Stranger's Bride

by Denise Hunter

  “Did he hurt you, Sara?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Not until my mama died, though. When she was alive, he took all his anger out on her. I could hear it from my room. . .the sound of him hitting her. It was dreadful; I was helpless to do anything. You know, Hetty, that was worse than getting hit myself. I tried to talk Mama into leaving, but she was afraid he’d find us, and we had no money to go away someplace. After she died, I took a job. Pete used most of my wages for drinking money, but I hid some away. I was planning to go someplace far away when I had saved enough. Then my friend, Helen, showed me Nathan’s ad.”

  “Praise be to God. He sure was lookin’ out for ya.”

  Sara was dazed for a moment. She’d never once considered God in all this. It was good fortune, she’d thought, that Helen had found the ad—just chance. Hetty had given her something to think on.

  Sara looked at Hetty. “I’m just so glad I’m not there. Boston is miles away, and he can’t hurt me anymore.”

  Hetty covered Sara’s hand. “You were afraid Nathan was cut from the same cloth?”

  “He seemed so cross with me all the time. And he’s so big! Why, when I saw him at the depot, I wanted to scramble back on that train and head anyplace else!”

  Hetty laughed, then covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, dear! I know it’s not funny, but knowin’ Nathan like I do, I can imagine how he scared ya out of your wits! He is a big man, and he was in a fine temper that day.” Her face grew serious. “He really is harmless, ya know.”

  “I know that now.”

  “You sure went through a nasty time. It’d be hard to get over somethin’ like that. Have ya forgiven him yet?”

  “Forgiven him? He doesn’t deserve it!” Sara watched Hetty’s startled face. “Well, he doesn’t! He’s not even sorry! His actions were mean and deliberate. Even if I could forgive him for what he did to me, I could never forgive him for what he did to Mama.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. That must be quite a burden to carry around.” Hetty took their glasses to the kitchen. “Well, we got a garden that’s finally ready for plantin’, and it’s not gonna plant itself! I’m just itchin’ to get started!”

  “I’m afraid you’ve got a greenhorn on your hands,” Sara said.

  “There’s not much to it. You’ll see.”

  Sara and Hetty labored in the garden for the rest of the afternoon. Sara found that she liked the feel of the earth between her fingers. The ground was a little dry from lack of rain, but when they dug little holes for the seeds, they found dark, moist dirt.

  It was to be a large garden, located behind the main house. By the end of the afternoon they had planted only one-quarter of it. Sara knew it was going to be a lot of work, but it was something she enjoyed. Besides, they would have vegetables all winter! Peas, onions, potatoes. She could hardly wait to taste them! Hetty seemed concerned that they were getting a late start on the garden, and she hoped the plants would grow in time for harvest, before the cold weather set in.

  Back in Boston there had been no room for a garden, so they bought their produce at the market. They’d never had much produce through the winter, though, since it was so expensive.

  When it was nearly suppertime, they washed up and prepared the meal. The men were in fine spirits that evening. They’d had a productive day, and they made quick work of the meal. It was rewarding to cook for men who appreciated their efforts. Pete had only complained about the meals she had prepared. Hetty talked about starting the garden, her face alight with excitement. Gardening was a chore that would get done without complaint.

  They had such pleasant conversation that Sara was sorry to see Hetty and Gus go after supper. She considered asking them to stay but didn’t want to intrude on their private time.

  Sara washed the dishes and wondered about the rest of the evening. Would Nathan avoid her as he had been doing, or would there be a change in their routine? She decided she’d work on her needlepoint in the main room. If Nathan wanted to stay, he would.

  She sat on the settee and threaded the needle. Blackie laid across her shoes, heaved a sigh, and closed his eyes.

  She heard the plodding of Nathan’s stocking feet as he made his way down the stairs. He shuffled to a stop at the bottom, and Sara continued her needlework, wondering what he’d do. Although the awful tension was gone, a new awkwardness brewed between them. She heard his footsteps as he entered the room, then watched as he took a seat in what she now thought of as “his chair.”

  He looked rather uncomfortable as he opened his book and began to study it. Sara looked down at it, too; it was upside down.

  She continued working her needle, waiting for him to turn his book over. After a moment, she glanced up. It was still upside down, but his brows were drawn together in concentration, as if he were absorbing every word.

  A grin tugged at her lips as she pushed the needle through the fabric. What on earth must he be thinking to be so unaware of his actions?

  Sara decided to break the silence. “Is it a good book?”

  “Huh? Oh—yeah, it’s all right.”

  Sara determined to just come right out with it. “Um, Nathan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Your book. It’s upside down.”

  Nathan looked at her with a baffled expression, then looked down at his book. For the first time Sara saw redness creep up his neck. He looked sheepish as he flipped his book over. As she watched him, an irrepressible grin formed on his face. His eyes met hers, and she smiled in return.

  “Guess I looked pretty silly, sitting here reading upside down.”

  “No. . .you just looked like someone with a lot on his mind.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “After last night. . . Well, I guess I’m just not sure how to go from here.”

  With the mention of the previous night, Sara was reminded of the supper dishes he’d washed. “Oh! I wanted to thank you. . .for washing the dishes. You really shouldn’t have. I was going to do them first thing this morning.”

  “I didn’t mind. You had a rough night.” He closed his book and laid it on the table. “There is something that I wanted to talk to you about.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. “You were honest with me last night. . .about why you married me, I mean.” He looked at her then. “I think it’s only fair to tell you why I placed that ad.”

  Sara felt her stomach tighten into a knot. Was he going to explain about Mara? Tell her she’d been his second choice? She waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be struggling for a way to begin. Finally, he drew a breath and started.

  “My mother and father had a very special relationship. She died when I was born, so I never knew her, but my father. . .well, he never forgot her, never stopped loving her. He told me so many stories about her, sometimes I forgot that I didn’t know her. When he’d talk about her, his face would come alive. I don’t think he ever stopped missing her. . .grieving for her. He was always after me to find a woman and settle down. I suppose he wanted me to have what he and my mother had.”

  Sara laid her needlework aside and stroked Blackie’s fur.

  “Anyway, he got real sick a couple of months before he died. Doc Hathaway said there was nothing he could do for him. It just got worse and worse. In the end we were praying for God to take him home. He was in so much pain. When he did die, well. . .it was almost a relief. The suffering was over.

  “A few days after he died, an attorney from Wichita came and brought my father’s will with him. I didn’t even know he had a will. The attorney explained that my father had asked him to make out the will when he’d first become ill. The will said that I would inherit the ranch, but if I didn’t get married within one year, I’d have to sell it.”

  Sara’s mouth fell open. He’d had to get married in order to keep his ranch?

  “This ranch has been i
n my family for three generations. It’s all I’ve known, and I wasn’t about to give it up. I can’t imagine why my father felt he had to do that. He wasn’t one to strong-arm a person. I guess it just meant that much to him that I marry. Anyway, I put the ad in the paper in Boston, and you know the rest of the story. I’ve never told anyone about the will. Not even Hetty and Gus.”

  “Why Boston? I mean, Wichita is a good-sized city, and it’s much closer.”

  “I did consider Wichita, and some other cities as well. It was a matter I prayed over for some time. In the end, I felt Boston was the right city.”

  Sara studied her folded hands. Was Hetty right, then? Had God played a part in all this? It seemed so farfetched that God would even have time to meddle with her life. The distant God she believed in would not be inclined to intervene on her behalf, or anyone else’s for that matter. Hetty and Nathan plainly believed in a different kind of God.

  Another thought, this one completely different, came to her mind. If he’d been forced into marriage, he must have considered Mara first. He must have asked her to be his wife, and that’s when her father had denied him permission.

  It was a humbling thought. Not only was she a distant second choice, but he hadn’t even wanted a marriage to begin with. She felt as if she had imposed on his life—like she’d been foisted upon him. Her stomach churned with regret.

  Her thoughts must have been reflected on her face, for his next words were spoken softly. “I’m sorry if this is. . . disappointing to you. I felt it best to be honest in this. If it makes you feel any better, I got quite a few letters in answer to my ad, but as soon as I got yours, I knew you were the one.”

  That did make Sara feel a trifle better. “Thank you. . .for telling me.”

  Darkness was descending upon the room, its only light being the fire. Sara stifled a yawn. Even if she was of a mind to continue her needlepoint, it was getting too dark. “I think I’ll turn in now.” She stood, and he copied the movement.

  “Good night, Sara.”

  “Good night.”

  After going to her room, she let down her hair and changed into her white nightie. She settled herself under the quilt and tried to quiet the ceaseless activity in her mind.

  ❧

  Sara bolted upright and sat with her ears alert and her heart thrashing in her chest. She’d heard a sound. A bump, she thought, but she couldn’t be certain, for she’d been sleeping soundly and had heard it on the rim of her consciousness.

  She scanned the room and relaxed when she saw where she was. This wasn’t her room in Boston, and Pete wasn’t going to come crashing through the door. She was at the ranch in Kansas. Safe.

  She fell back against her pillow and willed her heart to slow its pace. When would she get beyond the horror of her life in Boston?

  The room was nearly pitch-black, so she knew the night was well under way. She turned over and closed her eyes in an attempt to coax her body back to sleep. After several minutes, it became clear that she was too restless to fall asleep again.

  A yearning for a cool glass of water sent her padding across the wood floor. She tiptoed down the staircase, feeling her way as she went, rounded the corner, and passed the table.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Sara jumped with a start, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh! Nathan! I think you scared ten years off my life!” She grasped the back of an empty chair.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He was sitting in the dark, and she could just make out his form. He stood and walked to the wall lamp. “Let me light this so you can see where you’re going.”

  As he lit the lamp, she went into the kitchen and called to him. “I’m pouring myself a glass of water; would you like some?”

  “No, thanks. I already have some.” His chair groaned as he seated himself.

  She pumped water into a glass and had just started for the dining room when he spoke.

  “I think I’ll head back up to. . .”

  He stopped when Sara came into the doorway. He was studying her in an odd way that made her aware of the nightgown she was wearing. It was modest, and showed less of her than a dress, but a nightie seemed so intimate. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your hair.”

  A hand fluttered to her hair, and she realized it was down. Her heart sank when she remembered all the disparaging remarks Pete had made about it. Her eyes found the floor.

  She blurted out, “I know it’s. . .it’s. . .”

  “Lovely.”

  Her startled eyes met his. “All those curls. I had no idea. And it falls clear to your waist.”

  Her face heated and she took a sip of water to cover her embarrassment.

  “You should wear it down all the time. It’s very becoming.”

  She rewarded him with a timid smile. “That wouldn’t be very proper. . .or practical.”

  He smiled in return. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” he said. “Well, as I was saying, I think I’ll head back up to my room. ’Night.”

  “Good night.”

  She stood staring at the staircase long after he was gone.

  twelve

  The end of the next day found Nathan riding in from the northern pasture. The horse was trotting at an unhurried pace, his hooves stirring up dust from the parched ground. It had been a dry spring, and the hot days of summer stretched ahead like an endless abandoned road. Already the grass was beginning to dry to a withered brown, leaving the cattle to graze in the lowlands where the ground was more fertile.

  A dry summer could cause many hardships for the ranchers and farmers, especially after the bitter winter of ’86. A series of blizzards had wiped out many cattle and brought low prices for the scrawny animals that had survived.

  Nathan said a quick prayer for rain and thanked God that they had been able to put up hay to feed their cattle.

  He saw his house on the horizon and pulled back on the reins to slow his mount. For some reason he wasn’t eager to get home. The horse plodded along, giving Nathan time to examine his feelings. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that Sara was the reason for his reluctance.

  Sara.

  She was slipping into his heart, and he knew it. When he had seen her last night, with her hair spilling around her shoulders, he’d wanted to run his fingers through the soft curls. She was so beautiful and so completely unaware of it! That was the truly amazing part. Most of the women he knew used their looks for their own benefit. But not Sara. Her vulnerability ate at his defenses, gnawing away a little at a time. He felt helpless to stop the new sensations she was causing.

  He’d have to do a better job of guarding his heart if he hoped to remain unfettered by deep feelings for his new wife. What was wrong with him, anyway, that he couldn’t stick to his simple plan? He’d thought he had more discipline than this.

  He dismounted and led his horse into the stable as Sara rounded the side of the house, carrying two empty buckets.

  ❧

  Sara raised her free hand in a wave to Nathan, and he returned the greeting. Hetty was in the kitchen getting supper ready, and Sara was finishing up the garden work. They had finished planting, and she was using buckets of water to wet the newly buried seeds. She hoped the dry weather wouldn’t ruin all their hard work.

  Her back and shoulders ached as she pumped water into the large buckets. She’d made many trips already and had determined that this would be her last for today. Nathan was back, so Gus wouldn’t be far behind. She needed to help Hetty get supper on the table.

  After filling the other bucket, she stooped over and hoisted them off the ground. She had staggered no more than half a dozen steps when she heard Nathan approaching from behind.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  Sara turned qu
ickly, and some water sloshed on her shoes. Her task had caused her breathing to be labored, so she gasped in reply, “I–I’m just taking some water to the garden.”

  “Do you have any notion what those buckets weigh? You’re gonna break your back. Now, put ’em down!” His tone left no room for argument, so she eased them to the ground. “You’re too frail for this kind of work. Just go on in the house and tend to supper.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes and she spun away and darted toward the house before he could see them. She cursed her shapeless body all the way. “Scrawny,” Pete had called it. Frail, scrawny, it was all the same—hers was not a body a man would admire. That realization had never bothered her much before. All the names Pete had ever called her hadn’t hurt as much as now hearing Nathan insult her. She stopped suddenly on the porch as understanding surfaced.

  It hurt because she cared about Nathan. He had a power over her that Pete never had.

  She looked back toward the pump and saw that he had disappeared, along with the buckets. The garden was getting its water after all. Well, that was just fine. Let Mr. Tough and Mighty do the work himself! What was he all about, anyway? Kind one day, mean the next. He should just make up his mind and stick with it!

  Sara used her sleeve to wipe away any trace of tears, straightened her shoulders, and went in the house to help Hetty.

  ❧

  The following Sunday, Sara found herself the object of some curious glances. She discreetly checked the buttons on her rust-colored dress, but found them all securely in their buttonholes.

  After they took their seats in the pew, Sara tried to put it from her mind. Everyone stood when Luke came forward to lead the music. Sara was familiar with the song, so she sang along. The congregation seated itself following the hymn, and Reverend Hill took the podium.

  “Two weeks ago I spoke to you about sin—how all of us have it, no matter our age or religion. None of us is perfect. I’ve felt God leading me to do a continuation of that sermon, and today I’d like to explain how the grace of God frees us from sin. To many of you this will be a repeat of what you’ve heard many times before, but for some of you, this may be life-changing news.