Sarah wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and shuffled closer to the stove. Joab had finished the last of the stew from last night and lay with his eyes closed. How long could they last on the goodwill of their neighbors? Soon their friends would tire of giving, considering their debts to the Blacks paid.
A fluttering in her stomach, and she placed her hand over it. When the fire happened, she wasn’t certain of her condition. Then, with the stress of losing her son … she drew her hand away and pulled the blanket tighter.
“God will provide.” Joab’s eyes remained closed, but his voice was strong.
Sarah stared at the roots hanging from the soddy’s ceiling. “I can’t see how.” And with a baby on the way. How would she tell Joab?
“That’s when He can perform miracles.”
“Winter is coming. We have no food, no wood laid up, no clothing. We don’t even have a gun to hunt with.”
“The Indians didn’t either.” Joab wore a peaceful expression on his face, despite the angry red scars.
Sarah let out a long breath. Outside a coyote howled and an owl hooted. Once comforting noises, reflections of home and hearth, reminders of God’s protection. Tonight they seemed like hunters and she the prey. Oh, stop it. She mustn’t let her thoughts wander so. Not now. Not when she had just regained her hope.
Joab coughed and took a deep breath. “Even the lilies of the field, God clothed.”
“I’m not a lily.” Sarah lifted the corner of her mouth. “Sorry. My faith is not what it should be.” But would God choose famine to take away her second child? Pray God, have mercy. I know I must trust. Help me to trust.
A knock came at the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Black?” It was Pastor Perkins’ voice.
Upon Sarah’s face a smile sprang to life. Her knees cracked as she stood. How good it was of him to come. “Do come in, Pastor.” She folded the blanket and laid it in the corner.
The door pushed open and the pastor’s bright face peeked around it. He removed his hat and stepped inside. “I hope you don’t mind a few visitors this evening. I thought, since you could not come to Wednesday prayer meeting, we’d come to you.”
Sarah smoothed her hair. What a time for visitors, but she couldn’t help the smile in her eyes. “Come in. Come in.” She bounced to the door and waved everyone inside. God, You are good.
Pastor Perkins stepped aside, and Mrs. Kirkland entered with a bonnet firmly tied to her head. She held a kerchief to her nose.
Sarah restrained a grin. She’d gotten used to the dank smell of the soddy and the putrid odor of infected flesh, but to this self-appointed pillar of society, the room must be unbearable. “I’d offer you some tea, Mrs. Kirkland, but I’ve only hot water, would that do?”
The woman waved a no with her gloved hand and sidled along the far wall.
Mr. Kirkland followed, carrying a huge gunny sack in one hand and an enormous wicker basket in the other. His full mustache moved up and down. “Where’d you like for me to put this?”
Sarah gasped. Her hand fluttered to the far corner where she set her blanket. “My, you didn’t need to bring things.”
He grunted, set the items down then pulled off his wide-brimmed hat. “Cow and calf tied to the hitching rail out front. She’s not got much milk left, but likely will last until November or so. The calf’s a good size. Healthy, too.” He nodded to Joab and moved over to stand by Mrs. Kirkland. “And we still owe you twenty heifers after weaning for your bull servicing of our cows this spring. You’ll have a good herd this winter. I’ve a yearling bull I’ll throw in for, well, for old time’s sake. He should do a good job with your heifers this spring. I’m sure he’ll give you a fine start.”
Joab opened his mouth, as though to respond, but the jingle of spurs drew his eyes to the door.
Sarah looked too and saw Barty step inside. His hat rested on the back of his head, its tie gripping the bandana around his neck. His sheepskin chaps flapped against his legs as he edged over to the Kirklands. “Joab, you remember that colt I’ve bin breakin’. Well, he’s tied up outside for you. Figure you could use another strong horse, and he’s better than any of them animals those Americans are bringin’ up. Them ‘Steel Dust’ horses can’t hack this country.” He guffawed. “I’d bet my two bays he’s better than that Morgan team you have. By the way, I found them down by the river. I’ve got them at my place and will bring ‘em up soon as we’ve got some corral’s built for ya.” He scratched behind his ear. “And I’ve got another team of Clydesdales I’m aimin’ to sell come spring. I’ll use them for haulin’ wood this winter. Maybe we can work somethin’ out for next spring. You’ll be needin’ a good team.”
“Now there you go a boastin’.” Nathaniel’s voice boomed as he crossed the soddy’s threshold. He twirled his hat in his hands, and the parted hair on his head shifted forward and back with the movement of his eyebrows. “I’ll have you know I’ve put shoes on one of them ‘Steel Dust’ horses, and they’ve got a fine disposition.” He tugged on his collar. “Can’t say the same for yer cayuse.” He looked at Joab and wrinkled his brow. “Barty and I, we’re sorry about being so hard on you. Just wanted to help, come up with a solution for yer problem.”
Joab nodded his forgiveness, and Sarah chuckled. “It’s good to see you both.” She clasped both men’s hands. “Thank you for coming—and for being with Joab through this.”
Nathaniel bowed to her. “Now, I’ve brought you a wagonload of pots and hay and grain and some jerky, and some of that pemmican your husband’s so fond of.”
Sarah twirled around at the smiling faces as more neighbors squeezed into the one-room home.
One family brought a pair of chickens, another clothing, and others sacks of grain. Within minutes, the chatter of neighbors filled the soddy as each rubbed elbows and shuffled along to squeeze in with the others.
Pastor Perkins leaned to Sarah’s ear. “Mrs. Clumpit sends her regards and will be out to visit tomorrow. She can’t get away tonight.”
Sarah nodded. Just as well. There was no more room.
The pastor raised his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, quite tight quarters tonight, so we’ll make this short. In this rough land, our neighbors’ needs become ours. If one family does not survive, it lowers the chances of our own. God tells us in His Good Book to bear one another’s burdens. Tonight, I am proud to say I can shepherd a church such as this, who would come together to help another in need. Let this be our legacy, and may we tell it to our children, reminding them to follow in our footsteps.”
As he continued, Sarah surveyed the group of neighbors huddled together. Warmth filled her. Imagine Blain Kirkland coming to a church service. God must be doing a work. And Barty and Nathaniel being civil to each other. She always knew they were the best of friends, despite their fights. ’Twas sad that Ruth couldn’t make it, but she’d been a faithful friend and would not have stayed away except there be good reason.
How good the Lord was. Hope was not just for life after death. Hope was for the here and now. Even in this life, God could choose to bless.
Joab’s scarred face turned toward the pastor. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, as though he no longer experienced the pain that had plagued him for days.
Sarah’s heart swelled and sent tingles throughout her body. Tonight, when the guests were gone, she would share with Joab the extra blessing contained within her womb. To God be all glory and honor and praise.