A Lady Like Sarah

by Margaret Brownley

  "And that rule—you know, the one about doin' unto others . . . I promise, God, I'll be the best person I can be. If You would only grant me this one thing, it'll be the last You ever hear from me."

  She dropped her hands to her side and stood. Then she remembered something and quickly fell to her knees again. "Amen."

  She waited, for what she didn't know. A bolt of lightning? The parting of the waters? Something. But nothing changed. The sky, the sun, everything was the same.

  And a short distance away, an innocent babe was dying.

  "Sarah Prescott," she muttered, "you're nothin' but a fool."

  She jumped to her feet and, not knowing what else to do, started for her horse.

  A rustle in the nearby bushes startled her. She drew out her pistol and spun around. Heart pounding, she crouched low and called out, "Who—who's there?"

  The rustling continued. Moistening her dry lips, she made a wide circle around the bushes and closed in from the rear. Seeing a movement ahead, she froze.

  Suddenly, a bleating sound broke the silence, and she burst out laughing. She fought her way through the heavy undergrowth until she spotted a white goat. The rope tied to the goat's neck was caught on a bush. The poor animal shook its head from side to side in an effort to free itself, bleating as if blaming her for its predicament.

  Slipping her gun in the waist of her pants, she petted the animal's rump. "If that don't beat all." Talking gently to the animal, she dropped to one knee and untangled the rope. That's when she discovered the most amazing thing; it was a nanny goat with teats full as a peddler's bags.

  "Well, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes." The female goat must have run away from the wagon train during the Indian raid.

  She couldn't believe her good fortune. It was the answer to her prayers. It was a miracle, that's what it was. A miracle. Fresh tears streaming down her face, she glanced at the sky.

  "Thank You, God. Thank You."

  Tugging on the rope, Sarah pulled the goat away from the bushes and led it to her horse. "Let's hope we make it back in time."

  Twelve

  It was dusk by the time she spotted what could only be Justin's campfire ahead. Who else but a greenhorn preacher would make a campfire out in the open?

  Great snakes! The fool man was going to get himself killed.

  He couldn't have made his presence more obvious had he fired cannons. Shaking her head in alarm, she tried to coax the goat into walking faster, but the animal was clearly exhausted.

  It was dark by the time she reached the campsite, which only made the fire stand out that much more. She slid off her horse, calling Justin's name.

  "You won't believe this," she yelled, "but I done found myself a miracle!"

  No one was by the fire, and she stopped, her heart frozen in fear. The eerie quiet filled her with dread. It was too late, she was certain of it. The baby was dead, and Justin was off somewhere digging her grave.

  Torn between running away and comforting Justin, she hesitated. She couldn't do anything for the baby, and she wasn't even sure she could do anything for Justin, but she had to try.

  A tall form stepped out of the darkness. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "I never thought you'd find me."

  Her brother gave her a crooked grin. "I reckon we'd have to be blind as a fiddle not to see the signs you left."

  Robert had Sarah's same red hair and big blue eyes. A man of few spoken words, he nonetheless scribbled up a storm every chance he got, filling notebook after notebook with poetry and prose that he refused to let anyone but Sarah read.

  "Where's Jed and George?" she asked.

  "Right here," George said, walking out from a clump of trees. George was the oldest and had inherited his father's dark, brooding looks.

  Jed walked in George's shadow, as usual. A poor imitation of the older brother who headed the family, Jed was shorter, thinner, and less inclined to give George grief than she was.

  Sarah tied the goat to a bush and ran into the waiting arms of her brothers. They all talked at once, except for Robert, of course, ever the watchful one.

  "Been trailing you for days," Jed explained. "Ever since that U.S. Marshal got hold of you. Then we bumped into the Mitchell brothers, and they swore up and down that you were travelin' with some preacher. Didn't sound like somethin' you'd do."

  "You're lucky you're still alive," George said, his face dark. "I swear, Sarah, If you ever disobey me ag'in, I'll—"

  Sarah paid George no heed. She was too busy looking around for Justin. Spotting him tied to a tree, she cried out in dismay.

  "What ya have to go do that for?" She reached for the leather sheath at Jed's waist and pulled out his dagger. Before anyone could stop her, she hurried to Justin's side and began working on the rope at his hands and feet.

  Justin searched her face as she freed his wrists. "You came back," he said softly.

  "Of course I came back. What do you think I am, some chicken-bellied—? "

  "I. . . didn't know what to think."

  His uncertainty filled her with despair. Did he really think she'd run off when he most needed her? "The . . . the baby?"

  Rubbing his wrists, he pointed to the little bundle a short distance away. "Poor thing cried herself to sleep."

  Her heart jumped with joy. "Then she's still—"

  He nodded. "But I don't know how much longer she can go without milk."

  "That's what I was tryin' to tell you." She kept her voice low so as not to wake Elizabeth. "I found a goat. We have milk!"

  Quickly, she cut the last piece of rope away from his ankles and, jumping to her feet, whirled about to face her brothers.

  "Don't just stand there!" she ordered. "We have a baby to feed."

  She met George's cold-eyed stare without flinching. He wasn't used to his younger sister giving orders, nor, judging by the dark scowl he gave her, had he forgiven her for the latest trouble she'd gotten herself into. But there was no time to worry about that now.

  Justin scooped the sleeping baby in his arms, and she immediately began to wail. Sarah never thought she'd hear a more beautiful sound.

  Fighting tears of relief, she grabbed a tin cup. "Hold on to the goat."

  Kneeling beside the squirming animal, she massaged the animal's udder. "I'm gonna call the goat Mira," she announced. "Short for 'miracle.'"

  She squeezed hard, letting the first few squirts of milk dribble onto the ground. Satisfied that any dirt had been washed away, she held the tin cup beneath the goat. In no time at all, the cup was filled to the brim with pure white milk.

  It took four of them to feed the baby. After a few false starts, Robert finally tried soaking a piece of clean fabric with milk and letting the baby suck on it. The baby cried in frustration at first, but once Robert learned how to keep the flow of milk constant, she soon settled down and frantically began to suck.

  It took nearly an hour, but little Elizabeth finally had her fill and drifted off to sleep, looking contented as a bear ready to hibernate. Her brothers had gone to unsaddle their horses, leaving her and Justin alone.

  Justin gave her a look of admiration and her heart skipped a beat. He wrapped the baby in a warm blanket and placed her a safe distance away from the fire. "You saved her life."

  Not usually one for false modesty, Sarah was uncharacteristically hesitant to agree. Something was at work in her life that she couldn't fully understand.

  "I had a little help," she allowed.

  "Help?" Justin stared at her as if he hadn't heard right. "You aren't suggesting that. . .?" He pointed upward.

  She blushed. She hated showing any sign of vulnerability or weakness in front of her brothers, and such talk would clearly qualify as both where they were concerned.

  "Now don't go thinkin' I'm a saint or anythin' just 'cuz I had a divine interruption."

  "Intervention," Justin said gently. "And somehow the word saint never came to mind." Thinking she heard a touch of humor in his voice,
she eyed him warily. His face told her he was perfectly serious.

  George and the others walked back to camp. "Miracles? Divine interventions?" George mimicked. "You sure ain't soundin' like yourself. I think this here preacher has done gone and messed with your brain."

  "No one's messed with my brain," Sarah snapped. "I know what I know, and I'm tellin' you, findin' that goat was a miracle."

  George exchanged glances with Jed but said nothing. Instead, he reached into his vest pocket and drew out a square of brown paper and a rawhide pouch. After rolling a cigarette, he poked a stick into the hot embers and used the glowing red tip to light it.

  The five of them stood around the baby, staring down at her.

  Nothing ever happened, it seemed, that Justin didn't have a corresponding Bible story to match. So it came as no suprise to Sarah when he likened their finding Elizabeth to the Pharaoh's daughter finding a baby in the river Nile. "She took that babe home and raised him as her own son."

  "Don't tell me," Sarah said, guessing. "The baby's name was Moses."

  As if to acknowledge his namesake, Moses the mule gave a loud hee-haw, and Sarah and Justin roared with laughter. After the harrowing day, their laughter offered a welcome release. It also chased away any lingering tension between them.

  Her brothers, not knowing the mule's name, stared at them as if they'd been nipping at a loco plant.

  Wiping the tears from her eyes, Sarah explained, "Robert, Jed, George. Meet Moses, the mule."

  Though Robert and Jed chuckled upon learning the mule's name, George continued to stare at her with an odd expression.

  Later, George shot a rabbit, and while it roasted over the fire, Robert took Sarah by the elbow and led his sister a short distance away from the others. "Are you gonna keep that baby?" he whispered in her ear.

  Surprised by the question, she quickly turned to face him. "Are you joshin' me? What am I gonna do with a baby?"

  "I thought maybe you planned on marrying yourself a preacher. Be one of those respectable ladies that serves tea and makes quilts."

  "That'll be the day," she said dully, feeling a sudden longing inside that she couldn't name.

  Robert studied her thoughtfully. "You aren't sweet on the preacher, are you?"

  Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she scowled furiously. "I ain't gone sweet on nobody," she said. It had been a long, hard day, and she was in no mood for such ridiculous nonsense. She walked away to rejoin the others.

  A lone wolf howled, and George stared into the darkness. "We're as good as sitting ducks out here. Jed, you better keep watch. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

  Justin looked straight at George. "I could use some help burying the victims. It doesn't feel right not to give them a proper burial."

  George hesitated. He clearly didn't want to play the part of undertaker, but whether out of gratitude to Justin for saving Sarah's life or simply out of respect for a man of God, he reluctantly agreed. "How long will it take?"

  "With four of us working, it shouldn't take more than an hour or two. If we start at the first light, we should be done in no time."

  "I wanna be out of here as close to sunup as possible."

  Justin nodded. "Understood." He glanced at Sarah as if asking permission for something. "Sarah told me about her trouble in Rocky Creek," he began.

  George gave Sarah the look of a disapproving parent. "Did she, now?"

  "I offered to help in any way I could."

  A cloud of annoyance darkened George's face. "That's mighty nice of you, Reverend, but as long as my little sister stays with us and does what I tell her, we won't be needin' your assistance."

  Feathery lines deepened at the corners of Justin's eyes. "Have you considered asking Washington for help? President Hayes has pardoned more people than any other president. I'm sure if you make the case that she wasn't given a proper trial, he'll relent."

  George discounted the idea with a wave of his hand. "I doubt that Hayes would do somethin' so unpopular as to pardon a Prescott." He turned his attention to Sarah. "We've wasted a lot of time trackin' you down," he said, his voice low so as to be heard by her ears only. "We missed a big Wells Fargo shipment, and I ain't aimin' to miss another."

  Sarah glanced at Justin, who watched from a distance. As if to guess what George said to her, he turned and walked away.

  The following morning, Sarah woke to angry voices.

  "I ain't doing it," Jed shouted. "I'm done!"

  In the silver light of dawn, Sarah scrambled out of her bedroll and hurried to join the men. "Shh, you'll wake the baby." She turned to Jed. "What are you so riled up about?"

  "Your preacher friend insists that we bury that dead Indian, and I ain't doin' it."

  Justin leaned on his shovel, his stance every bit as stubborn as Jed's. "Everyone deserves a proper burial."

  Jed shook his head in disgust and shuddered. "After what those savages did to that poor family—"

  "Maybe if we stopped pushing Indians off their land, they wouldn't feel the need for revenge," Justin said quietly.

  "That's not revenge," Jed spit out. "That's cold-blooded murder."

  "Jed should know," Sarah said. "When it comes to revenge, us Prescotts are experts."

  Jed whirled around to face her. "We rob stages. We don't kill people." He kicked a mound of dirt and started back to camp.

  George gestured impatiently. "I say we stop jawing and finish the job. I want to hit the trail."

  Without another word, Justin resumed digging.

  Sarah glanced at the body of the Indian and quickly turned away. It was the Comanche custom to lay their dead to rest in caves, but they were miles away from the nearest mountain. They had no choice but to bury him in the ground.

  Knowing that Justin would want to do everything right, she said, "Break his weapon and bury it with him."

  Justin stopped digging and looked up.

  Robert explained, "Everything a Comanche owns is buried with him so he'll have it with him in the afterlife."

  George pushed back his hat. "I don't think he's gonna need it where he's goin'."

  Justin scooped a shovel full of dirt and tossed it behind him. "That's for God to decide, not us."

  Sarah walked back to camp and checked on Elizabeth, who was still asleep. Knowing that she would soon be riding off with her brothers, she found herself close to tears. A searing pain shot through her, lodging in her chest.

  In a very short time, this tiny babe had managed to work her way into Sarah's heart. How was such a thing possible?

  Staring down at the child, Sarah pondered the future. How would Elizabeth react upon learning how her mama was killed? Would she seek revenge as Sarah's brothers had done? Or would she, instead, choose Justin's way and leave things in God's hands?

  Sarah closed her eyes and imagined Elizabeth all grown up. But the life she envisioned for Elizabeth, hoped for her, wanted for her, was nothing like the reality of her own life.

  "Dear little one," she whispered, "choose Justin's way. You hear?"

  She left Elizabeth's side and made a fresh pot of coffee, but she couldn't shake off the depression that settled over her like a dark cloud.

  The sun rose, its golden rays spilling across the flower- decked prairie like warm honey, but even the cheery brightness failed to lift her spirits.

  The air was eerily still, without so much as the trill of a bird to break the silence. The quiet pastoral scene seemed all wrong for the grisly task of burying the dead.

  In the distance, Justin and her brothers stood in a circle, George and Robert with their hats on their chests. Justin lifted the Indian's arrow above his head, holding it with both hands. He snapped it in two and tossed it into the grave.

  Across the way, a flock of curlews suddenly took to the air with piercing cries that ended in a long, drawn-out whistling sound.

  Watching them, an inexplicable chill shot through her. Her neck prickled. She dropped down and grabbed her weapon from her bedroll.
>
  Jed crouched next to her, hands on his own shooting iron. "What's wrong?"

  "I think I saw somethin' move in those there trees."

  Jed shaded his eyes against the sun. "I don't see nothin'. Maybe it was a deer."

  Would a deer frighten away birds, she wondered? Maybe. "You don't think they'll come back, do you?" she whispered.

  "The Comanches?Nah. They got what they want. They won't be back."

  "They don't usually leave their dead behind," she said.

  "It was a small band. Probably had their hands full stealin' the animals."

  Elizabeth cried out, and Sarah rushed to her side.

  Jed's assurances did little to ease her nerves. While she changed and fed Elizabeth, she kept her weapon handy at her side and her eyes and ears alert.

  The others returned, their faces grim. Justin tucked his Bible into Moses' saddle while George and Robert helped themselves to the freshly brewed coffee.

  After washing and changing his shirt, Justin took over the care of Elizabeth.

  "How's my girl?" he said, jostling the baby up and down.

  "Careful, she just ate," Sarah cautioned, but her warning came too late. Elizabeth spit up all over him.

  This meant having to change the baby again, which Justin attempted to do with great difficulty. Sarah watched in dismay as he struggled to get the baby in and out of her clothes. Finally, unable to watch a moment longer, she took over the task herself.

  She kept her back toward Justin so he couldn't see her own awkward efforts in fitting the garment over the baby's head and working her little arms into the sleeves.

  A short while later, she sidled up next to George. "I'm worried about leavin' Justin by himself," she said. Now that he had a baby to care for, his journey was all that more difficult.

  "He's not your problem," George replied gruffly.

  "It's not just him," she said. "I'm worried about Elizabeth."

  "What do you want me to do about it?"

  "I want us to stay with them," she beseeched. "Just to the Texas border."

  George tossed the dregs of his coffee into the dying fire. "We've wasted enough time trackin' you down, girl. There's a big shipment of gold headin' toward Abilene, and if we don't hurry, it will be loaded on the train and sent East before we get there. We ain't got no more time to waste."