Sarah's Surrender

by McDonough, Vickie;

  © 2016 by Vickie McDonough

  Print ISBN 978-1-62836-953-3

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63409-884-7

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63409-885-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Faceout Studio, www.faceoutstudio.com

  Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.shilohrunpress.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Gabe Coulter’s Ranch

  Outside of Guthrie, Oklahoma Territory

  June 30, 1901

  What did you say?” Sarah Worley leaned back against the corral railing, staring at her longtime friend Luke McNeil. His vivid blue eyes sparkled, making even the cloudless sky seem dull.

  He removed his hat, and the light breeze fanned his blond hair across his face. He sobered and cast an uncharacteristically apprehensive glance around the empty ranch yard then refocused on her. Luke took hold of Sarah’s hand, sending odd tingles racing up her arm. “I said I want you to marry me. I think we should get hitched.”

  Luke had been the one who made her smile when she’d first arrived at the Coulter ranch over eight years ago and had felt so out of place with the loving family. He was a happy sort, always joking or teasing, but from the look in his eyes right now, he was dead serious. Sarah glanced toward the Coulters’ two-story house, almost wishing Lara would call her to come in and help. She didn’t want to hurt Luke but neither could she marry him. “I don’t know what to say. This is so sudden.”

  “It’s not sudden. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Say you will. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”

  “You wouldn’t care that your children would be one-fourth Cherokee?” Heat rushed to her cheeks at such an intimate topic.

  “Of course not, especially if they have your dark eyes.” He waggled his brows and grinned in a manner that made her squirm.

  Usually he could pull her out of her doldrums on the worst of days.

  But not today.

  She tugged her hand from his. “I care for you, Luke, but as a friend, not a beau. You’ve always been there for me, but you know I have no plans to marry.”

  His lips pursed as he rolled the brim of his hat. “But I thought—” He slapped on his slouch hat. “One of these days you’re going to have to forgive your father and forget about what he did.”

  She had forgiven Pete Worley, but she could never forget how he used the women in the bordello he owned—that horrible place she lived for over a year when she was younger. She also couldn’t forget how horribly he’d hurt Jo, the first person who ever truly helped her, other than her mother.

  She grabbed Luke’s sleeve when he started to walk away. “Luke, wait. You know my dearest dream is to have a home of my own. You’ve asked me to marry you, but you live in Gabe’s bunkhouse. Have you considered that?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve some money put back. Probably enough to buy a speck of property somewhere. I can build us a cabin. Maybe I should’ve ventured out on my own before now. Then I’d already have a house to offer you.”

  “If you had, you would have left years ago and our friendship would never have grown to what it is.”

  “I don’t want just friendship, Sarah. I care deeply for you.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “I care for you, too, and even though I’ll be twenty-one soon, I’m not ready to get married. I feel like my life only started eight years ago when Jo brought me to her sister’s ranch. I still have so much living to do.”

  He frowned. “We could do that livin’ together if you weren’t so stubborn. I can give you the home you’ve always wanted if you’d let me.”

  Her heart broke a little at disappointing him. She crossed her arms, lest he take her hand again. “I can’t, Luke. I’m sorry.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, nodded, and then turned and strode into the barn.

  Sarah blinked her stinging eyes. Luke was the best friend she’d ever had, and now she’d hurt him deeply. She thought of the times she’d been lonely or not feeling like she belonged in the Coulter home, not that Gabe and Lara had ever made her feel that way. It had been her own insecurities, partly because of the way some people in town eyed her dark complexion. She was a half-breed, and some folks would just as soon spit on her as talk to her.

  Feeling more out of sorts than she had in a long while, she pushed away from the railing and headed toward the house. The lovely day had dimmed. Why did Luke have to go and ask her to marry him? Why hadn’t she noticed he was getting serious? But why should she when she had such little experience with men? Could they still be friends, or had her refusal of him ruined that relationship?

  The sad thing was, in a small part of her mind she could almost see them married. But she had her dreams, and one way or another, it was time she pursued them.

  Luke leaned on the stall gate, staring at his palomino, Golden Boy. “I messed up.”

  The horse nodded as if agreeing then poked his head over the gate, hoping for a treat.

  “Sorry, don’t have any handouts today.” He scratched the gelding’s forehead. Why hadn’t he waited to talk to Sarah? Maybe he should have courted her before blurting out that he wanted to marry her. He kicked the stall gate.

  “Something wrong with Golden Boy?”

  Luke glanced at his boss, Gabe Coulter. “Uh … no. I’m just frustrated about somethin’.”

  Gabe leaned one arm on the empty stall gate next to Golden Boy’s. “Care to talk about it?”

  Luke shrugged. He and Gabe had been friends longer than Gabe had loved his wife, Lara, but this seemed almost too personal to speak of. Still, he needed another man’s perspective. “I asked Sarah to marry me, but she flat-out refused.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows shot upward. “Well, I sure didn’t expect that was your problem.” He rubbed his jaw. “I find it hard to believe she’d refuse you. The two of you seem so close.”

  “Friends.” Luke raised his hands in a helpless gesture then slapped them against his pants. “That’s all we are, according to her.”

  “But you feel more than friendship, I’m guessing.”

  “I reckon … yeah. I thought so, at least.” He scratched his hand across his heart as if that would stop it from hurting. “How’s a man to know for sure if he’s in”—he swatted a hand in the air—“love?”

  “You must feel pretty certain
about your affections for her to propose.”

  Luke shrugged. He lifted his head and watched the dust motes floating in the shafts of light that streaked through the cracks in the barn wall. He needed to fix those before winter set in.

  “You know, Lara didn’t want to have much to do with me at first.”

  “Yeah, I remember. How did you manage to win her over?”

  “Persistence. I kept at it, and I sure am glad I did.”

  Luke thought of the three active children Lara had birthed since she married Gabe: Beth, Drew, and little Missy. It would have been a shame for them not to have been born. He couldn’t shake the vision of a son of his own with Sarah’s dark eyes and hair. Would that child ever have a chance at life?

  He blew out a loud sigh at his sappy thoughts. “I’m thirty-one, Gabe. I’m grateful to have worked for you all these years, but if I ever hope to win Sarah’s heart, I’ve gotta get a place of my own.”

  Gabe slapped Luke’s shoulder. “I don’t know how I’ll get along without you, but I understand. A man’s got to do what God’s calling him to do. Let me know if there’s any way I can help. And allow Sarah to consider your proposal. Don’t press her for an answer. You may be ready for marriage, but her life was difficult before coming here. She may simply need more time.”

  He nodded. “I appreciate the advice.” Luke opened the gate and stepped into the stall. He grabbed a curry brush off the shelf above the feed trough and began running it across Golden Boy’s shoulder. The repetitive motion allowed him to think. Something Gabe had said nagged him. “A man’s got to do what God’s calling him to do.”

  He believed in God. Daniel, Lara’s grandpa, had been a good influence on Luke’s life before he passed on. He missed the old man, as he knew the rest of the family did. Daniel had often talked about God as if they were old buddies. Luke’s life had been pretty good since he met up with Gabe. He liked being Gabe’s foreman, but now he needed more.

  Maybe it was time he talked to God and asked Him if He actually had plans for him—and if those plans included Sarah as his wife.

  The brush paused. But what if God said no?

  A week after Luke had proposed, Sarah reread the article in the Guthrie newspaper once more, her heart pounding faster with each paragraph her eyes scanned. This was it—the chance she’d been waiting for—praying for. July 29th was less than a month away—and there was so much she must do to prepare. She folded the paper and stared out the window of the home she’d lived in for close to a decade.

  Would Gabe and Lara be upset when she told them she’d be leaving? They’d so generously opened their home to her when she showed up on their doorstep with Jo, Lara’s younger sister. They had become her family. But she couldn’t let that hold her back from reaching for her dream. The idea of leaving here was both frightening and exhilarating. Jo would probably encourage her to follow her heart, but Lara would be more cautious and protective—motherly.

  Her gaze shifted toward the barn, as it often did. She wished she could have given Luke the answer he’d wanted, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never. She’d never had a male friend like him, and leaving him behind would almost be harder than leaving Lara and the children. She was an older sister to the Coulter young’uns, even Michael, Lara’s sixteen-year-old son by her first husband. Oh, how she would miss them.

  Sighing, she turned and glanced around her room. It had been hers since shortly after she and Jo had arrived here. She loved this private oasis with its lacy curtains and comfortable furniture, but she longed for a home of her own—not just one room. It was time for her to move on. Time for her to keep the promise she’d made to her mother.

  Dropping onto her bed, she remembered the tiny cabin she and her mother had shared. Distant relatives had helped provide food and water when her mother became ill, but Sarah was always hungry—except for the rare times her father stopped by with a mule-load of food or sent money. Her mother had told her to study hard and make her own way—not to be dependent on anyone so that she could be in charge of her destiny. Winning land would be the start of fulfilling that dream.

  Her clock chimed, yanking Sarah from her thoughts. She hurried downstairs and donned her apron. She should have been down sooner to bring in the laundry and help Lara prepare supper, but she’d been praying once again about her decision. Excitement and nerves had tangled with her prayers. There were so many things she had to work out.

  Lara looked over her shoulder and smiled as Sarah entered the kitchen. Her smile dimmed. “Are you feeling all right?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, I was reading something and praying for a bit. I apologize for not being down sooner.”

  Lara waved a dismissing hand in the air. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” She glanced at her daughters. “Don’t peel those potatoes too thick, Beth.”

  “I’m not, Mama. But could you tell Missy to stop playin’ with the peelings? She’s makin’ a mess.” The eight-year-old sighed like a frustrated adult.

  Sarah walked over to the table and hugged Missy. “Are you making a mess?”

  The three-year-old giggled. “I makin’ a house.”

  “Ma–a–a!” Beth rolled her eyes.

  Lara crossed to the table. “Missy, if you play with those peelings, you’ll be the one who has to clean them up.”

  The little girl looked at her pile then suddenly pushed the whole mess back toward her sister. “I done.”

  Lara’s light green eyes twinkled as she glanced at Sarah. “I bet Sarah would appreciate your help taking down the laundry.”

  “Aw’wight.” Missy slid from her chair, took hold of Sarah’s hand, then glanced up at her with light green eyes, just like her mother’s. “C’mon.”

  Sarah smiled and squeezed the girl’s hand. “We need to wash your hands before you handle the clean clothes.” She led the girl to the washtub, ladled in some fresh water from the bucket sitting next to it, and then cleaned and dried their hands. “Let’s get the basket and the clothespin holder.”

  “I get it.” Missy dashed across the kitchen and out the door to the side porch the men had recently added.

  Sarah chuckled. “She sure is fast when she wants to be.”

  Beth snorted. “Don’t I know. She likes to play with my doll, and no matter where I hide it, she finds it faster than you can say Jack Sprat.”

  “We need to make one for her to replace the dolly she lost. Then maybe she won’t bother yours.” Lara patted her daughter’s shoulder.

  “Can we start on it tonight?”

  Sarah grinned as she exited the kitchen, looking for Missy. With a houseful of children, there was always something to chuckle about. Missy trotted under the flapping clothes on the line, pretending to be a horse, her favorite animal. Given the choice, the little tomboy would go to work with her father, as Michael did most days. Oh, how she’d miss this family when she was gone. Her days would be so lonely after the craziness of a large family, but achieving her dream would be worth it.

  Sarah snagged the wicker basket off the porch and headed to the clothesline. She would have to add rope to her supply list so that she could create her own line for hanging laundry. There were so many things she needed to set up her own place. Though she’d saved the majority of the money her father had sent over the years, she now wondered if it would stretch as far as she needed it to. She reached for a clothespin. Was she making a big mistake?

  Chapter 2

  Sarah’s hand shook as she spooned a bite of mashed turnips into her mouth. Would Gabe and Lara be upset when she finally shared the news of her decision? Would they think her ungrateful for all they’d done for her? Jack, Lara’s brother and the local preacher, would probably try to dissuade her. He was like an older brother to her, and she highly valued his counsel. Maybe she should talk with him first.

  The clink of silverware filled the room as eight people enjoyed their supper. Luke often joined the family for the evening meal, but his empty seat reminded her of their talk. Between bites
, Missy jabbered to her pa about playing with the kittens in the barn with Beth, while Michael excitedly told his ma of the eagle he’d seen swoop down and snag a rabbit. Drew, a lively six-year-old with a sparkle in his brown eyes, stole a slice of meat off Beth’s plate when her face was turned. Normally, Sarah would have smiled, but instead, she clenched the edge of her napkin, already missing the children’s antics. This decision was the biggest one she’d made since choosing to run away from the bordello her father owned at the same time Jo did, eight years ago.

  Lara glanced across the table and lifted a brow. “You’re rather quiet tonight.”

  “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

  The chatter instantly quieted, and almost everyone looked her way. Sarah’s mouth went dry. Her leg started jiggling beneath the table. “I … meant … later.”

  “Say it now. We all wanna hear.” Drew reached for another biscuit, but his ma snatched the plate away.

  “Not until you finish your vegetables, young man.”

  “But, Ma–a–a, you know I hate turnips.”

  Lara eyed the boy as only a mother could.

  “Do as your ma says.” Gabe pointed his fork at his son.

  Jack glanced down at his own plate, looking as if he were fighting a smile. His son Cody, only a few months younger than Drew, leaned against his pa’s arm and looked up.

  “I don’t like turnips neither, Pa,” he whispered loudly enough that everyone heard.

  Beth giggled and ducked her head.

  Jack glanced at the boy. “You eat what’s put on your plate, son.”

  “But—”

  Jack lifted his eyebrows, and the boy nodded. “Yes, sir.” He picked up his spoon, shoved in a tiny bite of turnips, and grimaced. Then he grabbed his glass of milk and took a long swig. He glanced proudly at Drew. “It ain’t so bad, if you drink your milk real fast afterwards.”

  With a serious expression, Drew nodded then mimicked his cousin’s actions.

  The adults shared private smiles.

  Sarah sighed, glad that Drew’s dislike of turnips had taken everyone’s attention off her and helped her to relax. There was nothing like children to lighten the mood.