Quinn tramped up the rutted street toward the Hash House. Pink and pale gold streaked the eastern horizon, and a lone bird chirped nearby. All of Prescott slumbered.
Almost all. The aroma of coffee wafted on the still, dawn air, and Quinn knew Sarah was up and about.
The dark circles he’d noticed under her eyes in recent days bespoke her restless nights, and he wondered if she’d slept at all last night. Even her music had vacated her spirit. He hadn’t heard her sing since he’d returned from Chadron.
He entered the Hash House expecting to find her moving about the kitchen, going through her breakfast preparations. The kitchen was empty save for the glow of a lone lantern, but he heard her quiet voice.
“Oh, God, please be with Lanny. Speak to his heart. Remind him how weak he is without You. God, I pray he won’t feel I’ve abandoned him, but he needs Your presence now more than mine. Please, Lord, I pray they will send me word so I’ll know what happens. I don’t think I could bear not knowing Lanny’s fate.”
Quinn held his breath. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on Sarah’s prayer, but he couldn’t help wondering if she could bear knowing what would happen to her brother. Some jurisdictions hung men convicted of theft. It was that very possibility that spurred Quinn to the decision he’d made in the predawn hours.
Sarah’s heartfelt entreaty rose to heaven, punctuated by a quiet sob that tore Quinn’s heart apart. He moved forward, his footsteps alerting Sarah to his presence. She looked up from the place where she knelt by one of the benches. He knelt beside her and added his prayer to hers.
Her soft voice quavered when she whispered ‘amen,’ and all Quinn wanted to do was assure her everything would be all right. But without knowing himself how things would turn out, he refused to raise her hopes only to possibly have them dashed.
She rose from her place of prayer. “You’re up early. It’s not even daylight yet. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” He followed her to the kitchen. While she fetched a cup and filled it for him, he told her of his plan.
“I’m leaving this morning to go back to Chadron.”
She spun, sloshing coffee over the rim of the mug. “You’re going? Oh—” She bit her lip, and Quinn suspected she was about to plead with him again to take her with him.
He leaned against the kitchen worktable. “The magistrate should arrive in a few days.”
She wiped up the spilled coffee. “How long will it take you to get there?”
Quinn accepted the cup with a nod of thanks. “About two and a half days.”
“Do you think you can get Lanny released?”
Did she know what she was asking? A suspended sentence would take a miracle, especially given that he was caught in the act. Resentment toward Lanny still churned within Quinn for the way the boy had treated Sarah, but for her sake, he’d try to at least put in a word for her brother.
“The magistrate will likely ask if there is anyone present who knows Lanny.” He turned all his attention to his coffee cup so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye.
She set about silently mixing ingredients together in a large bowl, and Quinn could only speculate what went through her mind. Her movements were wooden and stiff as she stoked the fire in the stove. After several painfully long and silent minutes, she poured little puddles of batter on a hot griddle. After she flipped the golden circles, she set a stack of flapjacks and a jar of sorghum syrup in front of him with a thump.
Turning her back, she pressed both hands on the dry sink and leaned forward. Whatever was gnawing at her, he wasn’t leaving town until she let it out.
“What is it, Sarah?”
She shook her head and her shoulders heaved like she’d just run uphill. “I don’t understand why you didn’t bring Lanny home with you. Why couldn’t you get him out of jail?” She turned to face him, her fists clenched at her sides, and betrayal reflected in her eyes. “You were a county clerk back wherever it is you came from. You know about court things. You could have … done something. Why didn’t you do something.” Her voice cracked on the last two words.
Quinn ran his finger around the edge of his plate and didn’t retort. Her accusatory tone stung, but it stemmed from the anguish in her heart. He pulled in a slow deep breath, waiting for her to realize how foolish her charges were. He watched her face contort with the effort to hold back the tears.
She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I had no right to say that.” She rubbed her eyes and looked up at the canvas ceiling. “I keep having this battle within my spirit. Every time I think I’ve trusted everything into God’s care, I find myself fighting to grab it all back and fix it my way.”
Throwing propriety to the wind, he crossed the kitchen and wrapped her in his arms. “We all deal with circumstances beyond our control, and it’s hard to turn loose of those things, especially when it involves someone we love.”
Did she have any idea he wasn’t talking about Lanny? He battled every day to release his feelings for her to God. Holding her in his arms far exceeded the gesture of a friend. Did she know that? Could she ever feel the same way?
The eastern sky grew brighter by the minute. He needed to be on his way. But he was loathe to leave without letting her know he cared. He bent his head and brushed a soft kiss across her forehead. When he pulled back, she stood within the circle of his arms, eyes closed and all the worry lines and furrows smoothed away from her brow.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her whisper so soft, he had to incline his ear to hear.
“God go with you.”
How many times would God have to remind her that she’d surrendered Lanny and the guilt she felt over his deeds into His hands? Christine and Garnet volunteered to clean up the kitchen after breakfast, so Sarah went for a walk to think and pray.
She had to admit constantly protecting Lanny had done nothing to change his behavior, but as Quinn had said, she’d tried her best. Maybe she’d tried too hard. Coming to his rescue and making excuses for him had become a habit, one that she now implored God to help her break.
After Quinn rode out, she’d caught herself again rolling over different scenarios in her mind. He’d sidestepped her question about getting Lanny released, which prompted speculation. Had the sheriff summoned Quinn back to Chadron to testify against Lanny? A cold shudder unsettled her. Even if Lanny’s circumstances were beyond her control, she could still pray.
And so she did. As she walked down the trail to a grove of cedar trees, she asked God to take care of Lanny, and to prepare her for the outcome. “Whatever happens, God, I know I can rest in Your strength. Hold me, Lord.” She sat on a rock in the midst of the cedars. “God, be with Quinn, too. I feel so safe and protected when he’s around. My heart ached when he left again, and not just because of Lanny. When Quinn is gone, there is an emptiness and a longing I can’t explain.”
Speaking the words to God startled her. “God, am I in love with Quinn?” She’d been so focused on other things—looking after Lanny, preparing the men to become proper suitors, the arrival of the brides—she’d had no time to consider her own feelings. She wasn’t sure she ought to be entertaining such thoughts now. The plan she and Quinn had developed had nothing to do with her or her feelings. The men and the brides were her priority. Weren’t they?
The wind sighed through the cedars, reminding her that over the past three weeks, she’d not sung a single hymn. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. Singing hymns for the men was one thing, but singing with only God to hear was worship. The soft wind provided accompaniment, and she raised her voice.
“’O for a closer walk with God, a calm and heavenly frame, a light to shine upon the road that leads me to the Lamb. Where is the blessedness I knew when first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul-refreshing view of Jesus and His word?’”
She swallowed and wiped moisture from her eyes. “‘The dearest idol I have known, whate’er that idol be; help me to tear it from Thy throne, and worship only Thee.’”
Worship. That’s what she needed, and as much as she longed to bring a regular minister to Prescott, she didn’t need to sit on a church pew in front of a preacher in order to worship. A rock in the midst of a cedar grove became a cathedral.
Refreshed in her spirit, she walked back to the Hash House. She found the kitchen spotless, and Christine and Garnet sitting with Deirdre Falk sipping coffee. Garnet was still quiet and reserved, but Sarah’s heart smiled with gratitude for the progress she’d made, thanks to God’s grace and Deirdre’s friendship.
“Is there any coffee left?”
The trio turned, and Christine started to rise. “Yes, we made a fresh pot.”
Sarah flapped her hand. “Sit down. I’ll get it.” When she’d filled her cup and joined the other ladies, Garnet looked over at her with a shy blush.
“Miss Sarah, Reece asked me to go on a picnic with him. Is it all right?”
Sarah’s heart soared. “That sounds like a lovely idea.” She glanced at Deirdre who gave a slight nod.
Garnet dipped her head. “I never learned how to cook much. Could you help me with the food for the picnic?”
“I have a better idea.” Sarah set her coffee cup down. “What if we made it a community picnic? Instead of serving supper here in the Hash House one evening, we’ll make it a picnic. We can have a bonfire and singing afterwards, and all the ladies can help with the cooking.”
The ladies approved of the idea, and the planning would give her something to think about besides Lanny and Quinn. “I’ll make an announcement tonight at supper, and we’ll plan the picnic for Sunday. How does that sound?”
Garnet’s smile lit up the room. “I’d like that a lot.”
The proposed Sunday picnic was greeted with enthusiasm, and several of the men wasted no time inviting the lady of their choice. Duffy and Kincaid volunteered to collect wood for the bonfire, and Cy said he’d bring his harmonica.
An air of anticipation buzzed through the town. Sarah suggested to a few of the men that their favorite ladies might appreciate a bouquet of wildflowers, and the women visited the new mercantile for hair ribbons or a bit of lace to adorn their best dress.
If the picnic was as successful as Sarah hoped, she might decide to plan another party at the Hash House for the following week, since the first one was interrupted. Anything to keep her mind occupied and her hands busy. A few of the couples seemed to be making romantic progress—all the more reason to double her efforts to bring a minister to Prescott. Thus far, she’d not received a single response to the letters she’d sent to recruit a preacher. Perhaps it was time to send more letters.