Amanda trudged wretchedly up the enclosed staircase to the second floor. Earlier this morning she had managed to acquire at least a portion of peace after kneeling before the Lord in prayer. Now a scant few hours later the grand plans were in ashes. Hopeless. And simply because of that insufferable, overbearing Mr. Holloway with his long, rugged face and squinty eyes and morbid words. How was she going to break the news to Sarah after all their high hopes?
Reaching their room, Amanda drew a deep breath to fortify herself. Why, oh, why had life taken such a sad turn? Why did Pa have to die and leave them stranded way out here so far from everything they knew? Wasn’t it heartbreaking enough that death had claimed Mama and the tiny baby her frail body had not been strong enough to bring into the world, without heaven’s laying claim to Pa as well? And that, on top of—
No! her mind railed. You cannot think about him. Not now. Not ever.
Well, whatever the reasons the little family had been dealt such dreadful blows, Mama would have been the first to remind her girls that God’s ways are often beyond understanding, and one should accept troubles just the same as good fortune. But that, Amanda reflected with a sigh, was truly hard to do. She straightened her shoulders and reached for the latch.
Sarah Jane looked up from writing in her journal and sprang to her feet, her face a portrait of bright expectation as Amanda entered the room. “Well? How did your meeting with the wagon master go? Tell me everything!”
“Not as well as we hoped,” Amanda fudged. Then, seeing her sister’s crestfallen expression, she decided to come right out with the truth. “Mr. Holloway refuses to allow us to accompany the rest of the wagon train.”
“You can’t mean that!”
She nodded. “He returned the money Pa paid him and practically ordered me—and you—to go ‘back where we came from,’ as he put it. I’m really sorry.” Untying her bonnet, Amanda slid it off, not caring as it slipped from her fingers to the floor. The urge to give it a swift kick under the bed was hard to resist… but it wouldn’t solve anything, and someone would only have to retrieve the thing. Instead, she flopped onto the quilted coverlet and lay staring up at the dismal ceiling.
“I don’t believe it!”
“Believe it, Sissy. There was no reasoning with that obnoxious, opinionated, bullheaded man. He didn’t give me a chance to explain our plight.”
“How… perfectly horrid!” Sarah declared. “Forbidding people their destiny.” With a toss of her golden curls, she flounced over to where she’d been putting her innermost thoughts down on paper and tore the half-written page out of the journal, crumpling it in her hand. An oppressive silence hovered in the room as Sarah plopped grimly back onto the chair, arms crossed in front of her, staring at the opposite wall. Her exhaled breaths came out in a succession of audible exclamation points.
Amanda finally broke the stillness. “Well, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I’m going downstairs for the noon meal, and while I eat I’ll think about groveling at Mr. Cavanaugh’s feet to persuade him to take that wagon off our hands. Much as I hate the prospect, it’s the only sensible solution left to us. At least it’ll give us money to live on until we make other plans.”
Sarah shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’m not hungry. In fact, I may never be hungry again. Think I’ll wander on over to the mercantile and browse through the fabrics and jewelry. It doesn’t cost anything just to look. And afterward I may go visit Nancy Thatcher at the bakery until she closes up.”
Seated in the dining room moments later, Amanda heard scarcely a word of the cheerful chatter bantered about the rectangular pine table by other hotel guests during the meal. Her thoughts were occupied back at Martha’s Eatery, upon the most infuriating man she had ever had the occasion to meet.
Seth Holloway certainly seemed taken up with his own importance, she concluded, swallowing a spoonful of beef stew. Not even allowing her an opportunity to explain the reasoning behind the decision she and Sarah had made. Who did he think he was—ruler of the world? Humph. Some king he would make, in buckskins, with a face that looked in need of a good shave, unruly dark brown hair and hooded, deep-set brown eyes that had a sneaky quality to them. Even that low voice of his rasped in her memory as the conversation mentally took place again. Go back where you came from. It would serve the beast right if the sky clouded over and it rained for days and days, making the trail impassible for a month. Or better yet, forever. Then he’d have to give everyone’s money back, leaving him flat broke.
As she bit into some warm corn bread, a glance out the window revealed the object of her scathing thoughts passing by with his partner and several other men, obviously from the wagon encampment. He wasn’t exactly smiling—in fact, Amanda had serious doubts the man ever broke into a smile at all. But he did appear pleasantly cheerful and walked with long, confident strides.
What she wouldn’t do to take him down a peg. He had no right to refuse her and Sarah’s inclusion with the rest of the overlanders, no right at all. If only she’d become acquainted with some of the migrating families there might have been someone to stand up for them and demand they be permitted to join the company. But when Pa had come down with chills and fever it made folks leery of coming too close, so Amanda had moved the wagon to a spot some distance from the encampment. And after he expired, she and Sarah had mostly kept to themselves in the hotel. It was too late to try to make a friend now. Much too late.
“Mr. Randolph,” Seth said, resting a hand on the lantern-faced man’s shoulder as he, Red, and two other emigrant leaders walked toward the hardware store. “I’m calling a meeting around the campfire this evening after supper. I want all the men to be present. Think you can handle that?”
The older man stroked his close-cropped beard and gave a nod of agreement. “No problem at all, Mr. Holloway. We’re all pretty anxious to leave, after sittin’ around for nigh on three weeks.”
The heavyset man on the end snorted. “That’s an understatement—it’s been four weeks for us. It’s getting harder and harder to keep a handle on all the loose young’uns. Even the womenfolk are antsy.”
“We understand, Mr. Thornton,” Red chimed in. “But your waitin’s about over, an’ now we need to go over the rules we expect folks to abide by for a smooth crossin’.”
He nodded. “We’ll be there. Count on it.”
“Soon as we get back to the wagons we’ll spread the word,” Randolph said, glancing to the others.
“Good.” Seth touched the brim of his hat as they reached the store. “See you then, gentlemen.” He turned to Red as the other men entered the establishment. “Guess I’d better start getting my own gear together.”
“Me, too. Say, did you manage to smooth that little gal’s feathers—about heading west?”
“Fortunately, yes. Took some convincing, though.” He shook his head with a droll smirk. “Can’t imagine a girl being fool enough to think she—and a sister who I know is even younger than she is—could make a journey like that all by themselves. But at least they’re off our hands. I gave their pa’s money back. That’s the end of it, far as I’m concerned.”
Amanda hesitated outside the mercantile for as long as she could, dreading the inevitable. Then, knowing the task would never get any easier, she slipped inside as two chattering women exited. She didn’t see Sarah Jane in the store, but spied Mr. Cavanaugh across the cluttered room, chewing on a fat cigar while he spoke with another customer beside the pickle barrel. Amanda stopped near the display of fabrics and fingered a bolt of violet watered silk as she eyed the proprietor with disdain, taking in the waistcoat that strained across his protruding belly, the shiny bald circle atop his head.
His gaze flicked her way and a snide quirk twisted his thick mouth. He excused himself and approached Amanda in self-assured calm. “Well, well. Had a feeling I’d be seeing you sooner or later, Miss Shelby.”
She dipped her head slightly. “Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“Come to accept my offer, did you?”
“Well, I—”
“‘Course, I haveta tell you, the stuff’s not worth as much to me now, with the train about to leave. I’ll have to lower the price some. You understand, I’m sure. I’m still doin’ you a favor. Least I can do, under the circumstances.”
Amanda stiffened. The man was actually gloating! All so certain that she’d hand over what amounted to the entirety of her and Sarah’s worldly possessions for next to nothing! And she had no doubts whatsoever that the moment he got hold of all those supplies he’d take advantage of some other poor souls—turning her misfortune into an indecent profit for himself. She felt her spirit grow ice-solid. The sudden reply that popped out of her mouth surprised even her. “I didn’t come about the wagon. I’d like to arrange a trade. My father’s tools for some dry goods.”
“Hm.” He rubbed his chin in dubious thought. “I s’pose that could be done—”
“Fine. I’ll bring them to you shortly, then, and choose some yardage.”
“What about the rest? The outfit. The supplies?”
She offered a cool smile. “We’re only discussing Pa’s tools, Mr. Cavanaugh. I’m afraid our wagon isn’t for sale after all. We do thank you, however, for your… generous offer. Good day.” Gathering a fold of her skirt in one gloved hand, Amanda whirled and fled before she changed her mind.
She fairly flew back to the hotel and up the contained staircase to her rented room. A depressing heaviness settled over her. Her own pride had just caused her to act prematurely—and make a decision that could end up being far more foolish than anything Sarah had ever conceived. What was that verse Pa had quoted so often? “Pride goeth before a fall”? Well, if she and Sarah were in for a big fall now, it would be all her fault.
Letting herself in, Amanda released a shaky breath of relief to discover her sister had not yet returned. At least there’d be time to reason things out, to pray. Instead of coming from the mercantile with cash in hand for the two of them to live on until they decided what to do, she had just thrown their one chance away. She sank to her knees in yet another frantic prayer.
Dear Lord, I’ve really done it this time. Slammed a door You left standing wide open for us… and all because of my silly pride. But Mr. Cavanaugh wasn’t being fair to Sarah and me. He just wasn’t. You must want us to go west. You must. She paused, rolling her eyes heavenward as if expecting to see the answer inscribed bright and clear on the ceiling. Finding none, she closed her eyes once more. So we need You to help us now. I know You will see us through.
Trusting that to be sufficient, Amanda picked up Pa’s Bible and took a seat in the overstuffed chair near the window. When her sister’s light step sounded outside the door a short time later, she looked up from the Psalms and met the younger girl’s curious eyes with a smile.
“I take it you were successful,” Sarah Jane said airily. “We have funds to tide us over for a while, until we can find some kind of employment.”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“No?” The younger girl removed her shawl and draped it on the nearest chair. “You did go to see Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“Yes—” Amanda felt her face growing warm, and looked away. “But I could not let that brute steal our things. He wanted to give me less than before. Less! Can you imagine? I couldn’t bring myself to let him cheat us like that. I just couldn’t.”
Sarah crossed the room and knelt at her feet, eyes troubled and imploring. “But… what will we do now, Mandy, when our money runs out?”
Giving her sister’s hand a pat where it rested on her own atop the Bible in her lap, Amanda shrugged nonchalantly. “You said it last night. We’re going west, just as we decided.”
“But the wagon master said—”
“I know what he said. But I’ve been thinking about it, and we’re going anyway… just not with him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’ll wait until the others have all gone. Then, later on that day or the next, we’ll follow behind them. No one will be the wiser.”
“Do you think we can do such a thing? Truly?”
“Of course. We belong to the Lord, you and I. God will take care of us. He has to—after all, He promised, didn’t He?”
“I… suppose.”
Amanda forced herself to relax and appear calm and assured. It wouldn’t do for Sarah to know how doubtful her older, wiser sister actually felt in the hidden reaches of her heart. Journey across half a continent. Alone.