Page 8 of The Gift of Seeds
I will give notice to my employer and will avail myself of the train ticket to Sweetwater Springs, arriving on October 23th. I look forward to acquainting myself with you and your wife, and the other people of whom my brother James wrote.
Sincerely,
Hester Smith
Once the ink was dry, she folded the letter, tucked it inside an envelope, and added the address and stamp. That duty done, Hester allowed her shoulders to slump. A wave of grief threatened to swamp her.Don’t cry. Don’t cry.She had too much to accomplish to allow herself to weep.
CHAPTER 3
The closer the train came to Sweetwater Springs, the harder grew the ball of grief in Hester’s chest, weighing heavier than a stone. Before Jimmy’s death, she’d imagined this trip over and over again, especially the joyous reunion with her brother. Throughout the lonely and tedious years of working for Mrs. Ransome, she’d clung to the hope of their long-planned-for future.
The farther the train carried her from her familiar environment, the more Hester questioned her decision to follow through with their plans. She should have sold Jimmy’s house, used the money and her savings to buy a little home in St. Louis near Lovie. The thought of Lovie’s tearful goodbye hug made dampness prick her eyes.Don’t cry. Don’t cry, she told herself for about the hundredth time since receiving Reverend Joshua’s letter.
As she had numerous times throughout the journey, to keep up her spirits, Hester reminded herself of Jimmy’s descriptions of Montana’s beauty, the wide-open spaces, the grandeur of the mountains, the abundant trees and plant life, and most important, the log house that her dear brother had built withsuch love and hope. She wouldn’t have him, but she’d live surrounded by the work of his hands and heart.
That will have to be enough.
With a triple toot of the horn and a whoosh of brakes, the train slowed to a stop in front of a brown depot sporting yellow trim and surrounded by a wide wooden platform, just as Jimmy had described.
A woman traveling with two children and another man seated near the front gathered their belongings and hurried from the train. Through the window, Hester watched the family eagerly unite with a bearded man who must be the husband and father, while the single man rushed off as if he knew exactly where to go.
One step at a time, she sternly told her faltering self.Get off the train and go find the stationmaster.After making sure her black felt hat was firmly pinned in place, she stood, straightening her shoulders as if preparing to face battle.
When Hester started down the narrow train steps carrying her satchel in one hand, her eyes clouded with tears, blurring her surroundings. But she tilted her face upward, so they wouldn’t spill over. The sky was a clear, distant blue, the air autumn crisp, albeit with a lingering smokey smell from the train.
She took a breath and brought her gaze level. Here in her past imaginings, her beloved brother would be waiting, pacing the width of the platform in his impatience for the train’s arrival. When she disembarked, she would have cast reserve aside and thrown herself into his arms for a tight, warm hug—one longed for over these lonely years.
Hester glanced into the shadows of the depot, half hoping to see her brother step out and flash his familiar gamin grin, even though she knew he wouldn’t. With one gloved hand, she wiped away the dampness from her eyes.Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Feeling suddenly weak, she clung to the metal rail and made herself look away, to where a man stood with a boy.
Seeing her, the two surged forward with identical expressions of concern. The man, who looked to be in his thirties, wore an elegant suit with a clerical cravat. He and the boy shared the same crystal-blue eyes, and from Jimmy’s descriptions, she was sure they must be Reverend Joshua and Micah Norton.
“Welcome, Miss Smith. I’m Reverend Joshua.” He touched the brim of his bowler and took her satchel, handing it to the boy before holding out a hand to help her down to the platform, clasping tightly when she tottered on shaky legs. He waited until she steadied before releasing her.
Micah gave her a big grin, his eyes sparkling. “We’ve come to escort you to your home, Miss Smith.Mamanis already at your house, making everything ready.”
“Oh,” Hester fluttered a hand. “I didn’t expect…”
“Of course, we’d see to your arrival,” Reverend Joshua said with a warm smile. “Now tell me what luggage you’ve brought.” He glanced over at the train, where a solitary trunk was just unloaded by a porter. “I presume that’s yours.”
She nodded.
“Anything else?”
Hester shook her head.
Reverend Joshua gestured to a big Negro man, standing next to a pair of shiny brown horses hitched to a coach, and then pointed to Hester’s trunk.
The man nodded and hurried up the stairs, his light steps a contrast to his bulk.
“Sam has money to tip the porter to help him load your trunk onto the coach.”
“Oh,” Hester fumbled for her reticule. “I can’t allow you….”
Reverend Joshua gently moved aside her hand. “You’ll have to take up the issue with my father-in-law, Andre Bellaire. But I can tell you, you will lose. As I wrote in my letter, he is the most generous of men and delights in using his financial abundance to assist others. He wasmostinsistent on paving the way for your arrival. He would have been here today, but his heart isn’t strong. He wasn’t looking well this morning, so my wife, Delia, insisted he stay in bed with a book.”
“Mr. Bellaire is, indeed, most generous.” Hester’s throat was so tight, she could only whisper.
