Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) Read Free Page B

instance she was tempted to pick up the piles of shuffled papers and fling them in the face of the man who stolidly sat opposite her. Did he realize how vulnerable she was? Did he know the pain she was in? Was he really giving her straight answers? She had no way of knowing. She only knew that she was boxed in a tight corner and there seemed to be no way out.
    "I—I may be able to find a buyer—ah—with luck," the man said calmly.
    Sarah looked at him evenly. He squirmed slightly and reached out for the nearest sheet of paper. "Of course—ah—as I said—it wouldn't be much—but— ah—it should care for the—ah—bank loans."
    He's anxious to sell, thought Sarah. / can see it in his eyes. He already has a buyer, eager to get his hands on Michael's hard-won business — his team and wagon. I can sense it.
    She stood shakily. What recourse did she, a young, slight, unskilled woman have? It seemed that the banker had won. She would need to put Michael's business assets up for sale at a despicably low price, take the few dollars and try to find some other way to provide a living for herself and her baby girl. She could not take advantage of her friends forever. Nor could she accept the offer of credit at the local grocer's— kind as it had been. No, she had to figure some way to provide for Michael's daughter. Her daughter. Little Rebecca needed her mother's strength. Her provision.
    She stood, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin slightly, hoping that it was not trembling.
    "I—I will be back tomorrow with—with my decision," she said evenly.
    Did she see a slight glint in the eyes of the man before he lowered them and reached to shift and straighten the pile of papers for one last time?
    ***
    Mrs. Galvan brought Rebecca home around four o'clock.
    "My, she is a bright little thing," she said as Sarah reached out for the comfort of her baby girl. "Kept us entertained the whole time. We haven't had so much fun since I don't know when."
    Sarah managed a smile.
    "Even Boyd was taken with her. But then, Boyd likes young'uns. He can hardly wait for his brother to get him a niece or nephew. Hammers on about it all the time. Ralph says, 'Why don't ya marry and get your own?' but Boyd, he says he still hasn't found him the right girl."
    Sarah could not help but smile in spite of the heaviness of her heart.
    "Did you get some sleep?" asked the older woman with concern as she moved to place the little bag of Rebecca's belongings on a nearby chair.
    "I did," admitted Sarah. "I could not believe how late I slept. It was nearing noon. I've never—"
    "You needed it," spoke the woman softly. "You were beginning to look like a ghost."
    "Let me put on the teakettle," said Sarah in answer. She did not wish to discuss what she had begun to look like—nor how she felt about it.
    The woman eased herself into a kitchen chair, and Sarah placed Rebecca in the high chair and offered her a cookie from the tin on the cupboard counter.
    "I went to see the banker again today," Sarah began slowly.
    The woman lifted her eyes and they mirrored the young, pale face before her. "I'm guessing he didn't have good news for you, did he?" she commented.
    "He says that there isn't much money...." Sarah hesitated. She did hope she wouldn't have to explain the whole story.
    "You'll need something—" began Mrs. Galvan.
    Sarah nodded as she sliced from the loaf of cinnamon bread sent in by one of her thoughtful neighbors.
    "Have you any ideas?" spoke the woman as she reached to retrieve the cookie that Rebecca had dropped and was scrambling around for among the folds of her full pinafore.
    Sarah shook her head. "I'm not much at sewing," she admitted. "And I don't think this town would be interested in baking. All the women do their own. I've never—never been anything but—but a—Michael's wife. I—" She couldn't go on. All afternoon she had been sorting through her life—her accomplishments, her abilities. It seemed that she had no skills