Cowgirl Under The Mistletoe. Louise M. Gouge
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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