, few though they were.
He wiped his dusty shoes on the rug by the door, then stepped into the elegantly appointed front parlor. Velvet drapes, fine walnut tables and Dresden figurines, a plush rug imported from France, and an overstuffed horsehair sofa and chair. He frowned as he saw the figure on the sofa. Too bad he couldn’t just leave his family behind the same way he’d left his old life.
Labe jumped up from the sofa, clutching an envelope. “I’m not going to do it anymore, Ben.” His voice quivered as he handed over the envelope. “My boss at the post office almost caught me this time. And I’m not going to jail for nobody. Not even you.”
Ben patted Labe’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, little brother. Sarah finally gave in last night. By the time the next letter comes, she’ll be my wife.”
Labe’s mouth dropped open. “Congratulations, then. I never thought you’d really pull it off. When you came back from the war with this crazy scheme, I thought fighting them Rebs had made you loco.”
Ben laughed a
s he sank into the plushness of the high-backed chair and took off his sweat-stained Stetson and wiped his face. Labe wasn’t the first to underestimate his ambition. “Like I said, it’s all over. Now all you have to do is keep your mouth shut.”
He looked at the envelope in his lap. “I suppose I should read what this says.” Ben ripped open the top and took out the single sheet of paper. “Won’t Mr. High and Mighty Rand Campbell be surprised when he finds his beloved Sarah is married to me!”
He settled more comfortably in his chair and scanned the sprawling lines. His smile faded and a scowl twisted his face. He ripped the page to shreds, tossed them onto the fire burning in the grate, and stood.
“What is it, Ben?”
“Rand’s coming home. But no matter. He’ll be too late.” He strode out the door without another word to Labe.
He flung the harness over his horse’s still-damp neck and hitched up the buggy. As he flicked the buggy whip over the horse’s head and headed toward the Montgomery farm, he pressed his lips together with determination. He hadn’t kept up a charade for five months to lose Sarah now.
He’d been so careful, so patient, telling her how he’d found Rand in the prison camp and got him to the hospital, only for him to die there. And Rand should have died. He’d been just a shell of a man with his skin stretched over his bones when he was finally liberated from Andersonville. It was the most hideous thing Ben had ever seen. But he had rallied, much to Ben’s dismay. He really hadn’t expected Rand to recuperate as fast as he had, and now he threatened to spoil all Ben’s carefully laid plans. Ben couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
Sarah was sweeping the front porch when Ben stepped down out of the buggy. She forced herself to relax and lift a hand in greeting when he approached. How good-looking he was. His blond hair just curled over his collar, and his gray eyes were gentle and tender, dispelling her misgivings from the night before. She was doing the right thing.
Ben bounded up the steps with a smile and took her hand. “How’s my lovely lady today?”
She smiled up at him. “I’m getting behind in my housework. Everyone has been stopping by to congratulate me. News travels fast.”
“Especially good news.” He guided her down onto the porch steps and sat beside her. “I was talking to Labe, and he was saying how good it would be to have a real woman doing for us once you and I are married. We haven’t decided on a date yet, but I was hoping to make it on my birthday next weekend. Could you be ready?”
“But, Ben, that’s only eight days.” Panic rose in her throat, and she tried to keep the dismay out of her face as she stared at him. “There’s such a lot to do.”
“You can be ready, I’m sure, if you really want to be.” A note of impatience crept into his voice. “Don’t you think you’ve made me wait long enough?”
“But I have to make my dress. And—”
“I surely don’t care what you wear. Your Sunday dress will do just fine.”
She lowered her eyes. Why did he always make her feel so guilty, so indebted to him? “I can be ready. Would you like some iced tea?”
“No, I have a meeting in town. I’ll see you tonight.”
She allowed his hug, then, with something that felt like relief, watched him ride away. What difference did it really make anyway? One date was as good as another if she was really going to go through with it. And besides, if she wanted Amelia to be her bridesmaid, they’d have to wed before Amelia and Jacob left for Fort Laramie.
Dinner was yet to be made, but Sarah untied her apron and started toward the McCallister farm. She needed to see her friend. She paused at the knoll overlooking Amelia’s home. The hills were green with giant oak and maple trees. Several milk cows grazed on the thick, lush grass under a bowl of blue sky. Doctor Seth and his family still lived in the log home he’d built when he first arrived twenty years ago. With his thriving practice, he could well afford an elaborate home in town. But she was glad the McCallisters had never moved. It was her second home, and she ran over the meadow that separated the two properties.
The house had been added on to over the years and now sprawled carelessly in several directions. Their two families had been close ever since Sarah could remember. At one time there was hope that Amelia would marry Wade, but she lost interest as Wade grew to manhood and became the arrogant, self-righteous boor he was. Now Amelia had eyes for no other man but Jacob Campbell.
Amelia was on the wide front porch, churning butter. She greeted Sarah with a smile, her face flushed with exertion. “I was just coming to see you as soon as I was finished.” Tendrils of dark hair clung in curls around her face. “I have some ideas for the wedding.” Her welcoming smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Sarah launched into an explanation of Ben’s plans.
Amelia started shaking her head before Sarah finished. “Eight days! That isn’t enough time to get everything ready.”
“I know! I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen. He wants to be married on his birthday.” Sarah slumped down onto a step. “And I guess it’s the least I can do after all I’ve put him through these past five months. You know how patient he’s been . . .” Her voice faltered when she saw the skeptical look Amelia threw her way, and Sarah realized how ridiculous she sounded. “Besides, if we wait until after your wedding, you might have to leave before mine.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Amelia said slowly. “But I’ve never understood why you think you owe Ben anything. He hasn’t done anything special for you.” She came to sit next to Sarah on the step. “You say Ben loves you. I’m sure that’s true. Who wouldn’t? But do you really know his heart, Sarah? Does he know you don’t love him?”
“Don’t start, Amelia. Please.”
Amelia recoiled at her uncharacteristic harshness.
“I’m sorry.” Sarah hugged her friend. “It’s just that I have to go through with it. Papa wants to see me settled before . . .” She bit her lip. “And besides”—she gave Amelia a wink—“I was thinking how nice it will be to get away from Wade and his constant disapproval.”
Amelia smiled and blinked away her tears. “He just needs the Lord in his life.”
Sarah was a little envious of her friend’s faith. No matter what happened, Amelia seemed to trust God. She never had a bad word to say about anyone.
That’s why her attitude toward Ben was so perplexing. But really, this was for the best if Amelia could just see it. Sarah would make a fresh start with Ben, and as the years passed and she had children to occupy her time, maybe the pain in her heart would ease.
The next few days sped by as Sarah threw herself into wedding preparations. Papa had bought her a Singer treadle sewing machine. Her dress, even with its yards and yards of soft, creamy lace, quickly took shape under its whirring needle. She fell into bed each night too exhausted to think or even to dream.
Friday afternoon she sat back and massaged her aching neck thankfully. It was finally finished. She stared out the living room window at the weeping willows swaying along the riverbank. The soft breeze, laden with the rich scent of the Wabash River, blew through the sheer curtains and caressed her hot face.
A memory of walking hand in hand with Rand along the river’s edge hit her, and she clutched her skirt, anguish burning in her belly. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? She’d be Mrs. Ben Croftner in a few days. Then maybe all the ghosts would be laid to rest.
She jumped as the knocker on the front door clattered. When she opened the door, Pastor Aaron Stevens stood on the porch, turning his hat in his hands. “Pastor. We didn’t expect you. I believe Wade and Rachel have gone out for a bit and Father is resting. But won’t you come in?”
He followed her into the parlor. “I was out calling on the new family by the river, the Longs, and just thought I’d stop in and see how you’re doing.”
She pointed to the heap of cream material on the sewing machine. “I just finished my dress.”
“Are you all right, Sarah? You look . . .” He hesitated as he sat on the sofa. “Well, troubled. Not quite the picture of a joyous bride-to-be I expected.”
Pastor always seemed able to sense her moods in a strange way. She sighed and nodded. “I guess I am troubled. More than I’ve admitted to anyone else. And I don’t want to be! This is for the best—I’m sure of it.”
“I detect some trepidation in your manner. Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Pastor Stevens pushed his heavy black hair away from his forehead. “Have you prayed about it?”
Sarah lifted her chin mutinously. “Not really. And I know you’re going to say I should. But God didn’t seem to be listening all those months when I prayed for Rand’s safety.” She looked down at her hands.
Pastor Stevens frowned as he leaned forward. “I had a feeling you blamed God for Rand’s death. I’m glad you’re finally admitting it.” He took her hand, his blue eyes warm with concern and compassion. “Sarah, please listen to me. It’s hard, I know, but we can’t always see God’s plan in our lives. I remember when I was a little boy, lying on the floor at my grandmother’s feet. She was doing some embroidery work, and I looked up at the underside of the hoop. The yarn was all tangled and gnarled. A real mess. But when I climbed up beside her and looked down at what she was working on, it was a beautiful garden. That’s the way our lives are. We’re looking at the picture from underneath, but God is working out a specific plan from above.”
“No plan could be right without Rand in it. I don’t care whose it is!” She didn’t care if the words shocked her pastor. It was how she really felt. If God really loved her, he wouldn’t let her go through this heartache.
A Journey of the Heart Collection Page 2