Sarah's Choice

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “Helen and Willis are playing a game in the parlor, but Sammy’s not home from school yet.”

  Sarah frowned. “That’s strange. He’s always here way before it’s time to start supper.”

  “Maybe he stopped by one of his friend’s houses on the way home,” Betsy said. “Or maybe the teacher kept him after school.”

  Sarah’s frown deepened. “I hope not. Sammy’s always had a mind of his own. I hope he didn’t say or do anything to get in trouble with his teacher today.” She rose from her seat and glanced out the kitchen window at the darkening sky. It looked like it might rain. “Maybe I should walk over to the schoolhouse and see if he’s there. It’ll be better than sitting here worrying about him.”

  “If anyone’s going to the schoolhouse, it’ll be me,” Betsy said with a shake of her head. “The stew’s simmering and should be okay, and when I get back, I’ll fix some of that dough dab bread you often make to go with it. In the meantime, why don’t you go into the parlor and watch the children play?”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind going after Sammy? If it rains you could get awfully wet.”

  Betsy smiled. “It wouldn’t be the first time I got caught in a downpour, and a little water won’t hurt me.”

  “Oh, all right,” Sarah finally agreed. She just hoped Sammy wasn’t in trouble with his teacher.

  A few drops of water splattered Elias’s arm, and he realized that it had started to rain. “Oh great, this is not what I need.” He glanced at the towpath to see how Sammy was doing. The poor little fellow was limping and must have developed a blister from walking all day. Either that or he’d managed to get a rock in his boot. The boy had never complained even once, and had kept moving at a pretty good pace. The little bit Sammy had been taught about leading mules had obviously stuck, for Dolly and Daisy behaved as well for Sammy as they had for Bobby.

  I still can’t believe Sammy’s mother agreed to let him go with me, Elias thought. She’d seemed so dead set against it at first. Guess after she thought things through, she decided that Sammy was up to the task.

  Elias’s stomach growled noisily. I’d better fix us something to eat, he decided. If it keeps raining like this, I may as well stop for the night.

  “Hold up the mules!” Elias called to Sammy. “You can tie them to that tree over there, and then be ready to tie off the boat when I throw you the rope.”

  Sammy did as he was told, and then Elias steered the boat close to shore and set the wooden plank in place.

  “What are we stoppin’ for?” Sammy asked. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

  “No, not at all. You’ve done real well today. We need to eat supper, and since it’s raining, I thought this would be a good time to stop.” He pointed to Sammy’s right foot. “I noticed you were limping. Do you have a blister on your foot?”

  Sammy nodded. “I think so. Maybe tomorrow I’ll walk in my bare feet.”

  Elias shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. You might come across some poisonous snake on the path. Come aboard now. I’ve got some ointment on the boat for cuts, so I’ll put some of that on your blister and then wrap it real good.”

  “That’s nice of you, Mr. Brooks. You’re a good man, just like my papa was.”

  Elias smiled. “You know, I’d like it if you’d leave out the ‘Mr. Brooks’ part, and just call me Elias.”

  Sammy grinned up at him. “You’re a nice man, Elias.”

  As Betsy left the schoolhouse, a feeling of concern welled in her chest. Mabel Clark, the teacher, had been cleaning the blackboards when Betsy arrived, and when asked about Sammy, she’d explained that the boy hadn’t been at school.

  So, if he didn’t go to school, where did he go when he left Sarah’s house this morning? Betsy asked herself. Did he decide to go fishing in the canal, or could he have gone into the woods to play? I need to go home and talk to William about this, she decided. Sure don’t want to go back and tell Sarah her son is missing. At least not until we’ve looked for him.

  Betsy hurried her steps, and when she entered the parsonage, she was relieved to find William sitting at his desk, studying his sermon for Sunday.

  “Sammy Turner’s missing,” she said, touching William’s shoulder. “I need your help finding him.”

  William’s forehead creased. “Did you look at the schoolhouse?”

  “I did, but Mabel said Sammy never came to school, and I know for a fact that he hasn’t been home all day.”

  William pushed his chair aside and stood. “That’s not good. You’re right; we need to look for him.”

  For the next hour, Betsy and William went up and down the streets of Walnutport, searching for Sammy and asking everyone they met if they’d seen any sign of the boy. No one had, and Betsy’s concerns turned to fear. “What if he went fishing and fell in the canal?” she asked William. “What if he—”

  William held up his hand. “Let’s not think the worst. We need to keep looking.”

  “Where else shall we look?”

  “I think we should check at Cooper’s store. Sammy might have gone there to play with his cousins.”

  “Do you think he’d do that without asking his mother?”

  William shrugged. “I’m not a father yet, so I’m no expert on children, but I wouldn’t be surprised by anything Sammy might do. He’s always been a challenge for Sarah, and his curiosity has sometimes gotten him in trouble.”

  “That’s true, but if he’d gone to the store to play with his cousins, wouldn’t Kelly or Mike have let Sarah know?”

  William turned his hands palms up. “Not if they thought he’d gotten his mother’s permission to come over.”

  “But surely they know Sarah would never allow Sammy to skip school so he could play.”

  “Maybe he found something else to do during school hours and then went over to the Coopers’ later in the day.”

  “Well, it’s worth checking anyway,” Betsy said. “Should we walk or go back home and get our horse and buckboard?”

  “We may as well walk, because we’re at the end of town now, and it would take too much time to get the horse hitched to the buckboard.”

  “You’ve got a point.” Betsy clasped William’s arm, and they hurried toward the store, which had been built close to the canal, and was only a short distance from the lock tender’s house.

  When it came into view, Betsy noticed several children playing in the side yard near the Coopers’ house, which was connected to the back of their store. She didn’t, however, see Sammy among the children there.

  “Should we check at the house or the store?” she asked William.

  “Let’s start with the store, because I’m sure it’s still open.”

  When they entered the store, they found Mike behind the counter, waiting on Patrick O’Grady, the town’s able-bodied blacksmith. Patrick, who was in his early thirties and still single, had wavy red hair and pale blue eyes—obvious traits from his Irish heritage. When they stepped up to the counter, he turned and gave them a nod. “I talked to Gus Stevens at the livery stable, and he said you gave a fine sermon last Sunday, Preacher,” Patrick said with a smile. “Gus said it got him to thinkin’ that he oughta spend less time worryin’ and more time prayin’.”

  “I’m glad Gus took something away from the sermon,” William said. “I deliberated for a while on what I should preach last Sunday, but that was the sermon the Lord laid on my heart.” His brows furrowed above his finely chiseled nose. “We’d like to have you join us in church sometime, Patrick.”

  “Maybe someday; we’ll see,” Patrick mumbled.

  Betsy cleared her throat and nudged William’s arm. “Did you want to ask Mike about Sammy, or should I?”

  William’s face turned red. “Oh, sorry. I forgot for a minute what we came here for. That happens to me sometimes when I’m talking about the Lord’s work.”

  “What can I help you with?” Mike asked after he’d handed Patrick his purchases.

  “Sammy’s miss
ing,” Betsy said before William could even open his mouth. “His teacher said he didn’t go to school today, and William and I have looked all over town for him.”

  “He’s probably sitting along the bank of the canal someplace with his fishin’ pole,” Patrick called over his shoulder as he headed out the door. “That’s what I used to do when I was his age.” The door clicked shut behind Patrick.

  “Sammy’s not missing,” Mike said. “I know exactly where he is.”

  A sense of relief flooded Betsy’s soul. “Where?”

  “He’s walking the towpath, leading Elias’s mules.”

  William’s jaw dropped, and Betsy sucked in her breath. “Are—are you sure about that?”

  Mike gave a nod. “Elias and Sammy were in the store earlier, and Sammy told Elias that his mother gave her permission for him to lead the mules.”

  Betsy clutched William’s arm. “Sarah did not give Sammy permission to go with Elias. She told him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t go.”

  “I can’t believe Sammy would lie to Elias like that,” William said.

  “We’ve got to go after him.” Betsy’s voice raised a notch. “We’ve got to bring him back to Sarah!”

  “When they left here it was still early,” Mike said. “They could be halfway to Easton by now. Elias seems like a very nice man. I’m sure Sammy will be fine with him.”

  Betsy glared at Mike. “Are you suggesting that we just let the boy walk to and from Easton, leading two mules who could easily trample him to death?”

  “I’m well-acquainted with Elias’s mules. He put them up in my stable when he docked his boat here for the night a week or so ago.” Mike shook his head. “They were two of the most docile mules I’ve ever met, so I’m sure they won’t harm Sammy in any way.”

  “Humph!” Betsy folded her arms. “Mules can kick and bite, even the very tame ones. Why I remember once when I was girl, one of the young mule drivers ended up with a broken leg because a mule kicked him.”

  “I think we need to go over to Sarah’s and tell her where Sammy is,” William said. “After that, we’ll decide what we should do about the situation.”

  Betsy nodded and drew in a deep breath. She dreaded telling Sarah what had happened to Sammy.

  Chapter 11

  Since the rain hadn’t let up, Elias decided to stay put for the night, because he didn’t want Sammy to get soaked. Even though most of the canal boats ran as many as eighteen hours a day, Elias felt that walking the mules that many hours was out of the question for such a young boy. Sammy looked so tired, Elias was afraid the boy might drop. And with a sore foot, asking him to walk any farther tonight would be just plain stupid.

  “Let’s go down below,” Elias told the boy. “I’ll cut a loaf of bread and heat us some bean soup.”

  Sammy nodded eagerly. “I am kinda hungry. Fact is, I think I could eat the whole loaf of bread.”

  Elias smiled and led the way to the galley, furnished with the barest of essentials. A small kitchen table was covered with oilcloth, and four stools were stored under the table when not in use. A black, coal-burning stove sat off to one side, and a kerosene lamp had been placed in a bracket on the wall over the table.

  Elias set a pan of water on the stove to boil and then added some soaked navy beans, diced carrots, a cut-up onion, a hunk of salt pork, and just enough salt and pepper to season the soup. While it cooked, he cut some bread. Then after a short prayer, he and Sammy each had a piece.

  “Have you ever been on a canal boat before?” Elias asked the boy.

  Sammy nodded. “I was on my Grandpa McGregor’s boat a few times, but of course, Mama wouldn’t let me ride very far with him. Said she didn’t want me gettin’ used to the idea of canalin’.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Mama’s always said that she hates the canal. Says it took my papa, and that it’s given her nothin’ but misery.”

  “Does your grandpa still have his boat?” Elias asked, feeling the need for a change of subject.

  Sammy shook his head. “He sold it and moved to Easton after Grandma died.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Sammy leaned his elbows on the table and stared at Elias. “Can I ask ya a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve been wonderin’ about that red mark on your face. Did ya burn yourself or somethin’?”

  Elias shook his head. “I was born with it.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Can I touch it?”

  In all Elias’s twenty-eight years, he’d had lots of people ask about the birthmark, stare at him curiously, and even make fun of him, but he’d never had anyone ask if he could touch it. “I…uh…guess it’d be okay,” he said.

  Sammy leaned over and placed his hand on Elias’s cheek. “It feels like skin—same as any other.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Elias’s mouth. “Yes, Sammy, it’s just a different color from the rest of my skin.”

  Sammy nodded and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Can I ask ya another question?”

  “Sure.”

  “My other grandma used to live with us, but she’s goin’ blind and had to move to Easton awhile back. I was wonderin’ if we could stop and see her there.”

  Elias shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sammy, but I don’t know where your grandma lives. Even if I did, I couldn’t leave my boat and mules unattended to take you there.” He gave Sammy’s shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe you’ll get to Easton to see her some other time.”

  Sammy stared down at his plate and mumbled, “I sure hope so.”

  Elias pushed the loaf of bread toward Sammy. “Would you like another piece?”

  “Think I’d better wait for the soup. Wouldn’t wanna eat up all your bread.”

  “That’s okay. There’s plenty.” Elias cut Sammy another piece of bread; then he went to the small cabin where he slept and got out his accordion.

  “Ever heard one of these?” he asked the boy.

  “Nope, but the preacher’s wife plays the zither and the organ.”

  “Well, this is called an accordion. It has keys and bellows, sort of like an organ.” Elias slipped the straps over his shoulders. “Now here’s a song just for you, Sammy. It’s called ‘Go Along Mule.’ ”

  Elias began to play and sing: “I’ve got a mule, she’s such a fool; she never pays me no heed. I’ll build a fire beneath her tail, and then she’ll show me some speed.”

  Sammy laughed and joined Elias as they sang the song together.

  What a joy it was for Elias to spend time with this easygoing young lad. It made him long to be a father.

  But that’s just an impossible dream, Elias thought as he touched the red mark on his face. Surely no decent woman would want someone as ugly as me.

  “Mama, I’m hungry.” Willis, who sat at the table beside Sarah as she drank a cup of tea, tugged on her sleeve. “Is it time for supper yet?”

  Sarah glanced at the windup clock sitting on the counter across the room. It was time for supper, but she didn’t want to eat until Sammy got home. She couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t here yet. Even if he’d been kept after school, he should have been home by now.

  Willis gave Sarah’s sleeve another tug. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

  “We’ll eat supper as soon as Betsy gets back here with Sammy.” Sarah rose from her chair. “Would you like a piece of jelly bread to tide you over?”

  Willis bobbed his head and then pointed to his little sister, who was sitting on the floor, petting Bristle Face. “I think Helen would like one, too.”

  Sarah winced when she picked up a knife to butter the bread. Even a simple movement caused her ribs to ache.

  She’d just given the children some bread spread with jelly and a glass of milk when the back door swung open and Ned stepped in. “If supper’s ready, I can eat real quick and get back outside, ‘cause the last canaler who went through said th
ere were three more boats comin’ up the canal behind him.

  “Let me check on the stew.” Sarah lifted the lid on the kettle and poked a potato with a fork. “It seems to be done enough, so as soon you wash up I’ll dish you and the kids a bowl and then you can eat.”

  “I already washed in the canal.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, have a seat then, and I’ll get you some stew.”

  “What about you? Ain’t you gonna eat with us?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll wait until Sammy gets home.”

  “Didn’t realize he wasn’t here.” Ned pulled his fingers down the length of his bristly face. “Where’d the boy go?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he may have been kept after school.”

  Ned grunted as he took a seat at the table. “Can’t tell ya how many times I was kept after school when I was a boy. ‘Course, I only had a few years of learnin’ before I started workin’ for my pappy.” He reached for a piece of bread and slathered it with some of the strawberry jelly Maria had made before her eyesight had gotten so bad. “I was eight years old when I started leadin’ the mules that pulled Pappy’s boat.”

  Sarah cringed. She wouldn’t even think of taking Sammy out of school so he could walk the rutted towpath for hours on end, the way she and Kelly had done when they were girls. “Didn’t you go to school at all after you began walking the mules?” she questioned.

  “Went durin’ the colder months when the canal was shut down, but by the time I was twelve, I’d begun cuttin’ ice with Pappy during the winter. Then in the spring when the boats started up again, I’d quit school and start walkin’ the mules.” Ned puffed out his chest. “Got pretty good at it, too, I might add.”

  Sarah was glad she and Kelly had been allowed to attend school during the winter months. Mama had taught them some on the boat before bedtime, too, so at least they’d gotten a fairly good education.

  Turning her thoughts aside, Sarah ladled some stew into three bowls and set them on the table. She was about to tell the children to bow their heads for prayer when the back door opened. Betsy and Pastor William stepped in. The solemn look on Betsy’s face sent a chill up Sarah’s spine.