"Garrit, a solid name-you have found a strong husband, daughter." Mama's blessing, spoken after their wedding vows and as clear as the stars above, allowed Meta to release her cares at last.
Born of solid German stock, Meta Tolzmann Rausch eyed the starry sphere above. Beside her, Garrit's steady breathing relayed a message-safe in the hands of Providence. Oh, to embrace that truth! Already seven days to the western border of Iowa and then three more to meet the wagon train at Council Bluffs. And their trek had only begun.
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿Each day took them further away from home, with no return. As she floated between wakefulness and sleep, Garrit draped his arm around her. After long miles on the trail, his warmth soothed her aching muscles.
This man, strong as the oxen who would pull their wagon on the trail and as determined as the Union Army-this man she had wed.
