Wanted Preacher (Silverpines Book 9)

by Renea Westlyn

  Ella Grace clapped her hands excitedly while Millie shot Betsy a knowing look. Laura smiled as she tickled Caro’s tummy, “Now, we won’t have to leave Silverpines to get married, will we?” Caro laughed not really sure what all the fuss was about.

  “Well, now that we’ve got that settled and saved the day, how bout y’all go chat with Abby while I rest my eyes a bit more. Tending to you young folks is tiring on these old bones.”

  Akecheta rubbed at the scar across his palm. It was the mark he shared with Alexzander, the mark that made them brothers. Akecheta smiled at the memory as he watched the stark brown and black mountainous terrain fold down into a lush green carpet dotted with wildflowers before it rose up again, climbing towards the sun that shone brightly down upon it. The scenery changed with every passing mile. The sunlight seemed to dance from hill to mountain and back down before rising up and kissing each piece of land awake before his very eyes. It was thrilling to watch, though it reminded him of how the light had always affected Nancy’s eyes.

  She had been beautiful, with skin of ivory and hair as dark as an Indian maiden. Her eyes, though, were what drew him in. As the light changed, they would change. One moment they would be light green, like when the dawn awoke and caressed each blade of grass leaving behind a sparkling dew drop. In the summer her eyes appeared brighter, more passionate and nearly emerald. Then with the fall they turned to a warmer shade of green, darker, with specks of gold shining through. He didn’t think he would ever tire of watching the world come alive through her eyes. Then she left him all too soon and her alluring eyes were closed forevermore.

  He shook the memory off and stood to walk about the train. Why was he thinking of Nancy now anyway? He hadn’t thought of her in months. Actually, he had, but in a different sort of way. Her brother Douglas wanted justice for her death. He accused Akecheta and was determined to see him hung for it.

  In the beginning, Akecheta had blamed himself too. The letter she’d left behind simply stated that she could not marry an Indian. Dr. Wilson who had been treating Nancy for, what he feared, was copper poisoning thought to be caused from working near her father’s copper mine, believed the contamination was the true cause of her death and questionable mental stability.

  Akecheta found he was questioning his own mental stability now. What was he thinking, agreeing to marry a woman he’d never met? What if she too could not bear to marry an Indian? What then?

  Abby could not believe she’d been talked into this! She walked through the park and down Ash Street toward the post office. Her letter wrinkled as she held tightly to it, almost as if it were her only lifeline and she were afraid to let it go. Why had she agreed to Betsy’s crazy idea?! She thought only Kitty cooked up ridiculous schemes like this. She prayed Kitty would arrive soon, but she feared the trouble her sister and Betsy would cause together once they met. She felt they were destined to be true friends.

  Abby frowned as she watched Ambrose Skinner step out of the Barber shop. He was the last person she ever wished to see. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, even from across the street the man made her skin crawl. Perhaps if she just quickly slipped into the gunsmiths to visit with Sarah for a moment she could avoid him...

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bates,” he called out as he brushed a piece of lint from his jacket and quickly slithered across the street, like a hungry snake stalking his prey. “Would you like to join me for a muffin and coffee in the cafe?” he asked, licking his lips.

  “G-good morning.” She gripped her letter even tighter, “I— I’m sorry. I don’t have time this morning but thank you for the invitation.” She picked up her pace and rushed into the post office.

  This was how Betsy had convinced her. No matter what she did, Reverend Skinner pursued her. No matter how many times she declined his invitations, he asked again and again. It was starting to scare her as she did not wish to court him, and he seemed so very determined to court her.

  Safely inside the post office, she paused, holding the letter to her chest, then closed her eyes, taking a moment to catch her breath and prayed she was doing the right thing.

  “I suppose those interfering women convinced you to send for a groom after all?”

  Abby opened her eyes to find Widow Wallace peering at her over the counter inquisitively.

  Widow Wallace folded the newspaper in her hands and laid it aside, never taking her eyes off the letter in Abby’s hand. “Are you sure you need to send that letter? After all, it seems to me, Reverend Skinner is quite taken with you. Perhaps you should just marry him and be done with it.”

  “I— I need to mail it. Now. Please.” Abby handed the wrinkled letter over to Widow Wallace.

  “Very well. That will be two cents.” She held out her hand and waited, tapping her foot on the floor as if she didn’t have all day. Even though Abby was the only customer at the moment.

  Abby pulled the change from her pocket, “Thank you, Mrs. Wallace.” Then she hurried out of the post office and away from the woman’s prying eyes. It was just her luck Reverend Skinner had spoken to her in view of the post office. Word of Reverend Skinner’s apparent interest in her was about to hit the rumor mill so fast it would probably beat her home, completely blown out of proportion and have the spinster sisters sitting on her porch with disapproving looks and weapons at the ready. No way would they stand for a courtship between her and the slimy Reverend Skinner, and for that she was thankful!

  Abby was afraid she was just going to have to remain home, only leaving when a friend could accompany her. As she hurried on she wondered how long it would take for a response from her advertisement, she needed one like yesterday.

  Marshal Sewell had been trying to keep an eye on the mischievous Reverend Skinner. He didn’t know what it was yet, but something was certainly off about him. For one thing, he was the most elusive Reverend that Alexzander had ever come across. Secondly, Alexzander had overheard some of the women talking about how uncomfortable the Reverend had made them.

  The only time Alexzander seemed to come across Reverend Skinner was in brief moments of passing, that somehow always seemed to include Mrs. Bates. Like now and Sundays. He watched as Mrs. Bates headed into the Messer’s Mercantile and Reverend Skinner raced across the park toward her. Alexzander rushed across the street from the tailors and into the mercantile, before Reverend Skinner could approach Mrs. Bates. He had to put a stop to Skinner sniffing around Mrs. Bates one way or another. He owed it to Samuel and to Akecheta, if he were being honest. It wouldn’t do for Akecheta to arrive and find her married.

  “Mrs. Bates,” he called as he approached her.

  “Oh, hello Marshal. How do you do?”

  “Fine, fine. My wife sent me on a mission.”

  “What is Betsy up to now?” Abby laughed, picking up a tin of peaches and placing it in her basket.

  “I’m not rightly sure,” Marshal Sewell chuckled, “but she’d like you to come to dinner this evening and wanted to know if you might come a tad early? Seems she has some sewing project she needs help with.” He shrugged as if to say understanding women was a lost cause.

  “That sounds like a delightful evening. I didn’t know Betsy liked to sew. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “My pleasure.” He tipped his hat and headed out of the mercantile, passing by Reverend Skinner as he hurried home to Betsy.

  “Betsy!” Alexzander called as he entered the house. “Betsy!”

  “What are you hollering about ya big ole goat?!” His wife’s voice echoed irritably from the kitchen. “Are ya trying to take ten years off my life?”

  “No! I need your help.” He stated matter of factly as he entered the room and found Betsy stirring a pot on the stove, her other hand on her chest. “I told Mrs. Bates you wanted me to invite her over for dinner and to come early to help you with a sewing project.” He looked away sheepishly.

  “Whatever did you do that for?” Betsey chuckled, incredulously, “I don’t sew!”

  “Well,
I know that! You don’t cook either but you’re standing there stirring something, ain’tcha?” Alexzander sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose at the slightly burnt smell, raising a bushy brow at his wife.

  “Then why did you tell her I needed help with a sewing project, of all things?” Betsy pointed at him with her spoon and a thick glob of goo fell to the floor.

  “I-well, I had to get her away from Reverend Skinner.” Alexzander looked at the glob on the floor; just what was she trying to cook, and would he be able to choke it down this time? “She, she can’t marry him.” Too bad Cook had the night off, maybe Abby could help Betsy make something more edible in place of the non-existent sewing project, he thought, as he snagged an apple off the table.

  “Alexzander Sewell, what on earth makes you think Abby wants to marry that creep?” Betsy asked wiping the goop up off the floor.

  “I— well, Widow Wallace said…” Alexzander blushed bright red.

  “Now Marshal, you know better than to listen to that busybody! Ain’t you learned nothing yet, city boy? Besides, Abby don’t want nothing to do with that slimy Reverend.” Alexzander watched as Betsy added enough salt to the pot to kill a man. He’d have to sneak off to the cafe tonight. He tried to wipe the grimace from his face as she turned her eyes back to him, “Alexzander, I know you’re up to something and if it involves Abby, I think you best be telling me what it is right this minute.”

  “Now, Betsy, this is secret.” He paced back and forth knowing he should have told Betsy already, “You hear me? This doesn’t leave this room,” he begged as he bit into the apple.

  “And I thought I was the troublemaker in this relationship.” She chuckled as she pulled a tray of rocks from the oven. She called them biscuits, but he knew better. The last time he tried to eat one he nearly chipped his tooth. He rubbed his tongue on his tooth, just to remind himself it was still in one piece.

  “I’m not causing trouble, Betsy. I’m solving the problem and I’m looking out for Silverpines, as any good Marshal would do.” He pulled out the chair and sat down, leaning it back on two legs.

  “And what problem, dear husband, would that be?”

  “The lack of a good Reverend and a, well, ah, a groom for Abby. A proper one.”

  “A proper one? What’d you do, send for Akecheta? Do you really think you can talk him into marriage after what he’s been through?” Betsy laughed, “You do realize you’re the Marshal and not the Matchmaker, don’t you?” she shook her head as she moved the biscuits from the tray to a large serving bowl, “and because you didn’t tell me, we now have an even bigger problem, if Akecheta is willing to marry.”

  “He wouldn’t be coming if he wasn’t. The only problem I see is Reverend Skinner, what problem are you talking about?” He crunched down on the last bit of his juicy apple and watched his wife’s attempt at cooking.

  “We convinced Abby to send for a groom to come to Silverpines and be our new Preacher,” giggled Betsy.

  “What? What the devil did you do that for!” The chair slammed down on all fours as Alexzander leaned forward. “She hasn’t received a reply yet, has she?” he asked, the slight twitch of his left brow giving way to his worry.

  “Not yet. I guess we will see who shows up first. Your groom or her groom.” Betsy burst into laughter as Alexzander shook his head, stood and stomped back out the door. That blasted woman! What was he to do now? And what did she mean by calling him city boy! He was a mountain man!

  What was he going to do if Abby received a groom before Akecheta arrived? If only Alexzander knew when Akecheta would be arriving. His telegram only said, “upon the full moon”— whatever that meant.

  The train stopped in Kansas City, and Akecheta took this time to stretch his legs and see how Genesis was faring so far. He’d never kept Genesis penned up, so he was sure to be unhappy. Akecheta could hear him stomping before he reached the stock car. He was making his opinion of the stock car known.

  “Hey ole boy, what’s all this fuss about?” he asked as he approached Genesis and rubbed his hand down his muzzle. Genesis nickered excitedly. “I know boy, I’m tired of this train too.” He rested his head against his horse, “Just a little further and I promise we’ll go for a long run.” Genesis nuzzled his shoulder as if looking for a treat, “Always hungry aren’t ya, boy?” Akecheta laughed and handed him a carrot.

  After visiting with Genesis, he grabbed a quick bite of lunch at a nearby cafe, then he purchased a newspaper and headed back to the train. He carefully watched the passengers board the train around him, always on the lookout for Douglas Bloomberg. The man was out for vengeance, though it was misplaced. He waited until the train began moving once more before taking his seat.

  He unfolded the large newspaper on his lap, searching for a distraction and a copy of the Grooms Gazette tumbled out onto the floor. Deciding it might be more entertaining to read than the news, he began to comb through the advertisements. He’d performed weddings for several men back in Harlan, who had placed an advertisement for a bride. He’d always found the adverts to be intriguing.

  The first ad he read was about an older mountain man looking for a younger bride. The mountain man claimed to have all his teeth. What an odd thing to put in an advertisement he thought and wondered if the mountain man had received a reply.

  The next ad was very specific. The young man claimed to have struck it rich in California and wanted a bride from Boston with blue eyes, blonde hair and all the social graces of high society.

  Akecheta laughed. If he were looking for a spouse, these advertisements would send him running the other way. It was the following ad that truly caught his attention though. It was placed by a woman seeking a groom!

  The ad simply stated, “Wanted: Preacher. Between the ages of 25 and 30 in Silverpines, Oregon. Sincerely, Abigail, age 19.”

  Was this the same bride Alexzander spoke of? If so, why would she have placed an advertisement for a groom? Didn’t Alexzander tell her he was coming? He’d spent such a lengthy time in prayer and felt this was the path the Lord wanted him to follow, surely he wouldn’t be made a fool again? The horrifying events of last year had been bad enough. He wasn’t sure he could even manage to stand at the front of a church to wait again. Perhaps, they could walk in together...

  Chapter 3

  Betsy Sewell entered the Silverpines Cornerstone Cafe and took the seat near the window and closest to the door. She needed to be able to see in order to catch the women which she needed to speak with. Calling a meeting at her home would have perhaps been easier, too bad she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  “Good afternoon, Betsy, what can I get for you?” Lily Jo asked, setting a teacup on the table in front of Betsy.

  “Have you seen Abby today, Lily Jo?” Betsy glanced out the window before turning back to face Lily Jo for a brief moment.

  “I sure haven’t. I think she’s locked herself in the parsonage to hide from Reverend Skinner. He stole flowers the other day from the Howard’s and then invited Abby on a picnic! Can you believe the nerve of that man and a preacher no less! Stealing flowers from old lady’s garden! There’s just something not right about that.”

  “Did Ethel chase him off with her shotgun?”

  “No, but it’s a wonder Edie didn’t beat the man to a pulp with her bat. She was fit to be tied.”

  “I bet she was!” laughed Betsy. “Poor Abby though, that’s why I’m here really. I want to catch as many women as I can when they walk by and get them to help me keep that man away from Abby.”

  “Oh! I’ll help. Let me get you some tea first, what would you like?” Lily Jo bounced on her toes and Betsy wished she had half her energy.

  “I’ll have some ginger tea and maybe a scone to nibble on. Thank you, Lily Jo.” Betsy folded her napkin and stood, “There’s Fannie Pearl now, let me catch her.”

  “Yoo-hoo! Fannie!” Betsy waved her hand in the air as Fannie Pearl crossed the street. “Would you like to join me for some tea?”

 
“Now Betsy, you wouldn’t be buttering me up for something, would ya? I know how you are, young lady.” Betsy followed Fannie into the cafe just as Lily Jo brought out her tea, right under Fannie’s nose.

  “Ginger tea?” Fannie asked, and Lily Jo nodded.

  “Would you like the same?”

  “No dear, I prefer lavender tea. Thank you.” They watched Lily Jo skip toward the back of the cafe to make more tea, then Fannie looked directly at Betsy.

  “Ginger tea?”

  “Hush you. We have more important matters to discuss that don’t involve ginger tea and there goes Hattie, let me grab her.” Betsy rushed away from Fannie and out the door again.

  “Hattie!” she called out, “come join Fannie Pearl and me for tea,” she said, waving her over.

  “Hello Betsy, how are you this afternoon?”

  “Oh, I’m alright. It’s Abby I’m worried about.”

  “Abby? I just saw her this morning. She seemed fine to me, well minus the fact that Zeph tore up her curtains.”

  “Zeph?”

  “You know that wild kitten she’s claimed as a pet.”

  “Oh, she finally gave it a name! Well, I’ll explain the problem once I get everyone inside, there’s Sarah now. Fannie’s already inside, I’ll be just a moment.”

  Betsy rushed across the street to catch Sarah and drag her to the impromptu meeting, as Hattie went inside to wait.

  “Afternoon Fannie,” Hattie said as she sat down, catching the scent of ginger in the process. “You feeling alright, Fannie?”

  “Oh, that ginger tea isn’t mine, dear,” Fannie grinned but said nothing else as Betsy came in dragging Sarah behind her.

  Lily Jo returned with Fannie’s tea and took Hattie and Sarah’s orders before bouncing off yet again.

  “Oh shoot, I should have asked Lily Jo to bring out a little bit of whatever she’s been secretly creating back there for us to try. She makes the most delightful things,” Fannie told them before taking a sip of her tea.