What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.
She blinked the tears from her eyes, lifted her skirt hems and ran to the ferry. She stepped into the floating box, grasped the rope and pulled her way across the river. “I will trust You, Lord. I will start the fires and burn the oil lamp in welcome. You have only to bring Mitchel home.”
She ducked her head against the snow and ran to the cabin.
The door hinges squeaked a protest at being made to work in the cold. She left the door open for light, ran to the kitchen fireplace and took the flint and steel off the mantel. Pressure built in her chest as she knelt and struck sparks into the laid fire the way Mitchel had taught her that day in the mountains.
The tinder smoldered. She leaned down and blew on it, smiled when it burst into flame and ate greedily at the kindling she fed it. She rose, lifted the chimney on the oil lamp and held a sliver of burning wood to the wick, tossed the spill into the fire and adjusted the flame. Golden light danced on the walls.
She added wood to the fire, slid a few pieces of burning kindling onto the fire shovel and carried it to the parlor fireplace. The fire caught, tossed sparks and flames into the air. She added wood, watched the dancing light a moment, then went to close the door. There was a wagon coming down the rutted path in front of the cottages.
She pulled her cloak close about her and watched it draw near. It must be the Suttons or the Murrays, one of the farmers who lived farther down on the plain. She shivered, stepped inside and closed the door.
The fire flared in the draft, settled to a steady burn. She could already feel the warmth spreading into the room. She picked up the fire shovel and carried it back to the kitchen, took off her cloak and hung it on one of the nails where her utensils would one day hang.
The door latch clicked. She frowned. Emma or Zach? Well, she was not leaving the cabin tonight! She raised her chin and went to do battle. Mitchel stood in the doorway, his handsome features furrowed in puzzlement.
She gasped, stared in disbelief. And then she ran.
Mitchel met her in the middle of the room, caught her up in his arms, crushed her to him. “Anne! Anne!” His lips found her eager ones, drank of the love they offered.
“Ahem…”
She opened her eyes, gaped over Mitchel’s shoulder at the tall, lean man wearing a black suit and a fur hat with ear flaps.
Mitchel loosened his hold, lowered her to the floor. “Anne, this is Reverend Overbeck. He’s come to marry us. Now stoke those fires, I’ve got a wagonload of furniture to bring in.”
“So you expected the furniture?”
Zach sounded as flummoxed as Emma looked.
Mitchel took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “No. I received a letter some time ago telling me my uncle had died childless and left his estate to me. I knew he was comfortably situated, but I didn’t know what the estate entailed. That’s why, when I asked Anne to marry me, I told her to be fair I should wait. I didn’t explain what I meant because I didn’t rightfully know—” his gaze sought hers “—and I didn’t want to wait. And I’m not going to. Not another day.” He grinned. “I ran into the Lewis boys first thing this morning and told them to spread the news that our wedding will be this afternoon in the church.”
They were all there. Every man, woman and child in town had turned out to help celebrate the first wedding in Promise. Her wedding.
Anne turned from the window, checked to make sure all of the tiny buttons on her fitted bodice made of Olga’s lace tablecloth were fastened, then smoothed the long skirt made from one of Emma’s silk gowns. She peered in the mirror over the washstand, slipped the wide strip of lace around her mass of red curls and tied it in a bow at the crown of her head. The long tails streamed down her back.
She was ready. She took a deep breath and left the cabin. Sunlight sparkled on the pristine snow. She lifted her hems and walked across the open space to the church, stepped inside the door left wide to let in the sunlight. She waited a moment for her eyes to become accustomed to the dimness of the interior, then walked forward.
Reverend Overbeck stood behind a crude wooden altar where two candles in pewter holders cast golden light on Mitchel’s ink-stained Bible. Hope was in Emma’s arms. She stopped, smiled at Emma and Zach, kissed Hope’s cheek, then turned toward her beloved.
Mitchel, heart-stoppingly handsome in a black wool suit, white shirt and tapestry vest, reached out his hand and enfolded hers in its warm and strength. Together they turned and faced the altar.
Dear Reader,
When I wrote Elizabeth and Justin Randolph’s story in Beauty for Ashes, I had no idea where it would lead. As it turned out, it led to five more books, and a journey across country by every mode of transportation then known.
Those of you who made the journey with me have ridden around Philadelphia in carriages with Laina and Thad in Joy for Mourning. You have floated on a passenger packet on the Miami Canal in Cincinnati with Sarah and Clayton in Family of the Heart. You have traveled on a Mississippi River steamboat in St. Louis with Mary and Sam in The Law and Miss Mary. And then (whatever were we thinking!) we joined a wagon train in Independence, Missouri, and jolted and jounced our way to Oregon country with Emma and Zach in Prairie Courtship. And there our journey ends, afoot in the Blue Mountains, with Anne and Mitchel.
I sincerely hope you have enjoyed making this journey with me. I know I have enjoyed writing the stories for you. But, I admit, there is sadness for me in leaving the Randolph family behind. Still… I can’t help wondering where the next book I write will take me. Wherever it is, I hope, dear reader, you will come along on the journey.
Until then,
Questions for Discussion
Anne suffered a great tragedy in her life that caused her to leave Philadelphia and travel west. Did you agree with Anne’s decision to go to Oregon? Why or why not?
Was Anne prepared for what she found at the Banning mission? How can you tell?
How did Mitchel feel about Anne’s sudden appearance at the mission? If you were in his place, how would you have felt?
After his wife died, Mitchel did the best he could to care for his daughter. Did he have any other choice? Why or why not?
When Mitchel shows Anne around the mission, he emphasizes that she should not walk alone because of the Indians. Was Mitchel being overly cautious, or did he have good cause to warn Anne?
Anne vows not to have anything to do with Hope because she evokes painful memories of her own daughter. How does Anne change as time goes by? Why do you think she changes?
When a Cayuse warrior tells Mitchel that Chief White Cloud is injured, Mitchel leaves the safety of the mission to offer aid. Was he right to go, leaving Anne and Hope behind with no protection?
When Halstrum and his son threaten to take the Indian children hostage, Anne protects her students. How does she do so? What would you have done in a similar situation?
When Anne and Hope hide from the Cayuse warriors, Anne seems to grow closer to the little girl. Why do you think that is?
Anne’s sister, Emma, treats Hope for her illness. Do you think it makes sense that Hope gets well so quickly after Emma’s treatments? Why or why not?
In the town of Promise, the ladies offer Anne things to make her more comfortable, like a length of wool for a new dress, a lace tablecloth and so on. Why do you think they did this? How did Anne react?
When do you think Anne changed her mind about letting Mitchel into her life and her heart?
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0861-2
FRONTIER FATHER
Copyright © 2011 by Dorothy Clark
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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