by Kay Moser
They rounded the last bend before the forest ended, and Sarah’s heart lurched. The straightest, strongest pine next to the road was snapped in two. Its top half lay across the road. She gasped.
“There was quite a blow up here last night,” Pa said as he slowed the horse and edged the wagon off the dirt road. “Don’t make no matter. Just a pine tree. We can get around it.”
“But it was beautiful ... tall and straight and pointing to the sky.”
“Ain’t no good for firewood. Burns too quick. Too bad it’s up here; Havel could have used it on your cabin.”
Sarah felt a severe contraction in her chest, and her breath was cut off as surely as if she had been hit in the diaphragm. As she fought for air and the ability to protest, her mama’s voice floated through her head. Don’t fight with your pa. Just keep quiet and slip by as easily as you can. Sarah grabbed the unyielding wood of the seat and waited out the last mile in silence.
As they approached the house, Pa drew the wagon up close to the tables under the oak where the Sykora females had joined Mama to make preserves.
“What’s wrong?” Mama raced to the wagon as Sarah climbed down.
“Ain’t nothing wrong,” Pa called down from the wagon seat. “Things are finally right. That school’s got more sense than to give a scholarship to a girl. They gave it to a town boy like they ought to.”
“But Sally made the highest score—”
“It ain’t about scores; no school’s gonna waste money on a farm girl that’s just gonna quit and get married. Now, Sally, you get on over there and help with them preserves.”
“Kazimir! Give Sally some time to—”
“Work is the cure for what ails Sally, and there’s plenty of work to do ’round here. I got to get this seed out to the fields.” Pa urged the horse forward.
Carrying a large bowl of blackberry pulp, Mrs. Sykora walked over, took Sarah’s hand, and thrust it into the mush. “Take these mashed berries, Sally, and force them through that sieve over there on the table. The men ain’t gonna like all them seeds in their jam.”
When Sarah lifted her hand from the bowl, it was branded with blue-black stain. Her mother grabbed it, wrapped it in her apron, and feverishly scrubbed it.
“Ain’t coming off, Jana.” Mrs. Sykora snorted. “It’ll just get covered over with something else.”
The Sykora women and girls laughed, but Jana’s face hardened as she released Sarah’s hand. She turned and marched to the house.
Unsure what to do, Sarah carried the bowl to the table, took a wooden spoon, and began forcing the pulp through the sieve. The Sykoras rolled their eyes at each other and began singing a song in Czech. Sarah took refuge in her own thoughts until she heard Mrs. Sykora exclaim, “Good Lord! What now?”
Mama stormed across the yard in her royal blue twill suit.
“Take care of Kazi, Sally. I’m going into town.”
“You can’t just leave,” Mrs. Sykora insisted. “We got more work ahead of us than ten women can do. We ain’t even started the boiling yet.”
Mama ignored her and focused instead on Sarah. “I won’t likely be back in time to lay out the men’s dinner at noon. You’ll have to help the Sykoras feed them.”
Mrs. Sykora plopped her fists on her ample hips. “Have you forgot you ain’t got no wagon, Jana? You ain’t gonna walk all the way to town in your Sunday best.”
“Watch me!” Jana turned on her heel and hurried off.
“Your ma’s gone crazy,” Mrs. Sykora announced. “Come on, Sally; this work ain’t gonna get done by itself. Let’s get this fruit boiling. Read out your ma’s recipe to me, and I’ll stir it up.”
Sarah lifted her pulp-covered hands. “Let one of your girls read it. I don’t want to ruin Mama’s recipe book.”
The women and girls stopped working and exchanged furtive glances.
“They can’t read,” Mrs. Sykora muttered.
***
Mama said nothing when she returned shortly after two. She simply changed her clothes and went to work alongside the others. All afternoon, Sarah tried to catch her alone, but she seemed determined not to speak to Sarah privately. By the time the women had finished the preserves, the men, including Havel Sykora, staggered in eager for their supper, and Mama quickened her pace.
Triumph splattered across his face, Havel approached Sarah. “You and I got things to talk about, Sally.”
Sarah’s temper flashed, but she silently pushed past him, grabbed the stew pot, and began ladling stew onto the men’s plates.
A half an hour later, she saw a buggy approaching. When she recognized it as Mrs. Boyd’s, her pulse quickened and pounded in her ears. She darted a questioning look at her mother, but Jana’s eyes had turned steely.
“What in tarnation?” Pa leapt up and met the buggy as it stopped.
“What’s a highfalutin lady like that doing out here?” Havel asked.
“Come to cause more trouble, no doubt,” Mrs. Sykora grumbled.
Mama glared at her before hurrying to meet Mrs. Boyd, and Sarah followed.
“I’ve come to apologize, Mr. Novak.” Christine Boyd began talking the minute she reached the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake these last few months. I’ve come to ask you to forgive me.”
“I ain’t likely to blame you for anything, Mrs. Boyd. Not after all you’ve done for my family. Why, I know full well it was just that Hodges woman that gave Sally them crazy ideas.”
“Oh no, Mr. Novak! I am responsible for the mistake that has been made. You are correct; Mrs. Hodges encouraged Sarah to seek education, but I concurred with her encouragement.”
“Well, ma’am, you just got such a soft heart—”
“Oh no, Mr. Novak. It was not a soft heart that led me astray. It was my own sinfulness. I had too high an opinion of my own reasoning.”
“Oh, that ain’t likely—”
“It’s true, I’m afraid. You see, I should have asked God what He wanted for Sarah. If I had done that, I would have realized that my plans were too small.”
Pa’s mouth fell open. “Too small?”
“Yes. Too small. I am guilty, Mr. Novak, of limiting God’s vision for Sarah. I have asked for His forgiveness, and now I ask for yours. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course I will, ma’am, but I don’t understand—”
“Thank you, Mr. Novak. Oh, I can’t tell you what a weight is lifted from my heart! Now I can go forward as God has directed me.” She turned to Sarah. “Sarah, I have been asked to deliver this letter to you.”
Sarah took the envelope Mrs. Boyd held out, opened it with her stained hands, and began to cry as she scanned it.
“What in tarnation is going on?” Pa demanded.
Mama snatched the letter from Sarah’s hand and read it aloud.
Dear Miss Novak,
On behalf of the board of trustees and the faculty of Travis College, I am happy to announce that you are the winner of the Julia Davis Gibbes Scholarship for Women in the School of Arts and Sciences. This scholarship will commence in September 1896 and, contingent upon your achievement of a B average in all course work, will continue for two years.
Please notify me in writing of your acceptance of this offer at your earliest convenience. It is with great pleasure that I anticipate having a young woman of such excellent scholarship and high moral character join the freshman class of 1896.
Cordially yours,
Peter J. Houseman, Ph.D.
President, Travis College
Grim-faced, Pa turned to Christine Boyd. “What does this mean, Mrs. Boyd?”
“It means, Mr. Novak, that Sarah will be able to use all the gifts God has given her. She will have an advanced teaching degree, not a simple teaching certificate, when she finishes her studies at Travis College. She can then serve God as He intends. It means, Mr. Novak, that we will no longer limit God’s plans for Sarah because we know that He is infinitely wiser than we are and He loves her so much more than we do
. I am sure you agree.” Mrs. Boyd held out her hand to Pa.
Pa flushed plum-colored as he stepped back. “Just a minute! I ain’t gonna let Sally—”
“I am!” Mama grabbed Sarah’s hand and thrust it into Mrs. Boyd’s. “My daughter accepts the scholarship!”
“That ain’t for you to say, woman!” Pa protested.
Mama enclosed the handshake she had created with both of her own chapped red hands. “My daughter is gonna have more, Kazimir!”
Pa kicked at the dirt, whirled on his heel, and stalked off toward the fields.
Sarah’s heart soared as she looked down at her blackberry-stained hand pressed into Christine Boyd’s porcelain fingers and held there by her mama’s work-roughened hands. These women’s hands, clasped together in solidarity of purpose, vivified the formula God had used to give her the future He had always planned for her. In Riverford, Texas, He had brought together a genteel lady from Charleston, South Carolina, and a peasant woman from Czechoslovakia to give Sarah this chance to grow and to serve. A Civil War had not stopped Him; the Atlantic Ocean had been no barrier. Sarah’s thoughts flew to Miss Victoria and to Maude, and she laughed. God had thought of everything.
General Gibbes had been right.
Never underestimate God’s power to bring about what He intends.
Coming June 2018
From Heritage Beacon Fiction!
Ruffling Society
Book II of the Aspiring Hearts Series
by Kay Moser
Be sure to watch for Book III, Fashioning the Future, coming in 2019!
Things are looking up in Riverford, Texas in June 1898! Czech immigrant, Sarah Novak, is finally graduating from teacher’s college. Surely she will now put aside all that foolishness about being a professional woman and marry Lee Logan. After all, what young woman could ask for more? Lee is a handsome, young banker who will take his new bride off to bustling Fort Worth, Texas, and give her a life of luxury.
And when Sarah marries Lee, Victoria Hodges, that red-haired, trouble-making, bohemian artist from Europe who invaded Riverford three years ago, will be forced to admit that she cannot change tradition-bound Riverford.
But Sarah barely receives her diploma when tragedy strikes Riverford, forcing its citizens to reevaluate their priorities. And maybe … just maybe … people like Sarah and Victoria could actually save the town!
Ruffling Society
CHAPTER 1
June 1898
Sarah Novak struggled to compose herself as she stood, garbed in a traditional graduate’s cap and gown, in the blinding white light of the Texas sun. The members of Travis College class of 1898 were ready to process into Memorial Hall, receive their diplomas, and begin their new lives. Each student had been on a life journey for the last two years, but none had come further than Sarah. While the others complained of the heat and shielded their eyes from the glare, Sarah remembered her grueling years in the cotton fields. She struggled to accept the new definition of herself, which she had worked so hard to earn. Soon she would no longer be just a Czech immigrant girl, the daughter of a sharecropper. She would mount the stage, accept a diploma, and become Sarah Novak, teacher. The studies of the previous two years represented a steep, arduously climbed mountain, but thanks to God, she had not needed to climb it alone.
As the students moved forward, they left the heat and glare of the outdoors for the shadowy foyer of Memorial Hall. They paused while the monitor straightened their line. Then the double doors were ceremoniously thrown open, they entered the auditorium, and Sarah gasped at the beauty of the amber light pouring through the two-story-high, arched Tiffany windows on both sides of the hall. The motto of the college, emblazoned in gilded letters on the dark green background surrounding the stage, glowed in the light and called her to her destiny. Pro honoris, Pro scientia, Pro texana. A thrill of eagerness shot through Sarah as she stepped forward to embrace the challenge—for honor, for knowledge, for Texas—and began her walk toward the ivory urns filled with yellow roses which lined the front of the stage. The president of the college and other administrators stood at attention in a semicircle surrounding a heavily carved, mahogany table. The scrolled diplomas of the eighteen graduates waited in a fan shape around four gold medals prominently displayed on stands in the center of the table. These were the prizes to be given to the best scholars in science, mathematics, literature, and the classics.
Sarah scanned the audience and spotted her beloved supporters sitting together on the front row. Victoria Hodges’ red hair made her instantly recognizable. Her tall, broad-shouldered husband, Hayden, and the equally impressive figure of General Gibbes, flanked her. Sarah’s mind flashed back three years to the sunny morning when she had stood at the front gate of the Hodges garden while Victoria eagerly invited her in. That was the moment that changed my life, the moment when my dreams began to become my reality. How can I ever thank her?
To the left of General Gibbes, Sarah found the petite figure of his daughter, Christine Boyd, the elegant lady from Charleston who had engineered the rescue of the Novak family from abject poverty when Sarah was only a child. Sarah’s throat tightened as she suppressed her tears. She was the human hand of God, the hand that followed His bidding and used her influence to lift my family to security. Next to Christine sat her husband, Richard Boyd, the town’s banker who frequently turned into the Good Samaritan.
“Kindly step aside.” Sarah felt a sharp rap on her shoulder and turned to find Mrs. Edith Bellows, Victoria’s next-door neighbor, glaring at her. “I wish to congratulate my nephew before taking my seat.”
As Sarah moved out of the line, she noticed that there was plenty of room for the woman to pass and that the graduates in front of her were not asked to step aside. Sarah wearily shook her head. She will never forgive me for daring to rise above what she deems my station. Sarah glanced around the auditorium. No doubt there are others here who agree with her. She watched as Mrs. Bellows kissed her nephew, Horace, on the cheek before making what she obviously considered a queenly progression down the main aisle. A group of her friends greeted her as she took the place they were saving for her.
The Travis College string quintet struck up a march, and the audience rose from their seats and turned to the back of the hall. This is it! As a thrill of nerves shot through Sarah, she snapped to attention. Her moment had come; the victory she had slaved for was at hand, but when she tried to lift her feet and move forward, she felt frozen in place.
Then Sarah saw her. A small, nondescript woman took one step out into the main aisle and peered back at the line of graduates. Sarah’s mother. My daughter is gonna have more! Jana Novak’s defiant declaration, which had enabled Sarah to follow her dreams, rocketed through Sarah’s mind and fired her courage. She lifted her chin, boldly stepped forward, and marched toward her destiny, the prize for which she and her mother had sacrificed so much. When she came alongside Jana, Sarah paused, and her mother pressed two fingers to her lips in a salute of love. Sarah’s eyes filled as she returned the gesture.
Standing tall next to her mother, Lee Logan beamed down at Sarah, his love shining from his eyes. A thrill ran through Sarah, but she hastened on. Physically, she must not hold up the processional line, and emotionally, she could not risk focusing on Lee’s courtship. Her mind was made up! Yes, it was definitely made up. She planned to be a teacher, not a wife. Was this not the role she had dreamed of all her life? Was this not the selfdefinition she had chosen when she began her arduous studies in Victoria’s library? Was this not the reason she had defied her father and allowed her mother to sacrifice so much? I have chosen. My fate is sealed. With that thought, Sarah hardened her heart as she mounted the steps to the stage and took her place in the line of chairs set out for the graduates.
When the processional music ended, the eighteen graduates sat, and President Peter J. Wiseman welcomed the audience. As he spoke, Sarah scanned the front row again. Next to Lee Logan, she found his sister, Lavinia, and his mother. Smili
ng members of the Riverford Women’s Literary Society finished out the row. Sarah tried to smile back as she swallowed her disappointment. Her father had not come. His resistance to her choosing education over marriage to a Czech farmer remained intact. Her brothers were not present; they had not forgiven her for refusing to sacrifice herself to their ambitions to increase the family wealth.
On stage, the quintet of student musicians began to play again, but a woman hurrying down the side aisle to the very front row claimed Sarah’s attention. Maude is here! Surprise and delight flooded her that Maude Lindsay, Victoria’s cousin and the principal of a girls’ school in Fort Worth, had traveled to her graduation. Maude had donated her professional expertise to direct Sarah’s studies so successfully that Sarah had gained a scholarship to Travis College. But how on earth did she get away? Sarah wondered. Her own school’s graduation is tomorrow morning. Much to the obvious dismay of President Wiseman, Maude stopped before taking a seat, stood at attention, and saluted Sarah. Sarah grinned but managed to suppress her desire to wave at her big-hearted, but often rambunctious, mentor.
Valedictorian Warren Briggs delivered a commencement speech full of finely worded exhortations to the graduates to utilize their education for the betterment of society. Sarah’s thoughts leapt to her own partially-laid plans for service.
In two weeks she would board the train and take her first trip alone. In the mountains of Boulder, Colorado, she would join other Texas teachers to study at the newly established Chautauqua. All across the country, summer schools for teachers, modeled after the summer school at Lake Chautauqua in New York, were being built. In the previous year, Texas teachers had joined forces with the railroads to build Texado Park in Boulder, and Sarah had been offered the opportunity to study in the mountains. She was thrilled!