Nineteen hundred miles east of the Diamond S Ranch, Sarah wearily rose from her corn-husk mattress at the crack of dawn. She shivered in the early morning chill and hastily wrapped herself in her mother’s old dressing gown. The tattered garment not only offered warmth but also the feeling of being enfolded in her mother’s arms, comfort that Sarah sorely needed. Ever since Gus had sold her to Tice Edwards—being sold was exactly what it amounted to—Sarah’s days had been filled with continued drudgery and her nights with fear. Nights in which she racked her brain to think of a way to escape.
So far none had appeared, in spite of her desperate prayers for God to make a way. Now she sighed and reached for her mother’s Bible. During the final weeks of Mama’s illness, Sarah had let her scripture reading fall by the wayside from lack of time and energy. “Lord, I’m stuck in St. Louis until I can figure out how to earn enough money to leave here,” she whispered into her harsh pillow, careful not to disturb her sleeping half sister. If Ellie awakened, all chances of quiet time for Sarah would flee before the petulant child’s demands.
Sarah knelt on the rough floor beside the window and stared out into a day as gray as her life. “I need the wisdom of Solomon to know how to endure Tice’s unwelcome advances, God. He’s made his intentions clear—he will court me briefly and then wed me.”
Fierce determination surged through Sarah’s body. She would not marry Tice. She would kick and scream and tear the wedding gown he had ordered made for her until everyone in St. Louis heard. Surely someone would come to her rescue!
Who? a little voice mocked. Tice Edwards has this town, including the police chief and who knows how many others, in the palm of his hand. Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but words her father had spoken long ago swept into her heart. Sarah could picture his face, haggard from illness, when he said: “Seth, Sarah, you will be faced with many hard decisions throughout your life. There is only one way to choose rightly. First, consider all the possibilities and the likely consequences. Next, take them to the Lord in prayer. Finally, wait for His answer.”
He had raised his head with a look so loving and kind Sarah knew she would never forget it. “Most importantly, once you make your decision, go straight forward, not looking to the right or the left, and carry it out. If it later needs to be altered, our heavenly Father will guide you.”
He hesitated a long moment, closing his eyes as if he needed to gather strength. When he opened them again, a smile lifted his lips, and the blue eyes so like Seth’s and Sarah’s twinkled. “Most folks disagree, but I believe it’s better to make a decision that may later have to be amended than refuse to make any decision at all.”
That is what Seth did, Sarah thought. A spurt of courage raised her spirits, but again, that dreaded word how sent them plummeting. She shifted her position and opened the Bible, which had been her parents’ answer book to all their problems. A letter fell out. A letter with the words Sarah Joy inscribed on the envelope in her mother’s handwriting. With a quick glance to make sure the rustling paper hadn’t awakened Ellie, Sarah opened the letter.
Dearest Daughter Sarah, it began. A rush of tears blinded her, but she impatiently brushed them away and read on:
You may never see this letter. If everything goes well with my birthing, I will burn it. However, I can’t help feeling that God may take me home—both me and your new little brother or sister. There are things I must say to you in case this happens.
First of all, I know you will grieve for me, but you must also rejoice. My love for you and Seth has been my only joy for a long time. You have been ev- erything a son and daughter should be. Your father and I chose our children’s names long before either of you were born. Sarah—princess; Seth—anointed.
I did a terrible thing when I married Gus. I knew he could never replace my beloved John, but he seemed sincere and a good Christian. I truly believed his promise to become a substitute father.
Sarah stopped reading. Pity for her mother who had paid so dearly for her error in judgment warred with anger at Gus. Substitute father? Never! From the moment he said, “I do,” Virginia Anderson Stoddard and her two children meant nothing to him but persons he could exploit. Sarah shook off the past. What was done was done. The important thing was what lay ahead. She returned to her mother’s precious letter:
Sarah Joy, should it be that I cross over, I urge you to leave St. Louis as quickly as you can and never look back. Find Seth. Put yourself under his protection.
“How?” Sarah murmured. “Long before I could earn any money, Gus and Tice will have me married and trapped forever.”
Ellie stirred in her sleep, sending a warning chill through Sarah. She hastily read the final sentences of her mother’s letter:
Tucked away in the bottom of the flour barrel is a small tin canister. In it you will find enough money to get away from St. Louis. I scraped and pinched to set aside a few gold coins for you. The gold wedding ring your father gave me is also in the canister. If the need arises, sell it. You must get away from Gus.
There is no telling what he might take a notion to do.
Your Loving Mother,
Virginia Anderson
Sarah wanted to shout. Her mother had been a faithful wife, but Gus Stoddard wasn’t worthy of having his name on Mama’s last message. Sarah kissed it then swiftly and silently donned her old blue calico work dress and hid the letter inside next to her heart. The words of the “Old Hundredth” came to mind, written centuries before:
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
She silently whispered “Amen” and crept downstairs, avoiding the timeworn, creaking boards. Step by cautious step, she stole to the kitchen. Once there she raised the lid of the flour barrel with trembling fingers—then froze when a familiar, hated voice demanded.
“What’re you doin’, sneakin’ around?” Disheveled and glaring, Gus Stoddard stood in the doorway watching her like a hawk watches baby chicks before pouncing.
Please, God, help me! If Gus finds the money and Mama’s ring, I’m doomed.
Summoning the courage generated by her mother’s letter, Sarah turned and said in a colorless voice, “Making biscuits. I woke up early.” She reached into the barrel and filled the battered sifter with flour.
Some of the suspicion in Gus’s face dwindled. An evil grin replaced it. “Sooooo,” he drawled, “can’t wait to see Tice, huh?”
Sarah shrugged, as if indifferent to the riverboat gambler and his intentions.
“I see you’re gettin’ used to the idea. Good. You make a fuss, and it will be the worse for you, missy,” Gus warned.
Strength flowed into Sarah. She looked directly into Gus’s face and managed to smile. “I won’t make a fuss. I promise.” Truth underlined every word, even though she mentally added, I won’t be here to make a fuss. For the first time since Mama had fallen ill, happiness filled Sarah. No matter how long and hard the path ahead was, thanks to Virginia Anderson, her daughter would be free.
It was late afternoon before Sarah could retrieve the canister. Once emptied, it took its place on a kitchen shelf with nothing to indicate it had once contained treasure. Finished with her many chores for a few moments, Sarah opened her mother’s Bible again. She riffled the pages and stopped at Matthew 10:16: “Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.” It was underlined. Sarah resolved to take her mother’s advice and secretly prepare to leave—all the while pretending to accept the inevitable future Gus and Tice had planned for her. Perhaps in that way she would throw them off guard.
Yet in spite of her determination, it was all Sarah could do to keep her fear and dislike of Tice Edwards from spilling out when he came courting. She had to admit that he never showed her anything but gentle, considerate attention. He took her for buggy rides and painted a glowing, wonderful picture of their future.
“You will love life on the River Queen,” he assured her over and over. “Can’t you just imagine gliding down the river and watching glorious sunrises and sunsets?”
Sarah nodded. She could imagine it all right—with horror, not anticipation.
Tice never let her forget him for more than a short time. He wrote flowery letters when he couldn’t come in person. He brought her nosegays, not wildflowers but expensive bouquets from the best flower sellers in St. Louis. He arranged for the best dressmaker in St. Louis to fashion Sarah’s wedding gown. Raging inside, she passively stood while the woman measured, cut, and draped. She must not arouse suspicion, even though she would rather wear faded calico all her life than spend one minute in the expensive gown Tice had selected.
He also bought her costly little trinkets. Sarah shrank from accepting anything from her would-be husband but privately gritted her teeth and stashed them away for her journey. Anything small enough to carry that she could sell would help. Between visits, Sarah continued her hard, monotonous tending of the house and trying to manage the children. In spare moments she started gathering the supplies she would need for her trip to California.
Sarah occasionally felt overwhelmed at the enormity of what she was attempting.
Nineteen hundred miles lay between St. Louis and the Diamond S Ranch near Madera, California. Nineteen hundred mind-staggering miles filled with unknown dangers. At those times Sarah took comfort in rereading Seth’s letters, which soon became ragged. Countless times she looked at the photograph he’d sent and imagined life in the West. Against her better judgment her imagining always included the dark-haired stranger with Seth. Her brother surely couldn’t be wrong about Matthew Sterling’s character. If only Tice were the man the young rancher appeared to be!
She laughed bitterly. Despite his suave sophistication, Tice Edwards was no better than Gus Stoddard. Marrying him would be like the old saying, “Leaping out of the frying pan into the fire.”
“Never,” Sarah vowed again and again, thanking God for her mother’s far-reaching wisdom and attention to her daughter’s need to escape when she was gone.
During one of the times of fanciful musing and the inevitable comparison between Matt Sterling and Tice Edwards, the children swarmed up the stairs, screaming for Sarah’s attention. A few of Seth’s letters and the photograph scattered to the floor. Sarah hastily gathered them up and shoved them into her reticule.
Sarah’s precarious tightrope walk between appearing submissive and secretly plotting her escape ended long before she felt ready to steal away.
Her plans shattered one morning when Gus shuffled into the kitchen. His wide grin and triumphant expression set Sarah’s nerves jangling. Tice was right behind Gus, wearing a look of satisfaction that chilled Sarah to the marrow.
“By tomorrow night you won’t be doin’ this, missy,” Gus announced with a smirk. “Tice here says he’s waited long enough and done enough courting. You’ll be married tomorrow afternoon. Right, Tice?”
“Yes.” Twin devils danced in the gambler’s wicked black eyes. “I’ve been pining away for you long enough, Sarah.”
She dropped a frying pan. It splashed soapy water on her apron and the floor, giving her time to hold her tongue instead of screaming and rushing out the open door. She started cleaning up the mess, desperately searching for words. Psalm 50:15 came to sustain her, as other familiar verses had done in the past few weeks: “Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.”
“Tomorrow? I hardly think that is possible,” she began.
“It’s your own fault,” Gus growled. “Tice says you won’t even let him kiss you until you’re married.”
It took every ounce of self-control to keep from shuddering. Kiss Tice Edwards? She’d sooner kiss a copperhead!
The two men took her silence for consent and strode out, slapping each other on the back and jesting in a crude way.
But Sarah bit her lip until it bled. Ready or not, she must slip away that night.