Cassandra Austin

Trusting Sarah


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reverend’s shout seemed to be directed at her alone. “God punishes us for our sins. If we did not sin, there would be no sorrow.” She swallowed but couldn’t make her voice work. Finally she nodded.

      Eli grunted in disgust. “Well, too often the sorrow goes to someone other than the fella committin’ the sin.”

      When both batches of dough were shaped in cloth-covered pans and set in the sun to rise, Eli found other work for Sarah, all of which kept her near the wagon where he could bait her with questions she couldn’t answer.

      When he finally sent her to the creek with a bag of clothes to wash, she wanted to run. Sheltered by the trees, she dropped the bag on the ground. How had Eli guessed she was running away? What could he further guess from what she had said? Nothing, she hoped.

      When she heard a twig snap, she jumped. Grabbing the laundry, she tried to look busy. In a moment Martha Williams joined her.

      “I saw you come this way and thought it would be more fun to do this with a little company,” she said. She upended her basket, letting the clothes spill to the ground. Kneeling on the bank, Martha wet the first garment and rubbed it with her cake of soap. Sarah followed her example. “You look kind of pale, dear. Are you feeling all right?”

      “I’m fine,” Sarah said, afraid to look at her companion.

      “Please don’t worry,” Martha said. “You can talk to me. I saw how that old man made you work all morning and miss the service.”

      This time Sarah did look up. Would deception be this easy? Letting Eli take the blame for her uneasiness wasn’t a lie, anyway. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, realizing how easily the quiver in her voice could be misinterpreted.

      Martha looked sympathetic. “Where you from, honey?”

      “New York.” Sarah braced herself for more questions, but Martha just wanted an opening to talk about herself.

      “We’re from Tennessee,” she began. “We’re moving west because Tom’s afraid there’s going to be a war. Tom says with the three babies, and one more on the way...” She stopped working long enough to pat her damp waist with an even damper hand. A dreamy smile formed on her face before she continued, “Tom didn’t want to risk leaving us alone if he had to fight.”

      “Surely they wouldn’t take young fathers.” Sarah had heard talk, but it had seemed far away from her and her own problems.

      “To tell you the truth,” Martha confided, “he’s wanted to go west for a long time. Now he can say he’s protecting his family instead of endangering us with the trip.”

      The two women finished their washing and walked back to the camp together. Sarah imagined Eli waiting to pounce on her, having spent her absence thinking of new ways to upset her.

      “Got a string twixt the wagons for the clothes,” Eli said.

      Sarah eyed him suspiciously; he sounded almost pleasant.

      “The hunters came in whilst ya was gone,” he said. “Got us a big chunk of deer to roast for dinner.”

      Sarah offered no reply.

      Around the circle, several wood-burning stoves had been unloaded. Their owners were doing a brisk business renting them to travelers who hadn’t brought their own. Eli, however, was baking his bread in a Dutch oven in the fire. “I’ve seen a lot a stoves just like ‘em,” he said when he noticed what Sarah was watching. “Most was lying along the trail farther west.”

      The recollection made Eli happy. When he smiled, his face looked like the cracked leather cover on her grandmother’s Bible. What would Eli think of that image? she wondered.

      Secretly, she thought the stoves would come in handy when the families built their new homes. She kept quiet while she helped Eli rig the spit for the venison, peeled potatoes and sliced a loaf of the fresh bread. She was glad when she saw Milburn and Rice coming.

      Rice found a place to sit near the wagon. His hair was mussed more than usual. He had a smear of axle grease on his cheek and another on his shirt, which Sarah realized she would be expected to wash out. “That smells good, Eli,” he said.

      “Ya think any food smells good,” Eli grumbled.

      Rice turned to Sarah. “If River’d been here last night, he wouldn’t’a let that Gaines fella walk you home.”

      “Now, it’s none of yer affair who walks Sarie anywheres, boy,” Eli scolded.

      Rice continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Me and Mr. Milburn helped everybody check their wagons, and Gaines didn’t let us check his. He—”

      “Ya needn’t tell everything that happens,” Eli interrupted.

      “Aw, the boy’s not talking to you,” Milburn said. “Rice saw Sarah and Gaines last night, and he wants to tell her what he knows about him.”

      “I guess I don’t like him much myself,” Eli conceded.

      “River wouldn’t like him, either, Eli,” Rice insisted. “He’s mean and grumpy, and he called me a `no-account boy.’”

      Eli took a thin knife and tested the potatoes. “I call ya a no-account boy all the time.”

      “But he ain’t got no right to,” Rice said reasonably.

      Milburn laughed. “Go wash your face, boy.”

      “Yes, sir.” Rice cast Sarah a questioning look. She gave him her most reassuring smile and was rewarded with a grin.

      Milburn took off his hat and rubbed his sleeve across his forehead. “I best join Rice and get cleaned up for supper.”

      Eli was watching Rice walk toward the creek. “Funny to see that kid wantin’ to look after somebody else, ain’t it, Pete?”

      Milburn studied Eli for a long moment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Eli. You’re almost cheerful. Did you find someone willing to fight with you all day?”

      “Oh, just get outta here.” Eli threatened Milburn with the knife. He glanced at Sarah before becoming busy at the fire.

      * * *

      Five days later, the wagons stopped at a clear stream some sixty yards wide, by far the largest they had crossed. “That’s the Big Blue,” Rice told Sarah. He had proudly shared all the place names with her. “Mr. Milburn’s makin’ sure it’s safe. If River was with us, he woulda done it.”

      Sarah clung to the seat as the wagon rocked down the ford into the water. Rice didn’t seem nervous. “We’re real close to a trail crossing,” he told her. “There’ll be wagons all over and not near as much grass. We might see Indians, too.” He looked at Sarah with childish anticipation. “You don’t need to worry about them, though. These around here ain’t much trouble, and by the time we get to where the bad ones are, River’ll be with us.”

      Sarah smiled at the boy’s attempt at reassurance.

      The wagon rocked again as it climbed onto dry land. “You’re the best guide anybody could hope for, Rice. You’re willing to explain things everybody else thinks I should already know.”

      “That’s just ‘cause I only learned it a while ago, and I know how you feel,” he said, blushing at the compliment.

      “Sort of like repeating a lesson,” Sarah suggested.

      Rice wrinkled his nose, and she laughed.

      * * *

      “Breakdown! Breakdown!” Milburn brought the word to the front of the line. Rice set the brake and jumped down, craning his neck to see where Milburn had headed as he helped Sarah. By the time her feet were on the ground, Eli had joined them.

      “Will we circle and stop here?” the boy asked. Sarah didn’t miss the hopeful note in the young voice.