The Preacher's Bride (Brides of Simpson Creek)

by Laurie Kingery

  “I won’t kill him,” Gil said. “My God gave me the strength to achieve the victory, but all I want is to take my woman—” he darted a glance at Faith, and winked “—back to our people.”

  The chief raised his feather-trimmed lance and said something.

  “He says you would make a good Comanche if you ever wanted to join the tribe,” Makes Healing said. “And he will grant you your wish to leave with your woman in peace.”

  “Thank you,” Gil said as the medicine man and his son strode over and began to untie Faith. As soon as Faith was free, Gil took her in his arms and kissed her. The Comanches seemed to find this as much a cause for war whoops as they had the combat of a few minutes ago.

  After Gil had bathed and his wounds had been dressed, they were fed a victor’s dinner of roasted antelope, boiled corn and pemmican. Then their horses were brought around. Makes Healing offered her a spotted Indian pony in trade for Faith’s swaybacked mare, saying the bony creature was not a worthy mount for her. The pony was a pretty horse, but Faith explained she had to return the rented mare to the liveryman who owned her. She was rather afraid that the Comanches would have made a meal of the mare.

  “May your wife-to-be give you many sons,” the medicine man said, and Runs Like a Deer grinned up at them.

  Faith felt herself blushing, but she managed to smile back at the boy.

  “Thank you. Go with God,” Gil said then, his voice sober. He added, “Makes Healing, you understand we will not be able to keep it secret among our people what has happened to us as I did before. We have been gone too long, and Faith’s people have been worried about her. They will demand to know where we have been.”

  “Do not worry about us,” Makes Healing said with a half smile. “Even if they could find this place, we will be gone from here by the next dawn. The white eyes will not be able to find us. Many Coups will guide you to the road,” he added as one of the young braves rode forward on a gray horse. “You can trust him, for he will obey the chief. Black Coyote Heart’s leadership of the young braves has been broken.”

  Once they’d reached the road and their Comanche escort had ridden back into the hills, Faith and Gil talked about all that had happened.

  “I was so afraid when you were fighting,” Faith said. “But I just kept on praying.”

  “I’m sure it made all the difference, because I’m no fighter,” Gil said. “I don’t mind saying I had more than a few anxious moments myself. Every time I thought Black Coyote Heart was about to gain the upper hand and end my life, though, I got this sudden surge of strength from out of nowhere.”

  “From Heaven,” Faith smilingly corrected him.

  Then Gil told her about the vow he’d made to confess, first to his father, then in front of the church what had happened when he was away at seminary, how he’d gone astray and gotten involved with the ungodly Suellen, only to lose her and their baby.

  “We’ll talk to them together,” Faith said. “I think I have some confessing to do, too, about living a false Christian life—and some testifying about how the Lord brought my faith back and saved both of us from death.”

  Gil smiled at her. “Faith Bennett, you’re going to make a perfect preacher’s wife. I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  Then, they stopped their horses for a long, heartfelt kiss.

  * * *

  There was a round of applause in Simpson Creek Church as Gil and Faith finished their confessions the next Sunday morning. They began to step back toward their places next to her parents and Reverend Chadwick in the front pew so that the song leader could lead the final hymn, but then her father stood and made a motion for the couple to stay by the pulpit.

  “Reckon we’ve all had some big sins at one time or another to own up to. I think I speak for everyone when I say, Reverend Gil, that we think your shortcomings have made you a wiser man today. I have a sin to come clean about, too. There was a time when I was swamped by my grief at losing our boy,” he said, looking at his wife, “and I let our daughter get the mistaken notion that she wasn’t important to me. Maybe that’s why she lost her faith for a time, because her earthly father was so weak he couldn’t help her see how her Heavenly Father never stopped caring about her. I regret that, Faith, and I hope I’ve begun to show you just how proud of you I truly am. I’d like to have you continue to help with the newspaper after you marry, just as long as you want to. You’ve picked a good man to wed, Faith, and I’ll be proud to call him son,” he added, grinning at Gil.

  “Oh, Papa,” Faith managed to say before giving way to happy tears. Her father closed the distance between the front pew and pulpit in a few quick strides, and embraced both his daughter and his future son-in-law.

  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 ha
ppened?

  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.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

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  Chapter One

  Northeast Texas, 1894

  An 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 yo
u 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?”