California Romance (22 page)

“When we discovered you were missing, I got the girls together,” Abby said. Tears sparkled in her dark eyes. “Some of us don’t know God very well, but we figured He’d listen since we were praying for you.”

Sarah took Abby’s hands in hers. “Your prayers were answered. If it hadn’t been for God, I wouldn’t be alive. Anytime you want to know Him better, all you have to do is tell Him so.” Desire for her friend to experience the love and caring of their heavenly Father spilled out. “Abby, He is the only One who can save you, and you will never have a better friend. When Jesus is in your heart, it doesn’t matter if others persecute you. Once you are His, nothing can harm you unless He allows it.”

Longing filled Abby’s sweet face. “It sounds wonderful.” She sniffled. “When I found out you were missing, I thought I’d go crazy, but it’s like you’re at peace no matter what. Sarah, what must I do to get what you have?”

“Paul tells the Romans in chapter 10: ‘If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.’”

“It sounds awfully simple.”

Sarah’s heart throbbed with gladness. “The way of salvation is a free gift and so simple even a child can understand. Do you want to accept Him?”

Abby nodded. A few heartbeats later a new name was written in the Book of Life.

When Sarah got back to the ranch and told Matt and Seth the good news, she added, “I didn’t dream God would bring good from Tice and Gus coming out here after me. Or from Red Fallon waylaying me.” She blinked back tears of joy. “If they hadn’t, Abby wouldn’t have accepted the Lord, at least not right now.”

“Another good thing came out of it,” Matt told her when they mounted Chase and Pandora and rode out together later that day. At the foot of the promontory they both loved, Matt halted Chase and took Sarah’s hand. “Sarah, when will you marry me?”

She cocked her head to one side and pretended to consider. “I believe the proper length for an engagement is a year—”

“Are you really going to make me wait that long when it feels like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life?” Mischief danced in his eyes. “If you’d come sooner, I wouldn’t have been tricked into thinking Lydia Hensley was pure gold, not just iron pyrite—fool’s
gold.”

Sarah threw caution to the winds. “Senor Mateo, if you’ll give Pandora and me a head start to the big oak tree and still beat us back to the ranch, I’ll marry you whenever you choose!” She touched her heels to the chestnut gelding’s smooth sides, and laughter floated back over her shoulder.

Matt erupted into a shout of glee worthy of an Indian on the warpath. He waited until the fleeing pair reached the oak tree then sent Chase into a full gallop. Despite Pandora’s best efforts, Chase caught and passed him just before they reached the corral. Matt reined in, leaped from the saddle, caught Sarah as she slid down from the gelding, and announced to the crowd of staring, openmouthed cowboys nearby, “Don’t make any plans for Christmas. We’re gonna have a wedding, and you no-good, lazy cowpunchers are all invited!”

Matt threw his hat in the air and let out another war whoop, echoed by the grinning outfit. He whipped around toward Curly and pounded his shoulder. “Saddle up. I need you to ride into Madera and send a telegram to Dori. This is one Christmas on the Diamond S my sister had better not miss!”

Once upon a time, Sarah Joy Anderson had stood for the final fitting of a wedding gown she hated. Her fingers had itched to tear it off and throw it in the dressmaker’s smug face. Instead she had closed her eyes and wondered what it would be like to walk up the aisle of the church in Madera and find Matthew Sterling waiting for her.

Months later Matt had unwittingly described Sarah’s dream:
“Someday you’re going to walk up the aisle of our Madera church on Seth’s arm, all gussied up in a fluffy white dress and ready to become Mrs. Matthew Sterling.”

On Christmas Day the dream became reality. Sarah wore no fancy, pearl-beaded gown but Matt’s grandmother’s carefully preserved wedding dress. No veil with orange blossoms decked Sarah’s hair but a gorgeous lace mantilla Solita provided. No gawkers marred the occasion. Instead a host of smiling well-wishers crowded the church. They included a lovely, dark-haired girl in an elegant blue velvet cloak. She had arrived on the westbound train and been enveloped in a joyous bear hug from her bridegroom brother.

“Ready?” Seth grinned. “You don’t want to keep Matt waiting.”

Sarah nudged him. “Just remember, your turn’s coming.” She sent a pointed glance toward Dori Sterling, seated in the front row with Solita.

Seth retaliated by whispering, “Naw. She’s too Bostonish, and I’m just a poor, lonesome cowpoke.” He smirked. “Get a move on, will you, before Matt changes his mind.”

Sarah placed a lace-mitted hand on Seth’s arm. The wonder and love in Matthew Sterling’s face showed Seth’s warning was foolishness. The Sierra Nevada would crumble to dust before the boss of the Diamond S would go back on Sarah Joy Anderson.

Thank You, God, for bringing us here, even though it was by long and tortuous paths. Thank You most of all for the gift of Your Son, whose birthday we celebrate this day. No matter how rough the trails ahead of us may be, we can ride them together because Jesus goes before us
.

Fortified by the prayer, secure in God’s and Matt’s love, Sarah squeezed Seth’s arm and started up the aisle. Each step brought her closer to the man in the faded photograph now pinned beneath her wedding dress—Matthew Sterling, who had lassoed her heart.

Thank you for reading
Romance Rides the River
. Life on the Diamond S Ranch near Madera, California, in the 1880s fascinated me so much when I wrote
Romance Rides the Range
that I didn’t want to leave. I also wanted to get better acquainted with Seth and Dori, who clamored to step back on the stage—in this case, stagecoach.
Romance Rides the River
was born.

As a tweenager, my favorite reading place was an enormous willow tree outside our home near a small logging town. Two sturdy branches crossed close to the trunk and made a seat. There I read Zane Grey’s exciting book
The Border Legion
. A red bandana with the corners tied on top lay beside me. It held a comb, toothbrush, and extra socks. Should I be kidnapped like the heroine in my book, I was prepared with the same things Joan Randle had in her saddlebags when she was abducted.

Reading those exciting westerns and traveling through the western states with my family fostered dreams of someday writing books of my own, especially westerns.
Frontiers
and
Frontier Brides
[Barbour Publishing] are two of my best-selling collections.

I hope that seeing God at work in Seth’s and Dori’s lives reminded you how much He cares for us, especially in times of trouble. It did me!

Colleen

For Susan K. Marlow, research expert and editor extraordinaire
.

June 1880
San Joaquin Valley, California

I
’m not going to school in Madera any longer.”

Dolores Sterling’s personal Declaration of Independence hit the spacious kitchen of the white stucco, Spanish-style ranch house on the Diamond S cattle ranch like a burst of gunfire.

Solita, the diminutive Mexican housekeeper, dropped the tortilla she had been tossing. Dori’s brother, Matt, straightened from lounging in the doorway. Storm signals flashed in his bright blue eyes, eyes the same color as his sister’s. He parked his hands on his hips and glared down at her. Four inches taller than Dori’s five-foot-seven height, Matt’s high-heeled cowboy boots allowed him to tower even farther over her.

“ You what?”

Dori gave Matt her most charming smile. “I’m going to Boston for a three-year term.” She clenched her hands behind her back and tossed her head until her black curls danced. “I already wrote to the school. They are holding a place for me. All you have to do is to send the money.”

Matt snorted. “I do, do I? What if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll cause me to break my word. I told them I was coming.” Dori ignored Solita’s gasp. “It’s a matter of honor, Matt.”

“What’s honorable about going behind my back and promising such an outlandish thing?” he raged.

If Dori hadn’t known how much her brother—who had taken their father’s place after he died—doted on her, she’d have been intimidated. She mumbled, “Sorry, but I figured you’d say I’m too young. I’m not. I’ll be sixteen years old in a few months. You need to start treating me like a young lady, not a little girl.”

Matt exploded with laughter. “You, a young lady?” He pointed at her worn riding skirt and vest. “How do you think you will stack up against those Boston blue bloods?”

Dori proudly raised her head. “I’d rather have good, red, western blood than all the blue blood in America,” she retorted. “Besides, I can become just as much a lady as any sissy East Coast girl.” She ignored the cynical little voice inside that challenged,
oh yeah?
and rushed on. “This is where I’m going.” She held out a worn magazine advertisement extolling the virtues of Brookside Finishing School for Young Ladies in Boston, Massachusetts.

Matthew said nothing.

Dori turned to Solita.
“You
think I should go, don’t you, Solita?”

The housekeeper, who had become Matt and Dori’s substitute mother after the death of Rebecca Sterling many years before, waited until Matt finished reading the advertisement. Then she quietly said, “Senor Mateo, I think that Senora Sterling would be glad for her daughter to attend such a school.”

“Gracias, gracias, Solita.” Dori grabbed the housekeeper. She whirled her into a mad dance, blew Matt a kiss, and dashed out of the kitchen. With Solita on her side, Matt would never refuse to let her go—or would he? Not quite certain, Dori paused just outside the doorway. She knew eavesdropping was wrong, but her whole future hung in the balance.

“Our casa will seem empty, but you must release the senorita,” Solita said. “She is unhappy here, like a little bird wanting to try her wings and fly. Your
mamá
and
papá
would have allowed it, had they lived. Since they are no longer with us, you must decide what is best for her, not what is best for you.” She sighed. “And for me.”

Dori sneaked away, knowing she had won.

Once Matt reluctantly consented, the next few weeks flew by in a maze of preparations. Matt paid the exorbitant fee required by Miss Genevieve Brookings, owner and headmistress of the Brookside School. He imported a dressmaker from Fresno. If Dori was going back east, she would go in style with the proper clothing.

Unfortunately, Dori’s idea of “proper clothing” did not coincide with Miss Mix’s. When the prim dressmaker produced a pair of corsets, Dori rebelled. “I don’t wear corsets. My brother thinks it’s unhealthy for young girls to be forced into instruments of torture for the sake of fashion.”

Miss Mix gasped. “You discuss ladies’ undergarments with your
brother?”