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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
ordeal.
Sarah managed a wobbly smile and shook her head slowly. "I am going to see the banker again this morning. Mrs. Galvan has little Rebecca. I—I need to use this time to—to work things through."
The man nodded solemnly. "If there is anything I can—" He seemed to choke up. His gaze dropped and he did not go on. Sarah noticed that the hands that clasped on to the counter top were trembling. She was deeply touched by his obvious concern.
Mr. Murray, whom the whole town, except for Sarah, called Alex, was also 'a member of the local church congregation. He was a cheerful young fellow, always polite and eager to serve. Michael had wondered why the man was still a bachelor. "Surely some woman should realize his worth," Sarah recalled Michael saying. "It may be true that he's not striking in appearance," her husband had admitted, "but he is not unpleasant to look at."
Sarah had never troubled herself with the affairs of others, so she had given little thought to the matter. "Perhaps he does not wish to marry," she had responded casually and pushed the matter aside.
Michael had laughed at that and pulled Sarah into his arms. "Then he doesn't know what he's missing," he teased and plucked the pins from her hair, sending it tumbling down over her shoulders.
At the memory of the conversation, Sarah felt her face grow warm. Would every little thing that happened in life trigger some memory of her deceased husband? she wondered. She dropped her gaze and stirred restlessly as she toyed with the white hanky in her hands and shifted her slight weight to her other foot. Mr. Murray cleared his throat. Sarah lifted her eyes again.
"I wish I could help," he said hesitantly, and Sarah recognized the sincerity in his voice.
She tried another smile and managed quite admirably. "Thank you. People have—everyone has been— most kind. I really don't know how I would manage without—friends."
She turned her eyes to the floor again and swallowed. The tears were threatening to come. J must not give in to them. I must not! She had thought she had used up all her tears the night before.
Feeling slightly giddy with the burden of many decisions still before her, Sarah calmly ordered sugar and flour, eggs and baking powder so she might replenish the supplies in her cupboards. Rebecca must eat, and life must go on.
"I know that—it must be hard—to sort things out, but if there is anything—anything at all that I can—" the man repeated.
"Thank you," said Sarah again. "I do appreciate your kindness."
She dropped the coins for the purchases on the counter and was about to leave when he spoke again.
"Are you sure—I mean—if you—"
Sarah turned back to him and saw the sympathy in the hazel eyes.
He flushed slightly, and Sarah knew he was embarrassed, though she could not imagine why. At last he took a deep breath and blurted out hurriedly, "I'm not good with words, Mrs. Perry. But I would—would like to offer you—credit here at the store until—until you get things under control."
Sarah was deeply touched and managed a sincere smile. "Thank you," she replied, her voice only a whisper. "Thank you very much. I—I do have funds on hand—at present."
"Well, if you ever—please, please don't hesitate to ask."
He sounded so sympathetic, so sincere. Sarah smiled again and nodded. It was a relief for her to know that she and Rebecca would not go hungry.
***
"As—ah—I said before, Mrs. Perry, I really—ah— don't know just how much—ah—could be realized from the sale of—ah—your husband's business."
The banker cleared his throat and shuffled some papers on his desk. It seemed to Sarah that he kept rearranging them from one stack to another. She distractedly wondered if he would need to sort through the whole pile after she left.
"Well—at least there should be something from— from the sale of the wagon and the horses," she dared to venture.
' "Well—ah—I'm afraid that—that the—ah— wagon and
Thomas Christopher Greene