Sarah's Choice

Sarah's Choice by Wanda E. Brunstetter Page A

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Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter
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go with Elias. She told him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t go.”
    “I can’t believe Sammy would lie to Elias like that,” William said.
    “We’ve got to go after him.” Betsy’s voice raised a notch. “We’ve got to bring him back to Sarah!”
    “When they left here it was still early,” Mike said. “They could be halfway to Easton by now. Elias seems like a very nice man. I’m sure Sammy will be fine with him.”
    Betsy glared at Mike. “Are you suggesting that we just let the boy walk to and from Easton, leading two mules who could easily trample him to death?”
    “I’m well-acquainted with Elias’s mules. He put them up in my stable when he docked his boat here for the night a week or so ago.” Mike shook his head. “They were two of the most docile mules I’ve ever met, so I’m sure they won’t harm Sammy in any way.”
    “Humph!” Betsy folded her arms. “Mules can kick and bite, even the very tame ones. Why I remember once when I was girl, one of the young mule drivers ended up with a broken leg because a mule kicked him.”
    “I think we need to go over to Sarah’s and tell her where Sammy is,” William said. “After that, we’ll decide what we should do about the situation.”
    Betsy nodded and drew in a deep breath. She dreaded telling Sarah what had happened to Sammy.

Chapter 11

    S
ince the rain hadn’t let up, Elias decided to stay put for the night, because he didn’t want Sammy to get soaked. Even though most of the canal boats ran as many as eighteen hours a day, Elias felt that walking the mules that many hours was out of the question for such a young boy. Sammy looked so tired, Elias was afraid the boy might drop. And with a sore foot, asking him to walk any farther tonight would be just plain stupid.
    “Let’s go down below,” Elias told the boy. “I’ll cut a loaf of bread and heat us some bean soup.”
    Sammy nodded eagerly. “I am kinda hungry. Fact is, I think I could eat the whole loaf of bread.”
    Elias smiled and led the way to the galley, furnished with the barest of essentials. A small kitchen table was covered with oilcloth, and four stools were stored under the table when not in use. A black, coal-burning stove sat off to one side, and a kerosene lamp had been placed in a bracket on the wall over the table.
    Elias set a pan of water on the stove to boil and then added some soaked navy beans, diced carrots, a cut-up onion, a hunk of salt pork, and just enough salt and pepper to season the soup. While it cooked, he cut some bread. Then after a short prayer, he and Sammy each had a piece.
    “Have you ever been on a canal boat before?” Elias asked the boy.
    Sammy nodded. “I was on my Grandpa McGregor’s boat a few times, but of course, Mama wouldn’t let me ride very far with him. Said she didn’t want me gettin’ used to the idea of canalin’.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Mama’s always said that she hates the canal. Says it took my papa, and that it’s given her nothin’ but misery.”
    “Does your grandpa still have his boat?” Elias asked, feeling the need for a change of subject.
    Sammy shook his head. “He sold it and moved to Easton after Grandma died.”
    “That’s too bad.”
    Sammy leaned his elbows on the table and stared at Elias. “Can I ask ya a question?”
    “Sure.”
    “I’ve been wonderin’ about that red mark on your face. Did ya burn yourself or somethin’?”
    Elias shook his head. “I was born with it.”
    “Does it hurt?”
    “No, not at all.”
    “Can I touch it?”
    In all Elias’s twenty-eight years, he’d had lots of people ask about the birthmark, stare at him curiously, and even make fun of him, but he’d never had anyone ask if he could touch it. “I…uh…guess it’d be okay,” he said.
    Sammy leaned over and placed his hand on Elias’s cheek. “It feels like skin—same as any other.”
    A smile tugged at the corners of Elias’s mouth. “Yes, Sammy, it’s just a different color

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