A Horsewoman for Harlan by Barbara Goss (the top 100 crime novels of all time TXT) 📕

be getting a new horsewoman for Harlan, he’s my Papa, but of course, You know that.  The horsewoman’s name is Elise. Please make sure she’s pretty and pleasant.  Papa might need a horsewoman, but You know how much I want and need a mother.  I know that, like a real father, You sometimes don’t give us everything we ask for.  Maybe that’s because what we ask for might not be good for us, and we don’t know it.  Pastor Higgins said you know my heart.  My heart wants a Mama more than anything, even a horse.  Please bless Papa, Clay, and Martha.  Amen.”

For the next week, Millie was all smiles and cheerful while she waited for the telegram telling them how close Miss Ansell was to Russell.  She said the same prayer every night, and Pastor Higgins had said that they needed faith. She wasn’t sure what that had meant.

“Miss Martha,” Millie said while drying the breakfast dishes, “I prayed that Miss Ansell would be my mother.  Will God make that come true?”

“Goodness, child,  you ask the toughest questions.” Martha closed her eyes. “Let me think...it says somewhere in the book of Hebrews, I think, that we need faith.”

 “What is faith?”

“Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don’t see.”

“Oh, goodness!” Millie cried, and she almost dropped a cup she’d been drying.  “That means Papa and Miss Elise will marry, and she’ll be my new mother.”

“Whoa, Millie.  That’s not for sure,” Martha said, taking the cup from Millie’s hands.

“But you just said...”

Martha dapped Millie’s nose and left some dishwater bubbles on it.  “When we ask God for things, we should have faith it will be granted, but if it isn’t... well, that means it isn’t right for us.”

“How can having a mother not be right for me?”

“Maybe Miss Ansell isn’t the right wife for your Papa.  Maybe they won’t like each other, or perhaps God has another mother picked out for you that’s even better than Miss Ansell, so don’t go getting your hopes up.  Pray, have faith, and let God do the rest.  Trust Him to send you the right mother. That’s having faith.”

Millie felt let down, but Martha’s words made sense, and she’d try not to get her hopes up.

Chapter Four

 Once in Pittsburgh, Elise's trunk was transferred to the baggage car of the large steam train.  The lovely scenic Alleghany Mountain view soon passed, and the land became flat with farms scattered here and there.

The woman who’d been sitting next to her had told her the train would be stopping at every populated town or city all the way to Kansas.  It was the middle of the night when the woman beside her got off in Cleveland to visit her grandchildren.  They wished each other well.

Quite a few new passengers boarded, and to Elise’s disappointment, a man took the seat beside her.  She’d only given him a quick glance because she felt it brazen to stare, but his outfit triggered her curiosity.  He wore tighter fitting trousers than most of the men in Pennsylvania had worn. The hat sitting on his lap was huge compared to the hats most men she knew wore.  She snuck a peek at his feet to see high boots studded with beads and fancy scrolling.  A long jacket covered his plaid flannel shirt.  He’d had to bend slightly when he'd walked down the train’s aisle, and he wore a brown mustache that matched his collar-length hair.

As an avid reader, Elise guessed he was a cowboy, probably traveling home.  He made her feel uncomfortable because if he were going home, he’d be beside her for a large portion of the trip.  She wished a lady had taken the seat.

Besides her reticule, she carried with her a small basket of food her mother had lovingly packed.  She hadn’t eaten more than an apple from Pittsburgh to Cleveland because she’d fallen asleep. But on this, the third day of travel and nearly nightfall, she grew hungry, but she was nervous about eating in front of the man beside her.  She doubted she had enough to spare or she’d offer him some.  Finally, her stomach groaned so loudly, she picked up the basket from the floor, set it on her lap, opened it slowly, and removed half of a fried ham sandwich. She took graceful bites until she'd finished it and closed the basket, placing it back on the floor by her feet.  The man hadn’t moved, so she peeked at him from the corner of her eye to see he was asleep.  She relaxed and hoped that half a sandwich would fill her up for a while, but she wished she had something to drink.  Sure enough, eating without a drink of water or milk caused her to hiccup as usual.   Elise tried to stifle them, but that only made them worse.

The man beside her stirred.  Her hiccupping, which shook the whole seat, had awoken him.  Would he be angry?

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver flask, opened it, and offered her a drink.

She shook her head, thinking it was whiskey. “I-I don’t drink alcohol.”

His voice was low and smooth.  “It’s just water.” The cowboy wiped the top with his sleeve and offered it again.

She took it, and was about to drink when he stopped her by touching her hand.  Another hiccup made her nearly spill the water.

“Here’s a trick I learned: take a sip and hold it in your mouth, turn your head to the left, and swallow.  Take another sip, turn your head to the right, and swallow.  You need to repeat that until they’re gone,” he said, removing his hand.

Elise did as he’d instructed, and by the second round of drinking and swallowing, the hiccups had gone.  “That’s amazing.”

“It has something to do with contractions of your diaphragm.