Sarah's Promise Read Online Free PDF

in her expression. A single white snowflake flittered down between us as she took my hand. And then more snowflakes. Bushels. Like my firing at the sky had opened up holes for them to pour through.
    With my nerves still a-jitter, I assured Mom I was fine. I gave Katie a big hug, and we all went back toward the house as the snowflakes dusted that big black body with white. It was freezing cold out, even worse than it had been when Frank left, and I realized for the first time that I hadn’t taken time to grab my coat.
    “I’d best separate the wounded hen and do away with it,” Mom said somberly. “I don’t know if sickness can spread to chickens, but we don’t want to take the chance. We’ll have to dispose of that big carcass too, but I suppose that can wait till your father gets home.”
    Frank should be here , I couldn’t help thinking. If he were, he’d have been the one to shoot that dog. He could kill the chicken for Mom, fix the chicken house window, and dispose of the carcass too. He could look at me with his casual grin and serious eyes and tell me that this was no big deal, and then maybe quote a Scripture or two.
    Suddenly I burst into tears. It was absolute foolishness, I knew that plain enough, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
    “Sarah, are you all right?” Mom asked, taking the rifle to hold for me.
    “Yes,” I tried my best to answer her. “Just . . . just shaken a little, I guess.”
    I couldn’t tell her any more. The snow pouring down made me think of Frank, miles and miles away on the open road. Was it snowing where he was too? It wasn’t supposed to snow today. It was supposed to be clear, that was what the radio forecast had said. But the weatherman was just plain wrong. Dad was in town, and Frank was way off who knows where by now. All alone.
    “How about some tea?” Mom asked me. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
    I nodded my head, but I couldn’t turn my mind from Frank. Maybe I was making mountains out of molehills right then because I was still a bundle of nerves over that dog, but I felt scared for him. He should be here with us where he belonged, working in the woodshop, or doing any of so many other things he was always applying his hands to around the farm. He could sure help us right now, and then come inside and sit in front of the fireplace with his leg propped up, sipping a cup of coffee to get warm again.
    He shouldn’t have gone. Surely there were plenty of strong young men in Camp Point that Sam and Thelma could have gotten to help them move. This happening today, with that mad dog, that was plenty of evidence, more than I’d ever need, that he ought to be home. With Dad working so much and Robert overseas, we needed him. We’d always needed him. Right here.

    I tried to put all that from my mind without much success. And we were done with tea and back to our work before Katie remembered the mail. She’d had it tucked in her coat pocket. Just one letter. For me. I slid my batch of cinnamon muffins into the oven, wiped my hands, and sat on a kitchen chair, ready to give the letter my attention. The envelope was handwritten, with no return address. Postmarked right in Dearing, the nearest town. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Certainly not what I found. A neatly printed flyer, advertising a winter carnival and dance sponsored by the Lion’s Auxiliary Club. And at the bottom, the only personal message on the page:
    “Won’t you join me for a fun evening? I can pick you up or meet you in town. Thinking of you, Donald Mueller.”
    Incensed, I crumpled the page and threw it into the kindling box. Donald Mueller, who knew I was engaged! How dare he invite me to a dance? Had someone told him Frank was going away?
    I threw the envelope into the kindling box along with the flyer and then started setting the table.
    “Advertisement?” Katie asked.
    I nodded, unwilling to disclose the reality of the matter. Donald was stupid. Why would he try inviting me to a