Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) by Janette Oke Page B
Authors: Janette Oke
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Historical - General, Western, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), Religious - General, Christian fiction, Religious, Christian, Christianity, General & Literary Fiction, American Historical Fiction, Mothers and daughters, Fiction - Religious, Frontier and Pioneer Life, Religious & spiritual fiction, Christian - Western
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clutching the robes tightly in her arms.
"Nasty mornin'," the voice drawled slowly, and the man in the deep shadows stepped forward.
Sarah found herself wishing to retreat but she held her ground.
"I don't believe I know you," she managed to say and was surprised at the control of her own voice.
"I been around," the man answered carelessly.
"Heerd you been takin' the freight run."
Sarah nodded, even though she knew the morning darkness likely hid the motion.
"Hardly a job fer a little lady," the voice went on. "I was jest thinkin' thet I'd be glad to take yer line off yer hands. Even willin' to buy up yer team and wagon—at a fair price."
"I've no intention to sell," responded Sarah quickly and moved forward to deposit the heavy lap robes on the wagon seat.
"I could even start this mornin'," the voice went on. "No need fer you to go out in this storm."
"I'm prepared," said Sarah simply, nodding her head toward the heavy blankets.
The tone of the voice seemed to change. "Heerd ya was a mite hardheaded. I been patient long enough. If one can't hear good reason," the voice went on, and Sarah noted a threat in the words. She felt a finger of fear trace all the way down her spine.
She spun on her heel and faced the man still shrouded in darkness. "What are you meaning, mister?" she demanded, her own voice deepened with emotion.
"Nothin' a'tall, ma'am. Jest seems a little lady like yerself might take a bit of good advice and give in to reason. Never know what could happen."
"Meaning?"
"Well—" he drawled. "Banker says it jest keeps you scrapin' to meet those payments. Seems more sense to sell—and git somethin'—then lose the route and git nothin'." His voice sounded like a smirk in the darkness. Sarah shivered.
So that was it. The banker was somehow involved with this vile man and his threats.
"I've no plans to lose the route," she said firmly.
"Perhaps the banker also told you that I have never been late with a payment."
"So far," he responded easily. "So far."
Was he seriously threatening her or was he just talking idly to try to frighten her? She chose to believe the later and moved past him to untie her team.
"If you'll excuse me," she said, her head high, "I have a run to make."
The man chuckled softly. His laugh brought the fear to her soul more than his words had. She tried to still the rapid pounding of her heart as she climbed up into her wagon and eased the team away from the hitching rail. In the blackness of the winter morning with its sweeping storm of white, Sarah could see the outline of the man, dark against the darkness of her barn. Who was he? Why was he speaking to her as he had? Who was behind all this? Why had he mentioned the banker? She was making the payments. What more could the banker gain from the freight business than what he was already realizing? Sarah felt very unnerved. Should she tell someone about the threats? Or should she keep them to herself? And if she shared her fears, to whom should she talk? It was all so disturbing.
----
Chapter Six
Contents - Prev / Next
Difficulties
Sarah was glad her team knew the road even better than she did. For much of the trip to the train depot, she simply slackened the reins and let the horses find their way through the storm. The wind whipped around her, threatening to tear the heavy rug from off her. She was forced to warm her hands under the robe, one at a time, in order to keep them from freezing; and she feared that her face might freeze even though her back was to the wind.
"How will we ever get home to Kenville in this storm?" she asked herself. "It's bad enough traveling with it at our back." The horses' broad backs and plodding gait were some comfort.
When they finally reached the depot, the station-master looked up sharply when Sarah forced her way into the small office. The snow swirled about her long skirts as she leaned back heavily to push the door shut against the force of the wind.
"You out in this storm?" he asked
"Nasty mornin'," the voice drawled slowly, and the man in the deep shadows stepped forward.
Sarah found herself wishing to retreat but she held her ground.
"I don't believe I know you," she managed to say and was surprised at the control of her own voice.
"I been around," the man answered carelessly.
"Heerd you been takin' the freight run."
Sarah nodded, even though she knew the morning darkness likely hid the motion.
"Hardly a job fer a little lady," the voice went on. "I was jest thinkin' thet I'd be glad to take yer line off yer hands. Even willin' to buy up yer team and wagon—at a fair price."
"I've no intention to sell," responded Sarah quickly and moved forward to deposit the heavy lap robes on the wagon seat.
"I could even start this mornin'," the voice went on. "No need fer you to go out in this storm."
"I'm prepared," said Sarah simply, nodding her head toward the heavy blankets.
The tone of the voice seemed to change. "Heerd ya was a mite hardheaded. I been patient long enough. If one can't hear good reason," the voice went on, and Sarah noted a threat in the words. She felt a finger of fear trace all the way down her spine.
She spun on her heel and faced the man still shrouded in darkness. "What are you meaning, mister?" she demanded, her own voice deepened with emotion.
"Nothin' a'tall, ma'am. Jest seems a little lady like yerself might take a bit of good advice and give in to reason. Never know what could happen."
"Meaning?"
"Well—" he drawled. "Banker says it jest keeps you scrapin' to meet those payments. Seems more sense to sell—and git somethin'—then lose the route and git nothin'." His voice sounded like a smirk in the darkness. Sarah shivered.
So that was it. The banker was somehow involved with this vile man and his threats.
"I've no plans to lose the route," she said firmly.
"Perhaps the banker also told you that I have never been late with a payment."
"So far," he responded easily. "So far."
Was he seriously threatening her or was he just talking idly to try to frighten her? She chose to believe the later and moved past him to untie her team.
"If you'll excuse me," she said, her head high, "I have a run to make."
The man chuckled softly. His laugh brought the fear to her soul more than his words had. She tried to still the rapid pounding of her heart as she climbed up into her wagon and eased the team away from the hitching rail. In the blackness of the winter morning with its sweeping storm of white, Sarah could see the outline of the man, dark against the darkness of her barn. Who was he? Why was he speaking to her as he had? Who was behind all this? Why had he mentioned the banker? She was making the payments. What more could the banker gain from the freight business than what he was already realizing? Sarah felt very unnerved. Should she tell someone about the threats? Or should she keep them to herself? And if she shared her fears, to whom should she talk? It was all so disturbing.
----
Chapter Six
Contents - Prev / Next
Difficulties
Sarah was glad her team knew the road even better than she did. For much of the trip to the train depot, she simply slackened the reins and let the horses find their way through the storm. The wind whipped around her, threatening to tear the heavy rug from off her. She was forced to warm her hands under the robe, one at a time, in order to keep them from freezing; and she feared that her face might freeze even though her back was to the wind.
"How will we ever get home to Kenville in this storm?" she asked herself. "It's bad enough traveling with it at our back." The horses' broad backs and plodding gait were some comfort.
When they finally reached the depot, the station-master looked up sharply when Sarah forced her way into the small office. The snow swirled about her long skirts as she leaned back heavily to push the door shut against the force of the wind.
"You out in this storm?" he asked
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