Too Long a Stranger (Women of the West) by Janette Oke

accomplishments.
    "What about the religious training?" Sarah asked herself. "I certainly don't want to send my child to a school where she will not get training in her faith. And I want to be sure that the training is in keeping with my own beliefs."
    Sarah found the paragraphs that dealt with the school's position on religion. She was relieved to find that what would be "consistently and conscientiously taught" was quite in keeping with her own religious views. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and thought again of how much Rebecca could benefit from attending the school.
    "Oh, if only—" began Sarah, then quickly checked herself. There was no way she would ever be able to afford such a school. No way.
    She sighed deeply and allowed the newspaper to fall to the floor at her feet. She gathered the reins more firmly in her hands and sighed again. Her agitation must have traveled down the leather thongs to the horses, for Gyp tossed his head and Ginger stirred and hurried her plodding steps.
    "Hi-ya," called Sarah, urging the team to faster action. Her heavy heart and troubled thoughts made her impatient with life in general and with this load of freight in particular.
    There was no way that the tiresome, demanding job would ever produce enough income to give her little girl the education that she deserved. Sarah felt trapped and defeated.
    ***
    "Why not?" she later reasoned as she stared again at the ad she had ripped from the pages of the worn newspaper. "At least I can write and ask." She hesitated a moment when she looked at the address and realized it was nearly a thousand miles away. "Oh, Rebecca," she mourned aloud, "how could I possibly let you go so far away—" But she thought again of the importance of a good education for her daughter, and this sounded like such an ideal school.
    So Sarah got out her long-neglected writing kit and seated herself at the kitchen table. Carefully she dipped the pen in the inkwell, flexed her stiff, unyielding fingers, and began her letter. She was appalled at her penmanship. Her fingers did not respond in the neat, even script that had won her acclaim as a student in her hometown school. She stopped and worked with the fingers, trying hard to limber them up, stretching, massaging, flexing, and coaxing. By the fourth attempt she knew she had to be satisfied with her effort. Though she was still displeased with it, it did look much better than her first try.
    The letter was a simple one, sent only to inquire about their school and about the fees charged for the education.
    Sarah licked the flap and pressed it against the body of the envelope.
    "I will post it tomorrow," she promised herself. She knew she would have many days to prepare herself for the answer. The mails would not bring back a return letter for several weeks. Maybe even months, she told herself.
    If and when it came, what would the reply be? Sarah wondered what she really wanted it to be. Of course, she longed to give Rebecca a good education. But could she bear to be all alone, with Rebecca miles away becoming a proper young lady? There would not even be the welcomed few hours at the end of each day and the precious Sundays when they had the entire afternoon together.
    Sarah cherished those times with Rebecca. She longed for them throughout the working hours—and then often felt bad when they were together as she watched her young daughter become more and more like the frontier people around her. Was that what Michael had expected for his daughter? Of course he had thought that she, Sarah, would be nurturing and training their daughter—not running a business and turning over the main portion of Rebecca's care to another. Tears of frustration and sorrow filled her eyes.
    Was she letting Rebecca down? Was she letting Michael down? Was there something more she should be doing? Was there any way that she could stretch the monthly earnings to cover a school bill? Was there any way that she could add to her income?
    Then