Both men laughed.
“It’s good to see you, Robert,” Phillip said. “I miss our chats.”
“I do too. I’ve just been so busy lately. At least once a day, I stop and ask myself why I decided to become a pastor. Am I really doing these people any good? I’ll look into the eyes of the men in my pews and see a glimmer of understanding there, and then the very next night, I’ll see those same men come stumbling out of the saloon. What impact have I really made?”
“You know why you became a pastor,” Phillip said mildly. “You had to share what you’ve been given.”
“True. I just wish the recipients were more willing to take it.” Robert stood up and shook his friend’s hand. “I’ll find a moment to come by again. Maybe next time, Mrs. Hadley will have made one of her pies.”
“I’ll put in the request. You know she loves cooking for you—she calls you ‘that skinny preacher.’”
Robert laughed. “I’m not as skinny as I used to be, and that’s a fact. By the time I accept all the dinner invitations that come my way each week, I have to roll myself into the pulpit on Sundays.”
“And there’s the evidence that you’re doing good here, Robert—the people are inviting you into their homes. Don’t lose sight of that.”
Robert thought about that as he strolled home. Phillip had made a lot of sense, and he was glad he’d stopped by. He needed to do that more—he’d forgotten how valuable it was to talk things over with a mentor. His father certainly wasn’t a good resource. While Phillip was no relation, he’d stepped into the role of the brother Robert never had. God had blessed him with good people in his life.
Chapter Three
“Will that be all?” Olivia asked her customer, trying to hide her irritation. The man sitting in front of her reeked of days on the train, and he’d wiped his nose on a filthy handkerchief the entire time he’d tried to decide what to order. Just a few more months, perhaps, and she would find a rich man to take her away from all this. Surely she could abide the stench and the slovenliness for a few more months.
“And some pie,” he said at last.
“Very good. I’ll be right back.”
As Olivia made her way to the kitchen, she noticed that Pastor Osbourne had come in and was seated at one of her tables. He’d spent an hour at the hotel just the night before—what could he possibly want here now? It had to be more than just lunch—he had a conniving look about him, as though he had some sort of scheme going on.
She delivered the food to her train passenger, making him the priority because she knew he had to continue on his journey in a few minutes’ time, then approached the pastor’s table. He stood, and she waved him back down.
“Your manners do you credit, Pastor, but this is a restaurant. If everyone stood for their waitresses, we’d have even more chaos than we already do.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. I suppose some habits are hard to break.”
“Pleasant habits should never be broken. What I can get you?”
“I’ve heard you make cornbread.”
“Miss Hampton is the best cornbread cook in the state, from what I’m told.”
“Well, let’s give that a try. What else do you have today?”
“I can bring you a bowl of stew and some fresh apple pie.”
“That all sounds delicious.” He gave a nod and a smile. “You’re looking well today, Miss Markham. No ill side effects from yesterday’s adventure?”
“None whatsoever, thank you.” Olivia moved to go place his order, but he was still talking, so she paused.
“Dr. Wayment told me to let him know if I had any trouble sleeping or other symptoms of emotional trauma. I trust you would let him know as well?”
“I slept really quite well, Pastor, but thank you for your concern. I’ll be right back with your food.”
Honestly, why did he think she would be suffering from an emotional trauma? Oh, and here came the marshal as well—that’s right. He’d said he’d come by to take her statement. She shook her head as she placed a bowl of stew on her tray. She didn’t regret disarming the gunman, but she did regret all this attention.
She delivered the food to the pastor, and then took the marshal’s order. Colonel Gordon was an imposing man, and she didn’t wonder why he’d been appointed to such a position of authority. She suspected, however, that many of the ladies in town preferred to deal with the deputy marshal, Gabriel Hanks. She wouldn’t mind having an interview with him someday.
As soon as the train passengers had cleared the dining room, Olivia took off her apron and sat down across from the marshal. “I’m sorry for the delay, Colonel Gordon. I understand you’d like to talk with me about the events of yesterday.”
“Yes, I do. I asked the pastor to be here as well—I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you in any way.” He nodded to Pastor Osbourne, who was just then walking over to take a seat near them.
Oh. That’s why he was there. Olivia had dared to flatter herself for a moment that he’d come to see her. Not that she wanted him to come for that reason—she had much better things to do with her time than ward off the unwanted advances of a country minister—but it was a little disappointing to know that he was here on business.
“It doesn’t bother me at all. Perhaps he could remind me of anything I’ve forgotten.”
The colonel nodded. “I understand you were a parishioner at the church house yesterday morning.”
Odd place to begin, and an even odder question, but this was his investigation, not hers. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Did you notice Mr. Cannell enter the church?”
“No, I didn’t notice him at all until he yelled out and came up the aisle.”
“Had you ever met him previously?”
Olivia shook her head. “I’m new to town, and I stay mostly at the hotel. I know very few people, and he isn’t one of them.”
“So, tell me in your own words what took place.”
Olivia pressed her lips together. “The pastor had just begun speaking when a man in the back of the room started shouting and charged up the aisle, waving a pistol. He was threating the pastor, demanding that he explain the nature of God or something—I’m afraid I missed that part. I glanced around and noticed that no one seemed to be prepared to defend themselves—I saw no holsters on any of the men, and they all sat there like paintings instead of real people. So I decided to do something about it.”
The colonel quirked an eyebrow. “You just decided to do something about it?”
“That’s right. It was obvious that something had to be done, and so I decided it would be me. I borrowed a bonnet from a little girl and used the strings as a sort of noose around Mr. Cannell’s neck. My own hat didn’t have any strings or ribbons, you see.”
“And how did you arrive at the idea to create a noose?”
“Well, I didn’t see anything heavy enough to clunk him over the head with, so I thought strangulation was the next-best option.”
She heard a sound from the pastor and glanced over to see that his face was red. Was he trying not to laugh? Whatever for?
“I’m not at all sure what you find so amusing, Pastor,” she said. “Perhaps you’d care to tell me.”
“I . . . I just never met anyone who could use the word ‘strangulation’ so casually,” he said at last. “You sound as though this is something you do every day.”
Olivia shook her head, exasperated. “Yes, I know. Women aren’t supposed to run around putting down rebellions. Next time, I shall remain meekly in my pew, and you can just have Dr. Wayment dig a bullet out of your chest. I understand my place.”
Pastor Osbourne raised both hands. “Now, wait, Miss Markham. I thought I’d made my admiration and gratitude completely clear. I didn’t mean to imply that you shouldn’t have done what you did. It’s just that no other woman of my acquaintance would have thought to do such a thing.”
“Then it sounds to me like you need to acquaint yourself with a broader v
ariety of women. We may be the weaker sex, but we do manage to come in handy once in a while.” She turned her full attention back to the colonel. “What else can I answer for you?”
Colonel Gordon looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but there at that moment. Olivia felt bad for him—she supposed he had been put in an awkward position. “I just needed to verify that Mr. Cannell made threats against the pastor’s wellbeing, and that you felt he created a danger to the congregation. It’s my job to make sure that his charges are accurate.”
“Yes, those statements are accurate. Is there anything else?”
“I believe that will do.”
Olivia stood. “Then I must get back to work. I’m on dish duty today.” She tied her apron back around her waist as she walked toward the kitchen.
“Miss Markham. Please, one more thing.”
She turned on her heel. “Yes, Pastor?” He was the only one left in the dining room—the marshal had already gone.
“Please, accept my apology. I didn’t mean to mock you.”
She exhaled loudly. “I will accept your apology if we can please put this entire thing behind us. All I’ve heard for twenty-four hours is how brave I was and how astonishing it was that I would do such a thing. I have no patience for unfixable problems, and even less patience for those who refuse to try to fix them. The lack of guns presented a different challenge, and so I took it.”
“The lack of guns is my doing, Miss Markham. I’ve always considered it disrespectful for a man to bring his firearm into the house of the Lord, and I asked my congregation to honor that belief.”
Olivia tilted her head to the side. “That might be all right for a quiet community, perhaps somewhere back east, but from what I understand, this is rougher country, Pastor. I’m not sure God would mind if the people decided to protect themselves every day of the week, including Sunday.”
“You’ve voiced something I’ve been considering for the last day, Miss Markham. But where do we draw the line? Where can someone go to feel safe if not at church?”
“Forgive my bluntness, but I’ve never seen anyone held at gunpoint before until I was at church. No, that’s not entirely true—Jeanette had her uncle in her sights for a few minutes at the hotel, but I don’t think that really counted. The point is, Pastor, until every angry man decides to forgive his neighbor, this world will be dangerous. It’s simply a fact of life.”
“Miss Markham, your turn of phrase is inspiring. I wonder if I might quote you in next week’s sermon.”
Olivia placed her hands on her hips. “You were constructing next week’s sermon just now? Were you even listening to me?”
“Of course I was! How else do you think I landed upon that inspiring quote?”
She shook her head. “I find you exasperating, and right now, I’d rather wash a hundred dirty dishes than continue this conversation. Please excuse me.”
“Wait, Miss Markham. I’ve somehow offended you again. Tell me how to make it up to you.”
She threw her hands in the air. “At this point, perhaps leaving me alone is the best remedy.” She left him standing there, looking completely bewildered. Men!
***
“If men and women were not both needed together for the continued growth of our species, I’d vote that we do without men altogether,” Olivia said as she scrubbed the last plate. “I’m honestly trying to decide what other purpose they serve, and I can’t come up with one.”
“Then perhaps it’s just as well that women aren’t allowed to vote,” Elizabeth said mildly, setting the plate she had just dried on the shelf.
“I certainly hope that’s not the case forever.” Harriet picked up the laundry basket carrying that meal’s tablecloths. “My Aunt Lillian has been agitating for women’s votes for as long as I can remember—probably before anyone else even thought of it for themselves. She says we never will have a free nation until everyone can vote—men and women, people of all colors and religions.”
“You Martins are certainly progressive thinkers,” Elizabeth replied with a smile.
“And my father is completely against all progress. It makes for very interesting mealtime conversations.”
“How did we go from complaining about men to discussing politics?” Olivia wanted to know. “I wasn’t done.”
“We’re sorry,” Elizabeth said. “What else did you want to say?”
“I . . . don’t remember. But I’m very, very annoyed!” Olivia tossed her rag into the basket Harriet held.
Harriet laughed. “That sounds about right—men and annoyance. Come on—you can take out your angst on these linens.”
“Men really aren’t that bad,” Elizabeth added. “I think we give them far too little credit for all their good efforts.”
Harriet and Elizabeth were both newlyweds, still caught up in the bloom of romance. Olivia should have known they’d be too besotted to have anything useful to say.
They had all just started scrubbing the linens when the deputy marshal came striding across the yard. He’d taken off his hat, and his blond hair was tousled by the wind. It curled a little around the ears and rested on his collar. Olivia liked longer hair on a man. Yes indeed, the deputy was a very nice-looking person.
“Afternoon, ladies. Is Miss Peterson around? Abigail Peterson, that is?”
“She’s over at the clothesline,” Rachel replied, nodding that direction.
“Thank you.” He gave a return nod and walked over to find Abigail. He’d barely cast a glance in Olivia’s direction at all. She wasn’t insulted, exactly, but she wasn’t amused. She wasn’t used to being overlooked. Of course, in her drab and dreary gown, her hair pulled back in a simple bun, she supposed she wasn’t looking her best.
The deputy left a moment later, and Olivia couldn’t help but ask, “What did he need?”
“He just wanted to let me know that Jeanette made it safely to New York. He delivered her to Women’s Hospital himself and made sure she was settled before he came back,” Abigail said, the color in her cheeks high. “He arrived on the train just now, but he knew I’d be busy serving, so he waited until after the meal to speak with me. Wasn’t that thoughtful?”
Olivia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So that’s how it was. Oh, well—the deputy wasn’t wealthy, and she had no call to be thinking of him. In fact, hadn’t she just decided that men should be done away with altogether? She gave her tablecloth an extra-good wringing and handed it off to Abigail for the clothesline. Her mind was becoming far too muddled. It was time to put all this ridiculousness behind her.
Chapter Four
Robert found Mrs. Clasby waiting for him when he returned home that evening. She popped up from the chair where she’d been sitting, her hands clasped together around a handkerchief.
“Hello, Mrs. Clasby. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I trust Mrs. Little took good care of you?”
“Yes, she made me a nice cup of tea. I’m really so upset, Pastor. Do you have a moment?”
He noticed that her eyes were red. “Of course. Please, sit back down and tell me what’s troubling you.”
She sat, and he took the chair across from her. “What can I do for you?” he prodded when she didn’t speak.
“I have to move to Denver!” she wailed, pressing her handkerchief to her mouth.
“That’s where your oldest daughter lives, if I remember right.”
“Yes. She married a wealthy businessman out there, and he built her a beautiful home and they have three children. Now she has another on the way—but maybe I shouldn’t have said that to a pastor.” Her cheeks colored bright pink.
Robert waved his hand, trying to hide an amused smile. “It’s quite all right.”
“Well, she asked me to come help her out, because her health is a bit poorly. She’s my daughter—of course I’ll go. She’s hoping I’ll stay there permanently.”
“So this means we’re losing you, then.”
She nodded. “I’m so sorry. And just when we
were finally starting to see some real progress with the choir, too.”
Robert nodded, pasting a smile on his face. Everyone had their own perception of what the word “progress” meant, he supposed.
“When do you leave?”
“In about two weeks. Clive Hansen has been trying to buy my place from me for the last ten years and I’ve kept telling him no—I’m sure he’ll be glad to take it off my hands. Then off I go to Denver.” She again wailed when she said the word, and Robert wondered what she had against the place.
“We’ll certainly miss you,” he said. “You’ve given us so many years of service.”
“But that’s not all.” She touched her nose delicately with her handkerchief. “My niece has been living with me for the past three months, as you’ll recall, and she doesn’t want to go to Denver. She’d rather stay here in Topeka—she’s made a lot of friends here, you see.”
Robert did remember Mrs. Clasby’s niece. She didn’t make it out to church often, or he imagined he would know her better. She seemed a pleasant girl, maybe around nineteen or so. “Remind me of her name.”
“Sarah Palmer. Her mother was my sister. Sarah came to live with me after her mother took sick and died. Her father had already been dead for years. Poor girl—she really has no other family besides me and my children, but she’s decided that anywhere is better than Denver.”
Robert shook his head. “Perhaps you could enlighten me just a little bit, Mrs. Clasby. What is it that you don’t like about Denver? I’ve been there a few times, and I’ve always found it enjoyable.”
Mrs. Clasby gave him a look that told him of her utter disbelief that he could say such a thing. “At any rate, Pastor, do you know of a family in the church who might be in need of a housekeeper, a place for her to stay? I’d want her somewhere respectable, mind you. I’m almost of a mind to drag her with me against her will, but she’s asked to give this a try, so I suppose I should let her.”
Robert thought for a moment. “I don’t know of any families in that situation, but I do have a recommendation. The Brody Hotel is in need of another waitress or two. Mr. Brody runs a very nice establishment and sees to the wellbeing of all the girls on staff, and Miss Hampton is an excellent supervisor. All the young ladies who work there are polite and friendly, and I believe Sarah would be a good match.”
A Clean Slate (Kansas Crossroads Book 4) Page 3