Sarah's Surrender (22 page)

“You missin' the work?”

“Of course, but it has been nice to be home more and to be able to enjoy my children. They're growing up so fast.”

“It's about time for another one, isn't it?”

Gabe snorted a laugh. “Don't say that. Isn't four kids enough?”

“I'm not the person to ask. I'm halfway to becoming a geezer, and I'm not even married.”

Gabe's expression sobered, his dark eyes staring. “About that. Anything new with Sarah?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Nope. The only thing she's focused on is her house.”

Gabe reached into his pocket and drew out a paper that looked much like the telegram Luke had received a few weeks ago. “Not anymore. It seems she's taken in a foundling.”

“What?!” Luke snatched the paper out of Gabe's hand and scoured the brief message.

A
DOPTED ORPHAN GIRL
. A
GE 2
. N
EED CLOTHING
. B
EDDING
.

Gabe stuck a back scratcher into the upper part of his cast and tugged it back and forth on his thigh. “Ah … that's better. This leg is about to itch me to death. Sarah wants Lara to send her some clothes. The ones Missy recently outgrew oughta fit the girl she took in.”

“What girl? Where did Sarah find it? And why is she keeping it?”

“You know Sarah. She loves children.”

Luke fell back into the chair, stunned. “How will she provide for it?”

Gabe's mouth twitched as if he was fighting a grin. “It's not an
it,
it's a
her,
in case you didn't catch that.”

“So? How in the world will Sarah be able to support a kid?” She didn't even have a job, and he was sure that she'd used up most of the money her father had sent over the years to pay for her house and furnishings.

Gabe leaned back. “Have you considered that this might make your quest to marry her easier?”

Luke stared at his friend, not understanding his train of thought. “How do you figure?”

Gabe rubbed his chin. “Having a child will make it harder for Sarah to find work, like she had planned. She'll have to find someone who will let her bring the girl to work with her, find some sort of work she can do at home, or she'll have to hire someone to keep the child while she works. Seems to me the best solution to her problem is marriage.”

Luke let that thought churn in his mind for a moment, and then he grinned. “You know, you might be right.”

Now he was even more eager to get back to Anadarko before one of the Peterson men or some other yahoo stole Sarah's heart.

A week later, Sarah handed a seed to Claire. “Put it in the crevice like you did the other ones.”

She bent over and dropped the pea seed in the indentation Sarah had made in the dirt. Claire looked up in expectation.

“Very good!” Sarah smiled and handed her another seed. Claire seemed to like things in order, which was good when it came to planting.

She studied her garden. Though it was late to be planting, she prayed that they'd have enough warm days so that she could harvest a few quick-growing crops. The onions, lettuce, chard, and beets were already planted. She only had the radish seeds and then the rhubarb and asparagus crowns to plant. If only there were more time, but for this winter, she'd have to lay in a good supply of smoked meat and canned goods to see her through. Next winter would be a different story, she hoped.

Claire tugged on Sarah's skirt, and she looked down to see her hand outstretched. She handed her another seed. “You're such a good helper.”

So far Claire hadn't uttered a word. Sarah didn't know if she couldn't talk, or if the girl didn't understand English, or if the trauma of losing her mother and being alone for so long had taken away her ability to talk.

She brushed a hand across Claire's head. She was growing attached to the quiet child. How could she give up Claire if her father or other relatives ever showed up? They hadn't heard a peep from the army, but it took time for someone to realize a person was missing and then to track down where they were last. It could be weeks, even months, before anyone located Claire and learned about her mother's death.

Jack, with Cody's help, drove the wagon back from the river where they'd gone to fetch water for the garden. Two barrels sat in the rear of the wagon, water sloshing over the rim whenever the wheel dipped into a rut. “We got water.” Cody waved and grinned. “I'm all wet.”

She glanced down to see Claire's hand raised in greeting, the tiniest of smiles lifting her lips. The girl loved to tag along with Cody—the only person nearby who was close to her size.

“Let's cover the seeds with dirt so the fellows can water them.” She bent down and brushed a layer of dirt over the tiny seeds. Claire patted the soil, not yet having gotten down the art of covering the seeds. Sarah smiled. In a way, Claire reminded her of herself. Sarah had worked hard to take care of her mother, and then later she'd worked at her father's bordello, where she did most of the cleaning and assisted the cook. She'd been quiet, knowing that it helped her to go unnoticed, which in turn meant less trouble.

At least she was doing the opposite of her father. Pete Worley had used women for his own purpose and to line his pockets. Sarah longed to help others. Maybe that was why God allowed her to win land so close to town, and perhaps that was why He brought Claire to her. Most people would have sent the young Indian girl to a foundlings' home, where she'd have been just one of many lonely children. Sarah could love her and give her a home—once it was complete.

Sarah stretched her back again and gazed heavenward. But what was God's purpose for bringing
her
here—to this particular piece of property? She'd seen His hand in giving her this land and providing the money she needed for her house, but what was she to do next?

Jack stood in the back of the buckboard, dipped a bucket in a barrel, and then handed it down to his son. Cody lugged the two inches of water toward her, sloshing liquid onto his boots. “Where do you want it?”

“How about I pour and you fetch?” She could imagine him smashing down the dirt and packing it so hard the seeds couldn't burst through.

“All right.” He set the bucket down at the side of the garden then spun around to get more water. Claire toddled after him.

As Sarah poured the water along the row she'd just planted, she listened to the satisfying hammering coming from her house. Soon she and Claire would be able to move in. Behind her, along the river's edge, birds and locusts sang carefree tunes. The sun warmed her shoulders, filling her with peace. She emptied the bucket, checked to see that Claire was safe, and then blew out a sigh. “Why am I here, Lord? You allowed me to win this speck of land, but what am I to do with it? Reveal to me Your purpose for my life.”

“Someone's coming.” Jack set down a bucket he'd filled, hopped off the wagon, and lifted Claire into his arms. “Stay close to me, Cody, until we see who they are.”

The boy was halfway to the garden, but he set down the bucket and trotted back to his pa. Jack handed Claire to his son then turned toward the men, keeping one hand on his gun. He might be a pastor—a peace-loving man—but he well knew the dangers that sometimes came with strangers.

Sarah pushed up the brim of her bonnet, staring at the two riders approaching. One was a soldier and the other a man in a suit. She sucked in a breath as her hands tightened on the bucket handle. Did they have news of Claire's relatives? Or was the man her father? Had he come to take her away?

S
arah dusted off her hands then stopped at the bucket of water Cody had set down and dipped her dirty hands into it. As she walked over to Jack, she dried her hands on her apron. She tried not to show her nervousness, but she feared if the nicely dressed man laid claim on Claire, she might burst into tears. In the two weeks the child had lived with her, she'd already come to love her.

Claire spied her and emitted a squeal, reaching out her hands. In spite of the girl's small frame, Cody struggled to hang on to her. Sarah quickened her pace to his side and took her, desperately hoping this wouldn't be the last day they were together.

As she held her, Claire quieted and patted Sarah's back. She kissed the little girl's cheek, but her gaze was on the strangers.

The soldier nodded at Jack. “Is this the Worley homestead?”

“It is.” Jack nodded but didn't look at Sarah. She knew he was protecting her and would want to know the men's business before revealing who she was.

The soldier turned his horse so that he was facing the well-dressed man. “Since it's not far to town, can you find your way back?”

“Yes. Thank you for the escort.”

Tapping his heels to his horse's side, the soldier reined it back toward Anadarko.

The other man removed his hat and focused his gaze on her. “I'm Richard P. Morgan, and I write for the
Daily Oklahoman,
a newspaper out of Oklahoma City. As you are one of the few women whose names were drawn in the lottery, I'd like to interview you for our paper—that is, if in fact you are Miss Sarah Worley.”

Her gaze shot to Jack's. He shrugged one shoulder and looked at her as if asking what to do. He would chase off the man if that's what she wanted, but she couldn't see what harm an interview would cause. “I am Miss Worley. Why don't you step down, Mr. Morgan, and let's find some shade to sit in.”

He dismounted, and Jack walked over to him. “I'm Jack Jensen. Would you like me to see to your horse?”

Mr. Morgan gave him an odd look but nodded and handed Jack the reins. He walked toward Sarah.

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Cody, come and help me, son.”

She led her guest away from the clatter at the house and walked past the garden to the copse of trees lining the river. “There are no chairs here, but it will be quieter.”

The man looked back at her house. “Nice place you're building here.” He turned back, placing his hat on again, his lips twisted and a perplexed expression engulfed his face. “I have to admit that I'm confused.”

“Oh? How so?” Sarah patted Claire's back. She was falling asleep, tired from their work in the garden. She caught a glimpse at the dirt under her fingernails and grimaced. Maybe Mr. Morgan wouldn't notice.

“You're not married?”

“No, sir. I've never been married.”

“Might I inquire who Mr. Jensen is and how he's related to you?”

She thought his question a bit rude but decided to answer. “He's my brother. His family took me in when I was twelve.”

Mr. Morgan relaxed his stiff posture and smiled. “Ah, I see. I was hoping you weren't going to say he was your husband.”

“And why would that matter?”

“In order to legally enter the lottery, a woman had to be unmarried—or at least no longer married.” He pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from his pocket. “So the children are his?”

She started to answer but hesitated. If she told him about Claire's mother and how Sarah came to care for her, would he write about it? She gritted her teeth, knowing that if he did, Claire's family would be more likely to find her. But was it fair of her to hold on to the child if she had a father or grandparents searching for her? She knew the answer. She had to be honest and trust God. “Cody, the boy, is Jack's child, but not Claire.”

Mr. Morgan's eyebrows shot up to his hat line.

Sarah held up one hand, palm out. “Hold on. She's not mine either. The truth is, I found her.”

“Found
her?” The man's pencil hovered over his paper.

She explained about hearing the strange noise near the cornfield, finding Claire, and then how the men had found her deceased mother.

“That's some story.”

“It's not a story. It's the truth. We reported the incident to the army.”

The man scribbled half a page of notes before looking up. “What do you plan on doing with the girl?”

“Keep her, of course, unless her family comes for her.”

He stared at her, but she couldn't read his expression. “That's quite a noble endeavor for an unmarried woman, don't you think?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I fail to see how that's any of your business. Did you want to interview me or simply discover if I'm married or not? Because if that's your purpose, then I believe you got what you came for.”

He ducked his head and scratched behind one ear. “I apologize, Miss Worley. It's the nature of a reporter to be curious.”

Nosy was more like it. Cody trotted toward her with Jack following. “Pa wants to know if you want us to take Claire so you can talk.”

“That would be nice. She's fallen asleep.” And her arms were starting to ache. She handed the little girl to Jack. Claire wiggled a moment but relaxed against his chest. “You doin' all right here?”