"But ...that's your home, Reverend," said Iris Bergen, tears evident in her large brown eyes. "Why would you do something so generous?" Her husband, obviously taken aback by the pastor's announcement, could do little else but shake his head.
"I want no praise for myself," Jon said. "This is something the Lord has told me to do. Now, if you want to argue the decision, well, I guess you'll have to take it up with Him." To that, Jon gave an impish grin.
Sarah glanced about the room, taking in the faces of Hickman's citizens. She saw joy and astonishment written there, and wondered at the preacher's bigheartedness. Great elation showed in his expression as he faced his congregation, no doubt with relief mixed in. Oh, what satisfaction came from trusting and obeying God, Sarah thought. And with that came the sudden realization of what she had to do-whether her husband approved or not. It was a simple matter of obedience. First thing Monday morning, she would borrow Rocky's rig and head for town, where she would put in a call to Stephen Alden.
Bright sunlight filtered through low-lying clouds as Rocky went about his morning chores, humming as he worked. Never had he felt such contentment. Even the knowledge that his barn would have to wait until after the church was built didn't dampen his spirits. He knew the men of Hickman would come through for him when the time was right. Of course, he had yet to obtain the money from the bank, but there was no point in taking out the loan until he had the manpower. Yes, he needed a barn in which to store his tools, feed, supplies, and all, but for now, his sheds would have to suffice, and the warmer weather eliminated the need for shelter for his livestock.
Overhead, birds sang in unison as the sun's warmth blanketed his shoulders, and a hymn of praise that he'd sung just yesterday in church came to mind.
"Uncle Rocky, can I help?" Seth asked, slamming the door behind him and jumping off the front porch, his face a picture of eagerness as he ran across the yard toward Rocky.
"Slow down, Seth. You're just now getting back your strength."
"But I feel good today," Seth declared, coming to a skidding stop as soon as he reached the chicken yard and pushed open the gate. "Can I feed the chickens today?"
Rocky grinned in spite of himself. Seth's color seemed to have fully returned along with his enthusiasm. "Be my guest," he said as he pushed open the creaky shed door. "I suspect your sister will be out as soon as she finishes off her inside chores. She'll want to gather the eggs." They'd moved Rachel into her new room two days ago, and Sarah had instructed her to make her bed and sweep the floor, already gritty from her traipsing in and out.
The coop housed a few dozen hens and roosters, all of which squawked with delight at the first sight of Rocky and Seth. Rushing on both of them, the roosters in particular pecked at their pant legs, eager to claim the first of the morning feed. Seth sidled up close to Rocky, trying not to let the pesky feathered creatures intimidate him.
Rocky chuckled. "You'll get braver with practice," he assured.
"I'm brave already," Seth chimed with pride, even as he scampered behind Rocky's legs when the biggest rooster in the lot came at him.
As predicted, Rachel joined them, egg basket in hand, not five minutes later, just as Rocky and Seth were finishing up. On her tail came Sarah, dressed in her Sunday finest, including matching blue cape and fancy hat. Rocky studied her with curious intensity. "We went to church yesterday, Mrs. Callahan," he teased. "Do you plan to do the housework dressed like that?"
She blinked, then pulled back her shoulders. "I will see to my household chores later. Right now I should like to drive the rig into town if you don't mind-alone." She put special emphasis on the word.
"I can drive you to town if you have need of supplies."
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his gaze. "I would appreciate the opportunity to handle the horses on my own this time. Besides, you have work to do; you said so yourself at breakfast-fences to mend, shelves to build, blades to sharpen." Every curve of her body spoke a subtle challenge. "I am not some delicate creature, you know. I am perfectly capable of driving the rig."
He felt the beginnings of a smile. Something about her unwavering deportment dazzled him. When he should have put his foot down, he found himself giving in. "You want me to hitch up the team, or are you just stubborn enough to want that job as well?"
She tried to maintain her curtness. "I suppose you can do that much."
They left the children in the chicken yard and headed for the corral where he kept the horses. The wagon sat on one side of the fenced-in area. On the way there he asked, "Any reason why you want to make this trip alone?"
She paused before replying. "None in particular," she said, though he could have sworn her determination faltered just slightly. "There are some items I want to purchase."
"You sure you know how to drive?"
"I drove our carriage plenty of times in Boston, and traffic there is heavy."
He felt his eyebrows shoot up as they strolled along. "I wasn't aware. I must say I'm impressed."
She tipped her gaze at him, and behind her hooded eyes was a slight twinkle. "I daresay there's a good deal you don't know about me, Mr. Callahan."
He turned toward her, coming dangerously close to touching the tip of her nose with his own, surprised when she didn't withdraw. "Then I think it's time I learned, don't you?"
There was a certain confidence in her smile, a cheerfulness in her gait. "Perhaps," she answered, looking straight ahead.
He tossed his head back and laughed. "Why do I feel like you have something up those pretty silk sleeves of yours?"
"I wouldn't know," she replied. She appeared beyond intimidation as she tilted back the rim of her bonnet and looked at him through gleaming eyes. A vague sense of longing passed through him, but he ignored it. So far, she'd not proven to him that she shared his level of affection. He wondered if there was a way of finding out how she felt about him aside from coming right out and asking her. Of course, that would mean revealing his own feelings.
While he harnessed the horses to the wagon, he watched his wife out of the corner of one eye. She gazed silently out over the land, every so often turning her attention to the chicken coop, where Rachel was no doubt gathering eggs and Seth was talking her ear off. She had turned out to be a good caregiver to the children, he ruled, even though Seth and Rachel weren't her own. No one could convince him that her heart wasn't capable of strong feelings the way she mothered those kids.
Besides being a good mother, she'd also demonstrated her talents around the house. The way she tended things, one would think hard work had never been foreign to her-fixing the meals, washing the clothes, scrubbing the floors, and ironing his shirts. Of course, he knew better. If she came from wealth, as so many had alluded to, then she'd no doubt never needed to lift a finger until now. It had to be sheer determination that had brought her to this point. Why else would she have worked so hard to prove herself? It still never ceased to amaze him that he'd triumphed over Alden, that she'd actually chosen life in Little Hickman, Kentucky, over the affluent suburbs of Boston.
When Sarah caught him watching her, a blush ran across her face like a shadow. "You'll watch over the children while I'm gone?" she hastened.
"I'll keep an eye on them," he assured, still curious as to why she meant to take this trip alone. "How long will you be?"
"Oh, I shouldn't think long at all," she answered.
He felt the start of a frown behind his brow. "Like I said, I'd be happy to drive you. The road into town is pretty bumpy, if you recall. Not many women make the trip by themselves."
An irritated look replaced her earlier blush as she positioned her hands on her slightly rounded hips. "Do you think me incapable of handling the horses? I'm not a featherheaded dolt, Mr. Callahan."
He stared at her, discovering that his wife was startlingly cute when annoyed. "No, you certainly are not that. Stubborn, maybe," he teased.
Walking the horses in a half-circle, he turned them, and the rig, in th
e direction of town, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Sarah waited until he halted the team and laid the reins across the front. Then she hoisted up her skirts, preparing to climb aboard, her jawline firm, her eyes clearly focused on her task.
Suddenly, he took her by the elbow and turned her until they came face-to-face.
"You make a pretty picture, Sarah Callahan." Something like a marble caught in his throat, refusing to go down.
Her heavy lashes lifted, revealing blue-green eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. He couldn't say for sure, but he thought he detected a ray of hope combining with the color. "Well, thank you," she said in little more than a whisper. When it looked like she might be waiting for more, he lowered his head, wanting to move before he lost his nerve, and placed a gentle kiss across her forehead, deciding to linger there.
Gentle breezes played against their faces as he drew her into a possessive embrace, knocking her bonnet to the ground accidentally, then taking in the lemony scent of her gingercolored locks. He wanted her to know she belonged to him and no one else.
He kissed the top of her head first, then dropped tiny kisses on her cheek as he journeyed to her full, waiting mouth. And if he'd had another second, he just might have unburdened his heart, but something stopped him-the absolute certainty that they weren't alone.
Staring up at them were two pairs of eyes, one set blue, the other brown, both curious and speculative. "You dropped your hat, Aunt Sarah," said Seth, holding it out at arm's length.
Without a moment's hesitation, Sarah pulled back, straightened her skirts, and cleared her throat. "Thank you, Seth," she said, snatching the hat and plopping it back in place.
Rocky took her elbow and helped her aboard. "Drive with care, you hear?"
Once seated, Sarah glanced down and gave a smile that seemed mostly directed at the children. "I shouldn't be long."
With that, she made a clicking noise with her tongue and whipped the horses into a safe speed, leaving the trio in the dust.
Later, Sarah tried to ignore the stone of guilt sitting in her stomach as she steered the horses toward home.
She'd taken marriage vows to love, honor, and obey her husband, and yet this very day, she'd made an important financial decision without his knowledge. Furthermore, she'd spoken to Stephen Alden on the telephone and made arrangements for his arrival on the Friday afternoon stagecoach, something of which she was certain Rocky would disapprove.
But what of her strong conviction that God Himself had directed her decision? Surely, that counted for something, she reasoned. The town needed money for a schoolhouse, and she had the means for making it happen. How could her husband possibly dispute that? However, she'd not included him in the process, and therein lay the problem. Moreover, when he finally discovered the extent of her assets, would it not drive an even greater wedge between them, particularly since he'd made it clear on more than one occasion that he had no need of her money?
"Are you happy, Sarah?" Stephen had asked toward the tail end of their hurried conversation.
"More than you can imagine," she'd replied, but heavy static had kept her from elaborating.
"I'll plan to arrive on Friday," he'd shouted over the lines. "Shall I hire a driver to bring me out to your farm?"
"No!" she'd replied in haste, unsure whether she would have completely ironed out matters with Rocky before Friday. "I'll check with the general store to determine the stage's arrival time, and I'll plan to meet you in town. From there we'll walk to the bank."
"Will your husband be accompanying you?"
"Rocky will..."
"We're losing our connection, Sarah," he'd interrupted. "These wretched telephones lines. I'll see you in a few days then."
"Stephen-." But the phone went dead. Frustrated with the temperamental equipment, she'd slammed the thing back into its cradle.
And when she turned to leave, she discovered Mrs. Winthrop standing in the doorway, mouth agape, beady eyes assessing her from head to toe.
Sarah had opened her mouth to explain, but closed it again. She couldn't very well tell her she'd been speaking to her lawyer. What questions might that stir up? In the end, she'd pulled back her shoulders, given the woman a pert smile, and sauntered past, determined not to cave in to her deliberate attempt to intimidate.
Sarah heaved a weary sigh just as she rounded the final turn in the two-track road leading home. Home. Yes, it felt more like home to her than anyplace she'd ever lived. The little white cabin, now sporting a new addition and sitting proudly on a grassy knoll, emitted a straight stream of gray smoke out its little brick chimney. Suddenly, she felt as though she hadn't truly lived before.
"Dear Father," she prayed, whispering into the cooling breezes, "give me wisdom in the days ahead, the ability to discern Your leading, and strength and courage to listen and obey. And, Lord, help my husband to accept whatever it is You may be asking me to do. Somehow, may it wind up being a joint decision."
arah waited for just the right opportunity to talk to Rocky about her finances and to tell him that Stephen was arriving on Friday to deliver her funds, but as the days came and went, so did her prospects for speaking to him on the sensitive topic. Perhaps it was the pervading peace and happiness that seemed to be on everyone's countenances, including Rocky's, that kept her from it. Why bring an end to family harmony? Or maybe it was her simple lack of nerve. Regardless, every time she came close to asking to speak to him privately, something else took precedence.
On Monday evening, there'd been a thunder and lightning storm that required their attention. Rachel had grown frightened in her new room and asked to move back in with Seth. Without a minute's worth of arguing, Rocky had obliged the child by pushing her bed back into her brother's room, no easy task by the time he'd maneuvered it through the narrow doors. "This is just temporary, mind you," Rocky had issued. While he'd tried to exert his authority in the matter, his eyes glinted good-naturedly. "Tomorrow morning we put the bed back." Rachel gave a limp nod as Sarah put clean sheets on the straw mattress. "I didn't build that addition so we could move you in and out every time we have a storm." Leaping onto the freshly made-up bed, both children giggled with glee to be reunited, making Sarah wonder about the wisdom of giving in to her. Still, Rocky's gentle handling of the matter had impressed her.
Rocky had spent all day Tuesday working outdoors, Seth following on his tail, while Sarah and Rachel had busied themselves with washing clothes, baking bread, scrubbing floors, and polishing the new silver. She'd only seen Rocky briefly during the day-when he had come in for lunch and water breaks. Each time, he'd commented on the delectable kitchen aromas and rewarded her with a warm smile, the kind that left her weak-kneed and wanting. But at close of day, everyone had appeared so tired that after bedtime stories and prayers, they had all dropped into bed at dusk, Rachel once again settling back into her new room.
On Wednesday, Rocky had taken the wagon into town for horse tack and items needed to repair a leak in the roof of one of the supply sheds, and he'd spent the remainder of the day on that task. By the time he'd come in for supper, he looked tired and a bit glum-faced, making Sarah worry that he'd heard something in town he wasn't up for discussing. Had rumors started flying about her mysterious telephone conversation? But when his spirits had lifted toward evening, she had figured her imagination had flown away with her. Still, it hadn't seemed appropriate to bring up the matter of her finances then, not when his mood had gone from glum to cheery.
Thursday was a duplicate of the days before, although this day, as Sarah toiled, she allowed the children more free time. My, how they've changed from those early days, she thought, particularly when she recalled having first met them on the stagecoach back in late December. Downcast and glum, they'd clung to one another like two frightened bunnies. And it hadn't helped any when, upon their arrival, they'd met their daunting uncle, big and sour-looking, although handsome (Sarah had noticed) even through that tough and callous exterior.
Because Ro
cky was spending the day in the fields, plowing and readying the soil for planting, he'd insisted Seth stay back. It would be a long, hard day, he'd explained after breakfast. "Some other time, sport," he'd said, smoothing out Seth's flyaway hair and glancing at Sarah for encouragement.
"Could you help me bake a cake this morning?" she'd hastened to ask.
"That's girl's work," he'd answered.
"Well then, do you suppose you could sweep off the porch for me, then help us eat the cake?"
To this, his eyes had brightened. "Will it be chocolate?"
"Is there any other kind?" she'd asked, knowing Seth had a weakness for all things chocolate.
"Yippee! I love chocolate cake," he'd announced in a singsong voice, grabbing hold of Rachel's hand and twirling her around the house in a silly excuse for a dance. Sarah had laughed at their antics, and when she'd glanced at Rocky, she found him watching her. He'd pulled his mouth into a crooked grin.
"You best save some of that cake for your husband, Sarah. I'll need my strength at close of day."
"I'm sure you will," she'd answered, keeping her smile.
"I can think of a few other things that might rejuvenate me besides the cake," he had said with a mischievous twinkle while moving his face in close to hers and making Sarah's head swim with delight. Was he implying another kiss perhaps, or something more intimate? He'd seemed to be peering at her intently, making her heart turn over in response. "But the cake should suffice-for now." His normally mellow voice had taken on a husky edge.
He'd pulled back and gently tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. "Perhaps tomorrow we can plan some time together-with the children, of course. What would you think of that? A person can't spend every waking minute working."
Normally she would have agreed, would have jumped at the chance to go on a family outing. A picnic at the creek perhaps. She could take her red and white checked tablecloth and pack all her best sandwiches along with their favorite canned fruits, a freshly baked pie, and jars of milk.
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 25