Daring to Start Again: An Inspirational Historical Romance Book

by Grace Clemens

  Fifteen minutes later, he was riding along the dirt road toward town. The train station was on the other side of the main road down about ten miles. It wasn’t the shortest trip, but Comstock was on the other side of that, so he considered it a short distance.

  The sun beat down on his freshly washed hair, drying it in the gentle breeze. He let his hat sit on his back, held to him by the string around his neck. It wasn’t yet the hottest time of the day, but Bobby felt like it was dry and dusty. He broke out his canteen before he made it to the train station.

  He hoped Sarah wasn’t already there. He didn’t want her waiting and wondering. She needed to feel welcome right away. She deserved nothing but the best after being alone and on her own for so long, struggling just to get by day to day. She had basic skills, she said, but could boast of nothing important or major that she could do.

  It didn’t matter to him. She said she could cook, but Bobby had a cook at the ranch on a regular basis. It was only on her nights off that he would have to fend for himself and those times, he and Samantha usually ate with the Dyers.

  He rode up to the dirt lot where other horses and several buggies sat, looking around the building to see if the train had pulled up. He berated himself gently, knowing if it had, he would have heard the whistle long ago. It rang out across the valley every day, six times a day. One for arrival and one for departure. It could be heard all the way across Comstock, which was spread out over the land for miles and miles in every direction.

  Just as he was dismounting, he heard the fateful sound and his chest tightened with anxiety. He was excited, nervous, a little scared—though he would never admit that. He jogged to the back of the building and went up the steps to the wooden platform. There were large carts waiting for luggage and two attendants standing with the carts, looking anxiously toward the east.

  Bobby went to stand near the edge, peering into the distance as steam rose up into the air.

  Sarah was almost there. He hoped she was pretty. In his mind, he pictured her blond (as she’d said she was) with a small pinched face, sickly pale with a look of desperation about her.

  He felt like he could love her no matter what she looked like. Her letters had spoken to his heart.

  Chapter 3

  Sarah couldn’t help feeling like she had picked the perfect day to leave. She’d hidden her things for the rest of the day and tried to go about acting normal. She sulked and pouted to her father, then made him dinner and lit his cigar for him before trotting “up to bed early.” She’d wanted to leave the house the night before, but it didn’t make sense to sleep in the train station when her bed was perfectly comfortable.

  It was probably the only thing she’d miss in the whole house.

  Sarah woke up early, dressed, and snuck out as quietly as she could. Bruce had consumed a ton of alcohol the night before so he would be sleeping in late. She could hear his loud, raucous snores through the small house, so she knew he wasn’t going to catch her.

  Bart and Danny were snoozing in their rooms, too. They’d come in during the early hours of the morning with a couple of friends, talking in obnoxiously elevated voices for an hour before there was beautiful silence.

  Still, her heart had thumped as hard as it could and she froze whenever she made even the slightest noise.

  Once she was outside in the crisp early morning air, she felt like she was able to breathe again. Already, she could taste the freedom on her lips, feel it within her grasp.

  Sarah was heading into the unknown, truly something she never would have even thought about doing when she was a child. It took a special kind of woman, she’d heard once, to answer a call from a stranger across the country and leave her home behind to marry him.

  Sarah didn’t know if that was a compliment or not. Did the speaker mean the woman was brave? Or of thin moral fiber?

  Sarah considered herself a Christian. She prayed and worked hard to build a close relationship with the Lord. She would be ashamed if anyone thought she was a lady of the night, a woman with low moral fortitude.

  She hurried down the dirt road past the neighboring houses, hoping no one would see her.

  She tried to be a good woman. Her lie to Bobby still haunted her, causing her more stress than she already had. She was leaving almost everything behind—because of her father. Would he try to come find her?

  Surely, he wouldn’t go to the train station and ask if she’d gone somewhere. Would they tell him if he asked? Could she request they not tell him?

  Her chest tightened with anxiety. She just wanted to get away from Lorenville, away from Bart, Danny, and Bruce. And all their outlaw buddies.

  She glanced over her shoulder and was instantly amazed by how far she’d come in what seemed like such a short amount of time. Two streets up and one down, and she would be at the train station.

  The sun was up by the time she’d left the house, but only slightly. Now it was blazing across the land, sending shadows around her, heating up the cool morning air. She pulled in a deep breath, filling her lungs. It was as if every breath she took was new.

  Her anxiety was high, but she was more excited than anything else.

  She hurried across the street and went down the next one, walking steadily and without looking around until she saw the building in the distance.

  Her heart raced at the sight of it. She found herself jogging, holding her skirt up with one hand, the other clutching the luggage trunk. She hadn’t noticed how heavy it was until a few minutes before she reached the train station.

  A thought flashed through her mind and she suddenly panicked. Had she brought the train ticket with her? At the door of the station, she dropped the luggage and reached into her light vest, feeling in the pocket she’d affixed several months prior.

  She sighed in relief, feeling the stiff ticket against the fabric. She picked up the luggage again and turned to push the door open with her side. It opened, and she was staring into the face of one of the men in town her father had worked with in the past.

  Sarah looked down, shuffling past him. Did he recognize her? She couldn’t remember his name. She was willing to bet by the way he was looking at her, though, he knew who she was.

  “Sarah?”

  Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. He did recognize her.

  She looked up at him, silently pleading with him to go away.

  “He… hello,” she stammered. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, making her blush deepen.

  She studied his face for a moment when she realized he wasn’t looking at her like he suspected her of something. He looked concerned.

  “Are you all right? Are you leaving?”

  Sarah struggled not to cry. It was too late to back out now. But she didn’t want her father or brothers to know. She would have to lie again. She hated lying.

  “I… I have to go visit someone… in… California. For a while.” She said the words haltingly, knowing he wasn’t a stupid man and would likely not be fooled.

  The man lifted his eyes and looked over her shoulder. She could tell he was looking for Bruce or one of her brothers. His face darkened more and he took her by the arm with one hand, bending to take the luggage from her.

  “Let me carry this for you,” he said in a firm voice.

  Sarah could barely hold in the tears. The disappointment from being so close to being free to being caught like a rat in a trap broke her heart. She’d almost gotten away with it.

  But almost wasn’t good enough. If she couldn’t get away this time, she would just try again. Eventually, she would get away from this place, away from those men.

  Thinking about going back to Bruce and this man telling her father she was running away struck her with a fear like she’d never felt before. What would they do to her? The shed was probably just the first of many things they would think up to punish her. Terror struck her and she stiffened as she walked into the train station with the strange man.

  His grip on her arm wasn’t very t
ight. She could easily break loose and run.

  But he was bigger and, most likely, faster. He would catch her easily and then she might be in trouble with him, too.

  She didn’t pay attention to where they were going. She went where he led her, which was to the ticket counter. The clerk behind the counter was not familiar to her, which would have been a good thing if this man hadn’t recognized her first.

  The man holding her arm wasn’t saying anything. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at her.

  There was no one at the counter, so the two of them went straight up to the clerk. Sarah wondered what kind of trouble she would be in. She didn’t see a deputy or a sheriff anywhere around. Would they keep her in a back room until her father came to fetch her, or would this man just take her back and make her confess?

  “Joseph.” The man got her attention when he spoke in a firm, low voice.

  The clerk looked up at him and was immediately on his feet, nearly knocking over the stool he’d been sitting on.

  “Yes, Mr. Rochester. How can I help you?”

  Sarah listened with stunned ears, watching Mr. Rochester through wide eyes as the older man went on.

  “This young lady has a ticket. Don’t you, Sarah?” He looked at her directly, with commanding eyes.

  She produced the ticket wordlessly, handing it to Joseph.

  “I want you to make sure—make sure, mind you—that she gets on the train safely and has a good trip. Tell your attendant that anything she wishes to get from the dining car should be put on my tab. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir, that won’t be a problem.”

  “See that it isn’t.” Mr. Rochester turned to Sarah and gave her a look that was so kind, her knees nearly buckled beneath her. For the first time, she noticed the suit jacket, the trousers, the shoes—everything on the man smacked of money. He was obviously extremely rich.

  She couldn’t remember how the wealthy man and her father had worked together, but it was distinct in her memory.

  Mr. Rochester pulled her away from the clerk, still looking into her eyes. When they were a short distance away, he let go of her elbow and reached into his jacket, producing a thick wallet.

  Tingles ran up Sarah’s arms and down her spine as she watched him. He opened the wallet and pulled out a small wad of paper bills, which he held out to her. When she stared at the money but didn’t take it, he took one of her hands and pressed the bills into her palm. Then, he curled his fingers around hers so she was clutching the money in her hand.

  “I know your father and, unfortunately, your brothers,” he said, his voice only loud enough for her to hear. “You might need this. I won’t tell them where you are. Spend this money wisely, my dear. It might save your life.”

  Sarah’s tears pushed themselves from behind her eyelashes. She held the paper money to her face, hiding behind it. Emotions flooded through her like a tidal wave, and her cheeks burned.

  She’d been so happy, then so disappointed and afraid, and now she was so happy again… she could barely control herself.

  She felt the older man’s arms around her shoulders and heard him in her ear when he mumbled, “There, there, my dear. You deserve your freedom. I am only sorry I didn’t save you when I saw you the last time. I am ashamed. It is my guilt to carry. But I can help you now, and I insist you go on that train and make a good life for yourself. This will just be a little boost to help you start.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, breathlessly, pulling enough away from him to look up in his mature dark eyes. She didn’t want to look down at the bills or count it but from a quick glance, she was willing to bet there was at least a few hundred dollars. Right there in her hand. She’d never seen so much money in her life.

  He nodded. “It is my pleasure to be of assistance, Sarah. Go. Go now and have a good life.”

  Sarah pulled away from him just as the train whistle burst through the air.

  Her eyes opened wide and she stared at Mr. Rochester, whose smile took over his face.

  “There it is,” he said quietly, turning her around by her shoulders and pointing her toward the back of the station, where the many windows along the wall allowed them to see the train pulling in. “There’s your freedom. Go get it.”

  His words sent a burst of energy through Sarah. She’d never been encouraged by anyone. Even the ladies she worked with didn’t encourage her to find love or do anything to protect herself from her father. None had offered to help. No one but her mother had lifted a finger for Sarah her entire life.

  She was full of joy when she stepped onto the train and found her seat. Her smile was big. She was able to see Mr. Rochester, who had been so kind as to walk out and wait so she would have someone to say goodbye to.

  He was a virtual stranger to her. And in ten minutes, he’d done more for her than her father ever had . Not just outwardly but inwardly, as well. He’d soothed her fear, even if it was temporary.

  And temporary it was. Sarah was back to feeling nervous by the time the whistle blew and the train went into motion. It would be at least a day’s journey, as far as she knew. She would be hungry and tired when she got to Oklahoma.

  She inquired about the dining car and was told the train would have to be well in motion before she went to it, but she was welcome to whatever was available. Sarah couldn’t believe she had been so blessed as to run across Mr. Rochester. She would never have known what a kind man he was.

  After she waved frantically to Mr. Rochester, sat down, got settled and asked about the dining car, Sarah’s thoughts turned negative. It wasn’t that she wanted to feel that way. Bobby’s letters were so intriguing, so engaging. She could read them over and over. But her small fib about her origins still bothered her. She wished she had told the truth, but she didn’t want to come off as weak-minded to Bobby. In her letters, she could be carefree and fun-loving. She could be witty and sarcastic. In person, she was much more reserved. She didn’t trust any man and saw little reason women would be different.

  On a whim, she reached down and picked up the large cloth sack she had slung over her shoulder. She set it on her lap and opened the top. As Sarah dug through the contents, she became more and more aggravated. Where were they? Where were Bobby’s letters?

  A chill ran through her when she realized she must have left them behind. They were still tucked underneath the false bottom of the top drawer in her dressing table.

  Would her father find them? Did he know about that secret compartment? The dresser had been her mother’s, after all.

  Surely, he would have forgotten about that, if he had ever even known about it in the first place.

  Well, so what if he found them, she thought. What would he do? Would he really try to come and get her when it was obvious she is going to marry someone to get away from him?

  On the other hand, what if Bobby was nothing like his letters? What if he’d had someone else write them, and he was actually an outlaw on the run from authorities?

  Wild theories and ideas ran through her mind, none of them good.

  He was 29 years old, he said, and he had a five-year-old daughter, Samantha. He owned a horse ranch and was an avid horse fiend, not wanting to spend his time on much else than his family and his horses. According to his letters, he was not wealthy but had plenty of money for the finer things in life. He sounded generous, kind, and charming in his letters.

  But what if this was the worst mistake she’d ever made in her life? What if he was a monster like her father?

  The train shot down the tracks at a faster speed than Sarah had ever gone in her life. It was too late to turn back now. The Lord had sent a stranger to encourage her, and here she was scaring herself all over again.