High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2) Read Free Page A

of the house, he set Melissa on the ground and took her little hand, though his thoughts were still on his marriage. When he'd married Samantha, he'd known he was taking on a woman of easy virtue, and a rather unintelligent one at that. He hadn't realized the depth of her problems. Fits of rage were not her only symptom. She was the slowest learner he'd ever run across. Even his cousin Billy Fulton, with his squashed-looking face and slurred speech, could read, figure change at the cash register of Lydia's café, and look after himself with a little help. Samantha looked normal. In fact, she was quite beautiful. But she'd never learned to read and could scarcely count. When she went to the store, she had to trust that the clerk would give her the correct change, because she never could figure it out. Luckily, James Heitschmidt, the owner of the mercantile and his friend Kristina's father, was an honest man who would never consider cheating anyone. His clerk, Wesley's beloved Allison, took pains to be kind to her former fiancé's wife, even though it never helped.
    Wesley and his daughter arrived at the café, a two-story red brick building with a wooden shingle over the door. It was rather too cold, now in late November, to be out without a coat, and Melissa had begun to shiver. Wesley scooped her up again and snuggled her. In the crisis of the moment, he hadn't thought ahead too well. He tried the door. Locked. Damn it, could he never get even the smallest break? It was too soon to go home, and too cold to stay out. So what could he do?
    “Wesley, so glad I found you.” It was James Heitschmidt speaking, the tall, blond, heavily freckled Head of the elder board, and owner of the mercantile where Allison worked.
    “Hello, James. What can I do for you?” Wesley struggled to sound normal. If his life fell apart every time his wife threw a fit, he'd be unable to function at all.
    “I need some help at the vicarage. It hasn't been lived in for three years, and the new pastor arrives soon. He needs a place to stay.”
    “Well, James, I'd be glad to help, but I have Melissa here.” His little girl clung tighter to his neck.
    “Gentlemen?” A soft, soothing voice broke over Wesley, making him smile. Allison's sister Becky approached, her lovely face set in a serene half-smile. If anyone knew how to handle adversity with grace, it was Rebecca Spencer.
    James turned to her. “Miss Spencer, how are you today?”
    She flushed a little, in the bite of a sudden icy gust. “I'm just fine, Mr. Heitschmidt,” she replied. “Did I overhear that you are going to air out the vicarage?”
    “Yes,” James replied. He seemed about to elaborate, but nothing came out.
    “Well, then,” the little golden-haired woman continued, “why don't I take Melissa with me for a while? I have some cookies fresh from the oven, and I'd like a taste tester to be sure they're good.”
    It was awfully close to dinner time, but how could Wesley say no? He looked at his little daughter, gauging whether she would be okay parting from him. The child wriggled in his arms. He set her down and she ran to Becky, who scooped her up.
    “Thank you, Miss Rebecca,” Melissa said, giving her a big hug. “I'm really hungry.”
    Wesley closed his eyes. It wouldn't be the first time Samantha had refused to feed Melissa during the day, when she was in one of her precarious moods.
    Becky didn't bat an eyelash. “Well then, sweetheart, let's have a sandwich and then a cookie, what do you say? I wouldn't want you to get a stomach ache.”
    Melissa cheered.
    “Thank you, Miss Spencer,” Wesley said softly.
    “Any time, Mr. Fulton,” she replied. Then she turned and carried Melissa away down the chilly street to the Spencer house, a white two-story with lots of gingerbread trim painted black and matching shutters on all the windows. As soon as they ducked out of sight, Wesley turned. James was still staring at the door.
    “Shall we go?” Wesley asked. James