The Preacher's Bride (Brides of Simpson Creek)

by Laurie Kingery

  “By ‘anything,’ I know you mean Comanches, sister,” Milly said, “but they’re not likely to come raiding because there’s only a handful of cows with young calves left on the ranch, and only half a dozen horses. And I don’t think outlaws will be a problem, either—they’ve steered clear of Simpson Creek since Prissy’s husband’s shown himself to be such a no-nonsense sheriff.”

  Prissy, already glowing with the radiance of a woman expecting her first child, beamed at the compliment.

  “We’ll all have to make it a point to come out visiting often, both as a group and individually,” Faith said. “Perhaps we can organize a party, like we did to celebrate young Nicholas’s birth.”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be up for any trips out that way until after our baby comes,” Sarah Walker said, glancing down at her own rounded form.

  Prissy clapped her hands together. “I have an idea—we’ll have a party to celebrate Sarah’s baby coming, here in town!” Prissy cried. “We should probably have it at Papa’s house, rather than ours, because Sam’s in the middle of adding on a room and it’s all sawdust and confusion,” she added. “You could come into town for that, couldn’t you, Milly?”

  “Sure,” Milly agreed. “And yes, Nicholas and I will stay overnight with you then, Sarah.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Sarah said.

  “Prissy, your papa and Mrs. Fairchild will be getting married soon, too, won’t they?” Faith asked the sheriff’s wife.

  “Yes, though they’re just planning a quiet ceremony with the family and a few friends,” Prissy murmured. “My guess is they’re talking to Gil about that right now,” she said, nodding to where her father, the mayor, and the widow he’d been courting were now in earnest conversation with the young preacher. “Papa seems years younger since she’s come into our lives,” she added with a happy sigh.

  Faith remembered it hadn’t been so long ago that Prissy was very distressed about the fact that her widowed father was romantically interested in Mrs. Fairchild, a woman whom he had known from his school days. What a difference a few months—and Prissy’s own contentment with Sam Bishop—had made.

  “Goodness, we might as well rename ourselves The Brides’ Club and a Few Others,” Polly hissed in Faith’s ear just then, yanking Faith abruptly out of her peaceful musing. “I can’t believe we were ever once a band of enterprising misses looking for husbands. Land sakes, all we’ve talked about are babies and the husbands of the lucky few.”

  Faith fought to control her feeling of irritation at Polly’s spiteful remark. “Well, Milly sure didn’t wait on someone else to bring about her wedded bliss,” she pointed out, keeping her voice low. “Why don’t you suggest an event we could plan?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking of that very thing,” Polly said, her face smug as she turned to the rest of the spinsters. “Ladies, I think the Spinsters’ Club should hold a box social, with the prize going to the most beautifully decorated supper box before the bidding. Only Spinsters’ Club members’ boxes will be eligible for the prize, though there’ll be the usual bidding by husbands for their wives’ boxes, of course. I’ve taken the liberty of drafting an advertisement to be posted in the neighboring towns—perhaps Caroline’s young brother would take care of that for us?”

  Faith’s irritation faded. Polly had actually made a plan and wasn’t just carping with no solution in mind. “Who’d be the judge?” she asked. “And what would be the prize?”

  “Why, Reverend Gil would be the judge,” Polly said. “And the lucky winner would get to sit with him at the picnic supper that would follow.”

  Too late, Faith saw where Polly’s idea had been leading. It was only another thinly veiled plot to position herself next to Gil Chadwick. Faith smothered a sigh. There was no guarantee of victory, but Polly was willing to risk it.

  “That’s a good idea, Polly,” Maude Harkey said, apparently unsuspecting of Polly’s motives. “Have you asked him if he’d be willing to judge?”

  “No, I wanted to pass the idea by you ladies first,” Polly said, all innocence. “But now that you’ve approved the plan, I think I’ll go speak to him this very minute. What man wouldn’t want to be the prize of a contest?” She left the circle of spinsters and sashayed in Gil Chadwick’s direction.

  “I see what she’s up to now,” Prissy said, her eyes narrowed. “Cousin Anson!”

  Startled, Faith stared at Prissy. What was Prissy up to, calling her cousin like that? What was it she wanted him to do?

  Chapter Six

  A broad-shouldered, dark-haired man with a faint resemblance to Prissy turned from where he had been conversing with young Dan Wallace. “Yes, Cousin?”

  She nodded pointedly at Polly, who had been stopped by Mrs. Detwiler just before she had reached Gil. The old woman appeared to be complimenting her on her dress. Polly smiled and bent her head to listen, but her gaze kept darting over Mrs. Detwiler’s head toward Gil.

  “Remember what we talked about?” Prissy called, nodding meaningfully toward Polly.

  “You want me do that right now? But Dan and I were just talkin’ about my new sorrel stallion...”

  Hands on her hips, Prissy stomped her foot with exasperated impatience. “I wanted you to do it several minutes ago. Hurry!”

  Faith could see the conversation Gil, Mayor Gilmore and his lady was about to conclude, but she still didn’t know what Prissy expected Anson to do.

  “Prissy, what are you up to?” Faith asked.

  “I told Anson to distract Polly, so she wouldn’t plaster herself to Reverend Gil like I’m afraid she’s about to do,” Prissy said, not taking her worried eyes from her cousin, who was still ambling unhurriedly toward Polly.

  What had Prissy told her cousin to do? Faith watched, fascinated, as Anson reached Polly and Mrs. Detwiler and favored both women equally with one of his dazzling smiles. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the way Mrs. Detwiler’s eyelashes began to flutter and how Polly’s whole face brightened.

  Faith stared. “What can he be saying to them?”

  Prissy giggled. “It’s a pleasure to watch a charming man at work, isn’t it?”

  Faith saw Mayor Gilmore and Mrs. Fairchild leave Reverend Gil’s side, hand-in-hand and beaming. Then Gil looked around as if searching for someone, appeared startled as he saw Polly near him, then visibly relaxed as he saw that her attention had been snagged by Anson. Gil resumed peering over the room, then his gaze stopped as it landed on her.

  Milly chuckled. “Looks like the coast is clear for you, Faith, dear. Go to Gil now.”

  Faith’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? I can’t—”

  “Oh, yes, you can,” Prissy whispered, giving Faith a nudge.

  Gil started toward them.

  “Looks like you won’t have to move an inch, Faith,” Sarah murmured. “Ladies, I think the rest of us need to go get some punch.”

  Before Faith could say something to keep them with her, the three ladies deserted her, chuckling all the way to the punch bowl. Some friends! Then she reminded herself they didn’t know how strongly—or why—she was trying to resist flirting with the very man who now approached her with a smile that threatened to melt her steely resolve.

  “Miss Faith, you’re looking lovely today, if I may say so,” Gil said as he reached her side.

  Don’t blush. Don’t let him see how much the compliment affects you. But she might as well have spoken to the wall as to her body, for she felt the color flooding her cheeks and her pulse kick into a gallop.

  “Why, thank you, Reverend Gil,” she managed to say. And you look like the handsomest man that ever walked the streets of Simpson Creek. “Uh...th-that was a lovely wedding sermon you gave.”

  His smile broadened and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Thank you,
” he responded. “My very first, you know.”

  She nodded. “But not your last, I’m thinking,” she said, nodding toward Mayor Gilmore and Mrs. Fairchild.

  He glanced back at them. “Yes. It will feel a little odd, marrying a couple who are so much older than myself. I’m sure they wish my father could do it,” he admitted.

  His humility touched her. As beloved as Reverend Chadwick was, his son must feel he had very large shoes to fill. “But surely he could sit by you in his wheelchair, and perhaps lay his hand on them in blessing,” she said. She had seen the old preacher do that, had even been the recipient of such a blessing. Yet she had lost her ability to believe.

  He blinked. “What a good idea. What a wise woman you are to think of that.”

  Faith felt her heart warm at his appreciation, even if she felt she didn’t fully deserve it. “At the rate he’s going, he may even be able to say some words of blessing by then. His other nurses have told me he’s been practicing saying the names of things all day long.” She looked over to where Gil’s father was sipping punch, his wheelchair next to the table where Louisa and the Wallaces were sitting.

  Gil grinned proudly. “He’s determined,” he agreed. “I asked him if he was getting tired, but he shook his head. I think he takes strength from being around his congregation.” He paused, his attention caught by something at the bridal table. “Oh, look, they’re cutting the cake. Would you like a piece, Faith?”

  Faith nodded. She would enjoy Gil’s company for now, for a wedding reception was not the time or place to explain her difficult truth to him. As they walked side by side to the table where the pieces of cake were being laid out, she saw with some amusement that Anson Tyler was still in earnest conversation with Polly, and Polly appeared to be having the time of her life. She seemed to have forgotten all about speaking to Gil Chadwick.

  Once they’d obtained their slices of cake, plus an additional one for his father, they sat down at the table with his father, and told Louisa they would stay with Reverend Chadwick so she could circulate for a while.

  Sitting here with Gil and his father, conversing with some of the older married couples sitting nearby, Faith pretended she didn’t see the group of younger women gathering near the bride in an open area of the hall.

  Milly came over to their table. “Get up there, Faith. Caroline’s about to throw the bouquet,” she said.

  “Oh, no thanks, I’m fine here,” Faith demurred. “I’m helping the reverend with his cake.” She had no wish to take part in the tradition ritual, especially in view of her resolve about Gil.

  Sarah had come to join her sister. “Go on, Faith. Are you a true spinster or not?”

  “I don’t like making a spectacle of myself. Let Polly win,” she muttered, feeling Gil’s gaze on her. “You know how much she wants to.”

  Faith saw Reverend Chadwick frown crookedly, then, with his unaffected left hand, make a shooing motion. She could hardly refuse the old preacher’s urging without looking like a spoilsport.

  “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Polly,” Prissy said, joining the others. “I saw her and Anson strolling around out in the churchyard, arm in arm. My cousin’s an excellent decoy!”

  Faith looked at the group, and saw that Prissy was right. Polly wasn’t among the young ladies lined up to catch the bouquet. Maude Harkey was there, and Jane Jeffries, Ella Justiss, Kate Patterson and her cousin Louisa—as well as a trio of younger girls barely old enough to put their hair up, but no Polly. How surprising, she thought. Anson Tyler was either taking Prissy’s request very seriously or he’d found something unexpectedly appealing in their fellow spinster. Faith fervently hoped it was the latter, and that Anson wasn’t just playing a game. Polly was searching for love, and Faith hoped she wouldn’t get hurt in the process.

  Faith decided to give in gracefully. But even after she had joined the others waiting for the bouquet to be tossed, she was so lost in thought that she missed Caroline tossing the bouquet, and flinched when it hit her in the head. Blushing with embarrassment as everyone in the hall began to laugh and clap, she smoothed some curls that had been knocked askew before she picked up the ribbon-bound cluster of wildflowers.

  “Better wake up, Faith!” Caroline teased, merriment dancing in her eyes. “Looks like you’ll be the next bride!”

  Faith ducked her head to avoid the stares and amusement as she returned to her seat next to Gil. She should have stuck to her guns about staying put at the table.

  “Well done, Miss Faith,” Gil praised, grinning.

  “Don’t laugh, your turn is coming,” she said darkly. “I see the groom getting up, so the garter toss will be next.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that members of the clergy are exempt,” Gil protested, but without any real alarm.

  Sure enough, just then Jack Collier invited the bachelors to gather up front.

  “Go on up there, Reverend Gil,” Milly urged Gil. “There’s not all that many bachelors. That’s why I started the Spinsters’ Club after all.”

  “Yes, go on, Reverend Gil,” the mayor urged.

  “Why, Mayor Gilmore, you’re unmarried also,” Gil retorted. “Seems like you need to be right up there with me if I go.”

  “Ah, but my lady and I have already set a date, as we spoke about with you a little while ago,” Gilmore countered, giving Maria Fairchild a fond look. “So I have nothing to prove.”

  Eventually, Gil let himself be persuaded and joined Caroline’s younger brother, Dan, a couple of other youths and Anson Tyler, who had ambled back into the hall with Polly just in time to join the others.

  “Oh, pooh, Cousin Anson can’t bear to lose any contest, whether it’s horse racing or a shooting match,” Faith heard Prissy fuss. “Why did he have to come back right now? He’ll grab that garter whether he has any intention of marrying or not.”

  And so he did, jumping for the backward-thrown garter as if he were part bullfrog. Gil made a good effort, but he was a little too far to the right to reach it, and Anson plucked it neatly out of the air. Everyone clapped and the other men slapped Prissy’s cousin on the back and congratulated him. Waving the little article triumphantly, he returned to where Polly jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  “I was counting on you, Reverend Gil!” Milly said in mock reproof as Gil came back to the table. “You let us down!”

  “Don’t listen to my sister,” Sarah told Gil. “You gave it a good try—that’s what counts.”

  Faith was secretly relieved. If Gil had won as she had, there would have been far too much attention paid to the two of them. Before she even had a chance to explain to Gil why they could not be a courting couple, the gossips would have it that she and Gil were as good as wed.

  Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, though. Gil had sought out her company today, but it would be presumptuous of her to assume he would ask to call on her until he actually did so. Looking across the hall, she saw that Prissy’s cousin Anson was once more deep in conversation with Dan Wallace and a couple of other men, while Polly hovered uncertainly at his side, as if uncertain whether he expected her to linger.

  Deep within her, however, Faith knew that she had not imagined the way Gil’s eyes had lit up when he approached her, or the warmth in them when his gaze was focused on hers. He was attracted to her, she could feel it in her bones. It would just be a matter of time until he asked Faith to accompany him to dinner again, to some event or even just on a walk.

  And until he did make the next move, she would be in an agony of anticipation, wanting to accept, but knowing she must refuse.

  “Miss Faith?” Gil murmured, and Faith realized with a start he had been trying to get her attention for a moment or two.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “You were saying?”

  He smiled. “I was saying, I think Papa’s getting tired. If yo
u’ll excuse me, I’ll help Miss Louisa get him home. But I’ll be back,” he added, and she did not miss the gleam of hope in those hazel eyes that she would still be at the party when he returned.

  She gave him a bright smile, then turned to his father, who was indeed looking worn out. “Reverend Chadwick, I’m so glad you were able to come.”

  The old preacher said “Mmmm t-too.”

  If she stayed until Gil returned, he might ask to walk her home. That might be a good thing—during their walk, she would get the chance to explain her position when he asked if he could see her again.

  But she couldn’t face it just yet. Some of the wedding guests had started to depart, and once Gil had left with Louisa and his father, she made her farewells to the bridal couple and escaped to the sanctuary of home.

  * * *

  “You left the reception before all the excitement,” Gil informed her the next morning when she arrived at the parsonage to care for his father. She had come earlier than usual, knowing Gil was getting ready to preach today. His father would remain at home, though, for Dr. Walker had already decreed that a day of rest was in order for Reverend Chadwick after the long time spent at the wedding the day before.

  She felt guilty that she had not waited for him. “Oh? I...I’m afraid I was tired...” she murmured. “What did I miss?”

  He grinned. “Just as I returned, Dr. Walker and his wife were leaving. Apparently their baby had decided it was time to make an appearance.”

  “Sarah—she had the baby?” Faith cried. Sarah hadn’t seemed the least bit like a woman about to give birth, although her form had certainly indicated the time was near.

  Gil chuckled. “Not until the wee hours, but yes, the Walkers are the proud parents of a baby girl, and both mother and baby are doing fine. Dr. Walker stopped by to tell me just a few minutes ago. They’ve named her Elizabeth, which, as luck would have it, is both Sarah’s and Nolan’s mothers’ names. And the proud papa tells me the wee one has bright red hair, just as he had as a baby.”

  “How wonderful!” she said, clasping her hands together. “I can’t wait to see her!” She would wait a day or two, though, for Sarah would need time to rest before receiving visitors.