Читать книгу Cowgirl Under The Mistletoe - Louise Gouge M. - Страница 10
ОглавлениеOctober 1884
Esperanza, Colorado
The Denver & Rio Grande train pulled out of the Esperanza station, sending last night’s dusting of early snow into small flurries. They rose up to meet the white smoke streaming from the engine and leaving behind the smell of burning coal. As Deputy Grace Eberly watched the departure, she swiped away an unexpected tear and then glanced around. It wouldn’t do to have folks see their deputy sheriff crying like some silly girl. Fortunately, the only person left on the platform was good ol’ Reverend Thomas, who really wasn’t all that old, just friendly. He smiled and touched the wide brim of his well-worn black Stetson.
“You’re going to miss your sister, aren’t you?”
She stepped over to him and gave him her best deputy scowl. “You’d better not tell anybody you saw me cry.” Tall as she was, she could stare down on most men but stood eye to eye with the reverend when she wore her boots.
“You? Cry?” He grinned in that annoying way of his that showed he wasn’t in the least bit intimidated by her badge, her gun or her height. “Not at all. I assumed you had some grit in your eyes.”
She chuckled. He could always be counted on to cover for folks, especially her. Of all the people in town who might want to condemn her for being a trouser-wearing female peace officer, this man of God would seem the most likely. Instead, he appeared to understand her abiding need to hold outlaws accountable for their evil activities. When her next-younger sister, Beryl, had been shot by that no-account Dathan Hardison and his slimy partner, Deke Smith, the minister had been a great source of comfort to the family. Never once did he condemn Grace for crippling Deke with a well-aimed bullet. She could almost allow that his prayers above all others had kept Beryl from dying.
Thoughts of her closest sister brought another annoying swell of emotion. Beryl had survived the shooting, went off to boarding school for a spell and then came home only to fall in love with an English dandy who’d come to town for a holiday. Now she and Percy lived in England, and the family would probably never see them again.
To make matters worse, Grace’s next-to-youngest sister, Laurie, now rode on the train speeding eastward along the tracks. Once it crossed La Veta Pass through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, it would head north, taking her back to music school in Denver. Her short visit home had ended far too soon. Grace would miss her something terrible.
With Maisie, the oldest of the five sisters, busy with her doctor husband and their new baby boy, Grace considered looking to their youngest sister for companionship. But Georgia walked around with her head in the clouds reading books all the time. Grace didn’t care much for books. Besides, at fifteen, Georgia was a bit young to depend on for a close, womanly friendship. With Beryl and Laurie gone, Grace had never felt so alone in all of her twenty-three years.
Sure as shooting, none of the other unattached younger women in the area wanted to pal around with her. And, like Maisie, her married friends had husbands and children to tend to. But, also sure as shooting, Grace never expected to marry. What man wanted a wife who stood half a head taller than he did and could likely outride and outshoot him?
Grace had watched the dainty behavior of her friends Susanna and Marybeth, who’d married the two oldest Northam brothers and lived at the next ranch over. She’d admired the gals’ fancy manners and pretty speech. Even Grace’s younger sisters had begun to copy those female ways, although they still worked the family ranch like men, as all of them had since childhood. But Grace couldn’t bring herself to act all silly and helpless around men. The cowhands on their family ranch would laugh themselves blue in the face if a giant of a woman like her ever put on such airs.
Being tall and broad-shouldered did give her some advantages on her days off when she did her share of helping her folks keep the ranch going. She could buck hay bales all day long and had never seen a mustang she couldn’t wrangle, another reason men steered clear of her. What did she care? Weren’t a single one she cared to take up with.
“Grace.” The minister still stood by the yellow clapboard train station. He’d been mighty nice to join the family in seeing Laurie off, but for some reason he’d hung around. Maybe waiting for a telegram. She could hear the clickety-click of Charlie Williams’s telegraph just inside the open window.
“Yeah? You need something, Rev?”
“Indeed, I do.” His waved a hand toward Main Street. “Mrs. Winsted’s daughter-in-law opened that new ice cream parlor last week. Have you been there?”
“Nope, sure haven’t. Seems sort of disloyal to Miss Pam.” Never mind that Grace loved ice cream. She’d keep taking her noon meals at Williams’s Café.
“Not at all.” His Southern drawl rolled out pleasantly on his baritone voice, just like when he preached his heartwarming sermons every Sunday. “In fact, Miss Pam can’t say enough nice things about Nelly Winsted’s desserts.”
“That a fact?” She pondered the idea for a moment. “You don’t think it’s too cold for ice cream?” The October wind hadn’t picked up for the day, but there was still a bite in the air.
“It’s never too cold for ice cream.” He chuckled in that kindly way of his, and her heart felt an odd little kick. Oh, no. She would not let herself grow feelings for the unmarried preacher. Every unattached girl for miles around wanted to lasso this handsome man and drag him to the altar. She would not line up and make a fool of herself like the rest of them did. Nothing would ruin her reputation as a competent, dependable, levelheaded deputy faster than her acting like a moon-eyed heifer.
“Would you like to give it a try?” From the way he asked the question, Grace guessed the minister was looking for companionship, too, if only for this morning. Safe companionship, with no worries she’d try to hogtie him. She’d proved that to him ever since that time several years ago when he’d bought her box dinner during the church fund-raiser, disappointing a whole passel of girls who’d hoped he’d choose theirs.
While they’d eaten, the two of them had discussed Bible verses she’d been wondering about, a safe subject for any two folks, and she’d learned a whole heap of important stuff about the Good Book, the only book she considered worth reading. Since then, they’d had several more chin-wags about the scriptures, and they’d grown comfortable around each other. That day at the fund-raiser, she’d figured he’d bid on her box to keep her from being left out. He was kind that way, and she admired him for it. Admired, nothing more. She wouldn’t ruin a good friendship by thinking on useless feelings.
“Come on, Grace. Let’s try out Nelly’s place.”
Right about now, a big dish of ice cream sounded like the perfect way to console herself over Laurie’s departure. Food could comfort a body that way, especially sweet food. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He offered his arm.
She stared at it like it was a long-tailed jackrabbit.
“Um...” More of those foolish feelings wound around her heart, so she stepped back. “Don’t mean to be rude, Rev, but as deputy sheriff, I’m gonna decline your gentlemanly offer, if it’s all the same to you.” She offered a crooked smile. “Appearances, y’know.”
“Ah, yes.” His eyes revealed no offense at her refusal. “I understand.”
Good thing he did, because she didn’t. She didn’t like this brand-new giddy response to an old friend. Must be all the weddings that had happened in recent months. But she’d locked away her hopes of marriage as securely as most girls locked up their hope chests. No sense at all in dreaming about things that would never be. She’d leave that to her dreamy-eyed youngest sister, Georgia.
* * *
Micah Thomas liked keeping company with Grace Eberly. Unlike most other unmarried girls in his congregation, she never behaved in that giddy, flirtatious manner that made him uncomfortable. She had a level head and an honest way of looking people straight in the eye. Her friendship was the perfect antidote to this strange depression he’d felt lately. Until last Friday, when he’d joined two more local couples in holy wedlock, he’d been able to conduct weddings without a single thought of marriage for himself. Like the Apostle Paul, he’d always felt called to remain single so he could do the Lord’s work without the encumbrance and expense of a wife and children.
But even before last week’s ceremony, he’d begun to sense that something was missing in his life. It didn’t help that Genesis 2:18 kept coming to mind. If the verse was true—and he believed every verse in the Holy Bible was God-breathed truth—that “it is not good that the man should be alone,” then the Lord would have to bring him a “helpmeet” from someplace, because he certainly had no plans to court any of the young ladies in the congregation. That would stir up all sorts of hornets’ nests, namely among certain mothers, each of whom thought her daughter would make a perfect preacher’s wife.
Micah knew better. It took a special woman to marry a minister, one with her eyes wide open, knowing her husband’s congregation would hold her to a higher standard than anyone else, higher even than the preacher. Such a woman would have to be especially strong both spiritually and emotionally, and more than a little sure of herself as a person. Some ministers’ wives he knew of had faded into sad little shadows under such demanding scrutiny. He would have to make sure it never happened to the woman he married.
If he married. He still had a hard time reconciling marriage and his God-given ministry, which took all of his waking time and then some. Then there was the matter of the small salary he earned as the minister of a small-town church. Folks gave what they could, but it wasn’t enough to support a wife. If the Lord wanted him to marry, He’d have to bless a particular enterprise Micah had undertaken a while back, one that no one in the congregation knew about, or needed to know about, even though it was perfectly honest and aboveboard. But the chances were slim it would be successful.
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” Grace shot him a glance without missing a step, her stride as long as his, yet as graceful as that of a mountain lioness.
“Back home we had blackberries growing wild on our land, so I’m partial to blackberry syrup over vanilla.” He pictured his family’s Virginia home, tragically broken by the war. Because of his uncle’s stand against slavery and Micah’s agreement with his uncle, only one friend had ever kept contact with Micah’s branch of the family after the war. Recently that friend, Joel Sutton, had written to say some folks were coming around to mend fences and renew old friendships. Micah would have to think about asking him to send him a bride, just as Rand Northam’s family had done for him. After three years of marriage, Rand and Marybeth were still as happy a couple as Micah had ever seen.
The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. After all, in the Bible, Abraham had sent a trusted servant to choose a wife for his son Isaac, and Isaac had loved Rebecca from the moment he laid eyes on her. Not every couple had to know each other for a long while before they fell in love and married. Arranged marriages could turn out just as well. If Micah decided to go on a quest for a wife, he might do well to seek Joel’s help.
“Maybe,” Grace said, “we ought to get a group together and go up to Raspberry Gulch next summer so you can get your fill of berries.” Her blue eyes, no longer tear-filled, sparkled in the midmorning sunshine, as though she were ready for the excursion today.
“Sounds like a fine idea.” Anything to keep her spirits up. Micah had noticed her drooping shoulders at church yesterday, the way she used to carry herself before she earned everyone’s respect for stopping an attempted bank robbery. On Sunday, he’d figured she was missing her younger sister even before Laurie left. Today he could see how right he’d been.
Grace really was a pretty girl, despite her tomboy ways, with a sweet face and ready smile. She and her sisters all had the same fiery red hair. But where the others had masses of fuzzy curls, Grace’s thick waist-length hair was straight, except where the ends curled up in a thick cluster. She usually wore it tucked up under the wide-brimmed cowboy hat that now hung down her back on its leather strings. For some reason, today she’d let her hair blow in the autumn breeze. He liked the look on her. He’d tell her that, but she didn’t receive compliments too well.
They arrived at Nelly’s Ice Cream Parlor, and Grace opened the door to usher Micah in. He wouldn’t chide her for it. It was just her way, as when she refused to take his arm. Many other girls in town would have grabbed onto him as though he were a prized bull to be shown off.
“Thank you.” He stepped over the threshold into the warm, bright room and removed his hat. Right away, the aromas of cinnamon, coffee and sugar filled his nostrils and whetted his appetite for something sweet.
Several customers waved or called out a greeting as they sat at small round tables dotting the room. The backs of the white wrought iron chairs were shaped like hearts, and more than one person seemed to be eyeing his or her companion with a hint of romance. Micah could see he would be conducting more weddings in the near future. Once again, that odd melancholy crept into his chest, this time even stronger. Yes, he needed to look for a wife. It truly was not good for a man to be alone.
* * *
“Welcome, Reverend Thomas, Deputy Eberly.” Nelly Winsted came out from behind the serving counter, drying her hands on a white towel with red stripes. “Have a seat wherever you like.” When the Rev responded to her greeting in his usual friendly way, she gave him a sugary smile that reminded Grace the woman was an unattached widow.
An odd protectiveness sprang up in her chest. The last thing the Rev needed was another female chasing after him. Best to charge right in and head her off in a different direction. “Howdy, Nelly. How’s business?” Silly question. The room was near to full of customers, so anybody could see she was doing well.
Nelly turned a dimmer smile her way. “Why, just fine, Deputy, thank you. My mother-in-law was right when she invited me out here to open my store. Everybody likes ice cream, don’t they? Now, what may I bring you?” Her gaze returned to the Rev, and her smile lit up again.
Honestly, the woman was thirty-six if she was a day, way too old for the Rev, who was just shy of thirty. She had a thirteen-year-old son and an eight-year-old daughter, to boot. Maybe that explained her flirty ways. She wanted a pa for her children and figured the handsome preacher would be the best influence on them. Grace couldn’t fault her for that.
“Let’s sit over here.” The Rev waved a hand toward a table by the window, which did Grace’s heart good. He wasn’t ashamed to sit where every passing citizen of the town could see them together. That was a long sight different from some other unmarried men in town who only spoke to her when they had a crime to report. Not that she saw the Rev’s actions as favoritism. He treated everybody in his flock with the same kindly regard. Weren’t nary a person in these parts he wouldn’t chat with till the cows came home, if that person had a spiritual need or just a listening ear.
As they took their seats, he said, “Miss Nelly, I’ll have some vanilla ice cream, if you please. Would you happen to have any blackberry syrup to go on top?”
“Why, yes, I do. I’ll bring it right out. And you, Deputy Eberly?”
“Same. No syrup.”
The little woman bustled away like she was on important business. Grace supposed she was, especially with supporting two children all by herself. When she brought their glass bowls of ice cream, she’d added a touch of whipped cream and some pecans to the Rev’s two large blackberry-topped scoops. Grace’s bowl held one small plain scoop. She could barely hold in a laugh at the widow’s obvious ploy.
“Will there be anything else?”
The Rev ordered coffee, and Grace gave a nod that she’d have some, too.
After Nelly brought their coffee, she focused on Grace. “By the by, Deputy, did my mother-in-law happen to tell you about her stolen items?”
Grace sat up straight. “No, ma’am, she didn’t.” She hated to leave her ice cream unfinished, but such was the nature of her job. “I’ll check into it right away.” She shoved back from the table.
“No need to hurry, Deputy.” The Rev set a hand on hers, sending a bothersome tingle up her arm. She quickly dismissed it. “If the matter were urgent, Mrs. Winsted would have contacted you right away.”
Grace didn’t want anybody to think she shirked her duty, but what he said made sense. She glanced at Nelly, who seemed less than pleased by the Rev’s words. “Did Mrs. Winsted report the thefts to Sheriff Lawson?”
“Could be.”
“I sure would regret letting this fine ice cream of yours go to waste, Nelly.” She gave her a crooked grin. “Mind if I finish it before I check into those thefts?”
Nelly blinked and sputtered, offering a strange combination of smile for the compliment and a huff of annoyance, probably because Grace wanted to stick around. “Of course not.”
Grace scooted her chair back up to the table and dug in, taking small bites like her dainty friend Rosamond would instead of filling her spoon and shoveling it all into her mouth like she wanted to do. “Mmm-mmm. Mighty good.”
The Rev also took small bites like he wasn’t in any hurry to finish either. “Now, Deputy, which Bible passage shall we discuss today?”
“What—?” Grace blinked just as she caught the hint in the Rev’s eyes. “Oh. Um. Well. I, uh, I’ve been troubled by Romans 8:28—”
“Excuse me.” Nelly bustled away again. She was the only skinny female Grace had ever seen who could bustle when she walked.
His eyes twinkling, the Rev concentrated on his ice cream for a moment before asking, “What in particular troubles you about the verse?”
Now she was on the spot, but he was the rascal who put her there. “I suppose ‘all things work together for the good’ means ‘all things.’” She released a sigh, thinking of her sisters who no longer lived here, especially Beryl. This man had a gift for seeing right through a person, so she might as well open up, at least partways. “I understand why Laurie wanted to go to music school, ’cause she sings and plays piano so pretty. She may even decide to come back and teach here in the Valley. That’d be a blessing for sure. But I just wish Beryl and Percy had decided to buy some land here instead of going back to England to settle down.”
Understanding filled his remarkable gray eyes, fringed all the way around as they were with dark lashes. My, they gave him a particularly appealing look. “You were especially close to Beryl, weren’t you?”
Grace nodded. “Growing up we looked almost like twins.” She coughed out a dismal laugh. “Until I grew taller than our older sister when I was twelve and she was thirteen.” Shrugging away the memory of those awkward times, when all the boys on the schoolyard began to taunt her, she sighed. “Beryl and I still did everything together until...” An unexpected lump clogged her throat.
“Until the bank robbery?”
The kindness in those fine eyes threatened to undo her, and she could only nod.
“Beryl never blamed you for her injury. She believed you did the right thing to stop that robbery. And remember, you saved Marybeth from the outlaws. Everyone admired your courage, especially Beryl.”
“I know. Last year, after she and Rosamond opened their high school, we got close again, and she made sure I knew she didn’t hold a grudge against me.” She chuckled softly. “I even helped her straighten out a couple of boys in her science class.”
“Good for you. I know she appreciated it.” His gentle smile didn’t waver, while most men would have scowled at her ability to tame unruly scamps both young and full grown.
Grace scooped the creamy remains from her bowl into her mouth and savored the rich vanilla flavor. “Gotta say this for Nelly, she sure can whip up a fine batch of ice cream.” She shoved back from the table, stood and adjusted her gun belt around her hips. “Guess I’d better head over to the mercantile and see what Mrs. Winsted has to say about those robberies.”
The Rev took his last bite and stood, too. “I’ll go with you. I need to purchase a few supplies for the parsonage.” He placed a dime on the table to pay for the ice cream.
“Thanks. I’ll pay next time.” Grace wouldn’t make a scene, but she also wouldn’t let him pay for all of their fellowship times. Her job and her share of the family ranch provided more than enough to give her a comfortable life and far more than his measly salary as the church’s pastor. Maybe she should sneak an extra fifty cents or more into the plate each Sunday to help with his support. That’d buy him some good cooking at the Williams’s Café or maybe a new Sunday shirt.
“I just might take you up on that, Grace.” He put on his hat and made it to the door before her and opened it. “Anytime you want to talk about your sister, I’ll be happy to listen. Or Romans 8:28.”
“I just might take you up on that, Rev.” She echoed his words in a singsong way to show him she was all right now. He rewarded her with one of those teasing smiles. They had an odd sort of understanding in their friendship, it seemed, and she liked it a whole heap that it was two-sided.
Their boots thumped in rhythm on the boardwalk as they approached Mrs. Winsted’s mercantile, marking a companionable cadence. A quick look revealed that Dub Gleason and his gang, a bunch of worthless bums, weren’t sitting in front of the store. Maybe it was too cold for them. She’d attended school with them, and they still liked to torment her with insults when they thought nobody else was looking.
Grace couldn’t guess why the Rev wanted to stay in her company today, but she wouldn’t complain. It did her heart good to know she had a friend to confide in. Or just to spend time with. ’Course, it wouldn’t last for long because one of these days, he’d give in and marry one of those pretty little gals who clamored for his attention, and propriety would cut short their friendship. It would be hard to take a step back and regard him only as her pastor. In fact, the thought soured the ice cream in her belly.
* * *
Although he didn’t need to refill his pantry quite yet, Micah silently thanked the Lord for giving him an excuse to stay in Grace’s company. At the train depot, he’d felt the Lord’s nudging to stick around and see how he could help her. He was pleased to see she seemed to have perked up a little over the past hour. Still, despite her cheerful words, her eyes exuded a lingering sadness, and he couldn’t guess how to help her overcome her loss. He’d have to make it a matter of more concerted prayer because Grace Eberly was an important asset to this town and the surrounding community. Both she and everyone else needed to recognize that.
Welcoming them both to the mercantile, Mrs. Winsted first turned her attention to Micah. “What can I do for you today, Reverend Thomas?”
Micah thought she should assist Grace first, but if he said something to that effect, both ladies might end up being embarrassed. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll need some flour, cornmeal, beans, rice, bacon—”
“A bit early for your usual monthly order, isn’t it?”
Micah gave her a bland smile. “I’m honored that you remember my schedule.”
“We aim to please.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Homer!” Her clerk emerged from the back room. “Reverend Thomas’s regular monthly order.”
Micah gave her a slight bow and approached the counter where Homer Bean had begun to assemble his purchases. Behind him, he could hear Grace ask Mrs. Winsted about the thefts.
“Why, I’ve already told Sheriff Lawson everything I know. Such odd things to be stolen and odd that I didn’t notice them being carried out. A coffeepot, a bag of coffee, some tins of food, a box of expensive linen stationery.” The sensible shopkeeper’s voice held an uncharacteristic note of worry. “I gave the sheriff a complete list, and he said he’d look into the matter.”
“Yes, ma’am, he and I both will.” Grace’s soft response held a calming quality, almost like a mother soothing her frightened child. “You can count on us to make sure your shop is protected.”
Micah’s heart warmed. Grace certainly had a comforting way about her. He couldn’t imagine why some cowboy hadn’t come along and married her. Maybe while he was searching for his bride, he could search for a husband for his good friend. She deserved a fine Christian husband to show her how remarkable she was. Of course, it would take an equally remarkable man to be her partner in marriage.
“Can I help you carry these groceries, Rev?” Grace came to the counter and started to lift the wooden box Homer had filled.
“Thanks, but I can manage.” Micah took the box from her. No Southern lady he’d known would ever offer to carry such a load or even be able to, but these cowgirls were a different breed.
“I almost forgot your mail.” Mrs. Winsted, also the town’s postmistress, retrieved some letters from her little cage at the back of the store and tucked them into Micah’s box.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Two letters. More than he usually received in a month. An odd little kick smote him in his chest. Would he already have an answer from New York? No time now to check the fronts of the envelopes. With his hands too full to doff his hat to Mrs. Winsted, he gave her a friendly nod. “I’ll settle my bill soon.” And if that letter was the one he’d been looking for, maybe he wouldn’t always have to keep a tab. Though he mustn’t get his hopes up too high in that regard.
She shook her head. “I’m not worried about you paying your bill, Reverend. Not like I worry about some in this town.”
Micah paused briefly. This wasn’t the moment to inquire about her concern, so he’d save it for another day. “Thank you.”
“Well,” Grace said as they left the store, “I’d best head over to the office and see what Sheriff Lawson has to say about those thefts.” She touched the brim of her hat, a manly gesture he wished she wouldn’t do. “Thanks for the ice cream.”
“You’re more than welcome.” With the heavy box in his hands, Micah couldn’t return the courtesy of doffing his hat, but she was already headed down the street anyway. He lifted a silent prayer that someday a fine man would come along and treat Grace like the lady she was, the way she deserved to be treated.
Micah sighed. Dear Grace. If the Lord wanted him to help her, He’d have to show him how. One thing he’d learned in his seven years of ministering to this congregation was that a wise pastor never tried to change a person. His job was to love and accept his flock as they were and let the Lord make the changes. One thing did occur to him. Finding the thief might take her mind off of her sister’s departure. Maybe he could even help her investigation. He would enjoy having more time in her company.
By the time he’d walked the two blocks to the parsonage, his heavy load was wearing on his arms. He managed to balance the box against one hip as he opened the door, which he never locked. Other than storekeepers, no one in these parts locked up, but if thieves were at work, he might have to reconsider that practice and warn others to do the same.
After putting away his groceries, he took the letters from the box. The first was from Joel Sutton. Micah had been thinking of Joel not an hour ago. Maybe the Lord was nudging him to write that letter to his friend and ask for help finding a mail-order bride. It all depended on what the second letter said.
Sure enough, it was from New York. His pulse racing, Micah tore it open. A bank note fell to the floor. He snatched it up. Two hundred dollars! Gulping so loudly he could hear himself, he slumped into a chair to read the missive.
Dear Mr. Thomas,
We are delighted to inform you that your novel has been accepted for publication by Wyatt, Leader, and Davis Enterprises. Please find enclosed an advance on the sales we fully expect your exciting story to garner. In addition, we hope you will consider Wyatt, Leader, and Davis Enterprises when seeking to publish your next story. Our readers eagerly await every such book about the Wild West. With the added element of Christian morality infusing your story, we expect to greatly broaden our readership. Although our authors generally prefer to use their own names in an effort to find fame, your chosen nom de plume, A Cowboy Storyteller, seems most fitting in this case.
Unless we hear from you to the contrary, we will rush the publication of this delightful novel so it will be in the hands of numerous booksellers by early December, just in time for Christmas. With its seasonal theme, we can expect sales to set records, thereby generating significant royalties for you.
Please sign and return the enclosed contract. We urge you to send another story as soon as possible. Yours sincerely...
Micah laughed out loud. If this wasn’t the Lord’s leading, he didn’t know what was. Now he could get married. Whatever Joel said in his letter, Micah would answer right away. To his shock, Joel’s letter announced that he and his sister would arrive in Esperanza the first week in December. Displeased with the failure of Reconstruction, they were leaving the South in hopes of finding a more peaceful life in Colorado. Joel also said his sister, Miss Electra Sutton, had recently graduated from finishing school, and she hoped to find an upstanding Christian husband who held on to none of the bitterness many felt over the war.
Micah laughed again. “Lord, You never cease to amaze me. You put the thoughts in my mind even as You were laying out Your plan. Are You bringing a bride right to my doorstep?”
As a finishing school graduate, Miss Sutton would be a great asset to his ministry. Further, with the sale of his book, he would be able to support her without asking the church for a raise in salary, something he knew they couldn’t afford to give him. Micah recalled that the newly married Rosamond Northam Wakefield, also a finishing school graduate, always wore the latest fashions. Miss Sutton would no doubt be fashionable, as well, and he would have to support her wardrobe choices.
What would she think of him? Of his far from fashionable and somewhat threadbare clothes? Only one solution came to mind. He would take some of his earnings from the sale of the book and change his entire wardrobe, beginning with his old broad-brimmed Stetson. One of those handsome new bowler hats would be more fitting for a minister.
He’d go over to the haberdasher’s right now and make that purchase. After that, he would visit the tailor next door. Joel and Miss Sutton would be here in December. That should give him enough time to have new clothes made.
He laughed aloud again. In a few short hours, the Lord had certainly shaken the very foundations of his simple bachelor life. And Micah couldn’t be happier about it.
* * *
After leaving the Rev, Grace headed back to the sheriff’s office just north of the bank. She found Sheriff Lawson seated at his desk shuffling through wanted posters. He looked up at her with a scowl.
“Bad news, Grace. Those varmints who tried to rob the bank in ’81 have escaped from Cañon City State Penitentiary with the help of their old gang.”
Her blood turned cold, and her heart seemed to stop. She drew in a slow breath to calm herself and hide her alarm. “That a fact?”
“Just got a letter from the prison warden. Hardison’s gang helped him and Smith break away from a work crew bustin’ up rocks in a quarry near the prison.” He snorted in disgust. “Turns out I put three of his gang in a Kansas prison five years ago.” He shuffled the posters again. “I’m looking through these to see if I can find pictures of Hardison and Smith. Not counting the newcomers in the past three years, I’m probably the only person around here who doesn’t know what they look like.”
Even though the crime had taken place over two years before Lawson came to town, he knew all about their robbery attempt and how Grace, two of her sisters and two of the Northam brothers had kept them from succeeding.
“Word from other inmates is that they vowed revenge on the people who stopped them.” The sheriff held up a poster briefly before continuing his search. “Said they’d ‘finish the job,’ just like their gang said to me when they were sentenced.”
Grace snorted, doing her best to sound unconcerned. “Just let them try.” Brave words, but bravado wouldn’t keep her friends from harm.
All things work together for the good of those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.
The verse she and the Rev had briefly discussed came to mind. Right now it didn’t seem to her that these “things” were working together for good. But at least Beryl and Laurie would be safe from the two varmints, as would Tolley Northam, who’d gone to law school in Boston just over a year ago. If Hardison’s gang was set on revenge, the folks who’d especially need to be on the lookout were Rand and Marybeth Northam. And Grace, of course.
On her way home this afternoon, she would make it her business to inform the whole Northam family about the breakout. And her own ma and pa would also need to keep their eyes peeled and their guns handy. Grace’s family never went anyplace without weapons because of snakes and coyotes in these parts, but now they’d have to be even more careful of the two-legged kind of danger. At least Georgia hadn’t been involved in stopping the robbery, so the outlaws wouldn’t be after her. Unless they decided to—
She shook off her forebodings. In spite of the threats, she had other matters to attend to.
“Mrs. Winsted tells me she had some things stolen from her mercantile.” Grace wouldn’t wait for Lawson to get around to telling her about the thefts. Sometimes he forgot to mention important stuff and yet expected her to know it. Maybe it was because his wife anticipated all of his thoughts. Grace never made any claim to being a mind reader. If she ever married, which she wouldn’t, she’d let her man know from the start that he needed to speak out.
“Yep.” The sheriff combed a hand through his thick, graying hair. “I figure it’s some local boys just getting into mischief.”
“If we catch ’em and put ’em behind bars for a few days, that’ll give ’em a scare they won’t soon forget.” Grace checked the coffeepot sitting on the potbellied stove. A slow fire kept the brew simmering, and even this early in the day, it had already turned to sludge. She settled for a drink of water from the cold crock Mrs. Lawson kept on the side cabinet.
“Maybe get them into Sunday school classes.” The sheriff accepted the tin cup Grace offered him. “Nate and Rand Northam have turned around several boys with their good teaching.”
Grace nodded, although she still thought a few days in jail would be a good place for wayward boys to start. “Just have to find the troublemakers.”
They tossed around several ideas, not the least of which was asking other merchants in town whether they’d noticed small items missing from their stores. They’d also need to inform folks about the outlaws.
“I’ll go over to the hotel.” Grace adjusted the hang of her gun belt on her hips. “The shops over there might be easy targets with all the comings and goings of unfamiliar folks.”
“Yep. You do that.” Lawson continued to pore over the posters like he was digging for gold. “I’ll check the other end of town.”
“Yessir.” Grace ambled out of the office and strode down Main Street toward the Esperanza Arms. She’d never understand why Rosamond and her new dandy husband, Garrick, had chosen that name. Maybe Garrick’s uncle, the Earl of something or other, had planted that English-sounding name on the hotel. Maybe they’d named it for the wing currently being added to the north end of the building and the wing they planned to build to the west. Grace reckoned they couldn’t exactly call it the Esperanza Wings. She laughed out loud at the thought.
“What’s funny?” The Rev fell into step with Grace as she continued down the dusty street.
“You following me, Rev?” She kept on laughing, even as her heart did a stupid little hop.
“Not on purpose.” He chuckled. “We just always seem to be going in the same direction.”
A bothersome shiver, not at all unpleasant, swept down Grace’s spine. She had to stop these involuntary reactions to him. No man had ever affected her this way. The Rev himself hadn’t ever. It was downright nonsense. But when did feelings ever have anything to do with good sense? She mentally put her foot down, ordering those feelings to vamoose.
“So, what were you laughing about all by yourself?” He seemed in a jolly mood himself.
She dared to cut him a glance, knowing he’d be wearing that teasing grin. She was right, so she returned a smirk. “I was just wondering why they named the hotel what they did.”
They stepped up on the boardwalk outside the building at the same moment Rosamond and Garrick Wakefield emerged through the fancy etched glass doors.
“Well, what do you know?” The Rev waved a hand toward the couple, who’d shared a double wedding with Beryl and Percy last year. “Here are the folks to ask.”
“Ask what?” Rosamond’s eyes shone with pure joy, just as they had on her wedding day. They’d recently returned from their honeymoon and now were teaching at the high school as well as running the hotel.
Grace tamped down a mild case of envy, both for their happiness and for their getting to see Beryl last summer.
The Rev shook hands with the Englishman. “Good morning, Garrick. How’s business?”
“Excellent, Reverend.” Garrick’s brown-eyed gaze lit on his pretty wife, and he smiled. “Couldn’t be better.”
Grace wondered what it would feel like to have a man she loved look at her like that.
Rosamond sidled over to her and touched her arm. “What was your question?”
Grace traded a look with the Rev, and they both laughed.
“I was just wondering why you called the hotel the Esperanza Arms when it’s wings you’re adding, not arms. Why not call it the Esperanza Wings?”
While the Rev and Rosamond laughed heartily, Garrick tilted his head and blinked. Then he chuckled. “And you came all the way over here together to ask that?”
Grace hiked up her gun belt. “I don’t know why the Rev came, but I’m here on official business.”
Everyone sobered right up.
“What is it, Grace?” Rosamond lifted her hand and came just short of putting her arm around Grace’s waist, as she might any other female friend.
Grace stepped back an inch or two before that could happen so she could maintain a look of authority. “Two things. There’s been some items stolen from Mrs. Winsted’s mercantile. I need to check with the shopkeepers here at the hotel—” she waved a hand toward the row of six shops that lined the south side of the hotel along Main Street “—to see if they’ve had the same trouble. Anybody said anything to you?” She directed her question toward Garrick.
“Not to me.” He looked at Rosamond. “Sweetheart?”
“Not at all. Surely they would tell us. Don’t you think it’s a good sign they haven’t reported a robbery?”
“Pretty good.” Grace nodded. “I’ll just tell ’em to be on the lookout. Sheriff Lawson thinks it might be boys out for mischief.”
“What’s the other thing?” Rosamond moved back over to Garrick, and he placed a protective arm around her. She nestled under it, and they both stared at her like they were expecting bad news.
Grace wondered what it would feel like to have a tall, strong man put his arm around her that way instead of her always having to be the strong one. She cleared her throat crossly to dismiss the foolish idea.
“Dathan Hardison and Deke Smith broke out of Cañon City State Penitentiary with the help of their gang. They’re vowing revenge on the folks who put them there.”
Rosamond gasped. “Rand and Marybeth.” Naturally her first concern would be for her brother and his wife, who had helped to stop the bank robbery and put the outlaws in prison.
Grace considered her own sisters’ participation in stopping the robbery. “Good thing Laurie and Beryl aren’t here.” Once again, she’d allow that Romans 8:28 applied in this case.
“You’re in danger, too, Grace.” The Rev grunted in his gentlemanly way. “But I don’t think anyone will be safe as long as those men are free. We’ll have to pray those lost souls will see their need for salvation before they cause any more harm.”
Grace clenched her jaw. She had been praying, and look what it got. The varmints broke out of the strongest prison in Colorado, and now the decent folks of Esperanza would be living in fear until they were caught. For the hundredth time in nearly three years, Grace wished she’d shot Dathan Hardison and his crazy-as-a-loon partner dead.
“Well, I’ve got business to tend to. ’Scuse me.” She touched the brim of her hat like a man would do and strode away, her heels thumping on the boardwalk. The Rev caught up with her, only this time the cadences of their footfalls didn’t quite match, as they had earlier.
They arrived at Cappello’s Haberdashery at the north end of the building and stepped inside the open door.
“Welcome, welcome.” The sprightly little Italian man grinned broadly, causing his wide black mustache to wiggle oddly. “What can I do for you fine folks?”
Grace asked about possible thefts, and he reported that no such thing had happened in his establishment.
“But I shall be on guard.” Mr. Cappello waved an index finger in the air like Caesar vowing to defend Rome. “And you, Reverend Thomas. What is your pleasure today?”
The Rev was already trying on hats in front of a mirror on the glass countertop. “I’m thinking of changing my style.” He looked at Grace. “What do you think?” He indicated the bowler he sported, so different from his Stetson. Although both were black, the bowler changed his look from that of a man who belonged in the West to a citified dandy.
Grace coughed out a little laugh, unable to subdue a slightly derisive edge to her tone. “You goin’ courtin’ or something, Rev?”
He turned his attention back to the mirror. “I’ve been thinking about it.” He spoke absently, as if talking to himself.
Grace’s heart plummeted to her stomach. Now she’d lose his friendship for sure. Then what would she do? One thing was certain. She wanted the best for her friend, so maybe she should help him look for a young lady who was worthy of him. That idea didn’t sit too well with her, though she couldn’t imagine why.
As Grace and the Rev checked with the other five businesses, all reporting they’d had no thefts, she felt like she was in the company of a different person. That hat truly did the Rev no justice, not out here in Colorado. He looked more like some city slicker, a dandy, a tenderfoot, like the ones who came through town from time to time and either toughened up or fled back East.
They neared the street where they’d go their separate ways, and he stopped and touched her arm. “Grace, I’ve been thinking.”
“You’re gonna take that silly-looking hat back to Mr. Cappello.” She could only hope.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No. This is a bit more serious than our differing opinions about my attire.” He glanced up and down the street. Although a whole lot of people walked about tending their business, none were close by. “I want to help you and the sheriff investigate the thefts at the mercantile.” His gaze was steady, like when he was making an important point during one of his sermons. “And I want to help you put Hardison and Smith back in prison. Hardison may have thought very little about our few short private chats, but I learned more about him than he realized.”
“That a fact?” She considered the idea. With Sheriff Lawson getting a bit absentminded these days, she knew she’d need help to solve both crime problems. She had in mind her married friends, the Northam brothers, but maybe the preacher, being single, would prove a better partner. He did have a whole heap of insight into human nature. “Yeah, that sounds good.” She laughed. “Who would suspect that a preacher, especially one wearing a bowler hat, might be trying to catch outlaws?”
He blinked like he was surprised, and she feared for a second or two that she’d overdone her teasing. Then he laughed with his usual good humor. “So it’s a deal?” He held out his hand.
She gave it a hearty shake. “It’s a deal.”
