raised her spirits, but again, that dreaded word
how
sent them plummeting. She shifted her position and opened the Bible, which had been her parents’ answer book to all their problems. A letter fell out. A letter with the words
Sarah Joy
inscribed on the envelope in her mother’s handwriting. With a quick glance to make sure the rustling paper hadn’t awakened Ellie, Sarah opened the letter.
Dearest Daughter Sarah
, it began. A rush of tears blinded her, but she impatiently brushed them away and read on:
You may never see this letter. If everything goes well with my birthing, I will burn it. However, I can’t help feeling that God may take me home—both me and your new little brother or sister. There are things I must say to you in case this happens
.
First of all, I know you will grieve for me, but you must also rejoice. My love for you and Seth has been my only joy for a long time. You have been ev-
erything a son and daughter should be. Your father and I chose our children’s names long before either of you were born. Sarah—princess; Seth—anointed
.
I did a terrible thing when I married Gus. I knew he could never replace my beloved John, but he seemed sincere and a good Christian. I truly believed his promise to become a substitute father
.
Sarah stopped reading. Pity for her mother who had paid so dearly for her error in judgment warred with anger at Gus. Substitute father? Never! From the moment he said, “I do,” Virginia Anderson Stoddard and her two children meant nothing to him but persons he could exploit. Sarah shook off the past. What was done was done. The important thing was what lay ahead. She returned to her mother’s precious letter:
Sarah Joy, should it be that I cross over, I urge you to leave St. Louis as quickly as you can and never look back. Find Seth. Put yourself under his protection
.
“How?” Sarah murmured. “Long before I could earn any money, Gus and Tice will have me married and trapped forever.”
Ellie stirred in her sleep, sending a warning chill through Sarah. She hastily read the final sentences of her mother’s letter:
Tucked away in the bottom of the flour barrel is a small tin canister. In it you will find enough money to get away from St. Louis. I scraped and pinched to set aside a few gold coins for you. The gold wedding ring your father gave me is also in the canister. If the need arises, sell it. You must get away from Gus
.
There is no telling what he might take a notion to do
.
Your Loving Mother
,
Virginia Anderson
Sarah wanted to shout. Her mother had been a faithful wife, but Gus Stoddard wasn’t worthy of having his name on Mama’s last message. Sarah kissed it then swiftly and silently donned her old blue calico work dress and hid the letter inside next to her heart. The words of the “Old Hundredth” came to mind, written centuries before:
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
.
She silently whispered “Amen” and crept downstairs, avoiding the timeworn, creaking boards. Step by cautious step, she stole to the kitchen. Once there she raised the lid of the flour barrel with trembling fingers—then froze when a familiar, hated voice demanded.
“What’re you doin’, sneakin’ around?” Disheveled and glaring, Gus Stoddard stood in the doorway watching her like a hawk watches baby chicks before pouncing.
Please, God, help me! If Gus finds the money and Mama’s ring, I’m doomed
.
Summoning the courage generated by her mother’s letter, Sarah turned and said in a colorless voice, “Making biscuits. I woke up early.” She reached into the barrel and filled the battered sifter with flour.
Some of the suspicion in Gus’s face dwindled. An evil grin replaced it. “Sooooo,” he drawled, “can’t wait to see Tice, huh?”
Sarah shrugged, as if indifferent to the riverboat gambler and his intentions.
“I see
how
sent them plummeting. She shifted her position and opened the Bible, which had been her parents’ answer book to all their problems. A letter fell out. A letter with the words
Sarah Joy
inscribed on the envelope in her mother’s handwriting. With a quick glance to make sure the rustling paper hadn’t awakened Ellie, Sarah opened the letter.
Dearest Daughter Sarah
, it began. A rush of tears blinded her, but she impatiently brushed them away and read on:
You may never see this letter. If everything goes well with my birthing, I will burn it. However, I can’t help feeling that God may take me home—both me and your new little brother or sister. There are things I must say to you in case this happens
.
First of all, I know you will grieve for me, but you must also rejoice. My love for you and Seth has been my only joy for a long time. You have been ev-
erything a son and daughter should be. Your father and I chose our children’s names long before either of you were born. Sarah—princess; Seth—anointed
.
I did a terrible thing when I married Gus. I knew he could never replace my beloved John, but he seemed sincere and a good Christian. I truly believed his promise to become a substitute father
.
Sarah stopped reading. Pity for her mother who had paid so dearly for her error in judgment warred with anger at Gus. Substitute father? Never! From the moment he said, “I do,” Virginia Anderson Stoddard and her two children meant nothing to him but persons he could exploit. Sarah shook off the past. What was done was done. The important thing was what lay ahead. She returned to her mother’s precious letter:
Sarah Joy, should it be that I cross over, I urge you to leave St. Louis as quickly as you can and never look back. Find Seth. Put yourself under his protection
.
“How?” Sarah murmured. “Long before I could earn any money, Gus and Tice will have me married and trapped forever.”
Ellie stirred in her sleep, sending a warning chill through Sarah. She hastily read the final sentences of her mother’s letter:
Tucked away in the bottom of the flour barrel is a small tin canister. In it you will find enough money to get away from St. Louis. I scraped and pinched to set aside a few gold coins for you. The gold wedding ring your father gave me is also in the canister. If the need arises, sell it. You must get away from Gus
.
There is no telling what he might take a notion to do
.
Your Loving Mother
,
Virginia Anderson
Sarah wanted to shout. Her mother had been a faithful wife, but Gus Stoddard wasn’t worthy of having his name on Mama’s last message. Sarah kissed it then swiftly and silently donned her old blue calico work dress and hid the letter inside next to her heart. The words of the “Old Hundredth” came to mind, written centuries before:
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
.
She silently whispered “Amen” and crept downstairs, avoiding the timeworn, creaking boards. Step by cautious step, she stole to the kitchen. Once there she raised the lid of the flour barrel with trembling fingers—then froze when a familiar, hated voice demanded.
“What’re you doin’, sneakin’ around?” Disheveled and glaring, Gus Stoddard stood in the doorway watching her like a hawk watches baby chicks before pouncing.
Please, God, help me! If Gus finds the money and Mama’s ring, I’m doomed
.
Summoning the courage generated by her mother’s letter, Sarah turned and said in a colorless voice, “Making biscuits. I woke up early.” She reached into the barrel and filled the battered sifter with flour.
Some of the suspicion in Gus’s face dwindled. An evil grin replaced it. “Sooooo,” he drawled, “can’t wait to see Tice, huh?”
Sarah shrugged, as if indifferent to the riverboat gambler and his intentions.
“I see
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