the tin cup, she called, "Donations for the Isaac Inman Crusade!"
A logger dropped a coin into the cup and walked on.
"God bless you!"
Giving her a look of pained tolerance, Parker pushed through the doorway and disappeared into the saloon.
Anxious to see what he was doing, she scrambled to the swinging doors and peeked inside. Parker stood at a table of young men playing cards. They looked to be very youngno more than early teens. Towering over the boys, the logger issued a few curt words. Chairs overturned as the boys darted toward the door.
June jumped back to avoid being trampled as the four burst out and struck off down the middle of the street in a dead run.
Wow! What had Parker said? Whatever it was, she was glad it hadn't been directed at her.
Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped back to the doorway. The sound of heavy boots hitting hardwood floor met her ears as Parker forcefully strode out, almost bowling her over. Stumbling, she reached out to grasp the railing.
Giving her a hard look, he walked down the steps, reached for the reins, got on his horse, and rode off.
Leaning against the rail, she took a deep breath, sourly eyeing his disappearing horse. He was such an unpleasant man.
Thirty-five dollars and sixty-two cents for the tabernacle. June lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, exhausted. She'd been in Seattle a little over two weeks, and already she was well on the way to helping Reverend Inman and Eli achieve their goal. Her heart sang with accomplishment. The only damper on her enthusiasm was Parker Sentell. What would it take to make him warm up to her? His continuing aloofness was like ice water on her joy.
Until she came to Seattle, June had never been more than fifty miles in any direction outside of Cold Water.
Now she was hundreds of miles from home, separated from family, close friends, and the only life she'd ever known. Everything that once felt safe and familiar suddenly seemed to have existed eons ago.
Even with her efforts to raise funds, she found it difficult to fill the hours in the day. She spent late afternoons and early evenings in front of The Gilded Hen, but days like these, when the skies poured down heavy rains, prevented her from going at all.
She clung to the belief that God had sent her to help with Reverend Inman's ministry. With Eli gone, God surely must mean for her to carry out the important work Eli had started.
One minute she was certain, or at least practically certain, that she was destined to remain in Washington.
The next minute she definitely knew, or at least was pretty sure, that she should return to Michigan.
Maybe if she talked to Reverend Inman about her jumbled feelings, he could help with the many questions that burdened her heart.
Above all, she desperately wanted to do the right thing. If only the Lord would speak to her spirit and grant her guidance and wisdom, she would gladly follow wherever he led.
Full of determination to do better, she headed for Reverend Inman's room late Monday morning. When she arrived, however, he was gone.
"If you're lookin' for the reverend, he's ... he's not here," a childish voice informed her.
Startled, June looked around to see who was speaking.
Ben Wilson, a crusade usher, was sweeping the hallway with a large broom. Ben, a thin, big-boned man, towered over the heads of other men who worked with the crusade.
Fellow workers good-naturedly teased Ben that he was as slow as molasses. Rudy Silas, Ben's best friend, quickly spoke up and said that whatever Ben lacked upstairs he made up for with his unshakable willingness to do God's work.
June had silently agreed, wishing that she'd had the courage to speak in Ben's defense. Ben was a little odd at times, but he was a kind man. She recognized his total devotion to the Lord and felt a kindred spirit with Ben Wilson from the moment she met him.
"Hello, Ben." June smiled and smoothed her dark blue wool skirt in place.
"Hey, Miss
A logger dropped a coin into the cup and walked on.
"God bless you!"
Giving her a look of pained tolerance, Parker pushed through the doorway and disappeared into the saloon.
Anxious to see what he was doing, she scrambled to the swinging doors and peeked inside. Parker stood at a table of young men playing cards. They looked to be very youngno more than early teens. Towering over the boys, the logger issued a few curt words. Chairs overturned as the boys darted toward the door.
June jumped back to avoid being trampled as the four burst out and struck off down the middle of the street in a dead run.
Wow! What had Parker said? Whatever it was, she was glad it hadn't been directed at her.
Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped back to the doorway. The sound of heavy boots hitting hardwood floor met her ears as Parker forcefully strode out, almost bowling her over. Stumbling, she reached out to grasp the railing.
Giving her a hard look, he walked down the steps, reached for the reins, got on his horse, and rode off.
Leaning against the rail, she took a deep breath, sourly eyeing his disappearing horse. He was such an unpleasant man.
Thirty-five dollars and sixty-two cents for the tabernacle. June lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, exhausted. She'd been in Seattle a little over two weeks, and already she was well on the way to helping Reverend Inman and Eli achieve their goal. Her heart sang with accomplishment. The only damper on her enthusiasm was Parker Sentell. What would it take to make him warm up to her? His continuing aloofness was like ice water on her joy.
Until she came to Seattle, June had never been more than fifty miles in any direction outside of Cold Water.
Now she was hundreds of miles from home, separated from family, close friends, and the only life she'd ever known. Everything that once felt safe and familiar suddenly seemed to have existed eons ago.
Even with her efforts to raise funds, she found it difficult to fill the hours in the day. She spent late afternoons and early evenings in front of The Gilded Hen, but days like these, when the skies poured down heavy rains, prevented her from going at all.
She clung to the belief that God had sent her to help with Reverend Inman's ministry. With Eli gone, God surely must mean for her to carry out the important work Eli had started.
One minute she was certain, or at least practically certain, that she was destined to remain in Washington.
The next minute she definitely knew, or at least was pretty sure, that she should return to Michigan.
Maybe if she talked to Reverend Inman about her jumbled feelings, he could help with the many questions that burdened her heart.
Above all, she desperately wanted to do the right thing. If only the Lord would speak to her spirit and grant her guidance and wisdom, she would gladly follow wherever he led.
Full of determination to do better, she headed for Reverend Inman's room late Monday morning. When she arrived, however, he was gone.
"If you're lookin' for the reverend, he's ... he's not here," a childish voice informed her.
Startled, June looked around to see who was speaking.
Ben Wilson, a crusade usher, was sweeping the hallway with a large broom. Ben, a thin, big-boned man, towered over the heads of other men who worked with the crusade.
Fellow workers good-naturedly teased Ben that he was as slow as molasses. Rudy Silas, Ben's best friend, quickly spoke up and said that whatever Ben lacked upstairs he made up for with his unshakable willingness to do God's work.
June had silently agreed, wishing that she'd had the courage to speak in Ben's defense. Ben was a little odd at times, but he was a kind man. She recognized his total devotion to the Lord and felt a kindred spirit with Ben Wilson from the moment she met him.
"Hello, Ben." June smiled and smoothed her dark blue wool skirt in place.
"Hey, Miss
Similar Books
