Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) by Janette Oke

But his gaze made her change her mind. Perhaps—perhaps she would need someone—sometime. And if she did, she knew of nowhere else to turn. She lowered her head to avoid the penetrating eyes and said softly, "I promise."
    When she lifted her eyes again to look at him, he was still studying her. He nodded slightly, his eyes still showing concern even though a bit of a smile played about his lips; then he lifted his hat and bid her a good-day.
    "A funny little man," Sarah breathed to herself as he walked away. "So—so intense."
    But it gave her a good feeling to know that she had someone on whom she could count. Someone to turn to.
    She called to Rebecca, who was playing nearby with another child, waved to Mrs. Galvan, and started for home.
    ***
    Each month—on time—Sarah met the bank payment, and she couldn't help but feel a bit smug as she counted out the money onto the desk of the solemn banker.
    And every Sunday was her day. Her own special day with Rebecca. After the morning church service they ate their simple dinner together, chattering and laughing. Sarah tried hard to fill the huge gap in their home and the place in their hearts that had once been filled by Michael.
    Rebecca was growing quickly. She was now steady on her feet and rarely tumbled as she ran about the house or yard. And daily she seemed to add new words to her limited vocabulary. Mrs. Galvan always seemed to have some amusing little anecdote to tell Sarah when she returned home, shoulders weary, body dragging from another difficult day on the dray wagon.
    Boyd had kept his promise. Sarah knew more about Gyp and Ginger than she had thought possible to know about horses. She no longer felt so intimidated as she worked with them. They were more than just animals. More than just big animals. They were part of her team. Necessary for her livelihood. Needed for her very survival. It was vital to keep them well and strong.
    She checked them carefully each night and each morning. She went over the harness, the wagon, each working part of the partnership. She prayed as she studied carefully each part of her equipment and team that Boyd had not forgotten any detail. She did not know what she would have done without him-—but she was independent now. She had learned what must be done. She was on her own. And making it. They had little income to spare—but they were making it.
    ***
    A long, pleasant fall was roughly
pushed aside by a sudden winter storm. From her bed Sarah knew the howling wind
and the slashing of snow against the windowpane meant that the day would not be an easy one. She hated the thought of pulling herself from her bed. She dreaded hitching the team in the tearing wind. She hated the thought of the cold, bitter miles of travel to pick up the freight and then deliver it all.
    But she forced herself out of the warmth of the heavy comforter and pushed her feet into the depth of the wool rug by her bed. She shivered as she struck a match and held it to the wick of the kerosene lamp, the cold globe in her left hand.
    Hurriedly she dressed in her warmest skirt and pulled a sweater over her shirtwaist.
    "I'll need every shred of warmth I can find today, I'm thinking," she said under her breath as she ran a comb through her hair and wound it securely at the nape of her neck.
    Quietly she left her room and tiptoed past the bed where Rebecca slept. "Poor Mrs. Galvan," she said to herself. "I do hate getting her up and out into this."
    As often in the past, Sarah again thanked God for the good neighbor. "I sure don't know what I would ever have done without her," she murmured and hurried to light the fire.
    But it was Boyd who stood at the back step when she answered the door a few moments later.
    "Ma has a bit of rheumatism this mornin'," he informed her gently. "Didn't think it wise to go out in the weather. I'll wait for Rebecca to wake up and take her on over home."
    Sarah felt a frown wrinkling her brow. He seemed to notice it.
    "Ma'll be