by Barbara Goss
Sarah rushed to the cabinet, pulling out the wad of paper. "Dawn, there are three papers here!" she exclaimed in disbelief.
"Well," she said, "it was a big wobble."
After checking the papers, Sarah replaced them. "Where else?"
"The desk, both left legs," she admitted.
Sarah pulled the papers from both legs. One was a newspaper page, the other some sort of legal document. She looked at it again. "The will!" she shouted, suddenly recognizing it.
"Sh-h-h," Dawn quieted her. "Little Bird mustn't hear."
Sarah hugged Dawn, "We found the will! And it's all due to you!"
"But it was my foolishness that lost it to begin with," Dawn lamented.
"Yes, but had it not been lost, I wouldn't be here, and Storm would be confined to a loveless marriage."
"Then I did good." She smiled.
"You did good," agreed Sarah, hugging her. She scanned the paper, noting that not only did Storm indeed own the ranch, but also that Samuel Lewis had drawn up the will!
"What should we do with the will now?" Dawn asked.
"Why don't we put it back under the desk leg? I can't think of a better hiding place, but from now on I'll give you scrap paper to put under furniture, understood?" Sarah asked, grinning.
There was no music, yet in Sarah's eyes the wedding couldn't have been more beautiful. Manny stood before the fireplace, looking up, as Emily came down the stairs wearing a pink ruffled dress. Sarah had arranged her aunt's white hair with daisies to form a crown. Emily Ruggles appeared regal, marching proudly and staring lovingly into her future husband's eyes. Sarah, dressed in a light blue ruffled dress from her Chicago wardrobe, followed, holding the train of her aunt's dress.
Storm stood beside Manny, holding his Book. Sarah and Storm's eyes locked as she walked behind her aunt. Sarah knew their thoughts were in accord: This could be their wedding and her walking down the stairs to meet him, instead of Emily to meet Manny. If only it could be!
Emily and Manny stood solemnly before Storm as he read from the Bible. He then recited the traditional wedding vows before pronouncing them man and wife. Manny was now her great-uncle!
As expected, Rosa had a feast ready, and tables were set up outside. The whole crew came, with best manners and Sunday clothes. Everyone felt merry, and the yard echoed with laughter and gaiety.
Little Bird claimed Storm for the day, clutching his arm possessively, leaving Sarah with Hunter and Dawn. Little Bird may have piloted around Storm’s body, but his eyes remained on Sarah, saving her good spirit. Sarah knew Storm had to do what he was doing. Storm was a man of principles, a man of his word. Weren't those the very qualities she had fallen in love with in the first place?
Sarah's burden had also been lightened by her daily talks to God. How wonderful she felt afterwards! She trusted what she read in the Bible Storm had given her, and she wrote a verse on paper and tucked it under her pillow: "The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him . . ." (Psalms 145:18).
Sarah's Bible readings also managed to tickle her conscience, making her feel guilty about deceiving Storm. What would God want her to do? Be honest, even if it wrecked Storm's life? What about Little Bird? Didn't she have a right to happiness? And what about the ranch? According to the new will, she wasn't the owner. By keeping silent and hiding it, she was committing fraud, stealing from the man she loved. She vowed to spend more time in prayer, for she needed answers that only God could provide.
After her usual morning ride, Sarah bathed and donned one of her comfortable homespun dresses, a buttercup yellow that perfectly matched her hair.
Taking her Bible, she sat down for her morning devotions, a habit she had gotten into since the day Storm had showed her how to commit her life to God. She cherished the Bible he'd given her, since it had been his very own. He had marked certain verses and written explanations to some passages in his own hand. These were helpful to Sarah, a beginner.
She spent considerable time in prayer that morning, asking God to help her do the right thing.
As usual, after talking with God, she felt confident, exhilarated, and full of love for everyone. She knew what had to be done today and went in search of Little Bird.
Sarah knocked on the Indian girl's bedroom door. It opened slowly; Little Bird's black eyes peeked out then widened and froze at the sight of Sarah.
"Hello, Little Bird," Sarah said, trying to act casual. "Could I come in? I'd like to talk to you, if I may?"
After a pause—which seemed to Sarah like an hour, but was actually only a few moments—Little Bird reluctantly opened the door wider and stepped back, allowing her to enter.
Closing the door carefully behind her, Sarah sighed. "I thought it time we became better acquainted."
Little Bird said nothing but remained stiff, standing by the door as if ready to take flight.
Thinking the girl might be frightened of her, Sarah said gently, "Come, Little Bird, sit with me." She pointed to a pair of wooden chairs.
Little Bird shook her head and snapped, "You want talk? Talk. I stay here."
"Very well. Do you mind if I sit?" Sarah lowered herself into one of the chairs. "It feels friendlier to chat sitting. Sure you won't join me?"
The Indian girl shook her head.
"Little Bird," Sarah hesitated, folding and unfolding her hands on her lap. "I'd like to be your friend."
Little Bird seemed to relax a bit but remained stationed at the door.
"With the baby coming, I'm sure you could use a friend. I could help prepare for it. Would you like that?"
Little Bird's hand went automatically to her enlarged midriff.
Sarah, confident that Little Bird was softening, continued. "I love babies. I wonder if it's a boy or a girl."
Little Bird smiled coldly, "Baby is boy, like father."
"But how do you know?" asked Sarah.
"Just know."
"I see," Sarah said thoughtfully. It wouldn't do to argue. "Do you have baby clothes? Have you made any plans for him?"
Little Bird shook her head. Did Sarah detect a touch of fear behind those beautiful, dark eyes? What was Little Bird afraid of?
"We could make some lovely things for him. I'm just fair with a needle and thread, but wait until Aunt Emily begins sewing for him!" Sarah glanced around the room. "Don't you have a cradle for him to sleep in either? When is the baby due?"
Again Sarah saw fear in Little Bird's eyes as she said, "Baby will come next moon."
"Next moon?" Sarah repeated. "But that's only a few weeks away! We had better get busy. I'll recruit Aunt Emily's help as soon as she and Manny are finished honeymooning."
"Honeymooning?" Little Bird looked puzzled.
"Yes," said Sarah. "That's what married couples do after the ceremony. They spend time alone—getting to know each other without being bothered. Some go away on a trip, others just stay locked away for a while. It's very romantic, don't you think?"
"I will tell Storm," pronounced Little Bird, with childlike eyes wide. "I want honeymooning, too."
Sarah forced a smile. "I'll see what I have in my trunk to begin your baby's layette. We'll see about getting you a cradle, too."
Sarah walked to the door where Little Bird stood. "If you need anything, Little Bird, come to me. I'll help you."
~ C H A P T E R 8 ~
The blazing Texas sun bore down relentlessly, searing and withering everything within its fiery realm.
Sarah and Rosa sympathized with Storm and the crew, who worked in the suffocating heat, building a fence for the grazing cattle. Deciding cool lemonade would refresh them, the two women scoured a large metal tub and filled it with sweetened lemon juice and cool, pure spring water.
Sarah rejoiced that Rosa was strong enough to carry the tub to the buckboard with little effort and that Broken Wing had agreed to drive the buckboard to where the men worked. Sarah sat behind with the lemonade, making sure none spilled.
As they approached the workers, one looked up c
uriously. Recognizing Sarah, he nudged the next man, who in turn alerted another, until all were waving and smiling. Even Storm seemed pleased by her surprise visit.
Sitting on the wagon bed, Sarah scooped lemonade into tin cups and handed them to the sweating men.
A welcome treat, the men drank until the ladle resounded loudly against the empty tub's bottom. Storm ordered a rest, and the laborers sprawled beneath the shade of a giant cottonwood tree while he joined Sarah upon the wagon.
"This is some treat. Was it your idea?" Storm asked, draining his cup.
"Rosa and I thought you men deserved some refreshment, working so hard in this unbearable heat."
"Very thoughtful—and greatly appreciated."
Sarah smiled. "I had a talk with Little Bird this morning."
"And?" he raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
"And I tried to make friends."
"Did you succeed?" he asked, wiping his perspiring face with a handkerchief.
"I don't know. I offered to help her prepare for the baby. This seemed to please her, yet she didn't exactly bubble with enthusiasm. I'll keep trying."
"Why?" He stared at her intently.
"Because you and God taught me to love my enemies."
He smiled and winked his approval.
"But why did you agree to marry Little Bird, knowing you didn't love her?" Sarah looked at him imploringly.
His smile faded. He shrugged. "I did what I thought right at the time. I still think it's the proper thing to do, but it seemed like a better idea then, before I met you." He looked away quickly and continued, "I was always fond of Little Bird. After my father died, she came to me in tears, admitting what had happened. Her family, except her brother, disowned her in shame. She had nowhere to go and no future for herself or the baby. Living here among Indians, I figured I'd probably end up marrying one anyway, so why not Little Bird? I then gave her my word that as soon as the ranch became legally mine, I'd marry her."
After silently considering his explanation a moment, Sarah blurted, "I have another—"
Storm cut off her words with laughter.
"What's so funny?" she asked, looking about for the object of his merriment.
"It's you," he groaned between snorts of glee. "The crew finally found an Indian name for you. I was suddenly reminded just how fitting it is!"
"My Indian name?" she asked anxiously. "What is it?"
"Curious Eyes," he chuckled.
"Curious Eyes! Me?"
"All you do is ask questions. The Indians say they can see the question before you ask, because your blue eyes grow wide and round. They're right," he exclaimed gleefully. "And I see another question coming now—but we've got to get back to work."
Sobering, he set down his empty tin cup and hopped off the wagon. "But Storm," she pouted, "I still have my question to ask."
"All right, ask, but hurry, we've got work to do."
"If the second will means so much to you, why aren't you searching for it?"
Storm picked up one of her hands, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "That was a good question, Sarah. Now hurry back to the ranch, so I can work." He picked up his tools and walked toward the fence, gesturing the men back to work.
"But Storm," she called. "You didn't answer my question!"
"I said you could ask, not that I'd answer. Bye, Sarah!" He nodded to Broken Wing, who then turned the wagon around and headed back to the ranch, with a pouting Sarah sitting behind him.
Feet dangling, she sat on the back of the wagon bed, replaying her conversation with Storm in her mind. Would she ever understand him? Why didn't he continue searching for the will? Why did Storm always manage to evade her questions? She chuckled to herself as she recalled her new Indian name. Curious Eyes—she rather liked it!
She watched Storm and the crew disappear behind trees as the dirt trail curved away from them toward the woods, which separated the work crew from the ranch house.
The thick forest and wild brush lined the road on both sides, and its cool shade felt glorious as she leaned back to let its full benefit embrace her body. A sudden movement on her left jerked her back to a sitting position, alarmed.
A figure darted from the thicket and crossed the road to a footpath that led to the house. Sarah quickly recognized Little Bird's swollen form, but before she could think what the Indian girl might be doing in the woods, another figure leaped out, grabbing Little Bird by the arm. A man appeared to be telling her about something he'd forgotten, because he then turned and ran back into the same brush he'd leaped from, and Little Bird continued walking sedately along the narrow footpath.
Sarah had recognized Black Feather instantly by his long hair. Hunter claimed Storm had warned Black Feather several times to cut his hair, but Black Feather had refused. Because he was Little Bird's brother, Storm had excused his disobedience—temporarily.
Sarah decided not to let it bother her that Black Feather sneaked to see his sister. Perhaps they were close, and what harm could it do?
But as the wagon bumped along the remainder of the way home, questions darted through Sarah's mind. Should she tell Storm about seeing Black Feather and Little Bird? Would Storm call out the men to search for his future brother- in-law? What purpose would be served by telling him? What harm would it do if she didn't?
After supper that night, Sarah detained Storm as he headed for the bunkhouse. "Storm, wait. I need a word with you."
"More questions, Curious Eyes?" he grinned.
Noticing Little Bird's eyes jealously flaming, Sarah suggested, with a nod, that they talk in the study.
Closing the door carefully, Sarah leaned against the oak portal and decided against telling him about seeing Black Feather. Instead she said, "Storm, I need something to do."
"Can't you just sit around and look pretty?" he asked, standing beside her.
"This is my ranch," she said, in a weaker voice than she would have before finding the second will, "and I'd like to help run it."
He studied her. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Very."
"What do you want to do, work on the fence? Or help Broken Wing with the horses?" he asked calmly, with one raised eyebrow.
"Couldn't I take over the book work?" she asked apprehensively.
"Have you ever done bookkeeping before?"
"No. But I'm willing to learn." She waited eagerly for his reply.
Rolling his eyes, he sighed, and then walked to the desk. "Come here then. I'll show you what to do." Sarah thought that beneath his show of impatience, he seemed relieved. Was he glad that the books were all she had asked to take over?
While she knew the ranch wasn't actually hers, it had belonged to her grandfather, which she felt entitled her to something. So after that evening, Sarah kept the books and did the monthly payroll, which kept her occupied and gave her an active hand in the ranch. It also warmed her to know that Storm would no longer have to toil over the books into the early morning hours.
When Sarah wasn't working on the books, she helped Dawn run the house, which was no small task. She also sewed for Little Bird's baby or visited Aunt Emily. Her grandmother's diary was forgotten, until one night when the suffocating heat kept her awake.
After much restless tossing, Sarah remembered the diary. With a sigh, she parted the mosquito netting and tiptoed to her bureau for the worn book. Returning to bed, she carefully lit the lamp, propped up the pillows, and found the marked place in the diary.
After reading two pages, Sarah gasped. She had discovered Henry was not Elizabeth's brother, but her husband! If that wasn't shocking enough, Elizabeth spoke of her concern for their unborn child. What did this mean? Sarah read on, turning the leaves impatiently while Elizabeth wrote pages and pages on nothing significant.
Then frantic penmanship told of Henry's accident during a river crossing. Her young husband, guiding the team and wagon through swift-moving water, lost his footing and drowned. Elizabeth poured her grief into the next several pages.<
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Elizabeth not only mourned her husband but also feared her helplessness in continuing without him. She couldn't do the jobs required of each wagon owner, especially in her condition. Yet she couldn't turn back. Elizabeth desperately demanded of her diary, "Where shall I go? What shall become of me and my baby?"
Then Elizabeth wrote of the kindnesses of Wilson Clarke, a bachelor, traveling in the wagon behind hers. "Were it not for Mr. Clarke," she wrote, "I would never have survived those first few weeks without Henry."
The next entry thoroughly shocked Sarah. "Wilson and I married today. We aren't in love, but it's the practical thing to do."
Sarah gasped.
If Elizabeth's baby turned out to be a boy named Thomas, then she was not Wilson Clarke's granddaughter!
Sarah flipped the pages, scanning each anxiously, searching for the page announcing the baby's birth. She had to discover if her father was that baby—Henry's baby!
There it was, toward the end of the book:
June 5, 1824. Somewhere near Jacinto, Texas. Today I did
not grieve, but felt joy. I held my newborn son for the first
time. He was born yesterday, but I felt too ill and tired to hold or enjoy him. Mrs. Warren, the midwife, said I'd given them quite a scare. Now I feel weak but happy, holding Thomas Henry. I'd planned to name him Henry Thomas, but Wilson explained it would be better for our new life in Texas if no one knew Thomas was not his. I agreed. From now on, there will be no looking back.
Sarah threw the book down and blew out her lamp.
There it was! She had no right here and had no claim on the ranch—with or without the second will. What should she do now? Continue to cheat Storm out of his inheritance? Tell him the truth and let him marry Little Bird?
Sarah prayed, there in the dark, until she finally fell asleep. But upon awakening in the morning, the memory of her discovery spurred her into action. She hastily dressed for riding and left the house.
Bypassing her quiet place by the brook, Sarah rode straight to Emily and Manny's cottage.
Pounding on the heavy wooden cottage door, Sarah hoped Manny wasn't home. He might not appreciate her visit at this hour of the morning.