“I see you’re a fan of the written word,” Ralph went on, undeterred. He reached out and placed his hand on the book, dangerously close to Sarah’s.
“I am too,” he said. “And, to be honest, sometimes I prefer a good book to parties such as these.”
Sarah looked up from the book and smiled. It was nice to meet someone who shared her interests.
“A Collection of Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning,” Ralph said, reciting the title that appeared along the book’s spine.
“What a wonderful choice. One of the best Russel has. Unfortunately, however, he doesn’t have a very extensive collection… But, I do—and, I’d be glad to lend you some sometime, if you’d like.”
“That would be splendid,” Sarah replied, feeling a bit flustered.
Ralph leaned closer toward Sarah and took the book into his hands. His body grazed against hers ever so slightly as he opened it and fingered through the pages. But, just as Sarah was starting to blush from the closeness, another hand appeared in front of them, and it snatched the book away.
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna give me trouble too,” Mrs. Smyth said, shaking her head in disapproval.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Smyth,” Ralph said, sounding much like Russel earlier at the train station. “I was just trying to enjoy this wonderful book with your wonderful guest.”
“Mmhmm,” Mrs. Smyth hummed. She looked at Ralph critically, and, a moment later, he excused himself and took leave.
“Really, Mrs. Smyth, it was entirely innocent,” Sarah said once he was gone. “We were, in fact, discussing this book—and nothing more.”
“If I had a penny for every time someone said that,” Mrs. Smyth laughed. “Just mind yourself, girl. I overheard what you said on the carriage. And, while I don’t agree with your purposes in coming out here, but I think you’d be better off sticking to them than to making any ‘mistakes’ of your own.”
With that, Mrs. Smyth walked away, and Sarah’s face blushed with embarrassment.
It was evening now, and slowly but surely, all of the guests left the party, until just Russel, Mrs. Smyth, and the Walker sisters remained. After making sure that they girls had had enough to eat, Mrs. Smyth advised them to go to their quarters in the western wing of the house, where she, too, would be staying to watch over them, so that they could clean themselves up and get some rest.
Though it was difficult—perhaps painful—for Caroline to part ways with Russel, she obliged; and, she and Sarah made their way to their quarters, tended to their persons, and turned in for the night.
Indeed, the girls slept very well that night, and their slumber lasted well into the next day. Their bodies had a lot of recovering to do from their travels, as well as the excitement of the party. Plus, the sun set and rose on this side of the country at different times than it did on the other side, and their minds were not yet used to the change in schedule.
Once the sisters were both awake the next day, Caroline chattered on and on about what a wonderful time she’d had at the party; how amazing Russel was; and how much she looked forward to marrying him. Sarah, of course, tried to undercut each thing her sister said—though, in light of all she’d seen so far, she had a hard time doing so, since, as it turns out, Russel and the people of Green Bush did, indeed, seem like good people.
Well, they seemed like good people… but for one. The mere thought of Ian Sawyer still agitated Sarah to her core, and she was even more agitated when she saw him come home for dinner with Russel that night. For all the guff he’d given her about tagging along and abusing Russel’s generosity, he, too, was guilty.
Nonetheless, Sarah tolerated Ian as best she could during dinner. But, once the meal was through, she turned to Caroline and criticized him under her breath. “Ian is always following Russel around,” she said. “I guess you’ll be tending to his meals and laundry too.”
As usual, Caroline let her sister’s disparaging remark roll over her shoulders like water off of a duck’s back, and she went off to enjoy a discussion with Russel—and, of course, Mrs. Smyth—in the living room.
Sarah, however, was fed up and went to the bookshelf to grab the book of poetry. She sat on a chair in the corner and started reading it—but, no sooner than she was a few lines in, Ian was hovering above her, with a sharp comment on the tip of his tongue.
“When you’re not trailing after your sister to shatter her heart, you’re off with your nose in a book,” he said cuttingly. Sarah glanced up at him with narrow, seething eyes.
“So, tell me, then,” Ian continued, taking her stare in stride, “do you really think your sister is making such a grave mistake? Or, is it that you simply don’t want to lose her? Your life would be empty without her, wouldn’t it? So, you’re trying to cling onto her.”
Sarah slammed the book shut, set it down on the shelf, and stated, for all to hear, “I’m very tired now and going to bed.”
Russel, Caroline, and Mrs. Smyth seemed a bit shocked by her display. But, nonetheless, they each nodded and bid Sarah goodnight.
The next day, wasn’t much different than this one. The Walker sisters slept in well into the day, as their bodies and minds continued to adjust to life in Green Bush, and they didn’t see Russel—or Ian—again until dinner. Sarah continued to criticize Caroline; and Ian, in turn, continued to criticize Sarah; and the night ended with Sarah slamming the book on the shelf and rushing off to her quarters.
The next day, however, played out a little differently. It was the girls’ third night in Green Bush—and, given that the wedding was in two days, was the last time Caroline, and, by extension, Sarah, would be allowed to see Russel before the ceremony.
With that in mind, Russel had coordinated a special dinner with Mrs. Smyth, and had invited his closest friends—including Ian, Ralph, and Reverend Jones (who was to perform their ceremony) and his wife.
The meal was a delicious one, and, after it, the group took to the living room for conversation. Reverend Jones said a few words about the upcoming wedding, and how happy he was to precede over it, and, then, the group broke off into discrete, individual discussions. Sarah, as usual, went over to the corner to read. And, as usual, she was followed.
But, it wasn’t Ian who followed her this time… It was Ralph.
“I brought this for you, from my collection,” Ralph said, interrupting as she read. He held out a book, and she took it from him.
“It’s a collection of short stories by Edgar Allan Poe,” he explained. “I figured you’d enjoy it.”
Sarah was just about to thank Ralph, when, out of nowhere, she heard laughter.
“Edgar Allan Poe?” Ian snorted. “You brought her a collection of short stories by Edgar Allan Poe?”
“Yes, Ian, I did,” Ralph replied. “He’s a great writer.”
Ian stepped over, to delve more deeply in the conversation.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ian said, glancing down at the book. “But, the book that Ms. Walker has been reading for the past three days—the one you spoke to her about in this very spot the other day—was a book of poetry by Elizabeth Barret Browning, was it not?”
Ralph nodded, and Sarah sat there, too overwhelmed to speak.
“Well, my friend,” Ian went on, pointing down at the Poe book, “this book is very different from what our friend has been reading. Not only have you brought her a book of short stories when she was reading poetry, but you’ve brought her one that speaks to incredibly different themes.
“Browning’s poetry, although ambivalent, is largely about love. Poe’s work, however, is much darker and foreboding. It centers on the macabre… Giving a young woman interested in poetry a book like this is like giving raw meat to a goat.”
“Are you calling Sarah a goat?” Ralph asked, straightening his posture.
Ian rolled his eyes. “Not at all,” he laughed. “It’s called a metaphor… And, perhaps, if you’d actually read this—or any other—book, you’d understand what it is.”
&nb
sp; Ian grabbed the book from Sarah’s hand, held it up in the air, and spun it around.
“You say this book is from your ‘collection,’” he jeered.
“Yet the spine isn’t even cracked, and not a single page is curled.”
“Give it to me,” Ralph hissed, reaching for the book.
“You’re being a fool.”
“Ah, it’s not me who’s the fool,” Ian said, surrendering it. He nodded at Sarah, smiled a crooked smile, and went off to speak with the other, more amicable souls in the room.
“He’s nothing but trouble, that one,” Ralph said once Ian was out of earshot. “He’s suffered a great deal of misfortune these past couple years, and, now, he is quite bitter about it… You see, he and his fiancé, Lucy Mason, came out here two years ago after his father died. He invested all of his inheritance in a small farm. But, unfortunately, our town experienced a severe drought that year.
“As a result, his crops died, and he saw no return on his investment—and, shortly thereafter, Lucy left him because of it and took up with a more financially stable man. His spirits and heart were broken, but, luckily for him, Russel offered him employ, and he’s since been able to scrape by.
But, he’s been a true pain since then. He’s been so beaten down by life that he takes any chance he can—such as this—to try and feel superior to anyone in a better position.”
“That’s terrible,” Sarah replied, speaking more to Ian’s misfortunes than to his disposition.
“Indeed, it is,” Ralph said with a thoroughly disinterested sigh. “But, in any event, I hope you enjoy the book I brought you… It isn’t from my collection, exactly. I do have the book in my collection at home. But, I didn’t… I didn’t want to part with it. So, I… I bought you a new copy in town.”
Ralph was hawing over his words, which indicated to Sarah that he was not being entirely sincere. Nonetheless, she thanked him for the book. However, she wasn’t being entirely sincere either. Her gratitude was fake. She was, in fact, already familiar with the works of Edgar Allan Poe—and, to harken back to Ian’s metaphor, like a goat, she did not have a taste for raw meat.
Sarah and Ralph went on to engage in polite discussion for several minutes more, with Ian spying on the whole while. Soon enough, however, Mrs. Smyth stood up and called an end to the evening.
When the guests were gone, Sarah watched as Caroline woefully said goodnight to Russel, and it made her chest ache just a bit.
“I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you for two days,” Caroline said as Mrs. Smyth all but dragged her away from Russel. “The only thing keeping me from grave depression is knowing that, when I finally do see you again, I’ll see you standing at the altar, waiting to make me your wife.”
Mrs. Smyth led Caroline out of the room, and Sarah followed after, with her head bowed. She knew now that, no matter how strong her convictions, any hope she had of stopping this marriage was gone.
EIGHT
“They are no longer two, but one, flesh. So, what God has joined together, let no man tear asunder.”
With those words, Reverend Jones ended the wedding ceremony, and Sarah, once and for all, laid her “plans” to rest. Indeed, over the past few days, she’d seen ample evidence that Caroline and Russel were in love and that Russel was a decent man. And, now that their union was confirmed in God’s eyes, it was too late to do anything about it. What God had joined together, Sarah would not even attempt to tear asunder.
After the wedding ceremony, everyone went to the town square for a high-spirited celebration. There was a huge bonfire tended to by several men who had been grilling a variety of meats for several hours, and there were a number of other tables set up with everything from soup to nuts. And across from the bonfire, there was a platform, where the church musical ensemble had assembled to sing and play their instruments.
Ah, it was a splendid event! Caroline was happier than she’d ever seemed before. And, Russel brimmed with love, pride, and joy. The townsfolk showered them with blessings, compliments, and gifts, and a good time was shared by all.
Sarah took part in the merriment as well. She ate her fill of food and talked to many people, including Ralph, who followed her around like a lost puppy. But, after a while, she lost interest in the celebration, and was overcome by great sadness. Like Ian had suggested the other day, her heart was heavy because she was losing her best friend; and, now that her Caroline was married, she didn’t know what would become of her.
While the party was still swinging, Sarah decided to head back to Russel’s ranch to retire for the evening. Ralph offered to escort her in his carriage, to ensure her safety, but she declined and decided to take the hour-long walk instead. She hoped that, perhaps, it would help clear her mind—or, at the very least, make her even more tired, so that, once back at the ranch, she could fall asleep easily.
As Sarah made the walk, however, she was only stirred more, rather than being calmed. She’d tagged along with Caroline to clean up Caroline’s mess, and had planned on them both going back to Philadelphia once Caroline had seen the error of her ways—and, when they both returned, she’d planned on them washing their hands clean of it all and never speaking of the whole “mail-order bride thing” to their parents.
But, now that Caroline had gone through with the marriage, those parts of Sarah’s plan no longer cut it. Indeed, Sarah would be returning to Philadelphia alone—that is, if she were even allowed to return at all.
When the girls left for the train station nearly a month ago, Sarah had written a letter to Patty explaining that the two of them had decided to take a trip out west to “explore America’s new land.” She’d said nothing about Russel or Caroline’s plans to marry, since, after all, she’d intended to intervene.
She knew that Patty, and, soon enough, her parents would be upset about their spur of the moment trip. But, she figured they’d eventually forgive them since they came back unscathed and more enlightened.
But, now that Caroline was married and would not be making the trip home, Sarah had a lot of explaining to do. And, she didn’t know if, once she explained it all, her parents would accept her back into their home. Perhaps they would be mad at her for lying to Patty—and them—in the letter she left; or perhaps they’d be angry that she didn’t tattle on Caroline before she left Philadelphia in the first place; or, who knows, perhaps they’d be upset for some other reason.
No matter how she cut it, Sarah had great cause for concern and more than enough reason to wonder if her parents would take her back.
But, nonetheless, the issue at hand needed to be addressed—and, upon returning to the ranch, Sarah decided to do what was right. She went to her quarters and collected a few sheets of paper, an envelope, and inkwell, and a pen. Then, she composed a very long, very well-thought out letter to her parents, informing them of all that had happened.
Once Sarah was done writing the letter, she addressed it to her parents at their occasional home in England, and she placed it in her satchel to take to the post office the next day. She knew that, since the letter had to travel overseas, it would take at least a few weeks to get to England, and that it would take just as long for her to receive her parents’ reply, should they be considerate enough to send one.
Sarah was still rather concerned as per what she’d do over the next few months as she awaited their reply. But, something inside of her told her that, given what she’d seen of Russel’s character, she’d be okay.
It had grown dark while Sarah had been penning her letter. And, from the sounds she heard coming in through the windows, she could tell that many of the townsfolk were returning from the wedding celebration.
Russel, Caroline, and Mrs. Smyth weren’t back yet, but, she knew it would only be a matter of time. But, as “at peace” as she was with things now, she still did not want to face them. So, she decided to call it a night and go to sleep instead. She changed into her nightclothes, snuffed out her oil lamp, and crawled into bed.
; Just as her head hit the pillow, Sarah heard a loud noise from outside. She jumped out of her bed, ran over to the window, and peered out from behind the drawn curtain. She saw the shadow of a body lying near the watering trough, and she heard a low, plaintive moan. She couldn’t tell who it was, or what had happened, but, she figured, whatever the case, the person needed help, and, without further pause, she rushed out to help them.
As Caroline ran toward the barn she saw the body roll over, rise to its knees, and crawl into the barn.
“Who’s there?” she yelled. “Is everything alright?”
“That you, Sarah?” the familiar voice bellowed.
Sarah entered the barn and saw Ian sitting on a bale of hay. He was soaked to the bone and had removed his coat and vest, and, now, he was unbuttoning his shirt.
Sarah averted her eyes quickly. She’d never seen a man’s bare chest before, other than when she’d accidentally seen her father’s. And, she was certain that seeing Ian’s bare chest would stir a very different kind of emotion.
“Look away if you want,” Ian laughed. “Go ahead. Keep being blind to what’s right in front of your face.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Sarah asked, trying to change the subject.
“My homestead is much further down the road,” Ian replied. “But, I’m far too drunk to make the rest of the voyage. So, I decided to pitch my horse here and sleep it off here in the barn.”
“Oh,” Sarah said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ian completely remove his shirt, and she felt an undeniable warmth in her cheeks.
“Well, I’ll let you be then,” she added, preparing to leave.
“Not so fast,” Ian said, rising to his feet. “You know, I wasn’t expecting to run into you tonight. But, I’m glad that I did… ‘cause there’s something I want to tell you.”
Sarah’s head remained downcast as Ian approached her.
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