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Trusting Sarah
Trusting Sarah
Cassandra Austin
To Janet and Aggie
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Prologue
Albany, New York—1853
Sarah Tanton shivered. The thin shawl around her shoulders did little to ward off the chill of the courtroom, and nothing to stop the dread that turned her blood to ice.
Her attorney had told her what to expect, had told her in essence what Daniel would say, but, as she watched him walk confidently toward the stand, she didn’t want to believe it. He looked the same as always, wonderfully tall and handsome, dressed in a well-tailored suit, new for the occasion.
“State your name.” The bailiff’s voice rang in the silence.
“Daniel Harrison.” With one hand raised and the other on a Bible, he swore to tell the truth.
“It was late Saturday night, close to midnight. My father had a large amount of money at the store. The other employees and I were to take turns guarding it until the bank opened on Monday morning.”
Sarah knew she should listen carefully to the words, not just the reassuring sound of his voice. Surely he would explain. He would put an end to this terrible misunderstanding.
“I remember feeling a little uneasy as I came through the alley, like someone was watching me, but I can’t say I heard or saw anything then. The back door was supposed to be locked, but it wasn’t even closed. I took a couple steps inside and found Frank. Frank Abernathy, I mean. He had the shift just before mine. I knew he was hurt, and I was kneeling down to help him when I heard a sound in the alley. I rushed to the door, and that’s when I saw her running away.”
“Is the person you saw in this courtroom?”
Sarah had been gazing at the familiar face, willing the blue eyes to turn in her direction. Now, suddenly, they did.
“Yes. That’s her.”
It took Sarah a full minute to understand. Her mind screamed, “Why, Daniel? I thought you loved me! What happened to all our plans?”
Of course she didn’t speak aloud but stared into his cool blue eyes in frozen silence. He was the first to turn away.
She sat through another hour of testimony, thinking the pain would crush her at any moment. Finally, she stood with the rest, and the jailer took her arm to lead her out of the courtroom. As usual, her attorney joined them for the walk back to her cell.
The scene from the large window at the landing between the second and third floors had become Sarah’s only view of the outside world, and the jailer routinely gave her a moment there, “to catch her breath.” It was at this window that Sarah managed to find her voice. “Tell Daniel I want to see him.”
The attorney turned away from her, gazing out the dirty window. “I don’t believe that would be a good idea, Miss Tanton,” he said after a moment.
“Please,” she begged, “I have to see him!”
The man’s expression didn’t change. “As you wish, miss.” He turned to descend the stairs without another glance at her. She and the jailer continued their quiet walk to the jail.
Sarah paced the cell for what seemed like hours. She had imagined Daniel hurrying to her. The longer she waited, the more she dreaded his explanation. Finally she heard voices and the jingle of keys as the outer door was unlocked. The jailer and her attorney came down the short hall to her cell.
She barely dared to whisper, “Daniel?”
“He refuses to come, Miss Tanton. You better get some sleep.” With these words, the attorney turned and left the cell block, the jailer close behind.
Sarah found his advice impossible to follow. She entered the courtroom the next morning, hollow-eyed and trembling. The attorney barely acknowledged her as she took her place beside him.
“All rise.” The bailiff’s clear voice brought everyone to their feet. Sarah watched the judge enter and take his place. She sat with the others, and the bailiff spoke. “The defendant will rise.”
The attorney’s hand on her elbow urged her up again.
“Sarah Tanton, you have been found guilty of robbery and assault. Do you have anything to say?”
Sarah swallowed. She couldn’t have spoken if she had wanted to. She shook her head.
The judge frowned. “You have been uncommonly stubborn, young woman. In light of your total lack of remorse, I have little choice but to sentence you to twenty years in Auburn Prison. If, at some future time, your cooperation leads to the recovery of Mr. Harrison’s money, this court will reconsider the sentence. Court is adjourned.”
The judge’s gavel struck the block, and Sarah cringed.
“All rise,” the bailiff said.
Sarah turned toward the spectators in the courtroom, needing to see Daniel again, to plead with him to help her. The jailer took her arm and pulled her away even as she found him. His back to her, he was walking away. She tried to call to him, but his name came out a whisper. “Daniel.”
He turned then and their eyes locked. His face was unreadable.
The tightened grip on her arm made her realize she was struggling. “Daniel!” The cry lodged in her throat as she was pulled from the room.
Chapter One
Outside Fort Leavenworth Kansas Territory—1859
The wagon master sat at his plank-and-barrel desk, tapping the end of the pencil against his gray mustache, and studied the young woman. While she wasn’t tall, she stood so straight with her head erect that it kept her from looking tiny. Her straight hair was a chestnut brown, red where the sun caught it, and smoothed back from a gentle face that seemed somehow at odds with her stiff bearing. Her soft brown eyes made him want to help her.
She turned to watch a flock of blackbirds, her face registering such delight the man glanced at the birds himself before eyeing her curiously. Why would a flock of noisy birds be so entertaining?
Pete Milburn considered himself a good judge of character, and this Miss Sarah Tanton looked like a stayer. He was sure she would make her request of other trains if he turned her down.
She brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek as she turned back to face him. “Well, Mr. Milburn?”
Milburn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Miss Tanton, let me be honest. I’m afraid I will be shorthanded, but what I need is someone to drive the supply wagon. I got Rice pulling double duty till River catches up. Can you handle an ox team, Miss Tanton?”
Sarah didn’t miss the hopeful note in the question. She looked toward the grassy riverbank where the gentle beasts were grazing. They looked massive, and Sarah’s confidence slipped. “I don’t know, sir. That’s why I didn’t purchase a wagon and team. All I’ll need...”
“Are the supplies to cross the continent. Miss Tanton, this isn’t a passenger train.”
“Perhaps I could learn to drive a wagon, sir.” Her eyes were silently pleading.
Milburn sighed again. He adjusted the pencil and studied the ledger in front of him. Carefully he wrote “Sarah Tanton—May 3, 1859” on the topmost vacant line. Under the amounts paid by the other travelers, he wrote “Hired.”
“Mr. Milburn, I—” she began.
“Rice!” he yelled over his shoulder, startling her into silence. In a softer voice he asked, “Where are your things?”
Before Sarah could do more than stammer and point, a gangling young man, barely in his teens, hurried up to his boss.
“Rice, this is Sarah Tanton. She’s going to be helping Eli. Find room for her things in the lead wagon.”
“Helping Eli?” Rice glanced at Sarah before tilting his blond head toward Milburn. “But Eli—”
“Don’t argue, boy!” Milburn rose from his seat, smiling at Sarah. “If you’ll excuse me, miss, there’s a fella coming I need to talk to.” He tipped his hat and left them.
Rice stared dubiously after his boss, and Sarah felt apprehensive. “I only have one trunk,” she said.
Earlier, Sarah had caught a ride out from town. Now she found the trunk where the driver had left it. Rice was stronger than he looked, and the two of them had little trouble carrying it to the lead wagon.
“Thank you for helping me, Mr. Rice,” Sarah said.
“Shucks, ma’am. I ain’t no Mr. Rice. I’m just plain Rice.”
“Don’t you have a first name?” she asked, smiling.
“Yes, ma’am.” He blushed. “I’ll make room for this.” He scrambled over the tailboard so quickly he nearly fell in.
Sarah smiled after him. She sat down on her little wooden trunk. Everything she owned was inside. Somehow it seemed appropriate to perch herself on top of it. Here sits Sarah Tanton on all her worldly goods, in the middle of a meadow where the East ends and the West begins. She might have added, “where the past meets the future,” but her thoughts were interrupted.
An old man rounded the wagon and stopped in surprise when he saw her. “What are ya doin’ here?”
Sarah came to her feet as the man went to the wagon demanding, “What’s goin’ on in here?”
“Oh, Eli,” Rice mumbled. After some scraping and shuffling, Rice stuck his head out the back of the wagon. “Eli, this is Miss Tanton. Miss Tanton, this here’s Eli.” The boy grinned broadly at his display of proper manners.
“That don’t tell me nothin’,” declared the old man.
“Oh.” Rice sobered. “Mr. Milburn, he hired her to... uh...to help you.” His smile was more hopeful than happy.
Eli looked Sarah up and down. “We’ll see about that. Don’t ya move nothin’ in that wagon till I get back!” He hurried toward the supply wagon and Milburn’s makeshift office.
Sarah looked after him in horror. She hadn’t had a chance to say a word. He would never allow her to work with him. She turned to thank Rice for trying to help.
Rice hopped out of the wagon and unhooked the hinged tailboard. “Eli ain’t so bad.” He grabbed her trunk and hoisted it into the wagon.
“What are you doing? You’ll get yourself in trouble.”
“No, ma’am. Mr. Milburn’s boss. Eli, well...he’s Eli.” Rice nodded to punctuate his explanation. “Eli’s just Eli.”
Sarah was not reassured. “What does Eli do?”
“Whatever Mr. Milburn needs done,” was the boy’s reply. Perhaps realizing that was an inadequate explanation, he added, “Cooking mostly. Helping with breakdowns, stuff like that.”
Eli returned, obviously displeased. He told Rice to build a fire and stood by until the rocks and wood were placed to his satisfaction. Dismissed, Rice waved and trotted away. Sarah waved back, then turned to find Eli scowling at her.
“I guess Pete hired ya, a’right,” he said. “Ya ain’t what I had in mind when I said I wanted better help ‘an that boy.”
Sarah found herself tongue-tied again.
Eli lifted the tailboard parallel to the ground and fastened it to chains on the side of the wagon. Using it as a table, he took tins and utensils from a small cupboard that faced outward. “I guess I’m stuck with ya, long as ya last. We always meet a few wagons goin’ back. When ya give it up, ya can get a ride with one a them.”
Sarah felt she should say something. “Mr. Eli—”
“I ain’t gonna call ya Miss Tanton, so there ain’t no use callin’ me Mr. Eli,” he interrupted. “I’m Eli, and yer Sarie. If ya don’t like it, you best answer to it anyhow.”
“Fine, sir,” she lied. Sarie! It sounded terrible. “What would you like me to do?”
“Do? Don’t do nothin’. Just stay outta my way.”
Sarah watched his agile movements, wondering if he was younger than she had first thought. What hair she could see under the brim of his black slouch hat was dark, but his face was lined and tanned until it resembled leather. His gray eyes were clear and ageless.
The ingredients in his bowl had become a stiff dough. He stirred it vigorously with a wooden spoon. “Some city gal decides to go west, and Pete gets soft.” He shaped handfuls of dough into biscuits and crowded them into a heavy iron skillet. “Softheaded, if ya ask me. Stubborn as an old mule, and I ain’t got no use for mules!” His words faded to unintelligible grumbles.
Slamming an iron lid on the skillet, he shoved it directly into the fire. “Ya didn’t think I could just pop ‘em in an oven, did ya?” He was obviously hoping to have shocked her, and expressed his disappointment at her calm gaze by muttering again.
Eli added spices to his kettle and set tin bowls and cups out on the tailboard. First Rice then Milburn joined them. Sarah noticed other groups around other fires, taking their evening meal. A few had tables and camp stools, but most sat near their fires, balancing plates on their laps.
Sarah took her portion and sat on a crate near Rice. The stew was hearty, with a meat she couldn’t identify. She didn’t consider asking about it. The biscuit was a little heavy, but she wouldn’t mention that, either. She ate slowly, not wanting to show how hungry she was.
Rice had no such concern; he ate twice as much as anybody else in half the time. Eli had evidently come to expect it. “This is my third trip west, Miss Tanton,” the boy announced between servings.
“Don’t go bragging about it,” Eli scolded. “Ya ain’t no old hand, by a long shot.”
Sarah smiled at the youth, and he beamed back. “I’m gonna be one day, Eli. I’ll be a scout like River. River says we’re leaving in the morning. That right, Mr. Milburn?”
Milburn grinned at the boy. “There’s grass enough to support the stock. We’ll pull out tomorrow.”
Rice’s delight was too great to hold inside, and he whooped for joy. Milburn laughed. “Help me tell the others.”
The boy rose eagerly, setting his bowl aside. “River says he ain’t leaving with us. That right, too, Mr. Milburn?”
“We’ll wait for him at Fort Kearny, if he hasn’t caught up by then.” He put an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “I can count on you to fill the gap, can’t I, son?”
“Yes, sir!” he responded.
Eli grumbled something about fool boys.
As Sarah helped Eli clean the dishes and put them away, she began to feel uneasy. After tomorrow, there would be no turning back. She silently scolded herself. The things she had kept from Milburn shouldn’t matter anymore.
Eli spoke, causing her to jump. “Ya don’t talk much, do ya?”
Sarah had to take a slow breath so her voice wouldn’t shake. “I’m used to working in silence.” At his curious look she amended, “Working alone.” Eli went on with the cleaning, but she knew he watched her.
“I don’t guess ya come prepared with blankets and such,” he commented as he closed the door on the last of the dishes.
“I have blankets in my trunk,” she said.
Eli frowned. “Ya can sleep in the wagon. Better turn in. Day don’t start at noon out here like in the city.”
As he sauntered away, she almost laughed. When had she slept past daybreak? Suddenly she remembered the parties, the nightlife of Albany, and Daniel. How could she have forgotten? Still, it seemed like a different lifetime, a different Sarah. She shuddered and climbed into the wagon. She wouldn’t think about Daniel.
The interior of the wagon seemed dim and gray. There were boxes and crates neatly stacked and a canvas cover overhead. The canvas was equipped with pucker strings that could close the ends completely. She moved forward in the wagon and loosened the strings as much as possible.
Finding her trunk in the settling darkness, she removed her little jewelry box and let her fingers trace the flower carved in the walnut surface. This was her most treasured possession, a gift from Daniel years ago. Disgusted with herself for becoming melancholy, she opened the box and dropped the hairpins in as she removed them from her hair. She needed to separate the happy memories from the sad, she decided, or not think about Daniel at all.
Her blankets spread on the floor between the piles of crates, Sarah listened to the sounds outside, trying to let the soft voices reassure her. She willed herself to relax on her hard bed but found herself gripping the blankets so tightly her fingers hurt. The images that intruded were too vivid. Knowing them for what they were made little difference. She crawled to the rear of the wagon and breathed in the fresh cool air.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, but the camp grew still, and the fires died. Quietly, afraid of disturbing the others, she took her blankets a short distance from the wagons. The ground was no harder than the wagon, and the stars overhead brought her a peace the gray wagon had not.
* * *
Activity in the camp awakened her. Though it was still dark, men were bringing in teams and meals were being prepared. Their own fire had been rekindled, and Eli hovered near it. She stretched stiff muscles and, gathering up her blankets, hurried to put them away and tend to herself.
When she returned, Eli eyed her sourly. “Ain’t much left for ya to do.”
Sarah wondered if he had let her sleep in order to confirm his own assessment of her. Breakfast did seem to be nearly ready. A coffeepot sat on a grate above the fire, and Eli held the long handle of a skillet in which bacon hissed and crackled.
After setting out the tin plates and cups, she moved near the fire, letting its warmth ease the morning chill. Breathing in the smell of wood smoke, bacon and brewing coffee, she felt an unexpected sense of freedom. She wished she had Rice’s lack of inhibitions and could throw back her head and whoop. She could imagine what Eli would think of her then.
Rice brought the teams in, and Milburn came to help hitch them up. Sarah wondered if she should offer to help or take over the breakfast so Eli could. She wished someone would tell her what she was expected to do. Questions formed in her mind, but Eli’s closed expression kept them there.
When Milburn and Rice came to the fire, Eli served their breakfast. “Can Miss Sarah ride with me?” Rice asked, passing his plate for more.
Milburn laughed. “I imagine Eli wants to talk to her about her duties, Rice. Maybe another day.”
Sarah glanced from Rice’s frown to Eli’s scowl and felt as bad as Rice. She tried to be more careful not to show it.
It was more than an hour, however, before she had to climb onto the wagon seat with Eli. Milburn called a meeting to explain the route by army road to Fort Kearny and announce the order of wagons, describing the rotation system that would keep any one person from always having the dusty rear position.
He introduced the Reverend Fleenor, a young man with an unruly shock of dark hair who invited everyone to worship services on Sundays.
“Hold on a minute!” A hard-faced, stocky man pushed his way through the crowd. “I don’t got time to waste while the Reverend prays for our souls. I say we move as far and fast as we can.”
There was a murmur in the crowd, of assent or dissent, it was hard to tell. Milburn raised his hand. “We’ll avoid longer delays if we keep wagons and harnesses in good condition. Besides, both man and beast need rest. We’ll stop on Sundays if we can.”
The authority in his voice made the man back down. Sarah watched him join two other hard cases. The youngest sported a black eye. From a brawl, she imagined.
Finally, Eli helped Sarah onto the lead wagon. He seated himself beside her and waited. It wasn’t long before Milburn waved his hat in the air. Eli hollered at the oxen, cracking a whip above their backs, and the wagon moved forward.
Off to their right, another train was preparing to pull out. A lone wagon was already ahead of them. Sarah breathed deeply, taking in the crisp spring morning. Birds were singing, and an occasional wildflower peeked among the prairie grasses.
She was leaving the states behind. Leaning out the wagon to look behind them, she could see Fort Leavenworth, with its flag catching the breeze, and the town across the river. There were clusters of wagons still behind them and thirty-six wagons following Milburn into the unknown.
“Ya wishin’ ya’d stayed back there?” Eli asked.
“No. I just want to remember.”
Eli glanced at the pretty face and frowned. In spite of himself, he was curious. Why was she going west, and how did she come to be all alone? The way women liked to talk, he’d bet his back teeth he’d know all about it by the end of the day.
As the sun rose higher, Sarah donned the sunbonnet she had been holding in her lap. It restricted her view but protected her skin and hair from the relentless rays. It also, she discovered, offered some protection from Eli’s curious glances.
At midday, Milburn signaled for a stop. Eli angled his wagon off the main track, and Rice pulled his up beside it. The others did the same. They ate a cold meal, checked stock and harnesses and were on their way again in less than an hour.
Back in the wagon seat, Sarah wondered if she should ask Eli about her duties. She was afraid he would tell her she was useless. She was planning her defense when he broke the silence. “Sarie, what do ya ‘spect Pete hired ya for?”
She decided not to answer directly. “I intend to earn my keep, but I’ll have to be told what to do.”
Eli grunted. “Ya think ya know how to take orders, huh?”
It sounded more like a challenge than a question. She couldn’t imagine anything he could tell her to do that would bother her, except handle the oxen. Their yokes and harnesses looked too complicated to ever understand, and the beasts themselves seemed enormous. Eli watched her, probably taking her silence as hesitation. “Try giving a few orders, sir,” she said.
Her answer seemed to satisfy him; at least he said nothing more. Sarah was free to enjoy the countryside and think about her future. But the future was too uncertain, and the past always hovered in her mind.
The past seemed to consist only of Daniel Harrison. She wondered how six years had changed him. No one back home would tell her where he had gone, but then few had been willing to tell her much of anything. Her former jailer had had some information, even some newspapers, but had been quiet about Daniel. That was probably the way his family wanted it.
She guessed he was doing well. With his father’s money it would be hard not to. Perhaps he was running a branch store or had found something else to interest him, with Papa’s approval.
She watched storm clouds gather in the southwest, their changing shapes fascinating her. They rolled over one another much as her own memories did. Soon they would become too full of anger and pain to hold it inside any longer.
She quickly shook off the illusion. She couldn’t start to cry now, not while she sat beside Eli!
Near a deep ravine where a spring-fed creek watered a stand of cottonwoods, Milburn gave the signal to stop. Eli turned his team in a wide arc and pulled up behind the last wagon, turning again at the last moment to put the oxen outside the circle.
Eli sent Sarah to gather firewood. She had found only a few skinny sticks when a woman near her gave a cry of alarm. She had tried to balance too much wood in her small arms and was now clutching at the pieces as they tumbled out of her grasp. She stomped her foot in exasperation and threw one last stick after the rest.
“Let me help you,” Sarah offered.
The woman brushed at the bits of dirt and bark that clung to her sleeves. The thin fabric of the much mended dress stretched tightly across her round middle. She bent awkwardly to retrieve her load, and Sarah knelt beside her. “Such little pieces of wood will burn quickly, and I didn’t want to make two trips.” When her arms were full and Sarah had helped her to her feet, she added, “I’m Martha Williams.”
