Too Rich for a Bride (20 page)

Tucker tossed the last sack of straw over the edge of the loft and climbed down the rustic wooden ladder.

The parsonage in Stockton had been home to him until nearly four weeks ago. He hadn’t felt at ease in his family home since the day he’d told
his father he’d chosen to move to San Francisco to attend seminary. A war of words ensued, and he’d stomped out with a saddlebag full of his belongings. That had been his last day in the ice business. He’d bunked at Sam’s house for the month before he and his best friend left for seminary. The Lord had blessed him with Sam’s friendship, even though their time together was short.

“Taking over your father’s business so he can receive the care he needs … is a noble task in and of itself.”

For now, this was where he belonged. He would watch and wait, look for God’s provision, and praise the Lord for His faithfulness. Even when doubt clouded his vision.

Tucker, his mouth and throat dry, decided he’d done enough chores. He needed a cup of coffee and some psalms. He glanced at the stall, where Titan and Trojan savored the remnants of their supper.

“See you later, fellas.” He pulled off his worn work gloves and tossed them on the wagon seat, and then closed the barn door on his way out. Before he headed to the house, he glanced toward the creek and the bench he’d placed on a knoll at the creek’s edge.

She wasn’t there. Silly to think she would be. For one thing, Miss Ida Sinclair would still be at work. And why would she trust this part of the creek to be any safer, after what had happened to her farther down? Besides, it was better she didn’t come. He needed to concentrate on the needs of his own family. Whenever Ida came near, she proved to be a distraction.

Life seemed so much simpler in Stockton. He’d see Willow on Wednesdays and travel by horseback to preach on the weekends. Nothing here had been anything less than complicated since the moment he’d stepped off the train.

Walking back toward the house, Tucker watched Colin Wagner drive a black enamel carriage up the road. He might understand the attorney
having business with him on a weekday afternoon, but why would Reverend Taggart accompany the attorney for such a visit?

The reverend stepped out of the buggy and waved. Tucker liked the clergyman, but the verdict was still out on the law counselor. He told himself his uncertainty had nothing to do with the man’s obvious attentions to Miss Ida Sinclair.

“Reverend Taggart.” Tucker shook his hand then regarded his companion. “Mr. Wagner. Welcome, gentlemen.” He shook the spruce attorney’s hand as well.

“I hope we haven’t come at a bad time.” The reverend wore his few strands of hair splayed across the top of his balding head.

“Not at all.” Tucker removed his hat and slapped it against his dusty pant leg. “Just finished my chores for the afternoon, and I’m headed into the house for a cup of coffee. Join me.”

Once inside, they hung up their coats and hats. After Tucker showed the men to the parlor, he went to the kitchen to pour the coffee. He’d lit the stove and started the pot before going back outside, but he wasn’t used to entertaining guests. What else did he need? He drank his coffee black, but not everyone did. Tucker retrieved a bottle of cream from the icebox, a bowl of sugar from the shelf, and a spoon from a cupboard drawer.

When the brew was ready, he filled three mugs and carried the tray to the parlor. He set a steaming cup in front of each of the men and sat on the sofa across from them. “So what brings you two down here on a Thursday afternoon?”

Reverend Taggart glanced at Mr. Wagner and reached for the sugar bowl. “Colin and I have been talking about you.”

Tucker couldn’t say why, but the thought dried out his mouth even more. He lifted the coffee and let its warmth soothe his throat while he waited for his answer.

“When you first visited the church, you and I chatted afterward.” The reverend pushed his round spectacles up on his crooked nose. “You shared with me that you’re a preacher.”

“I was, yes.”

Reverend Taggart nodded, causing his thick neck to bob on his shirt collar. “I’ve accepted a pastorate in upstate New York, starting after the first of the year. And we wanted to talk to you about—”

“Like Reverend Taggart said, we’ve been talking about you.” Colin Wagner diluted his coffee with a generous dousing of cream and clanged the spoon against the sides of his cup. “I learned about your chosen profession in our interview for the prospectus. Ever since the reverend told the board of deacons his plans to move, we’ve been praying for a suitable replacement. Someone comfortable living and serving in a rough-and-tumble mining town.”

“We’d like you to think about accepting the pastorate, Tucker. Pray about it.” The reverend lifted his cup to his mouth, causing his spectacles to fog.

Tucker suddenly felt encased in a fog of his own. His second Sunday at church, he had asked the reverend to call him by his given name, never dreaming he could be asked to take on the man’s duties here in Cripple Creek. “I’m not planning on staying in town any longer than is necessary to see that my parents’ business is prosperous enough to provide for their needs.”

Reverend Taggart glanced up at the ceiling as if receiving a message from God.

Or perhaps it was Tucker who received the message, as a piece of scripture pressed itself into his thoughts.
Trust in the L
ORD
with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding … and he shall direct thy paths
.

Tucker held back a sigh. “I’ll pray about it.”

“That’s all we ask.” Colin set his coffee mug on the sofa table and stood.

Reverend Taggart followed suit. “And that you lead the responsive reading of the Scriptures on Sunday mornings.”

Wearily, Tucker agreed.
Lord, You don’t plan for me to stay here, do You?

TWENTY

or his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

Ida’s voice blended with the others in the congregation. Tucker Raines stood on the platform and led them in a responsive reading from Psalm 136.

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

How was it possible to read responsively while thinking of something else entirely?

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

Despite her best efforts to think spiritual thoughts, other matters caused her mind to wander. This week had held more ups and downs than the railway through Ute Pass.

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

She’d received her first wage. She’d visited the Exchange for the first time and bought stocks. Both wonderful firsts. So why couldn’t she just enjoy her new life without impediment from people who didn’t know anything about the business?

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

Hattie had been the first to step forth as a naysayer.
“I gathered Mollie may have her ducks lined up too tightly.”
Her landlady’s comments had
washed away with the rains. Ida could also write off her brother-in-law’s concerns easily enough. She couldn’t expect a mine accountant to understand her work with stockbrokers and investors.

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

But ignoring a sister’s words of caution was nigh to impossible.

“Some people don’t agree with the way Mollie obtains information … It sounded like she was buying stock based upon what you’d learned from a client.”

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

Ida sighed and flexed the hand that supported her Bible. She was only doing her job and seizing opportunities that the Good Lord Himself had set before her.

“For his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

And then there was Colin Wagner. The attorney stood in the front pew, directly in front of Tucker. The two men couldn’t be more different from one another than a seafaring ship was from an ice wagon. One wore a gray herringbone suit with a navy blue silk tie. The other wore brown trousers, a white shirt with a string tie, and a tweed jacket.

“O give thanks unto the God of heaven: for his mercy
endureth
for ever.”

The congregation joined Tucker in reading the final verse of the chapter. Pretending to study the Bible passage further, Ida stole a glance at the ice man as he returned to the back pew and sat down. He read Scripture as if its essence had bubbled up from his heart.

A man who set aside his plans to tend to his family’s needs. A man with a sick sister he cared deeply about. A noble man.

The man she needed to avoid. And she would, after today’s Sunday supper at Miss Hattie’s. Ida’s landlady had extended the invitation to Tucker
Raines in the vestibule when they first arrived, and he’d promptly accepted, earning a shy smile from Faith. Perhaps the two fancied one another.

A pang of jealousy tightened Ida’s throat and she swallowed hard against it. If those two did care for one another, she could more readily concentrate on more sensible pursuits.

Reverend Taggart was more formal in his preaching style, but Tucker enjoyed hearing him present the Word of God. His current series topic was especially engrossing—the unlikely servants of God. Walking from the church to Miss Hattie’s, Tucker viewed Nehemiah’s story from a different angle. A cupbearer for the king who became the impetus God used to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. Tucker rubbed his chin as he dodged a mud puddle.

Was that why he was in Colorado? Had God wooed him here as a means to rebuild the Raines family?

If that were the case, how did Miss Ida Sinclair fit into His plans?

A friend
. Certainly, she was a picture of determination and tenacity—a person dedicated to her family. And she’d already given him good counsel.

As he approached the yellow house with white trim on Golden Avenue, Colin Wagner came to mind and Tucker wondered if the attorney had been invited to Sunday supper as well. Wagner hadn’t sat with Miss Sinclair during the service, but he’d certainly showered her with attention beforehand.

Scolding himself for caring, Tucker reached for the bell pull. Soon his father’s business would be stable enough that he could return to California. To Willow.

Morgan Cutshaw met him at the front door and ushered him inside. “Judson and I are chatting in the parlor.”

Tucker hung up his coat and hat.

“It’ll be good to have another man in—” A distant burst of giggles interrupted the doctor. He grinned. “Unless you’d prefer to take your chances in the kitchen with five women.”

Tucker shook his head with vigor. “Rumors of me achieving such a high standard of bravery are sorely unfounded.”

Morgan laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “We haven’t either. You can hide out with us.”

Judson waved at him from where he sat in a wingback chair. “Welcome to the men’s hideout.”

Tucker extended his hand to Judson. “You heard that, did you?”

Nodding, Judson stood and shook Tucker’s hand then glanced down at the cup of coffee sitting before him. “You want a cup?”

“No, thanks. I’ll wait.” Tucker lowered himself onto the sofa across from the two men.