by Ginny Aiken
“Well, Lord,” she said. “I trust you will show me what I’m to do at a time like this. I’m not a child anymore. Surely you have something for me to do. I refuse to be nothing more than another mouth for them to feed here at home. Show me, Father, but please don’t take too long. Our situation is dreadful. Winter isn’t far off now. And when it comes…”
She couldn’t let herself think of that right then. She had to focus on solutions rather than the frightening what-ifs. There had to be a way for her to help her father and mother. Even if she had to leave the home and family she loved.
“Livvy!” Leah Rose cried again, impatience in her voice. “You said you were coming.”
As Olivia closed the front door behind her, a sharp pang crossed her chest. She was going to miss her little sisters… her brothers… her parents… their home… Once she discerned the Lord’s leading, of course.
Until then, she’d relish every minute she was blessed to spend with them.
“Here I am, silly!” she answered, drenching her words with more enthusiasm than she felt. “Let’s see that needlework of yours.”
Sunday morning, Reverend Alton delivered a thought-provoking sermon on 2 Corinthians, third chapter, third verse, where he exhorted his congregation to be living scriptures for the lost world, flesh and blood illustrated lessons on God’s abundant blessings. After the final hymn, Olivia followed her family outside the church, her Bible hugged close against her chest, her soft drawstring leather purse slung from her right elbow. The fierce winds of the past week had finally calmed, and the fine dirt that had roughened the air had settled down once again.
While the sky remained as relentless in its clear blue brightness and the ground as persistent in its dusty brown dryness, the temperature had dropped enough to make midday almost bearable. Olivia had dressed in her best slate-gray serge skirt, white blouse, and fine blue fitted jacket. She appreciated any chance to dress up, since at home, with work always needing to be done, simple cotton calicos made the most sense.
Before the Moore family left home for the service that morning, Olivia had told her mother and father that Adelaide Tucker, her dearest friend, had invited her for lunch—and, of course, for Addie to show off three-month-old Joshua Charles Tucker, Jr., her pride and joy. Olivia missed Addie since her friend had become a married lady. As much as there was at home to keep Olivia busy, Addie had far more on her plate, what with all her responsibilities as wife and new mother.
“You’ll meet us back here by three, right?” Papa asked after Olivia’s two brothers had left to find their friends. Mrs. Alton approached Mama and the younger girls, since the pastor and his wife had invited the remaining four members of the Moore clan for the noon meal.
“Oh, yes,” Olivia said. “I’m sure Addie will be tired by then. She’s told me Baby Josh keeps her up for hours most nights, and she must steal naps whenever he sleeps. She and Joshua have been trying to teach their sweet little one that nights are for sleeping, but that lesson seems to hold no interest for him.”
Mama traded glances—and knowing smiles—with the pastor’s wife. “It does happen with some little ones. I suppose you might have been too young to remember, Livvy, but your sister was like that, too. Marty took almost a year to figure out what sunset meant.”
“Poor Addie!” Olivia shuddered. While no one could accuse her of laziness, she did enjoy crawling under her blankets, and most nights she dozed off right away. “I won’t tell her about Marty—”
“Hey!” the Moore family’s tomboy yelped. “I learned, didn’t I?”
Olivia fought a laugh. “Of course you did, Martha Jean. And, I’m sure, not a moment too soon for Mama and Papa.”
Chuckling at Marty’s glare, and aware of the time passed as they’d visited with Mrs. Alton, Olivia set off toward Addie and Joshua’s neat clapboard house. While the church sat on the eastern edge of Bountiful, Joshua’s parents had built their home in the center of the small town, next to their thriving livery stable. Now that the elder Tuckers were in heaven with the Father, Josh ran the business, while Addie ran their household with easy efficiency and good humor.
Olivia enjoyed any opportunity to catch up with her friend as much as Addie did playing hostess.
Her stroll from the church to Addie’s place had her crossing the road a few houses down from Reverend and Mrs. Alton’s home. A final glance back showed Leah Rose and Marty standing to a side while Papa helped Mama up the front steps and into the generous-sized white house. Her younger brothers were… well, Olivia hadn’t heard where the boys planned to spend the afternoon, but she suspected they might be with the Carters, since that family abounded in high-spirited boys.
As she hurried down the wooden sidewalk toward Addie’s home, a burst of children’s laughter at Olivia’s left caught her attention. A chorus of shrill girlish cries followed, as they evidently headed toward her.
The loud guffaws grew more raucous.
The frantic screams grew more frenzied.
The commotion resounded from the alley up ahead. She quickened her pace, curiosity piqued. Before she reached the mouth of the alley, a trio of little girls, around the age of eight or nine, burst into the street, white-faced, their wails near to hysteria, their shoes kicking their Sunday dresses into a froth of skirt and petticoat.
Seconds later four boys, in their Sunday best as well, darted out from the alley and surrounded the girls, fencing them into a huddle in the middle of the street. Fortunately, Sundays saw little traffic once churchgoers left for home.
“We got ’em now, Luke!” a freckle-faced, red-haired imp yelled as he ran circles around his anxious victims. “Hurry up afore they get away.”
The towheaded boy with chocolate eyes joined in with his own taunt. “Fraidy-cats.”
All four closed ranks around the girls, their laughter destroying the afternoon’s peace. The high-spirited quartet made for a lively, if frightening, cage for the captives.
As Olivia marched toward the children, a new sound joined the cacophony. Grunts and snuffles grew louder, ushered in by a dusty dervish that stampeded past her. A dervish otherwise known as…
“A pig!” Olivia backed up flat against the front window of Mrs. Selkirk’s charming new millinery store. She was not about to step into the swine’s path.
A fifth boy, this one with jet-black hair tumbled down over a pair of brilliant blue eyes, followed on the heels of the monstrous hog.
“Go on, go on, go on!” He yelled, stomped his feet, and smacked two sticks against each other, urging the filthy creature along.
His cronies laughed so hard that the red-haired one fell in a heap onto the dusty road. The little girls tried to flee through the opening his fall created, but the hog went for that exit route at the same time. As the girls ran past, three pretty Sunday dresses picked up dirt from the pig’s coat.
The girls’ wails multiplied.
The boys’ laughter did as well.
The hog tore off between two buildings, his hooves kicking up a dust storm all their own. “I’ll get him!” hollered the black-haired boy as he chased after it around the corner.
She’d seen enough. Olivia tucked her Bible between her elbow and her ribs as she hurried toward the children before the other boys ran off as well.
When Eli locked the door of the bank, the usual thrill at the sight of the gold-foil letters on the pane of glass sped through him:
BANK OF BOUNTIFUL
ELIJAH WHITMAN, JR., PRESIDENT
He breathed a prayer every single day, thanking his heavenly Father for helping him save the enterprise he and his late father had worked so hard to build. He’d come too close to losing everything two years earlier.
As he pushed away the memory of that painful time, he heard children’s squeals and laughter from not too far away. Then, a clear feminine voice called out, “Gentlemen.”
Silence descended.
He wished he had that kind of effect with his two youngsters every time he spoke to them. He slipped the key i
nto his pocket, sighing. Things were fast approaching a desperate stage at home.
He stepped down to the sidewalk and glanced down the street. A young woman marched toward a group of children gathered in the middle of the road. The picture they painted piqued his curiosity. What parent would allow youngsters to run wild in the middle of town in their Sunday best?
Eli headed toward the group.
“Gentlemen,” the lady repeated in a firm, stern voice as he approached. “Which one of you would care to explain what this”—she gestured to encompass the entire scenario—“is all about?”
The boys grew mute.
The girls rushed to the lady’s side.
“Oh, Miss Livvy!” cried a petite blonde with bouncy curls. “They’re horrid, these boys. Look. Just look at what they did to my lovely new dress.”
The young lady—Miss Livvy as the girl had called her—dropped down to the child’s level, clearly more concerned about the besieged girls than about the possible soiling of her gray skirt.
“I saw what happened, Melly,” she said. “Go home now, girls. But as you do, would you please stop by Mrs. Tucker’s home and let her know I’ll be late? I might not even make it today after all.”
All three nodded and stepped away. Before they left, however, Miss Livvy seemed to have another thought. “If any of your mamas is upset with the state of your clothes, please have her speak to me. I’ll vouch for you.”
With a chorus of agreement, the girls scampered away. The young lady then turned to the tight knot of boys. “Now, gentlemen, what do you have to say for yourselves?”
“Ah…”
“Um…”
“Er…”
“Hm…”
When none of them responded, Miss Livvy prodded, “Well?”
Silence reigned on Main Street.
She went on. “Aside from the apologies you owe the three young ladies—”
“Aw…”
“Nah…”
“Really?”
“But…”
“Aside from the apologies you owe the three young ladies,” she repeated, “there is still the matter of that runaway pig.”
Eli stifled a laugh. A pig? He crossed his arms, enjoying the moment.
“Oh, no!” the red-haired boy cried. “Pa’s gonna kill me if he sees Rufus’s not back in his pen.”
Rufus. Eli smiled, he couldn’t help himself. Albert Brown, a friend of his son Luke, would soon be facing a dressing down, if not a switching, from his father. Mr. Brown put a lot of stock in his pigs.
Miss Livvy seemed to agree with his assessment, as her lovely features brightened with her own smile. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to torment the girls,” she told Albert.
“Uh-huh.” He took a step away from the gathering. “Reckon so. Yes, ma’am, I do.”
Miss Livvy crossed her arms, Bible and purse hugged close. “Not so fast. You have some friends here, don’t you?”
With a lingering look in the direction of the offices of the Bountiful Scribe, the town’s weekly paper, and the schoolhouse, Albert stopped. He wiped the dusty toe of one shoe on his other trouser leg. “Yes, ma’am.”
The other boys donned differing levels of worry.
“And did your pa say for you and your friends to chase his swine around town?”
He blushed under his freckles. “No, ma’am. He don’t rightly know Rufus’s gone.”
“Then it would seem that you gentlemen could well be called thieves. You took a hog that didn’t belong to any one of you. After all, Rufus wasn’t given to you.”
“Oh, but—”
“That ain’t how it happened—”
“Not so—”
“Nah—”
“And,” she said as though they hadn’t argued, “thieves are fair game for Marshal Blair, don’t you think?”
Four pairs of eyes opened wider than ever. The boys began to argue, their statements indecipherable since they spoke one over the other.
She went on in her calm, even voice. “So. What’ll it be, gents? Shall I send for the marshal or will you set things to rights again?”
“SOOO-oo-eeyyy!” shrieked the aforementioned porker as it reappeared, galloping back down Main Street toward Miss Livvy and the boys.
“There!” the lady cried. “A chance to do your duty, gentlemen. Catch him—Rufus—and return him before I’m compelled to fetch Marshal Blair.”
The boys pelted off after the squealing swine, each determined to beat the others to their quarry.
Eli caught sight of the three girls peering out from around the corner of Metcalf’s Mercantile. Apparently they’d stayed to watch the boys get their just deserts.
The hog darted toward them.
The girls squealed.
The pig did as well.
The boys pursued the animal, one of them managing to get a hand on its ear, but the creature changed direction, and the would-be captor fell to the dirt.
The girls laughed.
Jonathan Davidson, another of Luke’s friends, bounded upright and dusted off his clothes. “That’s not funny.”
“Neither was chasing us, Jonny!” said the small blonde. Her headful of ringlets bobbed with her indignation.
Miss Livvy donned a slight smile and seemed to settle in to observe.
Eli followed suit.
Young male glares flew toward the girls as they tried to capture the pig who, after his taste of freedom, did not intend to be caught. He darted and weaved from street-side to street-side, the boys in hot pursuit. The girls found the situation hilarious.
No matter how hard the boys tried, each time any of them came close to laying hold of the animal, the pig wriggled out of their clutches. The would-be trappers grew grimier with every pass, as the girls giggled and cheered on the elusive prey.
“Miss ’Livia!” Albert bellowed after he, too, landed face-first in the dust. “It ain’t funny. Make ’em stop laughing!”
Miss Olivia arched a brow. “The young ladies didn’t find being chased by runaway livestock particularly humorous, gentlemen.”
The pig turned back toward the way he had come, but a fifth boy, dirty and breathless, blocked his escape.
Eli recognized the fifth trouble-maker. In a flash, he stomped down the street, anger and frustration burning in his belly.
“Lucas Andrew Whitman!” he roared from just behind Miss Olivia. “What is the meaning of this?”
Also by Ginny Aiken
For Such a Time as This
Remember Me When
Available from FaithWords wherever books are sold.
PRAISE FOR THE WOMEN OF HOPE SERIES
Remember Me When
“In this engrossing second installment of her Women of Hope historical series, Aiken delivers a beautiful, inspirational slice of life set in 1880s Oregon.… Rich with detail, the events unfold very naturally.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Aiken’s second Women of Hope novel connects nicely to the first.… The 1880 Oregon setting is accurately illustrated and the heroine’s journey to renewed faith in God is nicely depicted.”
—RT Book Reviews
For Such a Time as This
“An engaging tale of duty, romance, family, and love.… I’ll be eager to see what character Ms. Aiken chooses next to feature in this exciting new series.”
—Serena Chase, USAToday.com
“FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS offers readers all of the elements they love in one beautifully-written Esther-themed tale. Highly recommended!”
—Janice Hanna Thompson, author of Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma
“Courageous and level-headed, Olivia is a heroine readers will love, and Aiken does a masterful job of evoking life in a small Oregon town in the 1870s. Readers won’t want to miss this first book in Aiken’s Women of Hope series.”
—Marta Perry, author of the Pleasant Valley Amish books
“The suspense writer in me loved the thread of mystery she
skillfully wove into the plot. This book should come with a warning: Before you start to read, make sure you don’t have anything else to do for the next several hours because you WON’T want to put this book down. Eagerly awaiting the sequel!”
—Lynette Eason, best-selling, award-winning author of the Women of Justice Series
“Aiken in FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS has created a well-crafted story with humor and characters you will care about.”
—Margaret Daley, author of Saving Hope in the Men of the Texas Rangers Series
If you liked SHE SHALL BE PRAISED, be sure to pick up award-winning author Ginny Aiken’s novel REMEMBER ME WHEN.
“In this engrossing second installment of her Women of Hope historical series, Aiken delivers a beautiful, inspirational slice of life set in 1880s Oregon… Rich with detail, the events unfold very naturally.”
—Publishers Weekly
Marriage has been difficult for Faith Nolan. Her husband Roger, Pine Ridge’s mercantile owner, likes his liquor and turns mean when he indulges. However, it is his unwillingness to help others that grieves Faith’s tender heart the most.
Faith decides to drive a wagonload of critical supplies to a remote logging camp owned by Nathan Bartlett, while Roger sleeps off his latest bender. When Roger realizes what Faith has done, he violently confronts her, and she is knocked unconscious. When she comes to, she finds her husband nearby, dead in a pool of his own blood. Soon the primary suspect, Faith finds surprising support from the women in the town of Bountiful, and handsome Nathan Bartlett. But it is her trust in God that will see her through.
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