The Preacher's Wife

by Brandi Boddie

  He blew her a kiss. “Such pretty words to get my heart stirrin’.”

  Sophie’s apricot complexion turned crimson as she fumed. “Let’s go on up to the house, Linda. Away from the hired help.” Her voluminous skirt and petticoats ruffled in the wind as she took the reins to her horse and resumed the trip. The horse was her animal extension, as it appeared to sashay up the hill. Linda followed on her mount.

  Dusty chuckled. “She’ll come around.”

  “You think so?” Rowe raised the window and stuck his head out, giving the farmhand a start. “She seemed very unwavering to me.”

  “Aw, you know how those Louisiana gals are. How much of that did you hear, anyway?”

  “Most of it, but I’ll put a good word in for you if Miss Sophie approaches this Sunday.”

  “No worries, Rev’ren.” Looking a bit chagrined, Dusty turned the topic around. “Did you send for your furniture?”

  “I don’t have any. I sold everything before leaving.”

  “Why did you go do that for?”

  “It would have been an extra load to ship.” Rowe instinctively glanced at his valise. The photograph was enough to remind him of his old life, of what could never be again. He needed no other physical items from his old dwelling.

  Dusty shrugged. “I ’spose you can always buy some in town. The Sunday school teacher Miss Kensey’ll lend you a table and bed frame until you get your own.”

  “I would appreciate that. The people here are very helpful.”

  “They’re real eager to have the church filled again after so long.” He secured his hat firmly atop his head. “I have to head back to the farm. See you Sunday. Bye, Rev’ren.”

  “Bye, Dusty. And thanks.” Rowe gave up on getting the man to call him by his first name. Though easygoing in nature, respect and propriety were ingrained in the cheerful farmhand.

  The quietness of the cabin turned Rowe’s thoughts. Perhaps it would be filled with joy and laughter a few years from now, God willing. Then guilt rode his back as he remembered his wedding vows to be true to Josephine. How could he imagine taking another wife when he was responsible for the death of his first? Already he betrayed her memory simply by admiring the beauty of another woman. What would Josephine have thought of his tête-à-tête with Marissa? Or his brothers? They would have frowned on his behavior and said he was dallying with a midnight lady.

  Rowe circled the room, thinking. He had ministered to prostitutes before, and Marissa appeared to share little in common with them except for her place of employment. At the saloon she concentrated on serving drinks to her customers rather than responding to their amorous advances.

  If she was a prostitute, then she wasn’t pleased about it. What if he could help her leave the business? If she was just a saloon girl slugging drinks each night, he had to uncover why she felt compelled to stay.

  He sat down on his largest trunk, a makeshift chair for the next day or so, and contemplated which of the canned goods would be the source of his supper.

  Chapter 4

  SUNDAY MORNING BROUGHT with it beautiful weather with calm breezes. Standing outside under the shade tree near his cabin, Rowe could almost believe he was back in Virginia.

  He saddled his new horse and rode to church. The forested landscape thinned the closer he got to town. His leg brushed against his favorite Bible, nestled in the saddlebag. Thanks to several church members, he knew his way to the building and where the pastor’s office was located inside. In the three days since his arrival, his home had been the site of unexpected yet pleasant visits. On Friday Miss Kensey and her mother stopped by with a delicious pot pie made with stewed vegetables and roast beef. On Saturday three members of the choir came to welcome him.

  Rowe was glad to be initiated so warmly into their midst. In Richmond people had their pick of churches and ministers. The congregation at his old church, where he worked as an associate under the pastor, saw him as little more than a clerk to put announcements into the weekly bulletin. Not so in Assurance. Already townspeople were eager to receive him as their new church leader.

  “Morning, Reverend.” A gray-mustachioed man called to him from one of the three wagons lined up in front of the modest church. The building’s white steeple and cross sat proudly atop the newly shingled roof.

  Rowe waved. “You’re here early. I don’t think even Miss Kensey is here to teach the children yet.”

  “My daughter is inside waiting for her. I’m the organist, Albert Pate. You met my wife yesterday. She leads the choir. We’re usually here before the congregation to practice.”

  Rowe swung his horse around to the wagon and shook Albert’s hand. “Glad to meet you. Is there anything I should know about the church before I deliver my first sermon?”

  The organist thought. “A few folks dropped out since Reverend Thomas left. The preachers in between weren’t too good. Most folks don’t like it when you keep them past midday hour. That’s probably the same where you’re from, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll get everyone out in time for the noonday meal.” Rowe dwelled on the organist’s comment about the church’s decrease in attendance. Hopefully there would be a fair turnout this morning.

  “You’ll have to end the sermon early because some of the church wives put together a welcome dinner for you. They thought it’d be a good way to show how glad we are to receive you.”

  “I’m honored.” Genuinely surprised, Rowe relaxed the tension on his horse’s reins. He had attended celebrations and dinners with his seminary colleagues in Richmond, but never as the guest of honor.

  His first sermon had to be a very good one.

  “I have to prepare for this morning, Mr. Pate. Will you excuse me?”

  Rowe went around the small, oak-timbered church and unsaddled his horse. From what he remembered of his tour of the building yesterday, the quickest route to the pastor’s study was located near the back entrance. He dropped the satchel containing his Bible twice before he was able to unlock the door. I’ll knock the entire altar over if I don’t get myself settled.

  Eventually he found his way to the study, where he put his robe on over his suit, only to pull the draping garment off. It was much too early to get dressed for service.

  Rowe knocked his Bible over again when a knock came from the door.

  “Yes, come in.”

  Miss Kensey pushed through the door. “Good morning, Reverend Winford.” Her gaze traveled to the fallen Bible, and she formed a puzzled frown. “I wanted to know if you could come meet the children before their lesson.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Setting the Bible on the desk, he followed her out to the Sunday school room.

  Miss Kensey taught an informative Bible lesson that not only gave the children instruction on right living but also entertained all in the class, including Rowe, who stayed for the entire lesson. By the time he left the children’s room, the sanctuary was starting to fill. Albert Pate started on the organ as Rowe dashed into his office before anyone could see him.

  “Oh, no.” He hadn’t gone over the sermon yet today. Rowe flipped pages in his Bible until he uncovered his notes. A Reminder About Deceitfulness. Rowe had spent his time since his saloon visit preparing the sermon. He trusted that God’s Word concerning fairness would call to mind any questionable practices the clerks and merchants of the town allowed. Jason Garth likely would not be in attendance, but other townspeople could hear the message.

  Marissa’s face formed in his mind as his thoughts turned toward the saloon. What would persuade her to come to church?

  The choir began to sing. As Rowe scanned his rushed handwriting of sermon notes, he realized the question would have to wait until after the service.

  Why did Jason always insist on doing inventory on her days off? Marissa spent the entire Sunday morning hunched over ledgers and helping the workers get the whiskey on the shelf and the ale on tap. Now she could spend the rest of the day in peace at the lake.

  When she was a child, he
r grandparents and mother took her there to play. Smiling to herself, she remembered splashing along the water’s edge and trying to catch minnows in her little hands. Closing her eyes, she tasted the picnic lunch of biscuits, chicken, and strawberry pie that her mother always made. While she ate, her grandmother often told her stories from the Bible that centered on water, such as Jonah and the whale, or how Moses parted the Red Sea, and how Jesus walked on water. Marissa didn’t know if it was the lake itself or the memories of once having a place in someone’s heart that kept her coming back.

  She passed the church, where the congregation was letting out. It wasn’t a large group, but people filled the doorway as they said parting words to their new preacher. He shook hands with them, speaking briefly to each. Marissa’s stomach tightened as she saw how his wide back filled out his coat to taper at his waist. His suit and fine gauge frock coat were much better for the dry summer heat than the heavy, dark wool he wore earlier. If he was still unused to the heat, he gave no indication. The sun shone on his rich brown hair as he smiled, laughed, and chatted happily with the congregation.

  Realizing that she had stopped walking, Marissa pulled the wide brim of her hat down closer to her face and carried on. A man and his family came down the church steps. He put a protective arm on both his wife and two daughters as they passed by her. Perhaps the man thought that the very sight of her would cause the women of his life to lose all of their propriety and go the way that she did. If she were raising her family in the church, she might react the same way. Still, the man was teaching his family to prejudge. Her mother told her that Christians weren’t supposed to be that way.

  “Excuse me, Miss Pierce.” Reverend Winford called her name from a short distance as he descended the steps. “Allow me to have a brief word with you.”

  Marissa felt the derisive stares of the congregation, sensed their curiosity as to why their preacher would stop to speak to her. Why did he have to do this? Didn’t he have more than enough people to tend to in his congregation?

  She had to give him her full attention because he stood at arm’s length. He wore that pleasant look again, the one she first saw on his face last week. Kindness emanated from his eyes.

  “I looked for you in church.” It wasn’t an expression that he put on for others to see, but his actual demeanor.

  The soft wind carried his clean, woodsy scent to her nose. “I don’t attend church,” she admitted slowly. “I haven’t gone in some years.”

  “Today I gave a sermon about being dishonest with money. Maybe someone will inform your employer of what he or she heard.”

  Her eyes shot up. “You shouldn’t have done that, Reverend.”

  “Please call me Rowe. Why shouldn’t I reveal what the saloon establishment is doing if men are being taken advantage of? You said you wanted to make it known too, but you can’t because you’re employed there.”

  Marissa turned her head to the church. The remaining congregation watched them with rapt interest and bewilderment. Her hat brim brushed the tops of Rowe’s suit lapels as she drew closer to him. “Jason is many things, but he is not an imbecile. He’ll know that I told you about that drink scheme. You’re getting me into trouble.”

  He bent down to peer beneath her hat. “I had a duty to share the indiscretion because Mr. Garth is robbing the town. I have to say it, Miss Pierce. You are doing the same. Your hand and those of the other employees are the first to take money away.”

  Reeling from the terrible truth of his accusation, guilt and shame hit her like bricks. “I’m not a saint, Reverend. I have to see to my survival just as much as I do the rights of the saloon patrons. My work is only until I can do better.” She sighed heavily. “Simone was right to warn me. I don’t know why I said anything at all to you.”

  He appeared unwounded by her admission. “Maybe it was laid upon your conscience.”

  “Don’t preach to me. I’ve heard everything you have to say.”

  “Marissa—”

  “I may work in a saloon, sir, but that does not grant you the right to use my first name without permission.” She wanted him to be just as flustered as she was.

  Rowe gave a polite nod instead. “My apologies again, Miss Pierce. I do hope you see that I’m not your adversary.”

  Marissa became grateful for her wide-brimmed hat. It blocked much more than the hot sun.

  “Oh, Reverend!”

  Sophie Charlton suddenly appeared, floating down the steps with her two brothers and younger sister in tow. She placed herself between Rowe and Marissa as though Marissa weren’t there. Touching the preacher’s arm, she steered him away. “Everyone in the church is waiting on you so they can eat.”

  Without pausing for his response, Sophie kept on. “My name is Sophie Charlton, and these here are my siblings David Jr., Bernard, and Rosemarie. I wanted to congratulate you on a wonderful first sermon today. Your preaching spoke to me and lifted me right on up.”

  Rowe looked back and forth from Marissa to Sophie. “Thank you, Miss Charlton. It’s a pleasure to meet you and your family.”

  Sophie continued her chatter, folding her hands and preening about. “My father will be back in town tomorrow. I’d be pleased to introduce you. Would you honor my family with your presence at supper, say, on Wednesday?”

  “I usually prepare my sermon for the week on Wednesday.”

  The persistent and emboldened Sophie would not take no for an answer. Her curls bobbed beneath her lace bonnet as she tilted her head and batted her sky blue eyes once in an imitation of childlike innocence. “But my father would be simply delighted if you could make it.” Her New Orleans drawl became more breathy with insistence. “Simply delighted.”

  Marissa scrunched her nose at the contrived display. The oldest, harshest-looking saloon girl could put on a better show of virtuousness than that, and make a man believe it. To her astonishment, Rowe gave in.

  “Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint good people such as you and your family. What time should I be at your home?”

  Sophie beamed. “We lay supper on the table at seven.”

  “Seven it is. Oh, and Miss Pierce, we will speak again soon, I hope.”

  Marissa overlooked Sophie’s territorial glare and sidestepped her, the Charlton siblings, and Rowe. “Good afternoon, Reverend.”

  Walking alone once more, she pushed away the odd feelings that tugged at her. If she was irate at the reverend for drawing more bad attention to her and the saloon, why did she care that Sophie had her eye on him? A woman with Miss Charlton’s standing was a good match for a preacher.

  As much as Marissa wanted to convince herself, the thought left her unsettled within.

  At the lake she caught up to Dusty Sterling, returning to the Charlton farm after church service. They hadn’t spoken since he danced with her two years ago at the saloon. He was one of the few gentlemen she did not have to remind to keep his hands at her waist.

  “Hello, Dusty.”

  She was unsure if he knew her anymore, but his hazel eyes lit up. “Miss Marissa, I haven’t talked to you since I was on that one cattle drive from Texas.”

  “Yes, you drove them here to be shipped on the railroad to Missouri.”

  “And stayed ever since.” He grinned broadly, pleased that she remembered. “You sure look mighty pretty in that dress.”

  “Thank you.” She tucked her hands in the pockets of her airy cotton frock. “I see you just came from church.”

  The brown waistcoat he wore over a clean white shirt matched his trousers. His polished boots sparkled. “Yep. Quite a sermon the new rev’ren delivered.”

  “He came into the saloon for a cup of coffee the night he arrived and got today’s sermon out of it.”

  “Is that so?” Dusty’s mouth twitched. “In that case I’d say he’s taken a shine to you already. Not a tough act for a lady like you.”

  Dusty Sterling was always the flirt. Marissa smiled at the compliment. “I think Rowe is taking a
stand against the saloon in order to establish himself as a good preacher.”

  “Using first names now, I see.” Dusty nodded as though he possessed knowledge far beyond her understanding to reveal just yet. He needed to be stopped from going down the path he was about to tread.

  “No, Dusty, don’t start assuming things. That’s what too many people in this town do, and then trouble starts.”

  “I didn’t say anything, Miss Marissa.” His wide grin was just as charming and mischievous as a little boy’s. Her disapproving look tickled him so much he barely suppressed his mirth.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and nothing’s going to come of it. For one, preachers and saloon girls don’t mix well. Two, I’ve no time for courting because I’m leaving Assurance as soon as my contract with Jason runs out.”

  All the humor in his face dissipated. “Why are you leavin’?”

  Stooping down to pick up a blade of dried grass, she twirled it between her fingers. “There’s no life for me in this place. I don’t want to always be seen as Arrow Missy or worse.” A shudder went through her as she thought of the names given to women who worked in saloons, whether their work therein was scrupulous or not—painted cat, soiled dove, shady lady. Those names stuck to a woman for the rest of her life.

  “Think it over, Miss Marissa,” Dusty pleaded. “Assurance has enough trades so you can change your way of living if it ain’t suiting you.”

  “Not with Jason’s wildcat temper and not with everyone remembering where I came from.”

  “This town’s got liars, cheats, and gossips, but there’s some real good folks here too.” He puffed out his chest. “Like good ol’ Dusty here.”

  She laughed. “I don’t know how you reconcile your attitude with the humility of attending church. You’re something else.”

  “Yeah, if only Miss Sophie could see that.”

  Even he wasn’t immune to the ways of Assurance’s resident Southern belle, Marissa thought wryly. “If Sophie can’t see the good in you, well, she’s still got that Louisiana cotton stuck in her eyes.”