Cowgirl Under The Mistletoe. Louise Gouge M.
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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