Читать книгу The Parson's Christmas Gift - Kerri Mountain - Страница 11

Journey turned the far corner of the house to see Zane struggle to his elbows. His gray eyes searched the skies above, unfocused. She watched as Abby knelt at his side, and followed her glance to the old woman. Miss Rose stood with a white-knuckled grip on the corner porch post, peering over the edge.

“Zane? Zane, are you all right?” Abby grasped his shoulders in both hands, holding him steady.

“What happened?” Journey asked. Zane’s head jerked back, focusing his gaze on her. She fumbled for a handkerchief from her pocket and tapped it against Abby’s shoulder but couldn’t draw her gaze away from his. The woman took it to dab at the wide scrape on his right cheek with the limp cloth.

He blinked several times in his daze, thick lashes fluttering, but a small grin appeared. “Wasn’t being careful enough, I suppose. I must have stood too heavy on a loose shingle board.”

“If the pupils of his eyes aren’t even, he could have hit his head,” Journey said. Someone had told her about that once, after a rough bout with Hank.

She looked across the landscape. Even in the months and miles since his death, she couldn’t shake the sense that he waited out there. She shivered in the cool mountain air.

A soft groan drew her attention back to the man on the ground as he tucked his feet and stood, taking the handkerchief from Abby. A wince crossed his face when his full weight rested on his ankle. He wobbled a little, but laughed. “Shows how great the wisdom of the Lord is, calling me to preach instead of to become a carpenter.”

“Take it easy, there, Zane. Are you sure nothing’s broken?” Abby inspected his elbow.

Journey wondered what the congregation might think of their pastor showing up with a nice shiner for Sunday service. He’d no doubt have one.

He pulled the thin cloth from his eye and examined it. “I’m fine, ladies. Really, I rolled right off, nice and gentle-like onto my hammer. Won’t look too pretty for a while, but then, I don’t reckon any of my parishioners come to see a pretty face.”

Journey imagined his handsome face and strong build drew more than his share of coy glances. How could he not know it?

A rattled wheeze sounded behind her. Miss Rose had been forgotten in the excitement. “Well, he’s standing and his tongue’s working along with his brain same as usual. My goodness, Zane, you might have considered the rest of us. I declare, you took a good six months off my life. Now come inside a bit and rest yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, waving the offending hammer toward the roof. “There’s only a little more to do before I’m finished. This time I’ll pound an extra nail or two in this one.” He tapped the fallen shingle with his boot and moved back to the ladder.

“Be careful this time!” Abby smiled at his retreating back.

Journey studied his broad form until he turned, catching her off guard. He shook out the mangled handkerchief to find a clean spot before touching it again to the cut.

“I’ll wash this up and return it to you Sunday, ma’am.”

“You needn’t go to any bother, really.”

“I appreciate it all the same, Miss Smith.”

She thought to remind him to call her Journey, but then she realized it didn’t matter. It would be just as well if he forgot her name altogether. He wouldn’t be preaching to her on Sunday. She turned to follow Abby.

“Pardon me, ma’am. You prefer Journey, right? A name that pretty, I don’t blame you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He made her name sound like a complete sentence. But he seemed to look past her, over her. The wind blew his dark hair from his forehead, exposing the length of the hammer’s cut.

The faint rustle across the porch drew her attention, reminding her that the others had already returned to the house. She nodded her leave. He smiled again and began pounding.

A job, a place to stay, and nothing more. Lie low for the winter, and be gone with spring thaw. What could be wrong with that? Right now, Walten, Montana, felt a world away from Georgia. Maybe it was.

“I declare,” Miss Rose said, her voice puffing as they stepped into the warmth of the house, “sometimes I think that boy won’t be happy till he’s knocked his fool head off.”

Journey couldn’t help but smile at her exasperated tone.

“Anyway, where were we?”

“Maybe Journey would like to see the rest of your place?” Abby suggested.

She flinched, startled at the tug on her sleeve. Before she could protest, Abby drew her across the sitting room to the stairway directly opposite the door. Her brow curled, but thankfully, the woman didn’t voice any question. Journey flushed with embarrassment as she followed her up the narrow stairs.

“Well, what do you think?”

Journey peered around. “It’s…light,” she said. “I’ve never seen an upstairs so bright.”

Instead of being divided into tiny, airless closets, two smaller rooms beckoned with open doors on either side of the hall. Light wooden boards made the rooms appear large and inviting. She walked toward the far end of the hallway, and the space broadened to the width of the house, windows bright with reflected sunlight. The cobwebby corners and dusty floors didn’t dim the cheeriness of the room. How could four walls feel so unconfining?

“I haven’t been up there in some time.” Miss Rose’s voice strained to reach them from the bottom step. “You’d be welcome to use the space. We cleared a lot out after my husband passed on.”

She felt Abby’s hopeful smile on her. “So? What do you say?”

“I think…]Well, I just arrived in town, and here I am with a job offer and a roof over my head. It—it’s all happened so fast.” She glanced around the room and back over her shoulder. “I think I should catch my breath and consider it before I agree to anything. It’s all so much kindness.”

“It’s you who’d be doing the kindness. It’s a worry to me, knowing she’s alone out here. I know she’s lonesome, too. But what with the store and all…]Oh, listen to me. You have to do what you feel is best, Journey.”

She sounded sincere. Maybe she did want to help them both—Miss Rose and her. But that’s not how people worked. A few folks might look out for a dear friend, most would take up a cause for family but no one cared for a stranger. So what did Abby really want? What did any of them want?

“I’ll have to take your offer into consideration.” She hoped she gave the impression there were other options.

“We’ve been praying for the right person to come along to help Miss Rose. Then you come along, looking for work.” Abby sighed, her hands fluttering. “It’s so exciting. Maybe I’ll be proven wrong, but the Lord has blessed me with a pretty accurate sense of character. I’d be willing to take the chance. You seem like someone who needs a chance used on you.”

Journey stared back, unsure of a response. She forced out a tense breath. “I am obliged for the offer, either way. You’ve been most kind.”

“Will you at least go down and talk with Miss Rose awhile? It can’t hurt, right?”

“I suppose not.” She hoped not.

Abby stretched her arm toward the stairway. “Let’s go, then.”

Miss Rose waited in her rocker. Journey noticed she patted her hand over her heart until she saw them.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I imagine you have some questions of your own to help you decide whether this would work for you.”

Journey sat in the ladder-back chair near the door and tried to keep her breathing even. How could this woman treat her so well? She didn’t even know her and yet had offered her so much. What would Miss Rose think if she knew what brought her here?

“It seems you keep the place well enough on your own.” She didn’t accuse, but she couldn’t understand, either.

“I’m not completely feeble yet, but I can’t get after this place like I used to. Still, I can’t bear to part with what few animals I have left, either.”

“You could hire someone from town to clean a few times a week and hire a ranch hand for the animals. Then you wouldn’t be bothered with a boarder in your house,” Journey said.

Miss Rose’s laugh caught her by surprise. “I reckon you’re right. It shows you have common sense. But the truth is, I need someone around more than that. It gets too quiet for my liking anymore. But town is too big and busy. I wouldn’t be able to hear myself think.”

Journey considered that. “I’m not one to chatter much.”

Again the laugh. What a shame Mama never laughed like that. “So I’ve noticed.”

Journey found the corners of her mouth curling up in spite of herself. “Please understand, I can’t decide a thing like this before I think it through.”

“Take all the time you need, darlin’. It’s not like there’s a flock of people knocking down my door for the job, Lord knows.” Journey felt cool, wrinkled skin pat her hand.

“So when will your nephew be able to visit?” Abby asked. Journey figured the topic must be settled until she decided on her next move.

“Not soon enough for me, but I received a letter from him last week. He’s going to try to make it for Thanksgiving, Lord willing.”

Journey tightened her grip on the chair. A dollar a month plus board would help her save a little. If she held her purse strings very tightly, she’d be ready to move on by spring with money to get her to Oregon. Or even California. She scanned the warm wooden walls, the solid mantel above the all-but-dead fire. A certainty filled her. Yes. A good, safe home to rest in and regroup. Surely no one would look for her through a Montana winter. She’d be gone with spring thaw. Or, if things worked out well enough, maybe she’d stay on in the spring. Who could find her in a town as small as Walten?

“…some of the cases he works on, I declare. I wish he’d find a safer way to make a living.” Miss Rose waved her hand before smacking it down on her knee.

Cases? Her nephew was a lawyer?

“Does he live far from here?” she asked. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Over in Virginia City,” Miss Rose said, turning to face her with a smile. “He’s a lawman there.”