was more in the habit of speaking up for himself. Willy, like his brother, had no such problem.
What did Willy remember of his great-aunt? Will had been too busy trying to keep the farm afloat to pay much attention to how the woman treated the children. He was going to have to do a better job this time. He wanted his boys educated but not at the cost of their being mistreated.
Once again, doubts assailed him—was he doing the right thing by letting a total stranger into his home? Maybe he and Jake could handle the boys on their own. But he’d given Miss Stewart his word, and she had packed up her whole life to come out to Nebraska. He had to at least give her a chance. Maybe he could let her stay for a few weeks while he watched how the boys reacted to her. Meanwhile, he’d pray about sending her back or having her stay. She might decide Nebraska wasn’t right for her after all. She’d hardly be the first to feel that way. In the meantime, there was no sense in borrowing trouble.
After all, he had been praying for this since last spring. God directed Miss Stewart to answer his ad and she would be arriving within the hour. Obviously God’s hand moved in this and had sent her here. Tommy and Willy needed a woman’s influence in their upbringing.
With that thought in mind, he prayed for wisdom and headed the boys out of the mercantile and off to the train station. The sound of the locomotive whispered on the wind as it came closer to town. Its whistle announced its approach before it even came into view. In just a few minutes, Miss Stewart would step off the train, and Will would see how right he’d been to bring her to Nebraska.
* * *
Within a few minutes, Abigail Stewart would be arriving in the town that was to be her new home.
The prairie looked so different from the rolling hills of Ohio that had been her only home for all of her twenty-six years. Nebraska felt as if someone had taken a huge rolling pin and flattened everything, leaving only waving grasses and flowers. Even the trees were missing. But the colors were vibrant as Abby watched the world pass by, and she couldn’t help hoping that they symbolized a bright, happy new life she’d have with the widowed Mrs. Hopkins and her children, free from Abby’s domineering sister and her brother-in-law’s inappropriate attentions.
How would she be able to recognize Mrs. Hopkins? She had never asked for a description before. She’d just assumed that she would be able to see something in the woman’s eyes that would match the gentle spirit and spunk Abby inferred from her letters. Now she wished she’d asked for more details.
Abby glanced around the stuffy passenger compartment at the other passengers traveling with her these last few days. The loud Erving family spread throughout the car. Watching them, Abby couldn’t help wondering what her own nieces, Megan and Hanna, were going to do now without Abby there to encourage them. They were beautiful girls, almost on the brink of womanhood. Would suitors begin to call on them soon? What sort of lives would they end up leading? And the rest? How would Harold get his studies done with Peter always bothering him? Would little Katie even remember Auntie Abby? The girls had promised to keep in touch, and Abby knew she would cherish their letters and the news they would share. She only hoped she’d have lots of good tidings to share by return post about her new home and the family she hoped would accept her as one of their own.
As the conductor opened the door to the car and called out, “Twin Oaks, Nebraska. Next stop,” Abby stuck her knitting into her satchel. She checked under her seat, pulled her satchel strap up over her shoulder and hugged it close. It held her letters, coin purse and knitting. Her heart sped up as she saw the town come into view. It was small and somewhat rough, as Mrs. Hopkins had warned her, but it looked fresh and exciting to Abby as she hoped that maybe she would find a place to belong to here.
As the train bounced and lurched to a stop, Abby tried to stand and found herself tossed against the conductor. Mr. Galvan had proved to be kind, making the trip as comfortable as possible for everyone. He regaled them with stories about other trips and the fascinating people he’d met over the past three years working for the railroad. The stories were a little marred by the man’s terrible memory for names, but were very entertaining all the same.
“Careful,” he chuckled, “you don’t want to get banged up right before you meet Mrs. Hooper.”
“Mrs. Hopkins,” Abby corrected softly, “and thank you for all your help.”
“It’s been a pleasure to assist you on your trip. If you ever need anything, you can always leave word with the train station. Maybe I’ll look you up in a few months...see how you’re faring with Mrs. Hoskills.”
“Mrs. Hopkins,” Abby corrected for a second time.
“Twin Oaks!” Mr. Galvan’s voice boomed, cutting off their conversation. He moved past her and stepped to the door of the car so that he could assist the passengers while they disembarked.
Abby clutched the seat in front of her, waiting until the last lurch of the train, and then followed the rest of the passengers to the door. She wasn’t sure if it was the jerky motion of the locomotive or—more likely—the nerves of meeting Mrs. Hopkins and embarking on this new adventure that had her stomach twisting. What a first impression that would make—to get sick just as she stepped off the train.
Taking in a slow, deep breath, she prayed silently that God would protect her and lead her to the right place. The smoky air from the train did little to settle her stomach, but her nerves calmed slightly as she closed her eyes and imagined God watching her step onto the wooden platform. It didn’t manage to go quite as smoothly as she’d imagined. Between the noises, the smoke and the bright sun, she tripped, lurching forward.
A strong and calloused hand reached out and caught her upper arm and kept her from falling. She blinked, finding herself face-to-face with a stern frown chiseled into a bronzed face, piercing blue eyes focused on hers. His face was shadowed by his straw hat, as if shrouded in mystery.
“Careful, miss.” His voice were low and gentle, surprisingly cultured for a man in ripped overalls, a faded black vest and a threadbare cotton shirt. He held a child in his other arm. The boy clung to his shoulders as the man stepped back and released Abby. Strangely, she felt drawn toward him. He made her feel safe.
“Thank—” Her words were cut off by the shrill of the train’s whistle and the belching of smoke that followed. The man looked past her, obviously searching to find someone else. It shouldn’t have bothered her to so quickly lose his attention, but he had seemed nice...sincere.
Now was not the time to consider her confusing feelings. She needed to look for Mrs. Hopkins. Maybe the woman would be waiting with a wagon over by the station so they could get Abby’s luggage off the train and head home. Abby made her way through the throngs of people to the end where men were unloading the freight. Seeing her three chests set to the side, she sighed with relief. She turned to study the faces of the people rushing around her.
Suddenly she felt very small and alone. What would happen if she couldn’t find Mrs. Hopkins? The thought had never even occurred to her until she stood watching the other passengers meeting with their families or heading off to the livery to procure transportation. Soon she was completely alone. Minutes passed, but there wasn’t a woman nearby who could have been Mrs. Hopkins.
She took a seat on one of the benches and prayed, hoping Mrs. Hopkins would arrive before she concocted a backup plan. The sun shone bright and the air stifled her very breath. It was hotter here than it ever got back at home in May. Her stomach churned, reminding her that the last thing she had had to eat was a greasy sandwich of scrambled eggs and some unidentifiable meat she’d barely swallowed down at daybreak at a tiny train stop.
Where
