1888 Texas
Callie studied the man seated across from her as the
stagecoach swayed and bounced, bringing her ever closer to
her new life.
She placed a finger to her chin. No, he wasn't a sea
captain. The hat was all wrong and he had an air about him
that seemed more akin to earthiness than saltwater.
She scrunched her lips to one side as she examined his
features more closely. He was actually quite handsome, in a
dangerous, rugged sort of way. Rather than detracting from
his looks, that faded scar on the left side of his chin
served to lend him an adventurous air. She refused to
believe a man who looked as he did was anything so mundane
as a farmer or shopkeeper.
He could be a Texas Ranger. Yes, that would fit. He had
that lean, grim–purpose look about him.
She settled into her mental tale–spinning. So, if
he was a ranger, what was his story? Perhaps he was
returning home for a well–earned rest after grueling
weeks of tracking down desperate outlaws. Or maybe he was
traveling to Sweetgum on official business in search of—
Callie straightened in her seat. Was it her imagination,
or had they slowed down a bit? A quick glance out the window
confirmed that the tree–lined countryside had given
way to scattered farms. And if she wasn't mistaken, the edge
of a small town was just up ahead.
This was it. Her new home—Sweetgum, Texas.
She adjusted her poke bonnet with hands that weren't
quite steady, then laced her fingers tightly together and
closed her eyes.
Heavenly Father, I'm truly grateful to You for getting me
all the way here from Ohio without a hitch. But we both know
that was the easy part compared to what comes next. And
since this whole undertaking was actually Your idea, I know
You're going to help me figure out what to say and do when I
step outside and come face–to–face with my new
husband for the first time.
Bolstered by that thought, Callie began gathering her
belongings. Then she paused and slanted a glance toward the
object of her former musings.
Her unsociable traveling companion seemed completely
unaware of their arrival.
Should she say something to him?
He'd climbed aboard at their last stop and, after the
briefest of greetings, settled into the opposite corner,
closed his eyes and hadn't moved since. Not that she
resented his lack of attention.
After all, being this close to such a man was a new
experience for her, and his closed–off demeanor had
given her an opportunity to study him unobserved. Besides
which, trying to concoct a history for him from only the
hints provided by the rough and calloused look of his hands,
his weathered complexion and his firm, wiry build had been
an interesting way to pass the time.
One thing she'd decided about thirty minutes into her
story–weaving was that, whatever his profession, he
was not someone at peace with his world. There was something
about his very stillness, about the hint of tension in his
stubble–covered jaw, that pointed to a weary or
troubled spirit.
Before she could make up her mind whether or not to
disturb him, his eyes opened and their gazes collided. The
lack of any residual drowsiness in those startling blue eyes
made her wonder whether or not he'd truly been asleep.
The heat rose in Callie's cheeks. How mortifying to have
been caught staring so rudely! She tugged on the edge of her
bonnet again. Thank goodness it already hid most of her face.
""We're here,"" she blurted, then mentally cringed. Why
did she always feel compelled to rush in and fill the silences?
He straightened. ""So I see.""
The hint of dryness in his tone warmed her cheeks even
further. But the driver opened the door, rescuing Callie
from more embarrassment.
As she rose to leave the coach, the glimpse of the dusty
street and plank–lined sidewalk forcibly reminded her
that she had left her familiar world behind. A bubble of
panic rose in her throat.
What if Mr. Tyler was disappointed when he met her?
What if she couldn't learn how to adjust to life in this
rural community?
What if—
Callie took a deep, steadying breath. Forgive me, Lord. I
know we already wrestled with my doubts before the wedding.
This is the ministry You gave me. Mr. Tyler and his daughter
need me, and I need them. I—
""Ma'am? Are you all right?""
Her companion studied her with a worried frown, no doubt
wondering why she wasn't moving. After her earlier actions,
he must think her completely addled.
Callie offered an apologetic smile. ""Yes, I'm fine,
thank you. Just making certain I have all my things."" She
adjusted her bonnet once more, squared her shoulders and
stepped down from the stagecoach onto the sidewalk's dusty
boards.
Pasting on what she hoped was a confident smile, Callie
waited for her husband to step forward and introduce
himself. But, while she received curious glances from some
of the passersby, no one greeted her.
Her smile faltered. Where was he?
She continued scanning the sidewalk even as she moved
aside to allow her fellow passenger to exit the stage.
Why wasn't Mr. Tyler here? Surely he wouldn't keep her
standing alone in foreign surroundings where she didn't know
anyone...
I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
The remembered verse calmed her. She wasn't alone. God
was with her.
Mr. Tyler had undoubtedly been delayed. Poor man. He was
likely as nervous about this meeting as she was. And he had
little Annabeth to tend to as well. It must be difficult for
him to care for a child and a farm all on his own.
Well, he wouldn't have to any longer.
Trying to ignore the stubborn prickling of anxiety that
wouldn't quite go away, Callie turned to study the community
that she would now call home.