Kitabı oxu: «Marrying the Preacher's Daughter»
“Take your hands off the lady, or you’re dead.”
From beside her, the stranger’s low-timbered voice was calm, but laced with lethal intent. The hair on Elisabeth’s neck stood up.
No one else was privy to the robber’s predicament. The green-eyed man’s gun was still concealed between the two men, the business end jammed up against the robber’s belly. Elisabeth dared a glance and saw the stranger’s other hand clamped over the man’s wrist, keeping that revolver pointed toward the floor and protectively away from her.
What could only have been seconds, but seemed like an hour, passed with their ragged breaths loud and the tick of a pocket watch encroaching on her consciousness.
“We ain’t got all day, Hank!” one of the other thieves shouted.
The robber leaning over her attempted to move, and pandemonium broke loose. A shot rang out and Elisabeth’s rescuer grunted in pain. The robber tugged at Elisabeth’s collar, and the man beside her fired his gun.
The stench of gunpowder stung her nose. Men shouted. Women screamed. Elisabeth watched the events unfold in a haze of fear and disbelief.
CHERYL ST.JOHN
A peacemaker, a romantic, an idealist and a discouraged perfectionist are the words that Cheryl uses to describe herself. The award-winning author of both historical and contemporary novels says she’s been told that she is painfully honest.
Cheryl admits to being an avid collector, displaying everything from dolls to depression glass, as well as white ironstone, teapots, cups and saucers, old photographs and—most especially—books. When not doing a home improvement project, she and her husband love to browse antiques shops. In her spare time, she’s an amateur photographer and a pretty good baker.
She says that knowing her stories bring hope and pleasure to readers is one of the best parts of being a writer. The other wonderful part is being able to set her own schedule and have time to work around her growing family.
Cheryl loves to hear from readers! Email her at SaintJohn@aol.com.
Marrying the Preacher’s Daughter
Cheryl St. John
And all these blessings shall come on thee,
and overtake thee, if thou shalt hearken unto the
voice of the Lord thy God. Blessed shalt thou be
in the city, and blessed shalt thou be in the field.
Blessed shall be the fruit of thy body, and the
fruit of thy ground, and the fruit of thy cattle, the
increase of thy kine, and the flocks of thy sheep.
Blessed shall be thy basket and thy store.
Blessed shalt thou be when thou comest in,
and blessed shalt thou be when thou goest out.
—Deuteronomy 28:2–6
This story is lovingly dedicated to the readers
who so patiently waited for Elisabeth’s story.
I appreciate you!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Colorado
June, 1876
“Toss your guns down now!” a male voice shouted. “Hands in the air.”
Elisabeth Hart couldn’t see past the layers of netting on a woman’s hat in front of her, but sounds of alarm rippled through the passengers who sat in the forward rows. The interior of the railcar was sweltering beneath the midday sun, and she blotted her eyes and forehead with her lace-trimmed handkerchief. What should have been a routine stop along the tracks to take on water had become life-threatening.
Thuds sounded as firearms hit the aisle. A man in a battered hat and wearing a faded bandanna over the lower half of his face came into view. Eyes darting from person to person, he snatched up the guns.
Another masked bandit appeared in the wake of the first. Sweat drenched the front of his dusty shirt. “Turn over all your cash and jewelry. Ladies’ bags, too, and none of you gets shot.”
Two more thieves held open gunnysacks and gathered the looted items.
Fear prickled at Elisabeth, but a maelstrom of rebellious anger made her tremble. How dreadful of these men to point guns and make demands. Every fiber of her being objected to their lack of concern for the safety of the passengers and the downright thievery.
She turned to the tall, quiet man who’d been sitting beside her on the aisle side of the bench seat since they’d left Morning Creek, noting the way his hat brim shaded piercing green eyes. He watched the gunman with intense concentration, but made no move to stop what was happening. “Aren’t you going to do something?” she whispered.
The man cast her a glare that would have scorched a lesser woman. One eyebrow rose and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
“They’re going to rob us,” she insisted. “You still have your gun. I saw it inside your jacket when you leaned to lower the window earlier.”
He focused on the man wielding the revolver, but spoke to her. “Can you count, lady? Just give ’em what they want so nobody gets hurt.”
“But—”
Pausing beside them, the masked robber pointed his gun directly at her seat partner’s chest. The man gave Elisabeth a pointed glare and calmly raised his hands in the air before looking up.
“Right in here,” the robber said.
The seated man handed him a coin purse and tossed several silver dollars and his pocket watch into the bag.
The barrel of the gun swung to Elisabeth. “Lady?”
Elisabeth’s temper and sensibilities flared, but fear kept her silent. Her heart beat so frantically, she thought her chest might burst. She wanted to refuse, but didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Begrudgingly, she forfeited her black velvet chatelaine pocket with the silver handle and removed the gold bracelet she’d received for her last birthday, dropping both into the burlap sack.
The robber pointed at her neck. “You got a chain under there.”
She clapped her hand protectively over the plain gold ring that rested on a chain beneath her damp and wrinkled cotton shirtwaist. “This was my mother’s!”
“Just give it to him,” the green-eyed stranger cajoled in his maddeningly calm manner.
“Now just wait,” Elisabeth argued with a glare. “You don’t understand. This was my mother’s wedding ring.”
The stranger gave her a quelling look that singed her eyelashes. Passengers called out their displeasure and shouted for her to give up her jewelry same as they had.
The ring was all she had of her mother. Since she’d drowned, Elisabeth had worn it every day…and tried to fill the woman’s shoes. The wedding band symbolized Elisabeth’s childhood and her sacrifices. Parting with it would break her heart…but she didn’t want to be the cause of anyone getting shot. What would her father have to say in this situation?
She closed her eyes. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. Her true treasures were in heaven. The ring wasn’t as important as the lives at stake.
The robber leaned down close as if he meant to take the ring from her neck. She raised her hand to her throat to prevent him from touching her. She could do this on her own. He grabbed Elisabeth’s collar and yanked so hard that she jerked forward and the top button popped off.
In that same second, a grim click sounded. The bandit paused dead still.
Elisabeth stared into his shining dark eyes, and the moment stretched into infinity. She could hear her blood pulsing through her veins, her breath panting from between her dry lips. Was this the day she was going to die and meet her Maker?
“Take your hands off the lady, or you’re dead.” From beside her, the stranger’s low-timbered voice was calm, but laced with lethal intent. The hair on Elisabeth’s neck stood up.
No one else was privy to the robber’s predicament. The green-eyed man’s gun was still concealed between the two men, the business end jammed up against the robber’s belly. Elisabeth dared a glance and saw the stranger’s other hand clamped over the man’s wrist, keeping that revolver pointed toward the floor and protectively away from her.
What could only have been seconds, but seemed like an hour, passed with their ragged breaths loud and the tick of a pocket watch encroaching on her consciousness.
“We ain’t got all day, Hank!” one of the other thieves shouted.
The robber leaning over her attempted to move, and pandemonium broke loose. A shot rang out and Elisabeth’s rescuer grunted in pain. The robber tugged at Elisabeth’s collar, and the man beside her fired his gun.
The stench of gunpowder stung her nose. Men shouted. Women screamed. Elisabeth watched the events unfold in a haze of fear and disbelief.
The man who’d threatened Elisabeth crumpled, slumping sideways over the back of a seat. A horrifying crimson blotch spread across his shirtfront. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out.
The stranger leaped from his seat with his arm outstretched. “Get down!” he bellowed. A rapid succession of shots nearly deafened her. She cupped her hands over her ears, belatedly realizing he’d been ordering her to get down. Praying for safety for the other passengers, she folded herself onto the floor and knelt with her heart pounding. The shock of seeing that man shot and bleeding stole her breath.
Minutes passed with her thoughts in chaos. Would she see her family again? If the stranger protecting her had been shot, maybe other people were being killed or injured, and all because she’d delayed. She’d been going to give him the ring.
An eerie silence followed in the wake of the previous pandemonium, and it took a few minutes to comprehend what that could mean.
The sound of hesitant footsteps and voices told her the battle was over. She opened eyes she hadn’t realized were squeezed shut, unfolded her body and peered over the seat in front of her.
One of the male passengers had picked up the gunnysacks and now doled possessions back to their owners. In numb silence, she accepted her monogrammed velvet pocket and gold bracelet from his outstretched hand while her mind struggled to comprehend what was going on around her. A conductor and several other railroad men stepped over prone bodies on the floor. The sight made her stomach lurch. Elisabeth could only stare in numb disbelief.
One of the uniformed men made his way to the stranger who was seated on a bench with his back against the side of the railcar, his hand pressed to his ribs. “Find something for bandages!”
Spurred out of her frozen state of shock, Elisabeth straightened and stepped into the aisle. She raised her hem and, holding it in her teeth, tore a wide strip from her petticoat. “Here.”
Others provided handkerchiefs and scarves, and the conductor handed over the wad of material for the fellow to press against the wound. “Sit tight,” he said. “We’ll get you to the doctor in Jackson Springs quick as we can.”
Several men dragged the robbers’ bodies to the back of the car, the dead men’s boot heels painting shiny streaks of blood on the wooden floor. Her stomach roiled and she thought she might be sick.
“Are you all right?”
She swung her gaze to those green eyes, now dark with pain. “Y-yes, I’m fine.”
Had he killed all of those men? He made a halfhearted attempt to sit a little straighter, but grimaced and stayed where he was.
He’d probably saved her life. Without a doubt he’d saved her from losing her precious ring. She perched on the edge of the seat beside his leg, and reached to replace his hand with hers, pressing the cloth against his cream-colored shirt, where it was soaked with blood that flowed from his side. “I’m Elisabeth Hart.”
“Gabe Taggart,” he replied.
“That was a very brave thing you did.”
His expression slid into a scowl. “Didn’t have much choice after the stupid thing you did.”
Taken aback, she was at a loss for words. Before that horrible man had reached for her, she’d been prepared to hand over the ring. Now she felt foolish for ever hesitating.
Steam hissed and the train jerked into motion, picking up speed along the tracks. The stranger winced at the jerking movement. The woman who’d been sitting behind them made her way along the aisle in the rocking car. “Thank you for rescuing us,” she said to Gabe.
Casting a disapproving scowl at Elisabeth, she returned to her seat. Elisabeth glanced at a few of the other occupants of the railcar and noted an assortment of scathing looks directed toward her. None of them understood the value she placed on the ring or the reason for her delay. She hadn’t meant to endanger anyone.
Silently, she prayed for his life, asking God to forgive her for putting him at risk because of her selfish attachment to an earthly treasure. Out of habit, she reached into the jacket pocket of her traveling suit and rubbed a smooth flat stone between her fingers. The keepsake was one of several she’d picked up during her family’s perilous journey to Colorado. The stones reminded her of the sacrifice and dedication that had brought them to a new state and a new life.
The train rocked and turned a bend. Several other passengers expressed their thanks to Gabe as the train neared its destination. When at last they reached Jackson Springs, the tale spread to the baggage men and the families waiting on the platform. Several men carefully loaded Gabe Taggart into the bed of a wagon and drove him away.
Grateful this particular chapter of her life was over and that Taggart would be getting medical attention now, Elisabeth released a pent-up breath and joined the others disembarking.
“Thank the Lord, you’re safe.”
Elisabeth turned with relief and embraced her stepmother, their bodies separated by the girth of Josie’s growing belly beneath her pretty green day dress.
“What happened to that man?” her six-year-old half brother Phillip asked. He had shiny black hair like their father’s and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
“He prevented robbers from stealing our things,” Elisabeth answered, trying to keep panic and guilt from her voice.
“Lis-bet, Lis-bet!” Peter and John, the three-year-old twins, jumped up and down waiting for her to greet them.
She picked up Peter first, kissing his cheek and ruffling his curly reddish hair. After setting him down, she reached for John. He kissed her cheek, leaving a suspiciously peppermint stickiness on her skin.
Josie turned and motioned forward a slender dark-haired young woman that Elisabeth had assumed was waiting for another passenger. “This is Kalli Tyler. She’s my new helper. Your father thought I needed someone full-time, and I didn’t argue. She’s a godsend, truly. You two are going to get along well.”
“I’ve heard all about you,” Kalli said with a friendly dimpled smile. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She kept her voice steady, but her insides quivered in the aftermath of that drama. She collected herself to study the other young woman.
As her father’s assistant, the notary public and a tutor, Elisabeth did have her hands full. It was wise of Father and Josie to hire additional help. At seventeen and sixteen, her sisters, Abigail and Anna, were busy with school, studies and social activities, and their bustling household did need extra assistance to keep things running smoothly.
“I brought a wagon and Gilbert,” Josie told her. “You had bags, and I’m not up to the walk.”
“Of course,” Elisabeth answered. “Phillip, help me find my bags, please.”
She turned toward the pile where luggage was being stacked just as two men carried one of the robbers from the train on a stretcher. He’d been shot in the chest and his vest was drenched with dark glistening blood. The man was quite plainly dead.
Chapter Two
“Stop!” Stunned, Elisabeth grabbed her little brother and spun him away from the sight. “We’d better wait until the crowd thins out so we can find my satchels.” Thankfully, the throng of onlookers had prevented Phillip from seeing what she’d just witnessed.
“I wanna see!” He wriggled, but she held him fast, staying behind him and keeping him faced the other way.
Josie had to give him a stern look before he stopped struggling. Finally, he leaned back against Elisabeth. Regret ate at her stoic confidence. Her ring definitely didn’t seem as important as it had before. Especially if her hesitation had been the cause of these men’s deaths. She swallowed hard.
At last the final body was removed and the crowd thinned. Phillip joined her in locating her satchel and another bag and carried the biggest one with both hands on the handle, the weight of the case banging against his shins.
A tanned hand reached to take the leather bag from him, and Elisabeth glanced up. “Gil!”
Her longtime friend was now a deputy. The silver star on his vest winked in the sunlight. He wore his hat cocked back, revealing his smiling blue eyes, and his familiarity was a comfort. “Heard there was some excitement,” he said.
He hefted both bags into the back of the wagon, and while her family climbed onto the seat and over rails into the wagon bed, she gave him a friendly hug.
“You’re trembling, Lis.”
“I’m a little shaken up, I guess.”
He was the only person ever allowed to call her by a shortened version of her name. At about sixteen, she’d stopped letting his teasing bother her, and thereafter it had become his habit. “I’m glad you weren’t involved.”
“Well, actually…”
“Actually what?”
She thought better of what she’d been about to reveal and pulled away. “Actually, I read an entire book in the two evenings I was in Morning Creek,” she answered, avoiding her involvement.
“You’re a wild one, you are,” he said and helped her up to the bed beside her younger siblings and Kalli. Josie was on the springed seat, and he climbed up beside her. “I’m going to deliver you home, but I need to get right back and help with the paperwork and identifying the—uh—criminals.”
Kalli occupied the boys by singing a nursery rhyme, and Elisabeth was grateful for the distraction she provided. Gil halted the team at the bottom of the hill, where the church sat beside a tiny empty parsonage.
Her father exited the church’s side door and crossed the lawn, his black hair shining in the afternoon sun and a smile on his handsome face.
“Papa, there was robbers on the train!” Phillip called.
Samuel Hart’s smile faltered and he studied Elisabeth with concern. “Are you all right?”
She jumped down to embrace him, and gave him a brief explanation.
“I’ll head over to Dr. Barnes’s to pray for the wounded hero,” her father said. Elisabeth had expected nothing less of her father, a man of compassion and faith.
Gil led the team up the hill toward their home at the top of the tree-lined street. When the shrubbery and mature trees that surrounded their vast yard came into view, Elisabeth sighed with appreciation. Josie had been a wealthy widow when Father had married her, and her inheritances had supplied this dwelling where, in the years since, love had abounded and faith flourished.
While the others bustled around her, Elisabeth studied the asymmetrical house with its bay windows, balconies, stained glass, turrets, porches, brackets and ornamental masonry. The structure was two-storied, except for a third floor at the top of one pointed turret. That was the room where she and her sisters had spent hours reading and dreaming. She still used the space to relax and find a peaceful spot away from the boys.
Elisabeth exhaled with relief at being safely home.
She found her bags just inside her doorway where Gil had set them. She needed to unpack. Father would have duties piled up for her.
Sweat trickled along his spine, but the bandanna he’d tied around his head beneath his black cowboy hat kept perspiration from his eyes. Vision was critical when a keen eye meant the difference between life and death.
Gabe studied the cabin baking beneath the blistering sun. The man he’d been hunting for the past six weeks was holed up in there with a bottle of whiskey and a slug in his thigh. If he hadn’t passed out from pain or bled to death, heat and starvation would drive him out eventually. Gabe rested his rifle against a bolder and reached for his canteen. Empty? He’d only just filled it. His throat was burning and dry; he needed water badly.
Heat more searing than the sun licked up his side. The dry grass around him was on fire! He jumped up to escape the flames and a shot rang out. His prey had exited the cabin and aimed another shot at Gabe, now standing and exposed.
Gabe reached for his rifle. It was gone, and in its place a coiled rattler lifted its head and shook its tail in warning.
Gabe jerked awake.
He lay drenched with sweat and his side throbbed. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. For a moment he didn’t recognize the room, but then the train robbery and his subsequent ride to the doctor’s home came back to him.
“He’s one stubborn fellow.” Vaguely, Gabe remembered the doctor removing the bullet from his side, but now instead of a blood-spattered apron, the man was wearing a clean white shirt and tie.
“Heavy, too.” The black-haired fellow beside him threaded his hair back from his forehead and stared down.
Grimacing, Gabe raised up on one elbow.
“No more getting out of this bed,” the doctor ordered and poured a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. He had silver hair at his temples, but was probably only ten years older than Gabe.
That’s right. He’d made a foolhardy attempt to use the outhouse on his own. Gabe gulped down four glasses of the cool liquid before he lay back. “How long was I out?”
“You blacked out when I removed the bullet yesterday. It cracked your rib, but traveled a ways. Now stay put or I’ll tie you to this bed. Good thing the reverend came along or I’d never have gotten you back in here.”
Reverend? “Am I dying?”
“You’re not dying,” Matthew Barnes assured him. “You’re just weak from losing so much blood. You need to rest and build up your strength.”
“Why’d you call the preacher?”
“He didn’t call me.” The man offered his hand. “I’m Samuel Hart. My daughter was on the train yesterday. She’s one of the passengers you saved from being robbed. She told me all about the incident.”
“Hart,” he said with a scowl. “The blonde?”
“That’s Elisabeth.”
Gabe groaned. “She had a strong aversion to parting with her neck chain.”
Samuel Hart nodded. “She’s worn the ring on that chain ever since my first wife died.”
Gabe glanced around the room, finally noting there was another man lying on a cot several feet away. He looked to be sleeping or unconscious. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Snake bite,” Dr. Barnes replied. “Just got here an hour or so ago.”
Gabe turned his attention back to the preacher. “If the doc didn’t call you, why are you here?”
“I came yesterday, too, though you never woke up. I prayed for you and came back to see how you’re doing.”
Gabe couldn’t recall anyone praying over him before. “I hurt like I’ve been dragged behind a team of horses.”
The man in the other bed moaned, and the doctor moved to attend to him.
“Well, thank God you’re alive,” the preacher said.
Gabe studied him again and attempted to sit up, but pain lanced through his side and took his breath away. He rested a hand over the bandages. “I’ve been shot before, but it never hurt like this.”
“Cracked ribs hurt more than a wound,” the doctor said. “But you can’t take a chance on opening that hole or letting it get infected.”
“I can’t stay here,” Gabe objected. For one thing, if any of the train robbers’ friends had heard of him being shot, the first place they’d search would be the doctor’s. “I have business to see to.”
“Where do you plan to go?” the doc asked him. “You need close supervision for at least a week or better.”
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full with the snake-bit fella,” Gabe replied.
“You can come home with me,” the preacher said.
Gabe gave him a sidelong look.
“I have a big house full of women who can help me look out for you.”
“I do have to head out this afternoon and make calls,” the doc advised. “Plus look after this fella. You’d likely get better care at the Harts’.”
Gabe hated to admit it, but the thought of moving more than his toes made him sweat. He’d pulled through a lot worse than this, though. “All right. The preacher’s house it is.”
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
