LITMIR.BIZ

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She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, so she went to the side of the bed and knelt to touch Anna’s arm.

      Anna immediately lunged toward her, her weight taking Josie by surprise and nearly toppling her. She regained her balance and sat on the edge of the bed, where Anna nestled right into her lap and tucked her head under her chin. The sweet scent of her hair and her trembling limbs incited all of Josie’s nurturing instincts. The girls’ heartbreaking sobs brought a lump to her throat and moisture to her eyes. She held Anna securely, rubbing her back and rocking without conscious thought. After a few minutes, Anna’s sobs dwindled.

      Josie recalled her poignant words about her mother. Her gaze touched on a rag doll lying on the floor, then moved to the narrow bed where Elisabeth had lain back down and was staring at her. Josie stroked Anna’s back and gave Elisabeth an encouraging smile. The girl pulled the sheet up around her shoulders and rolled to face the other way.

      “It was just a dream, Ab,” Samuel said to his daughter. “Just a dream.”

      “But it was real.” Her voice trembled as she explained. “It was just like the day Mama died. I could hear the water….”

      At those words, Anna trembled again in Josie’s arms. Oh, Lord, please comfort these children.

      “And I could see her.”

      “I know,” Samuel said. “I know.” He lowered her to the bed and perched beside her on the edge opposite where Josie sat holding Anna. In the lantern light, his face was etched with shared suffering. He gathered the bedding and covered Abigail with the sheet. “Dreams do seem very real.”

      Abigail snuggled into the bedding.

      “Remember the psalm we found?” Samuel asked her.

      She nodded. “Will you say it, Papa?”

      “‘When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid; yea thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet.’” His voice and those inspired words sent a shiver up Josie’s spine.

      Sam closed his eyes. “Merciful Lord, give Abigail and Anna and Elisabeth sweet sleep this night.”

      “Yes, Lord,” Abigail said and closed her eyes.

      “Yes, Lord,” Josie said under her breath.

      The remaining tension drained from Anna’s frame and she relaxed.

      Josie’s chest ached with compassion for this man and his daughters. She admired his love for them, his dedication to their well-being, and was moved by his trust in God to comfort them. They had no idea how blessed they were to have a father who was present in their lives.

      Samuel opened his eyes and nodded at Josie. She urged Anna from her lap, and the child slid under the covers to snuggle beside her sister.

      “Good night, Mrs. Randolph,” Anna whispered. “Thanks for the hugs.”

      She wanted to cry herself, but instead she gave the child a reassuring smile. “Good night, Anna.”

      Josie turned out the lamp and followed Samuel into the hallway, where he pulled the door closed and stood in the golden light of the wall lantern. When he met her eyes, she read his anguish.

      “I never know what to say,” he told her.

      “You said exactly the right things,” she assured him. “And you’re there for them, that’s what’s important. When they need you, you’re there.”

      “It doesn’t seem like enough.”

      “We’re never enough in our own ability,” she assured him. “When we acknowledge that is when God works through us. And He worked through you in there.”

      He turned his face aside, and his voice was thick when he said, “Thank you.”

      She gathered her hem and moved toward the stairs.

      Sam watched her leave, his thoughts a little less confusing than they’d been for some time. He recalled what she’d said about not believing in coincidence. It was no accident that his family was staying in this house. He’d been desperate, thinking he was unable to help his daughters. He’d prayed for guidance, for wisdom, for the weight of the burden to be lifted.

      And now, for the first time in months, Sam didn’t feel quite so alone.

      Josie took the hot iron from the stove and pressed the wrinkles from a pair of plain white pillowcases. The previous evening had been on her mind all morning. A girl as young and sweet as Abigail shouldn’t have nightmares. Her terror had stricken fear into Anna, as well. But their anguish was understandable, considering all they’d gone through.

      While it was difficult to observe the younger girls’ misery, Elisabeth’s detachment from the episode was what bothered Josie the most. Elisabeth had watched her sisters until meeting Josie’s gaze, and then she’d turned away—as though unwilling to admit any part in it or to show her feelings. Josie folded the pillowcases and glanced over at Abigail, who was sitting at the table reading a book. Anna was probably cat-watching, and unless her father was present, Elisabeth spent most of her time upstairs.

      “What are you reading?” Josie asked.

      The girl marked her place with an index finger and looked up. “It’s a story about a boy growing up on a farm. Farms sound like great fun. Have you ever lived on one?”

      “No, but I’ve visited quite a few. We’re in the middle of farm country.”

      “Maybe we could go see.”

      “A lot of the members of our congregation are farmers. If you went along with your father when he makes his calls, you’d get to see where they live.”

      “Really?” Abigail looked excited for a moment, but then her expression changed. “Elisabeth joins Papa when he goes calling. Unless there’s school, of course. Do you suppose she saw a farm yesterday?”

      Was Abigail feeling unwelcome? “She may have.”

      Abigail slid a delicate, tatted marker in the shape of a cross between the pages and closed her book. “I’m gonna go ask her.” She scampered up the stairs.

      A knock sounded on the back door, and Josie set the iron on the stove to see who was calling. Grace Hulbert stood holding what appeared to be a pie covered with a dish towel.

      “Come in,” Josie greeted her. “The reverend’s in the parlor.”

      “I brought an apple pie for the traveling preacher and his family,” Grace told her, peeling back the fabric to reveal a golden-brown crust with a perfectly crimped edge. “Is he here? The preacher man?”

      “No, he’s out.”

      “Is it true he’s a widower?”

      “Sadly so. His wife drowned.” Josie took the pie and set it inside the tin-fronted safe.

      “They say he wears a holster and a gun about town. Is it so?”

      Josie wondered where that question had come from. “I’m certain everyone on their wagon train needed a gun to protect themselves—and to hunt. Is that so unusual?”

      “It’s unusual for a man of the cloth. Has he shot anyone?”

      “I have no idea, Grace. What kind of question is that?”

      Grace pinched off her white gloves one finger at a time. “He’s the latest bachelor in town, so of course there’s speculation.”

      “Bachelor?” Josie’s temperature rose a degree. Grace was a married woman, but she had a daughter who’d been on the shelf since her fiancé ran off six months ago. Josie leveled her gaze on the woman. “Would you like to visit with Reverend Martin? He’s in the parlor.”

      “Oh, no.” She had one glove off and stopped removing the other. “I have to run. I just wanted to leave the pie.”

      “I’ll

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