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

business to another in her place. "Didn't know iffen you'd be in today."
    "I am in every day, Mr. Parker," Sarah reminded him evenly.
    "Well—er—of course. 'Cept we heerd ya might be turning over yer route."
    "I've no idea who started that rumor," Sarah replied, her back straight, her chin up. "It certainly didn't come from me."
    "Well, I wouldn't be faultin' ya for it none, ma'am. Mighty tough job fer a woman."
    "I think I've been doing the job," Sarah said in a rather loud voice. She hoped with all her heart that her words carried to the man hoisting the barrels. "I've heard no complaints from my customers. No complaints at all. Have you, Mr. Parker?"
    "No—no, none at all," the man was quick to assure her.
    "Then I am assuming that you have some freight for me to haul today," Sarah went on.
    " 'Course. 'Course," replied the man. "Thet there pile right there," and he pointed to the stack to her left. Sarah noticed that it was smaller than normal. That meant that the competition had already managed to weasel away some of her business.
    "Where is Hank?" she asked the depot manager.
    "I—I believe he's gone on home, ma'am," said the man at the barrels.
    Sarah did recognize his voice. It most certainly was the man who had accosted her during the severe winter storm. She was sure that he was responsible for sending the boy home when there was indeed freight to be loaded. Her eyes went back to the pile. Perhaps it was better that the lad was not there. At least she would not have to pay him this time.
    "Fine," she said, giving the unwelcome stranger a straight look and setting about to load her own pile.
    Even though the crates and bundles were not as numerous as usual, and even though the man had managed to take all the barrels she normally hauled, Sarah's back was ready to break by the time she wrestled the last crate on board. By then the other team had already pulled out and was making dust on the track that ran from the north side of the town.
    He'll beat me back to town, and that's for sure, Sarah said angrily to herself. He's got lighter, faster horses. For the first time since she had taken on her job, Sarah felt dissatisfaction with her team. They were steady and reliable—but they were anything but fast. They plodded along in spite of her urging them to hurry.
    "I might have to get some faster horses," she said to herself. "Faster horses and a lighter wagon."
    But she thought of all of the rough miles of traveling and knew instinctively that she was much better off with the outfit she had. Hadn't she heard Michael say many times in the past that for hauling freight one needed a good strong, steady team and a wagon that could take the road and the weather? Had Michael been wrong? Was she about to lose her dray business to a man who seemed bent on running a race?
    Sarah's eyes stung with unshed tears as she urged the horses forward. After all her hard struggles, it looked as if she might lose, after all.
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Chapter Seven
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    Making It
    "I hope you do not see it as interference, but I— I've talked to some of the men in town—about the freight line."
    Sarah looked evenly at Alex Murray. He held her gaze.
    "I've been concerned about you—Mrs. Perry. I thought—well, I thought it was one way that I might be—of help."
    Sarah nodded slowly. Just what had Alex Murray said to the town men?
    "Most of them are—are quite solid in their commitment to you—just as long as your service stays— stays acceptable. But—I'm ashamed to say—there were one or two who—who rather resent unloading their own freight. And they—they say—"
    "If that is the case," put in Sarah quickly, "I'll hire a boy to help with the unloading."
    "Can you afford that?" the man asked in straightforward manner.
    "No—no, I really can't," Sarah said just as honestly. "But I cannot afford to lose the business either."
    Alex Murray nodded his head. "Perhaps—perhaps it won't be for long. You are looking fatigued, Mrs.