He pushed to his feet, looking far older than she’d ever seen. “But that will use up some of your funds. You should take up the Wilcoxes on their offer.”
She shook her head. “I can’t abide living under the same roof as Hugh Wilcox.”
“Ah, now I understand.” He trundled to the kitchen doorway and looked back at her. “I’m sorry, Carly. You have to know this isn’t what I wanted.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I know. I’ll pack while supper is cooking and then leave right after we eat and I clean up in here.”
He nodded, then disappeared down the hall.
Carly leaned her head against the back-door jamb and closed her eyes. “What do I do now, Lord? Show me where to go.”
She had lived in many places, but she had no desire to see any of them again except one. Lookout. Rachel still ran the boardinghouse there, and the woman’s letters had been the only thing besides God’s fortitude that had helped her make it through those horrible years of prison.
Could she return there? Would the townsfolk welcome her back or take the first opportunity they could to get rid of her like the elders had?
“Where do I go, Lord?”
Lookout. You’ll find what you seek there.
Carly stared out the door. Was that God speaking to her? Or was that only her own wishful thinking?
And just what was it she desired?
A permanent home.
People who cared about her.
Someone to love.
Dare she hope she could fulfill all her dreams in Lookout, Texas?
At the bottom of the steps, Noah stopped in the entryway and glanced into the parlor, finding it empty. The front door suddenly burst open, and a young boy ran in, colliding with him. The dirty child bounced off Noah’s leg, stumbled, then righted himself.
“Sorry, mister.”
Noah smiled and shook his head, then closed the door. “That’s all right.”
The boy turned into the kitchen without so much as a second glance. Noah wasn’t certain if he should follow him, go on into the dining room, or wait in the parlor. He hadn’t stayed in many boardinghouses before.
A high-pitched scream reverberated down the hall, and Noah took a step toward the kitchen.
“Alan Michael Davis, don’t you touch those biscuits until you wash up! Abby, stop screaming in the house.”
Even though he couldn’t see the boardinghouse owner, Noah recognized Mrs. Davis’s voice coming from the kitchen’s open doorway. So the boy was one of hers. He’d seen the woman’s two little girls when he’d arrived, but not her son. He must have been at school.
“But I’m starvin’, Ma.”
“You get yourself outside and wash up, young man. Dinner is ready.”
Mrs. Davis had her hands full, from the sound of it. Too bad Jack was laid up.
Noah’s mouth watered at the scent of fresh-baked biscuits, something he and Pete didn’t often have. A man could only eat so many pancakes and cornbread. He walked to the parlor and looked around, his stomach complaining at his turning away from the kitchen.
He studied the tidy room. The walls were papered in a blue and white floral pattern. Two dark blue sofas lined the east and west walls with a pair of deep red wingback chairs facing one of them and a low table in front of the other. A piano sat in the far corner, and ivory-colored curtains fluttered on the afternoon breeze. He’d stayed in a half-dozen or more homes while riding his circuit, but he’d never gotten comfortable. Moving from house to house reminded him too much of his childhood—of never staying in one place for much more than a year or so.
He shook off the unwanted memories. Could he get comfortable in this house? He peered over his shoulders at the stairs that led up to Jack’s room. Not likely. Not with her living here.
He checked his pocket watch and ambled to the dining room, standing in the doorway. The toddler Mrs. Davis had been holding on her hip when he first arrived was seated in a child’s chair, munching on half a biscuit. The cute, blond little girl with pale blue eyes like her mother’s studied him for a moment, then grinned and held up her biscuit.
“Bicket.”
“Is it good?” he asked.
She nodded and grinned, revealing tiny teeth. The child was obviously used to having strangers in her home. “Bite?”
“No, thanks. I’ll wait for the rest of the folks.”
Mrs. Davis entered, carrying a huge platter covered with a towel. The fragrant odor of meat teased his senses. She set the heavy load on the buffet lining the wall to his right. She smiled and used her wrist to move the hair from her eyes. “Afternoon, Reverend. Dinner will be served in a few minutes. How’s your room?”
“It’s far more than I expected.” Heat rushed up his neck when she lifted her brows. “It’s nice. Very nice. I didn’t know I’d be getting two rooms.”
“I’m glad you like it. Be sure you let me know if there’s anything you need. Did I mention the fresh towels in the washroom?” She fanned her flushed face and continued when he nodded. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat?”
He glanced at the twelve empty chairs and felt odd sitting before anyone else.
“Mama, me thirsty.” The little girl pounded on the table with her spoon.
Mrs. Davis hurried over, picked up a cup that had been wisely set out of the child’s reach, and gave her a drink. “We have one other boarder—a businessman who’s in town to meet with Mr. Castleby—but I’m not certain if Mr. Cameron will be taking dinner with us or if he’s dining with our bank president.”
“Ow! Mama! Alan pinched me.” The young blond girl Noah had seen earlier trotted into the dining room with her brother right behind her.
“I did not. I just squished a bug on her arm.”
The girl glanced down, licked her finger, and wiped it across her arm. “Nuh-uh, you pinched me.”
“Not on purpose.” The boy glanced up at his ma with brown eyes that resembled the marshal’s.
Noah studied the three children. They were an interesting combination of their parents. The boy more resembled his father with his dark hair and eyes, while the youngest girl was the spitting image of her mother, and the middle child seemed to have received traits of both parents. He’d never before considered being a father, and his thoughts immediately shifted to the auburn-haired beauty upstairs.
Noah shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the vision of Jack sitting in her bed. The boy peered up at him with an odd look on his face.
Mrs. Davis sighed. “Reverend, I don’t believe I introduced my younger children to you.” She patted the boy’s head. “This is Alan. He’s seven. The older girl is Abby, who is five, and this is Emma, who’s two and a half.”
“We call her Emmie.” Abby reached out and snatched a piece of biscuit from in front of Emmie. The toddler squealed, then threw the hunk of biscuit she’d been munching at her sister.
“Children! Enough.”
Emmie’s lower lip puckered at her mother’s scolding, but the other two children didn’t react at all. “Abby, fetch the bowl of biscuits I made. Alan, go fill the glasses with water.”
Noah watched the children do their mother’s bidding, but the second she turned her back, Abby stuck her tongue out at her brother. Noah bit back a grin. So this is what he’d missed by not having siblings. He wasn’t quite sure if he was relieved or not.
“I’m sorry, Reverend. I sincerely love my children, but they are a handful. They know I’m not at my best with this baby on the way, and they take full advantage.”
Noah swatted his hand in the air. “It doesn’t bother me, ma’am. In fact, I’ve never been around small children much and”—he stared at her, wondering if he would offend her—”well, I find it entertaining and informative.”
She lifted her light brown brows again and gave Emmie another piece of biscuit. “Informative?”
“Yes, ma’am. As a pastor, I need to know a little bit about everything. I counsel people who are having probl
ems sometimes, and seeing the, uh … natural side of children’s behavior is eye-opening.”
“How so?” She cocked her head.
“Um … well, I didn’t expect them to be so devious, even when they’re young—and I hope that doesn’t offend you. I saw the same thing at the home of a family I stayed with that had seven children.”
“No, it doesn’t offend me at all. As much as I wish my children were perfect, I haven’t had one that is. All of them have been lively. Emmie is probably my mildest-mannered child.” She stroked the toddler’s wispy blond hair. “So, have a seat. I need to fetch the rest of the food so we can eat. Luke should be home any minute.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?” His gaze shot to the large container of biscuits Abby carried into the room. Her mother took the bowl and set it on the buffet.
“Thank you, but no. Everything is dished up and just needs to be brought in here.” She turned and shuffled back to her kitchen.
Noah wondered how long she had before her baby was due. Surely it must be soon. He looked around the table, trying to figure out where he should sit. Did the children have their favorite spots? He finally settled opposite Emma and watched her munch on her food. She caught him staring and gazed back. Suddenly she lobbed her biscuit across the table, and the wet, gooey substance hit his cheek, clung there for a moment, then dropped into his lap.
Emma giggled, then searched the empty space in front of her. Her lower lip came out again. Noah didn’t know what to do with the goo in his lap. He glanced in the kitchen, then grabbed it and tossed it back. Emma’s eyes lit up, and she snatched back her treat and shoved it into her mouth.
Good thing he’d changed out of his travel clothes earlier and was wearing clean pants.
The front door opened and shut, and Noah expected to see the marshal. Instead, he heard quick footsteps hustle up the stairs, a knock, and then the creak of a door. Mrs. Davis returned with a large steaming bowl, which she placed beside the platter. His mind was running rampant, trying to guess what she’d cooked. He suspected she must be an excellent cook since she ran a boardinghouse and her family looked well-fed.
Abby followed with two small bowls filled with butter. She placed one at each end of the table then took a seat next to Emma. The five-year-old grinned at him. “We’re eatin’ pot roast. Don’tcha just love that?”
He nodded, and Mrs. Davis returned to her kitchen. A loud thump pulled Noah’s gaze to the hall door. His pulse took off like a race horse at the sound of a starter’s gun, and he shot to his feet.
There stood the marshal with Jack in his arms. Her eyes widened when her gaze collided with his. The air left Noah’s lungs, and he pressed one hand against the table to steady himself. He couldn’t look away for the life of him. Her medium green dress looked lovely with her reddish-brown hair. And—he took a second quick glance—bare toes peeked out from under the hem of her dress.
“Could you pull out a chair for me, Reverend?”
Noah jumped into motion at the marshal’s request. He yanked out the chair beside him.
“I usually sit on the other side of Emmie so I can help feed her if she needs it,” Jack offered.
“Oh.” He hurried around the table, pulled out that chair, and stepped back.
Jack’s gaze connected with his again, but for the first time close up. He could see the deep blue coloring and her curious stare. He forced himself to look away and hurried back to his seat. Feigning interest in the floral design of his empty plate, he kept his head down, afraid to look up now that Jack sat almost directly across from him.
His hands shook as badly as they had the first time he ever preached a sermon on a street corner. Why did she affect him like she did? Why couldn’t he treat her like any other woman of marrying age? How would he eat with her right there?
Come to think of it, his appetite had fled.
Chapter 5
Jack peered over her shoulder at her stepfather as he entered the kitchen. How could he leave her alone with their guest?
Rearranging her skirts, she swallowed the lump in her throat, wondering why it bothered her so much. She’d never had a problem chatting with their visitors before, but remembering how she couldn’t take her eyes from the new minister’s the first time she saw him, she felt her cheeks warm. How could she have shamelessly gawked at him like that?
She peeked up, glad to see he was watching Emmie as she reached for Abby’s spoon. Abby scowled at her little sister, snatched the spoon from the youngster’s hand, and put it on the far side of her plate. The pastor’s lip pressed tight, but the corners of his mouth turned up. His black eyes glimmered with humor—eyes that were more intriguing than those of any man she’d ever met. His thick, dark hair refused to lay in place, instead falling forward onto his tanned forehead. And he was so tall. His gaze flicked to hers, then darted away.
Alan set a glass of water beside her, and she picked it up and took a sip. Had the reverend noticed her staring? What was wrong with her?
“Alan says you’re the new preacher.” Abby tossed out a glare like it was a challenge. Alan set a glass next to Reverend Jeffers and glanced up with a worried look. He scowled at Abby and went back to the kitchen.
“I don’t like going to church,” Abby said.
Jack choked on her water and erupted into a fit of coughing. Her gaze whizzed across the table at him, and his concerned look didn’t help any. She cleared her throat several times and focused on her sister. “Abby, that’s a dreadful thing to say, especially to our new pastor. You apologize right now.”
“No, it’s all right. I appreciate Abby’s honesty.” He lifted a hand, palm facing outward. “I realize sitting through a church service can be difficult for youngsters.” He smiled, but it did little to put her at ease.
“Have you been a minister long?” she asked.
“A little over a year.”
“Mary’s ma says you’re too young to be a preacher.” Abby tossed a sideways glance at Jack then smirked. “And you ain’t got no wife, neither. Preachers gotta have wives.”
He looked at Jack as if asking who Mary was. She reached across Emmie’s lap and squeezed Abby’s arm. “We don’t repeat gossip.” She gave her sister a gentle shake. “You just sit there and be quiet. You’re being very rude to our guest.”
Jack cast him an apologetic glance, relieved that he looked more amused than upset. “I’m sorry. Abby can be rather … um … outspoken.” His lips quirked up in a smile. Then his gaze moved past her, and she heard footsteps. Her parents took their places at the table, as did Alan, who brought the last two glasses of water.
Luke looked over at Reverend Jeffers. “Would you care to ask the Lord to bless our food, Reverend?”
He gave a brief nod. “I’d be happy to.” He bowed his head, and the others around the table followed. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for this delicious-smelling meal and for the hands that prepared it. We ask that You bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, and I ask Your blessing on this household and this town. Amen.”
“Good. He don’t pray them long-winded prayers like Pastor Taylor did.” Alan jumped out of his chair and snagged a biscuit off the buffet.
“Son, don’t talk poorly of Pastor Taylor,” Luke said. “He’s a good man. And set that biscuit down. You know we allow our guests to go first.”
Alan flopped back in his chair. “Sorry, Pa, but I’m starvin’.”
“Please, Reverend, help yourself.” Jack’s ma held her hand toward the buffet.
The minister looked down at his plate. “Thank you, but it doesn’t seem proper for me to go before you ladies and the children.”
“I knew I was gonna like him.” Alan grabbed his plate and jumped up, but her papa snagged her brother’s arm and pressed him back onto his chair.
“Since the pastor has expressed his wishes, we’ll let the ladies go first, Son.”
Alan scowled into his plate, while Abby grinned. Jack could almost hear her sister’s tauntin
g, “Na–na–na–na–na! I get to go before you.”
“That’s kind of you, Reverend.” Her mother stood, took her dish and Jack’s, then soon returned with both plates filled with food.
Jack wondered how she’d manage to eat so much pork roast, green beans, and potatoes with him sitting across the table. And just why did that bother her so much?
She’d already decided she wasn’t going to chase after him like some schoolgirl with her first crush. Tessa had made it clear that she meant to lasso the poor, unsuspecting man.
With her head lowered, she watched him through her lashes. He waved and smiled at Emmie while he waited on her siblings to fill their plates. Finally, he followed Luke to the buffet. While his back was turned, she took the opportunity to study him. Luke was a solid six feet two, so Reverend Jeffers had to be at least six feet four. His shoulders were even broader than Luke’s, but he wasn’t husky for a large man, nor was he a string bean. In fact, he looked well-muscled—a man more used to physical labor than studious pursuits. As far as she could tell, Noah Jeffers was close to perfect. She exhaled a heavy sigh then noticed her mother watching her. A smirk danced on her ma’s lips, and a knowing gleam lit her eyes.
Appalled that her ma must think she was attracted to the man, Jack shook her head and stabbed a bite of meat.
The minister returned with a full plate and a contented smile and sat down. She imagined a man his size had a big appetite.
“This sure looks delicious, Mrs. Davis.” He poked some green beans with his fork and took a bite.
“Thank you,” her ma said. “Pastor Taylor didn’t tell us much about you when he mentioned you’d be taking his place. So, where do you hail from?”
Finally a Bride Page 5