His low chuckle rumbled. “I’m not.” He drew her close again, resting his chin lightly against her temple. “You see, God’s been doing some speaking to my heart, an’ He let me know my wanting to be a preacher wasn’t for Him—it was all for me.” His hands moved up and down her spine, the touch warm and welcome. “I’ve been praying for Him to show me how I’m meant to serve, so the judge putting me in charge of you an’ Sid for the next year gave me my answer. I’m to be a lawman, Sadie. I’m meant to serve the town of Goldtree.”
Her fears about preventing him from achieving his intended purpose melted away beneath a wash of gratitude. “Oh, I’m so glad . . .”
“Me too. As for you . . .” His hands curled around her upper arms, moving her aside.
She blinked twice beneath his unsmiling gaze. “Y-yes?”
“You’re to sing.” His mild scowl dissolved, a gentle smile appearing on his face. “In the opera house.”
With Asa Baxter locked away, the opera house was no more. “But Mr. Baxter—”
“Not in the singing room under the mercantile, Sadie.” Thad’s mustache twitched, excitement glittering in his eyes. “In a real opera house.”
“But . . . but . . .” She couldn’t rein in her confusion to adequately voice the questions crowding her mind.
“Shh.” Thad touched her lips with one finger. “Just listen. The town council met last week, and after seeing how many people came to your performances, they’ve decided having an opera house would be a real benefit to the town. Since Asa won’t be building one, they’ve taken it upon themselves to erect one in the open lot south of the Congregationalist church. Mr. Hanaman owns the property, and he’s donated it for the town’s use.
“Miss Melva and Miss Shelva gave permission to have all the chairs and light fixtures removed from the cellar singing room and placed in the new building. Roscoe Hanaman has already ordered lumber and stone to build the opera house, and he hopes to have construction completed in time for a special Christmas performance.”
Sadie listened, enthralled. She’d spent the three weeks of her time under arrest working at the mercantile or holed up in her room, per Thad’s instruction. The Baxter twins had to have been aware of the plans, yet they hadn’t uttered a word of it to her. “Are you sure Mr. Hanaman means for me to sing? After I . . . I . . .” She gulped.
Thad’s expression softened. He gently cupped her jaw. “Mr. Hanaman, as well as the entire town, has been given a view of your soul through your music. They know your involvement in the illegal happenings wasn’t intentional. They’re willing to forgive an’ forget.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “So now you must forgive yourself.”
Sadie tipped her head, pressing her cheek more fully into the sweet pressure of his palm. Her eyes slipped closed as she absorbed his steady presence, his tender touch. Her soul ached to agree to singing in the new opera house, but there was something she must do first. Opening her eyes, she looked into Thad’s dear face. “I want to sing, Thad—you know how much I want to sing. But I need to pray about it, to make sure it’s what God wills for me.” She swallowed happy tears, experiencing complete peace in waiting. “I want to sing for Him, not to please myself.”
The approval shining in Thad’s eyes told her he understood.
She drew in a deep breath. Now that the weeks of tension—of wondering what the judge would deem appropriate—were past, tiredness claimed her. She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Oh my . . . I don’t suppose Miss Melva and Miss Shelva would allow me the afternoon to nap.”
Thad chuckled. “You don’t have time for a nap just yet. You need to talk to Mr. Hanaman, remember?” He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. The soft tickle of his mustache sent tremors up her arm. He placed her hand in the bend of his elbow. “Let me escort you to the bank, and when you’re finished talking with him about the new opera house, I’ll return you to Miss Melva and Miss Shelva. Give them a yawn like you just gave me, and they’ll be the ones to suggest a nap.”
Sadie giggled as Thad led her onto the boardwalk. He was right—the twins cared about her. They’d assumed a motherly role toward her, and even though they were sometimes brusque, she didn’t doubt their affection.
When they were halfway across the street, someone called Sadie’s name. Mr. Rahn trotted toward them, waving a piece of paper. He panted to a halt and pressed the paper into Sadie’s hand. “This here telegram just arrived. Figured you’d want to see it right away.” He touched Sadie’s shoulder. “Me an’ the missus are awful happy you aren’t headin’ to jail, Miss Sadie. ’Specially now that—” He backed up, waving his hands. “Well, never you mind. Read it for yourself.” He spun and trotted off.
Sadie watched him go, the telegram fluttering in the light August breeze. His words of congratulations touched her. She hoped the rest of the town would be as accepting.
Thad gave her a gentle nudge. “Aren’t you going to read your telegram?”
Sadie hunched her shoulders, releasing a self-conscious giggle. “Of course.” She unfolded the paper and read the brief message: CHILDREN AND I COMING TO GOLDTREE STOP WILL ARRIVE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER STOP CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR YOU SING ON STAGE STOP ALL MY LOVE MAMA.
For a moment, Sadie stared at the paper in confusion. Mama moving the family to Kansas? Then she gave herself a little shake. Why shouldn’t she move? With Papa gone, nothing held them in Indiana. And coming here would give them all a fresh start—a chance to be together again.
Mama would get to hear her sing on the stage of a real opera house. A bubble of laughter formed in Sadie’s throat, and her eyes slipped closed. Thank You, God, for new beginnings and fresh chances.
Thad’s soft voice intruded in her thoughts. “Sadie? Everything all right?”
Sadie let out a whoop and threw her arms around Thad’s neck, knocking his cowboy hat askew. “My mama and sister and brothers are coming here, to Goldtree!”
“What?”
She laughed anew at his startled expression. She showed him the telegram while laughter continued to roll from her lips. Such heartfelt joy had to find release.
Thad grabbed her in another hug, rocking her, his chuckles combining with hers in a sweet harmony of delight. Then he pulled back, an impish grin twitching his mustache. “It’s a good thing she’s coming, too. ’Cause you’ll want her here to witness our nuptials.”
Sadie gaped at him, her laughter ending with a startled gasp. “W-what?”
“That is,” he said, dropping to one knee right there in the middle of dusty Main Street, “if you’ll have me.”
His image swam with the spurt of tears. She reached out, catching his hands. “Yes, Thad. Oh yes!”
He rose, scooping her into his embrace. His lips found hers—warm, soft, and moist with happy tears. Locked in his arms, her lips captured by his, she thought she imagined applause. But then Thad lifted his head, looking beyond her. Red splashed his cheeks. She twisted around to look, too. All along the boardwalk townsfolk stood, faces wreathed in smiles, clapping in approval. She hid her flaming face in Thad’s chest. Thad joggled her loose, encouraging her to acknowledge the gathered crowd. She did so, her lips quavering in an embarrassed-yet-pleased grin.
Mr. Hanaman called from his spot by the bank doors, “Sheriff, are you making an arrest, or can we assume somebody’s gone and captured you?” Laughter rang up and down the street.
Thad rubbed his finger over his mustache in a self-conscious gesture that made Sadie giggle.
Then another voice called out—one that made Sadie’s heart turn over. “If he don’t go willingly, he’s a plumb fool.” Sid’s teasing comment offered his blessing on Sadie’s choice.
Sadie sent him a grateful smile, which he returned with an almost indiscernible bob of his head.
Slowly, the townspeople turned and began ambling toward their places of business or waiting wagons. Mr. Hanaman and Sid disappeared inside the bank. A mockingbird swooped from a treetop, trilling a so
ng he’d learned from a cardinal. His cheerful tune, not of his own making, reflected Sadie’s desire to sing the songs given to her by her Father. For You, dear Lord. Always, only for You . . .
Sadie and Thad stood in the middle of the street, watching and waving until everyone had dispersed. Then Thad curved his arm around Sadie’s waist and deposited a kiss on her forehead.
“C’mon, Miss Sadie. Time to move on.”
Yes, Sadie agreed, her stride aligning perfectly with Thad’s, time to move on. Into her God-kissed future. She smiled upward, her heart thrilling at Thad’s tender smile in reply. Serving together, their lives would create a melody of God’s merciful faithfulness.
Acknowledgments
Mom and Daddy, Don, and my girls—thank you for walking this pathway with me.
Critique Group—thank you for your encouragement, your support, your listening ears, and your splashes of humor right when I need them most.
My soul sister, Kathy—thank you for that afternoon in Paxico, where the seed blossomed into story. Another memory . . .
Judy Miller—thank you for lending me the book from Jim’s “to be read” pile—it helped bring the setting to life for me. Your friendship is one I treasure.
Shelva, a woman I met at a book signing in Ohio, and Melva, my choir buddy—thank you for letting me borrow your names. The high-strung characters in the book in no way reflect your characters!
Charlene and the staff at Bethany House—thank you for all you do to help me bring the people residing in my heart to life. I appreciate you!
Finally, and most importantly, God—thank You for the melody of grace that rings through my soul. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.
About the Author
KIM VOGEL SAWYER is the bestselling author of more than twenty novels. Her books have won the Carol Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women’s fellowship and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in Central Kansas and have three daughters and nine grandchildren.
www.kimvogelsawyer.com
writespassage.blogspot.com
Books by Kim Vogel Sawyer
From Bethany House Publishers
* * *
Waiting for Summer’s Return
Where the Heart Leads
My Heart Remembers
In Every Heartbeat
Where Willows Grow
A Promise for Spring
Fields of Grace
A Hopeful Heart
Courting Miss Amsel
A Whisper of Peace
Song of My Heart
When Hope Blossoms
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
Song of My Heart Page 31