Hope Read Free

shifted, trying to get more comfortable. The miles seemed endless now. She’d been traveling for over a week, and she was anxious now to reach her destination.
    Though she had little in common with Anne, she had been excited to have someone her age on the long journey. Papa had been a preacher, and she’d heard whole chapters of Scripture every day of her life, but she wasn’t as dedicated to Bible study as Anne.
    And her memory was just awful. She couldn’t remember a thing she read.
    June was more to Papa’s liking when it came to spiritual matters—and Faith, too. They recalled every single thing they read. It seemed a natural thing for her sisters to accurately quote Scripture, but though she tried, she got hopelessly confused.
    Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall . . . they shall . . . find peace? No, they would be called something, but she wasn’t sure what.
    She studied serious young Anne Ferry. She bet Anne would know—she’d quoted the Bible since boarding the stage, and it all sounded perfectly flawless to Hope.
    The coach slowed noticeably, and Hope straightened to look out the window.
    “We’re coming to a way station.”
    “Thank goodness,” Anne breathed. “I am so weary of all this lurching—and the dust. Perhaps a stop will make Miss Della feel better.”
    Hope doubted it, but then, as bad as Miss Della was looking, most anything was likely to help. She automatically braced herself as the stage drew to a swaying halt. Miss Della jarred awake, looking around dazedly. Her small round face was flushed with heat. Hope feared she was feverish.
    The driver’s face appeared briefly in the coach window before he swung open the door. “We’ll be stopping to change teams and eat a bite, ladies.”
    Hope settled her hat more firmly on her head. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She clambered out of the coach, then turned to assist Anne with Miss Della.
    “Oh, my,” Miss Della whispered, her considerable bulk sagging against the two young women. “I don’t feel well at all.”
    Hope gently steadied her. “Perhaps you can lie down until we’re ready to leave.”
    “Thank you—yes, that would be nice. Oh, my. My head is reeling!”
    With Anne on one side and Hope on the other, they supported the elderly woman’s bulk inside the way station. The log building had a low ceiling and only one window. The interior was dim and unappealing, but the tempting aroma of stew and corn bread caught Hope’s attention. Breakfast had been some time ago.
    Anne waited with Miss Della while Hope asked the stationmaster if there was a place for the woman to rest. The tall, thin man pointed to a narrow cot that didn’t appear to be all that clean. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.
    When Della was gently settled on the small bed, Anne and Hope sat down at a long wooden table. A haggard-looking woman wearing a dirty apron set bowls of steaming hot stew and squares of corn bread before them.
    Hope cast glances at the cot, concerned for Della’s comfort. “She seems very ill.”
    “Yes—if only she could see a physician. . . . Sir!” Anne called.
    The stationmaster paused in the middle of refilling the drivers’ coffee cups.
    “Is it possible that a physician might look after my chaperone? I fear she’s running a fever.”
    “Sorry, lady. Ain’t no doctor around here.”
    “How far is the nearest one?”
    “Twenty miles—maybe more.”
    Anne met Hope’s eyes anxiously. Picking up her spoon, Hope began to eat.
    It seemed like only moments had passed when the two drivers pushed back from the table and announced they would be leaving shortly.
    Della thrashed about on the cot, moaning.
    “She isn’t able to go on,” Anne said. “We’ll have to return home.”
    “Might be for the best,” one of the drivers observed. “I got to stay on schedule.”
    “Don’t worry about me,” Hope said quietly. “You just see to Miss Della. I suggest that you send for a doctor immediately.”
    Anne looked