Love Finds a Home (Anthologies) (2 page)

David Green pulled methodically on the end of his recently trimmed beard as he studied the young woman in the seat directly across the aisle. Dark ringlets framed her oval face, and her high-necked dress, though slightly outdated, fit just right. He couldn’t help but notice her flushed cheeks, wary expression, and the obvious tension in her body. She probably had her hands full with that man who sat beside her. Was the drunkard her father, perhaps an uncle, or even a much too old husband?

David shook his head. Surely this delicate beauty could not be married to such an uncouth fellow! Those long, ebony curls and fetching brown eyes could easily have wooed a younger, more distinguished, and pleasant man than the one sitting next to her. Why, the paunchy, middle-aged man was slouched in his seat as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

How despicable
. Then a verse of scripture popped into David’s mind.
“Judge not, that ye be not judged.”
He swallowed hard.
Thank You for reminding me, Lord. But for the grace of God, there go I
.

David’s thoughts were pulled aside as the man who shared his seat spoke up. He blinked. “What was that?”

“I said, ‘When do you think the train will pull out?’” the young man asked. “We’ve already had several delays today, and I’m getting anxious to see this trip come to an end.”

David turned his full attention to his chum—a name given to those who shared seats on the emigrants’ coach. The man was already onboard the train when David got on in Omaha, Nebraska. He’d introduced himself as Alexander P. Gordon, a Scottish author and poet. He boasted of having a modest reputation as a “travel writer.”

Before David could open his mouth to reply to Alexander’s question, the train whistle blew three quick blasts, and their humble coach began to rock from side to side. The swaying motion was almost gentle and lulling at first, but as the train picked up speed, David could hear the familiar
clickety-clack, slap-slap-slap
of the wheels. Soon their car began to bounce like a rolling ship at sea.

David tried to ignore the distraction and smiled at his companion. “Guess that answers your question about when we’ll be leaving Central City.”

Alexander nodded. “Yes, indeed.”

A boisterous hiccup from across the aisle pulled David’s attention back to the lovely young woman and the inebriated man whose head was now leaning on her slender shoulder. She looked so melancholy—almost hopeless, in fact. His heart went out to her, and he wondered what he might do or say to make her feel better. After all, it was his calling to minister to others.

“Tell me about this place where you have been called to serve, Reverend Green.”

David turned back toward Alexander, but the man’s attention seemed to be more focused on his red, irritated wrists, which he kept scratching, than on what he’d just said to David. Alexander had told him earlier that he’d acquired a rather pustulant itch. Probably from the cramped quarters aboard the train he’d ridden before meeting up with David.

“I’ll be shepherding my first flock in a mining town known as Idaho City,” David replied, averting his gaze from Alexander’s raw, festering wrists back to the woman across the aisle.

“Hmm … that would be in Idaho Territory, if I’m not mistaken.”

David nodded. “Quite right.”

“And you said you recently left divinity school?”

“Actually, it was Hope Academy in Omaha. I just finished my training a few weeks ago.”

“Ah, so you are what some Americans refer to as a ‘greenhorn’?”

David chuckled. “Some might say so. However, I have had some experience preaching. In fact, I spent a few years as a circuit rider before I decided to attend the academy and further my ministerial studies.”

“I see. So, are you married or single?”

David’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m single. Why do you ask?”

Alexander frowned. “Most men of the cloth are married, aren’t they? I would think it might even be a requirement.”

“Why’s that?”

“Too many temptations. The world is full of carnal women who would like nothing better than to drag a religious man straight to the ground.”

David chewed on his lower lip as he pondered this thought. Perhaps Mr. Gordon was right. It could be that he’d been too hasty in accepting this call from the good people of Idaho City Community Church. He thought about the letter inside his coat pocket. It was from one of the church deacons, and as he recalled, it made some reference to him being married. In fact, the deacon’s exact words had been: “The ladies here are anxious to meet your wife. I’m sure she will feel quite welcome in our church and soon become a part of our growing community as well.”

I wonder what could have given them the idea that I’m married
, David reflected.
Perhaps Alexander is right. It could be an expected thing for the shepherd of a church to have a wife
.

A deep rumbling, followed by a high-pitched whine, drew David’s attention back to the young lady across from him. The man’s loud snoring was clearly distressing to the woman, and she squirmed restlessly in her seat.

If only my chum would keep quiet a few moments, I might think of something appropriate to say to her
.

Though more than a bit irritated, David listened patiently as Alexander began a narration of the many illnesses which had plagued him all of his twenty-nine years. David was twenty-six, and he hadn’t had half as many ailments as this poor chap.

As though by divine intervention, Alexander suddenly became quiet. David cast a quick glance in his direction and found that his chum had drifted off to sleep. Drawing in a deep breath and sending up a quick prayer, David made a hasty decision. He would get out of his seat, walk across the aisle, and see if that young lady was in need of his counsel.

CHAPTER 2

T
wo men dressed in dark suits sat in the seat directly across from Glenna. One seemed intent on scratching his wrists while the other man kept staring at her. At least she thought he was looking her way. Maybe he was just watching the scenery out her window.
But why wouldn’t he watch out the window nearest him?
she wondered.
Surely there’s nothing on my side of the tracks which would hold any more appeal than what he can see over there
.

Glenna swallowed hard as she glanced across the aisle again. This time she studied the man’s features. They were strong and clean—a straight nose, dark-brown hair, parted on the side and cut just below the ears, and a matching well-trimmed beard. She couldn’t be sure of the exact color of his eyes from this distance, but they appeared to be either green or perhaps a soft gray. They weren’t dark like hers, of that much she was certain.

Her heart did a little flip-flop when he nodded slightly and offered her a pleasant smile. He was easily the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She returned his smile with a tentative one of her own.

Daddy was snoring loudly now, and she elbowed him in the ribs, hoping to halt the irritating buzz. How would she ever catch the eye of an attractive man if her father kept making such a spectacle of himself? If Daddy appeared disagreeable, then so did she. At least, that’s the way Glenna perceived it. If only she had a jar of canned tomatoes to cure the hangover he would undoubtedly have.

Her mind wandered back in time as she remembered how they’d been staying at Prudence Montgomery’s Boardinghouse in Sioux City, Iowa. Daddy had come back to their room late one night. He’d been “working” and had guzzled a few too many glasses of whiskey.

Glenna shuddered as she thought about the scene he’d made, yelling and cursing at poor Prudence for not keeping his supper warm. When he’d finally ambled off to bed, Prudence had turned on Glenna. “Gambling is evil—spawned by the devil himself.” She sniffed deeply and lifted her chin. “If you don’t watch yourself, young lady, you’ll grow up to be just like your drunken daddy. Like father, like daughter, that’s what I have to say!”

Maybe it’s true
, Glenna thought ruefully.
Maybe I’ll never be
anything more than a gambler’s daughter
.

“Excuse me, miss, but I was wondering if you might like to borrow a pillow.”

A melodic, deep voice drew Glenna back to the present, and the distinct fragrance of bay rum cologne tickled her nose. She jerked her head and looked up at a pleasant face with a pair of soft-green eyes. Her heart jumped into her throat when he sent her a melting glance.

“A pillow?” she squeaked.

“For your companion.”

Glenna swiveled back toward her sleeping father, whose head drooped heavily against her shoulder. Daddy would probably be more comfortable with a pillow, and so would she. Should she accept anything from a complete stranger though? Despite his present condition, Daddy was well learned, and among other things, he’d taught her to be wary of outsiders—especially men.

As if the young man could read her mind, he extended a hand. “I’m Reverend David Green.” He motioned toward his seat companion. “Between the two of us, my sleeping chum and I possess three straw-filled pillows, so we can certainly spare one.”

Glenna shook the offered hand, though somewhat hesitantly. Even if he was a man of the cloth, she was still a bit uncertain about speaking to Reverend Green. “My name’s Glenna Moore, and this is my father, Garret.” She tilted her head in Daddy’s direction. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and she felt the heat of embarrassment creep up the back of her neck, then spread quickly to her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Glenna. May I use your given name?”

She smiled shyly and nodded. “Yes, Reverend Green.”

“Then please be so kind as to call me David.”

Glenna had only met a few ministers, and those had all been “fire-and-brimstone” parsons who stood on the street corners shouting out warnings of doom and gloom. As she looked into David’s kind eyes, she decided there would be nothing wrong with calling him by his first name. After all, he had asked her to, and what could it possibly hurt?

She lifted her chin and smiled. “David, then.”

David’s throat constricted, and he drew in a deep, unsteady breath. He hoped Glenna didn’t realize how nervous he was. He’d met lots of attractive women in his life, but none had held the appeal this young woman did. He’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful she was from the moment she had boarded the train. Was it her long, curly, dark hair or those penetrating mahogany eyes? Maybe it was her soft, full lips that made his palms begin to sweat. Perhaps it was her forlorn expression that drew him like a moth charging toward a dancing fire. He imagined how she might feel held securely in his arms. What would it be like to bury his face in her deep-brown hair? How would her ivory skin feel beneath his fingers?

David shook his head, trying to clear away such errant thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. What had come over him all of a sudden? Maybe he was merely in need of more pleasant company than Alexander—the poet with itchy wrists, stories about ill health, and tales of lengthy journeys.

The train made a sudden, unexpected lurch, and David grasped the back of Glenna’s seat to steady himself. His ears burned at the thought of being pitched into her lap. As it was, the disconcerting jolt had brought his face mere inches from hers.

Garret Moore’s eyes popped open before David had a chance to right himself and gain his composure. “I say there,” the man sputtered. “And who might you be?”