
As the wagon train slowly made its way across the dusty plains, young Sarah huddled in the corner of her family's covered wagon, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. The ten-year-old girl had been with the Millers for only two months, taken in after her own parents had perished from cholera early in the journey west. Though the Millers were kind, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't truly belong.
As the wagon jolted over a particularly rough patch of ground, Sarah overheard Mrs. Miller speaking in hushed tones to her husband outside. "I'm worried about Sarah, John. She barely speaks, and she flinches whenever I try to touch her. Maybe we made a mistake in taking her in."
Sarah's heart sank, a familiar ache spreading through her chest. She'd heard similar words before, whispered by the first family who had taken her in after her parents' death, just before they'd handed her off to the Millers. The girl's fingers clutched at the worn rag doll in her lap – the only possession she had left from her mother.
As the day wore on, Sarah watched the other children in the wagon train laughing and playing during rest stops. She longed to join them, to feel the warmth of friendship and acceptance, but every time she gathered the courage to approach, her feet seemed rooted to the ground. The memory of the last group of children she'd tried to befriend still stung – they had teased her mercilessly about her threadbare dress and her status as an orphan.
That evening, as the wagon train circled for the night, Sarah slipped away from the campfire where the Millers sat with the other families. She found a quiet spot behind a large boulder, where she could look out at the vast, star-filled sky. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she wondered if she'd ever find a place where she truly fit in.
A rustling sound startled her, and Sarah quickly wiped her eyes, not wanting anyone to see her cry. To her surprise, it was Emma, the Miller's biological daughter, who was only a year older than Sarah.
"There you are," Emma said softly, settling down next to Sarah. "I've been looking for you."
Sarah tensed, waiting for the rejection or cruel words she'd come to expect. Instead, Emma simply sat quietly beside her for a few moments.
"I know it must be hard," Emma finally said, her voice gentle. "Losing your parents, joining a new family. But I want you to know that I'm glad you're with us. I've always wanted a sister."
Sarah felt a lump form in her throat, unable to respond. Emma reached out and took Sarah's hand in hers, squeezing it gently.
"You don't have to be alone anymore," Emma continued. "We're family now, if you'll have us."
For the first time in months, Sarah felt a tiny spark of hope ignite in her heart. She squeezed Emma's hand back, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
As they sat there under the vast prairie sky, Sarah began to feel that maybe, just maybe, she had finally found a place where she could belong. The journey ahead would still be long and difficult, but with Emma's hand in hers, Sarah felt a little less alone in the world.