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

shook his head a couple of times, as though trying to clear his mind.
    “Yes, let's,” he said at last, and the two men headed back down main street, past the commercial center, which consisted of red brick buildings of varying heights; the mercantile, a single-story structure with a sprawling layout, the bank, two stories with the telegraph office up front, the Occidental Hotel: five floors with a balcony. At last, they came to the church. Unlike its neighbors, it was of weathered white boards, and boasted an oversized steeple with an ostentatious brass bell. From inside, the sound of the bellowing pipe organ could be heard in the street. Wesley grinned a little. Sounded like Kristina was practicing for Sunday. Just to the south of the church, a little brick path led past a wind-blighted tree to a tiny, one-room structure. James unlocked the door of the vicarage and the two men were assaulted by the stench of a building that had been unoccupied for several years.
    Despite the cold, the first task was to open all the windows. The endless Kansas wind would quickly take care of the musty aroma. James handed Wesley a broom and he worked on warming himself up by sweeping all the dust and cobwebs from the floors and out onto the stoop, where the breeze carried them away. James, meanwhile, was poking at the pot-bellied stove in the corner, making sure it was vented correctly. The new pastor was coming from Texas and would need that source of warmth immediately.
    They examined the furniture together. While dated, the pieces were solid and in good repair, protected as they had been under sheets. No mice had built nests in the curved back, upholstered sofa or the two armchairs. The mattress on the small bed was also free of encroaching rodents.
    “What about linens?” Wesley asked James.
    “The Ladies' Altar Guild will bring sheets, blankets, and towels tomorrow evening. That way, they'll be nice and fresh when he arrives the day after.”
    “Sounds good. And food?”
    “Allison and Kristina are going to stock the cupboards in the next day or two.”
    Wesley nodded. “Sounds like things are about set. I sure hope Reverend Williams likes it here. We haven't had a pastor in so long…” Suddenly Wesley realized how bad that sounded. “Not that you've done a bad job, I mean… sorry.”
    “Don't worry, Wes,” James replied. “I'm no pastor. I don't have time to devote to the ministry. I'm glad to fill in, but I know the difference. No offense taken. I'm glad Reverend Williams is coming too.”
    The men returned to examining the little vicarage for livability. There were no mouse holes visible in the baseboards. The walls appeared to be in good condition. The floors were still smooth, with no signs of warping. All that would really be needed was a thorough cleaning. The two men did the bulk of the work. The Ladies' Altar Guild would come in and do the dusting tomorrow. Provided the new pastor didn't have fancy tastes, the little house should be serviceable, comfortable, and sufficient.
    Task completed, they parted ways at the door with a handshake and James headed south, down the street towards his home. The church had fallen silent, indicating Kristina had finished practicing and left as well. No one walked down the broad brick road. No conversation rang from open windows. All was silent, but the endless, whispering wind. Dusk deepened, casting long shadows of trees and buildings. Wesley turned north and walked to the familiar home he'd visited over and over in his childhood. The Spencers' house; a mature couple and their two spinster daughters. Every time he visited here, he felt a pang of sorrow, no less diminished for the four years which had passed since the death of all his dreams.
    He knocked on the door. Allison opened it, looking lovely and as desirable as ever. It was hell to look at her. In some ways, worse than the confrontation with Samantha had been. All he could think every time he saw Allison was how different