Emma walked to the table and collected more dishes. “You can believe her if you choose, but you are the only one who does.”
When she reached the sink again, Clay leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He pulled back and almost laughed at the surprise in her eyes. “I haven’t kissed her, if that is what you were wondering.”
She opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but nothing came out. It took a few seconds, but she finally found her tongue. “I most certainly was not wondering that.”
Clay winked at her. “I think you were.”
Emma picked up the wet dishcloth and threw it at him. It slapped him right on the nose.
The cloth slid down his nose and into his hands. “Thank you. I was looking for that.”
“You can dry, too.” With that said, Emma marched from the room, up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door shut.
Clay stood there looking at the empty room for several seconds, wondering what in the heck just happened. All he did was give her a little kiss. Did she think pastors didn’t kiss?
Sweetie walked across the room and leaned against his leg.
“You have a very confusing mistress, Sweetie,” Clay told him.
Morgan walked into the room. “What was that all about?”
“I have no idea. One minute, things were going along pretty well, or at least I thought so. The next minute, she threw this at me.” Clay stuck the dishcloth out for Morgan to see.
“Did you say something that made her mad?”
“No, I gave her a little peck on the cheek. Then she threw the wet cloth at my nose.”
“And you weren’t discussing anything?” Morgan was skeptical. Rose had already told him why Emma was in a snit.
“We did discuss Mrs. King. Emma thinks she is involved in Frank’s schemes. I told her I thought she was wrong.”
“Clay, I hate to tell you, but Emma is right. Mrs. King is not the innocent woman you want to believe. The sheriff thinks she had taken up with Frank even before his wife was killed.”
Clay was genuinely surprised. “Even if that is so, she has come to me for advice, and I can’t turn her away. Emma seems to think Frank will shoot me in the back.”
“You go against him, he’ll have no problem doing just that.”
“I can’t worry about that. I have a responsibility to people who seek help.”
“What happens if he catches you somewhere and you aren’t carrying a gun? He’ll shoot you no matter what.”
“Then I guess he shoots me.” Clay wasn’t indifferent, but he’d made his mind up years ago not to carry a gun. Neither Frank Langtry, nor men of his ilk, were going to change him now.
“What if Frank threatens someone you care about? What then?” Morgan had always wondered what Clay would do if he was forced to defend another person.
Clay didn’t hesitate in his response. “I wouldn’t let him hurt anyone.”
“Clay, we are supposed to defend ourselves against men like Frank.”
“You may be right, Morgan. I’ve taken more than one life in a fight before. But even if it’s considered a fair fight, it takes its toll on your soul. Sometimes death is not the worst thing that can happen to a man. A man can die a little at a time if he’s not walking the right path. If I’ve learned one thing in this life, I know there are things that haunt a man that’s a whole lot worse than dying.”
Morgan picked up a cloth. “I guess I’ll dry.”
* * *
Emma stomped around her room for several minutes. Of all the nerve. How could he just lean over and give her a little kiss like that? What was wrong with him? She hadn’t encouraged him, she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her. She walked to her bureau and started pulling the pins from her hair. When she looked in the mirror, her hands stilled. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes held a sparkle she had never seen before. For the first time in her life, she thought she actually looked pretty. She lifted her hands to cup her warm cheeks. Maybe Clay saw the same thing when he looked at her. Was that why he’d kissed her? Who was she kidding? She’d wanted to know what it would feel like to be really kissed by him, and not on the cheek. Men had kissed her, and with much more amorous intent than Clay’s tender peck. Still, the way his lips brushed her skin seemed much more intimate than any kiss on the lips she’d ever received. He’d said he hadn’t kissed Leigh King. She didn’t want to admit that she had thought that was a possibility.
Was it possible he was really attracted to her and not Mrs. King? Either way, it would prove disastrous for his career. She didn’t think most people would accept their beloved pastor courting a woman who sang in saloons. They would probably be more inclined to accept Leigh King. She glanced in the mirror at her reflection. Stop being fanciful. Clay was an extremely handsome man, and he’d just been flirting with her, the way some men were inclined to do. Men! She’d seen men like him before, the kind that liked to know they could attract women. When the woman hinted she had an interest in him, they’d run for the hills. A spark of inspiration came to her mind. She would call his bluff. The good pastor was going to get what he deserved for toying with her.
* * *
Clay was lying in bed in the guest room at Morgan’s house. He didn’t know what possessed him to plant that little peck on Emma’s cheek. At that moment, she’d looked so delectable, he couldn’t resist. Emma was a beautiful woman, even if she was giving him the devil over Leigh King every time he turned around. He thought they were all wrong about Mrs. King. Certainly no woman as lovely as she was could be capable of being as deceitful as everyone painted her. He knew she was living in sin with Frank, but who was he to judge? That wasn’t his job. His job, as he saw it, was to lead people to God’s house, to listen to their troubles, and offer hope. Too many people set themselves up to judge others. He’d often reminded his congregation that God didn’t select perfect people to be his disciples. If that had been the case, and God only wanted perfect people, Clay knew he would never be in the position he was in today. He’d made more mistakes than Leigh King could ever make. If ever there was a reason to believe in second chances, all he had to do was look at himself.
He realized he hadn’t asked Emma what time she wanted to leave in the morning, so he jumped out of bed, pulled on his pants, and quietly walked down the hall to her bedroom door.
Hearing the knock, Emma pulled on her robe before she opened the door. She expected to find Rose or Granny on the other side, certainly not Clay. “Yes?”
The first thing Clay noticed was the white nightgown buttoned to her throat, and she had a white silky robe covering that. Her long auburn hair was loosely cascading over her shoulders. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight. “I didn’t ask what time you wanted to leave in the morning.”
“I’d like to leave right after breakfast, if that is convenient for you,” she said sweetly. Oh, yes, did she ever want to be alone with him tomorrow. She would have him running back to Whispering Pines quicker than one could say johnnycakes, with his tail between his legs.
“That would be perfect.” Clay lingered a minute. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, but he didn’t want to walk away.
“Is there something else you wanted?” Emma said.
He stared at her a minute longer and said, “Good night.”
Chapter Fourteen
On the way to Denver, Emma snuggled up to Clay’s side. She was so close, she could smell the soap he’d used that morning. Much to her surprise, if she was making him uncomfortable, he was hiding it well. She’d hatched her plan last night to give him a taste of his own medicine. At the moment, her plan didn’t seem to be working all that well. He was congenial in his conversation, and quite considerate of her comfort in the cold. When it started snowing, he stopped the buckboard to retrieve another blanket to cover her. She couldn’t have asked for a more attentive traveling companion. She’d even gone so far as rest her head on his shoulder, but she was getting no reaction from him.
Clay d
idn’t know what Emma was up to, but there had been a drastic change from the way she’d treated him last night. Maybe that peck on the cheek softened her up a bit. He sort of liked the new Emma sitting close to him, and listening attentively to his every word. She hadn’t once brought up the subject of Leigh King, and for that, he was thankful. That was a subject they would have to agree to disagree about.
All night he’d thought about how pretty she looked in her white nightclothes, with her hair draped over her shoulder. He’d never expected her to be in such a congenial mood this morning. Maybe he was making some headway after all. After talking to Morgan, he felt a whole lot better about his future. He had to concede Morgan was right when he’d said Violet would want him to find happiness again. His wife had a great capacity for love, and he knew deep in his heart she’d want him to have another family. Problem was, he didn’t know if he could ever handle another tragedy like the one he’d faced years ago. But he told himself he had to practice what he preached, and live by faith. Whatever happened in this life, he knew his faith would see him through. Life was unpredictable, and folks needed to find happiness where they could. He told himself to slow down and stop getting ahead of himself. He knew what he was feeling toward Emma, yet he had no earthly idea if she would ever have an interest in him. He knew he flustered her when he’d kissed her cheek last night.
Normally he thought he knew when a woman was interested in developing some kind of relationship, but Emma was hard to read. Just because she was snuggled up to him right now didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be giving him the devil in an hour. Granny said she was headstrong, and she hadn’t been exaggerating. Emma definitely had a mind of her own, and she wasn’t afraid to speak it. He liked knowing a woman could stand up for herself, and not allow a man to walk all over her. He respected that. Before he got too far ahead of himself, he needed to find out what she wanted in life.
“Emma, do you plan on singing for a long time?”
That was the first question he’d asked her about her future. “I plan to sing for a few more years, unless . . .”
She couldn’t find a way to say she wished she could find a husband like her sisters and settle down on a small ranch.
Clay glanced her way. “Unless what?”
“I plan on buying some land near the farm, maybe even a few acres from Morgan. I’d like to have a ranch. I’ve saved money, and I thought I might be able to buy some land next year. I’d have to hire a foreman, of course, but I want to be near my family.”
Of all the things she might have said to him, it surprised him that she wanted a ranch. That was a tall order for a single woman. When he thought about it, if a woman could run a ranch on her own, it would take a woman like Emma. “Do you think you are ready for that now?”
“Yes, I do.” She wondered where he was going with this line of questioning. “Why do you ask?”
“I own a ranch in Kansas.”
She didn’t know he’d lived in Kansas. “Is that your home?”
“It was. I left there four years ago. I have a man who keeps it going for me.”
“Do you plan to go back there?” The thought that he would leave Whispering Pines one day saddened her.
Clay couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about going home. His wife and son were buried there. Jonas was getting up in years, and he wouldn’t be able to take care of the place forever. Once he’d arrived in Whispering Pines, he hadn’t given a lot of thought about going back to Kansas. He thought of Whispering Pines as his home now, and he had good friends here. “I hadn’t planned on going back.”
She heard a slight change in his voice as if some sad memories had surfaced. “Do you plan on staying in Whispering Pines?”
“As long as the folks will have me. I like it here.”
Emma wondered if he worried about being seen with her. If some of the congregation got wind of this outing they may try to ostracize him for not toeing the line. “If taking me to Denver is going to cause you problems . . .”
Clay didn’t allow her to finish her thought. “Hold it right there. I’ve talked to the folks who had objected the most about me going to Denver to see your performance. It seems like word about my sermon got out, and they are the ones who should be remorseful. I am not living my life worried about being judged by others.”
Granny told her he had backbone. “So they aren’t holding it against you?”
“If they are, they’ll get over it.”
“I know Granny would never want you to leave Whispering Pines.”
Turning to look at her, Clay said, “Emma, do you ever want a family?”
Emma laughed. “To do that, one must marry first.”
Clay nodded. “That would be the wisest course.”
She realized he was waiting for a real response. “Maybe . . . someday . . . I don’t know.”
“What about this prince fellow who is supposed to come to see you? Is he a possibility?”
“Henri? No, I wouldn’t want to live in France.”
Clay noted she didn’t exactly say she wasn’t interested in the French prince. “Would he live here?”
“Of course not. He’s a prince.”
“Can’t they give up their titles or something?”
“I never asked. I can’t imagine a man giving up his title in his own country to live somewhere else.”
Clay thought many men would do a lot of things for the woman they loved. But then, he’d never been a prince, and titles meant nothing to him. “I imagine it has happened at some point in history.”
Emma didn’t respond; she looked up and saw they were already in Denver. Time had passed so quickly, and now she was regretting they didn’t have more time to spend together.
Clay pulled the buckboard in front of the Grand Crystal Hall, and assisted Emma to the ground. “I think I will do some of my Christmas shopping, and I’ll be back for tonight’s performance.”
“I will arrange for you to sit in the same place as before.” Emma stared into his eyes. She didn’t want him to leave, but she couldn’t ask him to stay. “I’ll see you then.”
Snowflakes started swirling around them, causing Clay to look at the sky. “We’d best be prepared for a cold ride home.”
Emma had been nice and toasty sitting so close to him on the ride to Denver that she hadn’t give a thought to the cold. “I just hope the snow holds off until after we are home.”
Clay tipped his hat. “See you later.” He jumped back into the buckboard and was just pulling away when he heard a man calling Emma’s name. He glanced up to see a very well-dressed gentleman, accompanied by two burly men, headed in her direction. There was no doubt in Clay’s mind this was the very man they had been discussing. Prince Henri d’Evereux. Without thinking, he pulled the buckboard to a halt in the middle of the street to watch the reunion between Emma and the prince.
Emma turned to see Henri walking toward her. “Henri!”
Henri bowed politely, reached for her hand, and brushed his lips over her glove. “Emma, I’m delighted to finally see you again.”
“I must say I was quite surprised when I received your letter. I never expected you to come to America.” Emma hadn’t even given a thought to what she would say to Henri when he arrived. Her mind had been occupied with thoughts of Clay Hunt.
Henri arched his brow. “Surprised? Did you think I would allow such a jewel to flee from me? As you could not spend more time in Europe, I decided I would spend time in your fabulous country. I am intrigued by this vast land. Shall we go in for some lunch and I will tell you of my travels?”
“I’m sorry, Henri, but I was just going in to practice with Carlo and Andre. I just arrived from Whispering Pines a moment ago.”
“Carlo told me you were visiting your home. We could have a late dinner after your performance.”
“I will be returning to Whispering Pines after dinner. Our town pastor graciously drove me today and he will be at the performance tonight, waiting to take me home.”
/> “I will accompany you home. There is a hotel in Whispering Pines, no?”
“Yes, of course, we have a hotel. But I’m afraid our small town is not nearly as grand as Denver. I’m certain you will find it quite boring.”
“As long as you are there, it couldn’t possibly be boring.” Henri took her elbow in his hand and escorted her into the Grand Crystal Hall.
Clay flicked the reins and headed to the livery. So that was the prince. Clay felt he’d made a mistake not escorting Emma into the hall. His manners wooing a female were rusty. If he wanted to develop a relationship with Emma, he was going to need to improve in that area. The prince was an impressive-looking man, tall and elegant, in dress and manner. He wondered if the prince was the kind of man who would leave his home country if he found a woman he loved. The answer was obvious. The man didn’t come all of this way just to hear Emma sing. The man had to be in love. How could a small-town pastor compete with that? Did he want to compete for Emma? Maybe before committing himself one way or the other with that answer, he’d see how the wind was blowing. He had a hard time believing a woman would reject a prince who’d traveled halfway around the world for her.
* * *
Once Clay had taken the buckboard to the livery, he walked around town planning to do some shopping for Christmas. He’d spent some time in the local mercantile, and when he walked outside, a man passing by stopped in front of him.
“Clay, is that you?” Harper Ellis asked.
Clay stuck out his hand. “It sure is. How are you doing, Harper?” He asked the question, but his eyes told him Harper wasn’t doing well. He was much thinner than Clay remembered, his complexion was gray and his eyes were sunken.
“I’m good. I’m in Denver for a nice long visit with my sister.”
“I hope she is well,” Clay said.
“She is, and her children are growing like little beanstalks.” Harper wondered if he’d heard about Culpepper and Taggart. “I guess you never ran down those killers, Culpepper and Taggart.”
Clay shook his head. “I’m a pastor now in Whispering Pines. I had to let all of that go.”
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