The Preacher's Bride (Brides of Simpson Creek) (24 page)
Read The Preacher's Bride (Brides of Simpson Creek) Online
Authors: Laurie Kingery
Reverend Chadwick and Faith’s mother both beamed, and started the applause that built to a thunderous pitch.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennett,” Gil said as the older man stepped to his daughter’s side. “And now I’d like to announce there’ll be a wedding taking place here next Saturday, with Reverend Barnes coming in from San Saba to conduct the ceremony.”
“I hope you can all be here to help us celebrate,” Faith added with a broad smile.
There are some that hold that cheering and hollering aren’t proper in church, but none of them were present in Simpson Creek Church that summer morning. And when the cheering died down, Gil said, “We plan to live in the parsonage with Papa, of course, but if the Lord sees fit to bless us with children, we’re hoping y’all would help us build onto it a bit?”
“You got it, Reverend Gil!” someone called, and there was a chorus of agreement. Soon the air was full of suggestions about how many extra bedrooms they’d need, names for about a dozen children and how many should be boys, how many girls.
Faith blushed so deeply that Gil decided it was time for the final hymn. He gave a signal to the song leader, who began singing in a rich baritone, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow,” which seemed to fit the situation perfectly.
* * * * *
Look for Laurie Kingery’s next story
in her
BRIDES OF SIMPSON CREEK
series,
coming in 2013 from Love Inspired Historical.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of
Handpicked Husband
by Winnie Griggs!
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing
The Preacher’s Bride,
whether it’s your fist Brides of Simpson Creek book or you’ve read each book in the series as it came out.
When I was deciding which of the Spinsters’ Club members to gift with a spouse next, my eyes fell upon the name of Faith Bennett. What unique story could I craft for her? Hmm...what if Faith
had no faith?
Her name would be so ironic, if that was true. And who would be the most unlikely choice for her true love?
The new preacher,
Gil Chadwick, of course.
Many of us who are believers have had friends and loved ones who have lost faith or never had faith, so I hoped the story of how Faith regained her faith, with the help of the man who loved her and her loving friends, would be an important story for Christians dealing with this issue today.
I suffered a loss during the writing of this book—the unexpected death of my beloved dog Tango, a Belgian Tervuren and the most beautiful, neatest dog ever. While of course it doesn’t compare with the loss of a human loved one, I know those who love pets will understand. I’m blessed with a husband and family who understand, and two other dogs who seek to fill the gap—and most of all a Lord whose “eye is on the sparrow.”
Blessings,
Laurie Kingery
Questions for Discussion
In the story, Faith has lost her faith. Have you ever lost your faith? Why? How did you recover it, if you did?
How does Gil’s father’s stroke affect the course of the romance between Gil and Faith? How might it have developed had that not happened?
Gil thinks he dare not share the mistake he made while in seminary. What difficulties does this make for him? What would have been a better way to handle it?
Why didn’t Faith have a bigger role in her father’s business? How did the way her father treated Faith after her brother died have an impact on Faith?
If you are a believer, have you ever dated a person of a different religion, or who was an atheist or agnostic? What was that like for you?
What qualities do you think the ideal preacher’s wife (or husband) should have?
Do you think it’s easier or harder to lose or regain faith today, as compared to the small-town world Faith knows?
Have you ever been around someone like Polly Shackleford? How did you deal with her?
How did the Texans of 1868 view the Native Americans, especially the Comanches, compared to how we look at them today? What are the differences? The similarities?
We all suffer losses or tragedies in our lives. Why do you think God allows these things to happen? Have you ever seen good things come out of tragedies? Please describe.
Have you ever met someone like Yancey Merriwell who initially seemed too good to be true? Was that person all that he or she seemed to be, or were flaws later revealed?
How did the dangers the people of the post–Civil War Texas faced, such as Indians, outlaws and natural disasters, affect the way they lived? How does that mirror how we deal with similar dangers today?
If you’ve read any of the other Brides of Simpson Creek books, who is your favorite character? Which spinster would you like to see meet her true love next?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical story.
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Chapter One
Northeast Texas, 1894
A
n ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through
the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.
“Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal
shied.
What now?
The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it,
along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised
to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.
The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his
head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often
these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more
important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood, as his
companions could no doubt attest.
After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and
thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without
distraction.
If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge
Madison...
Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail.
Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.
He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his
blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but
this bellowing beast was another matter.
No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken
backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat
maybe?
He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern
to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—
Well, what do you know?
He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.
“Do you think it’s a wolf?”
Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his
tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of
lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the
twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he
was
prone to seek out trouble.
“Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his
shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing
unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam
noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.
Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease,
refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in that. The loose-limbed bear of a man
had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What
was
different, however, was the subtle alertness
that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to
appear over the rise.
Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside.
He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal.
It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the
unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.
“Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said.
“I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”
“We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might
need—”
“This is about common sense,
Junior
, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr.
Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his
back.”
“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”
Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a
grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face
that
than
listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon
enough to suit him.
A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped
onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant
warble ceased.
“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as
surprise.
“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The
party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally
oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of
dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.
But this was no man.
From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long
enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and
hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He
hesitated, though, to use the word
lady.
She
appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.
The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a
flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.
Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and
tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.
Besides, she might be a good source of information.
He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty
with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”
“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s
whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her
cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.
“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett
didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”
Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just
because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?
But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her
slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So,
there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?
Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem
of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she
stuck the weed between her teeth.
But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there,
merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the
protection of the trees.
This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then
leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store
for his companions.
“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic
drawl. “I reckon I
was
a mite surprised at that, but
no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’
gents like you ’uns.”
Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light
lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue
and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago
shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had
rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.
This girl’s eyes were just like that.
She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken.
Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken.
This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.
Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right,
miss?”
She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth
with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no
doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.
She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field
of clover. Why’d you ask?”
Let it go
, Adam silently advised.
But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.
“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe
something had frightened you.”
Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve
into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his
innocent blunder?
To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a
rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”
Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could
laugh at herself? Now
there
was a novelty.
Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated
light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect.
I—”
She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No
offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give
it my all?”
She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You
fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re
looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles
back.”
“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in
her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying
somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken
great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she
obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if she thought a trek through the
woods would deter him.
The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it
in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride
farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him
speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they
was expecting company.”
He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He
watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of
himself.
Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In
that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed
into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine
wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the
complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless
comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her
environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.
“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a
ride?”
Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act
impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.
“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail
behind her.
Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As
interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions
right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with
this mess.
“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins.
“Good day.”
“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the
straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello
when you see her.”
Adam raised a brow. “Who shall I say sends her greetings?”
“She’ll know.”
Being coy, was she? He’d already decided the girl wasn’t quite
as guileless as she seemed. That drawl was a bit too thick, that gleam in her
eyes a bit too knowing.
Not that he thought the worse of her for it. Under the
circumstances, she probably felt safer pretending to be simple. Living down to
their expectations, as it were.
He turned back to the carriage. “All right, gentlemen. Time to
move on.” But as he set Trib in motion, Adam felt her gaze on him, like a
prickle between his shoulder blades.
A moment later when he glanced back, however, she’d
disappeared.
He mentally offered a salute. It was as if, by getting him to
look back, she’d managed to have the last word.
Mitchell’s gaze followed Adam’s. “Who do you suppose she
was?”
Everett clapped Mitchell on the back. “So, you like an earthy
quality to your women, do you?”
Mitchell shot him a contemptuous glower. “The kind of woman I
like is none of your concern.”
Adam faced forward again, wondering why Everett took such
pleasure in needling his companions. Did he think his polished manner somehow
made him superior?
“Oh, she wasn’t so bad,” Chance offered. “Seemed a bit simple,
but she was friendly enough.”
Chance saw her as simple? Adam shook his head. Was he the only
one who’d glimpsed the intelligence in those changeable eyes?
“What does it matter?” Everett’s question had an irritable
edge. “Until Miss Nash makes her selection, none of us has any business looking
at another woman.”
A pall descended on the trio. The clink of harness and the
rattle of carriage wheels suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. The question of who
would be selected as the sacrificial lamb in this unorthodox lottery rode
alongside the carriage like a black-clad specter.
Would the man who drew the short straw
really
follow through with his end of the bargain? Adam shrugged off
any feelings of sympathy for their predicament. They’d known the terms before
they signed the contract.
His
only concern in this
matter was to see everything settled according to the judge’s wishes, and the
sooner the better.
For six eternal, nightmarish years, he’d waited for the day he
would be free to pursue the truth, to clear his reputation and unmask those who
had blackened it. The proof he needed was almost within reach now, he could feel
it. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to exonerate himself, to reclaim the life that
had been stolen from him.
But he couldn’t do it from Turnabout, Texas.
His frustration over being forced to put his own plans on hold
for even a day, much less four weeks, was burning a hole in his gut.
Not that he’d let on as much to anyone else. His ability to
maintain an unperturbed demeanor through any situation was a matter of pride to
him. And a major source of annoyance for his opponents.
It was an ability that had served him well in his years as a
trial lawyer. The drive to hold on to that one piece of himself, to not let them
take it away from him along with everything else, had helped keep him sane the
last six years.