Colorado Dawn (60 page)

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Authors: Erica Vetsch

BOOK: Colorado Dawn
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Willow noted Francine’s wet hair and dress. “Where did you get to this morning?”

“I can’t see how it’s any of your concern what I do or where I go.” She selected a dress and ducked behind the screen. “You’re obviously going to do what you want without thinking about me anyway.”

“Francine, please. I don’t want to rehash everything we said last night. You’re my sister and my only family. I’d like you to be happy about my coming marriage.”

“Happy! I’d have been happy in New York. I spoke with Clement this morning. He told me he’s sent your regrets. Regrets?” Several thumps came from behind the screen. “You’re going to regret it, that I can assure you. Whatever happens is your own fault.”

“My only regret in this entire situation is that you can’t seem to get over the fact I’ve found my calling in life, and it doesn’t line up with what you want.” Willow rose and lifted her own costume for the first act from the rack. “And I’m sorry about that, but you throwing a fit isn’t going to change my mind. I’m in love with Silas, and I’m going to marry him.”

Francine emerged and propped her hands on her hips. “We’ll see about that.” She threw her damp dress into the corner. “I’ve heard his church isn’t exactly happy with his choice of a bride. And if he doesn’t go through with the wedding, where will you be?”

The fierceness in her eyes brought Willow up short, and uneasiness hitched up her spine. “What have you heard about his church?”

A triumphant smirk crossed Francine’s features. “I know more than you think, and you’ll find out soon enough.” She sat down at the dressing table and turned her back. “You wouldn’t listen to me, so you’ll have to learn the hard way.”

“Francine, please.”

Her sister refused to speak, concentrating on applying her makeup.

Willow went behind the screen to change. Francine had always been moody, petulant, and more than a little selfish, but she’d never been truly vicious. Surely she was only speaking out of a place of hurt, not meaning what she said.

The clock reminded Willow they had a performance soon, and she would need to pretend not to be repulsed by Philip, not to be at odds with her sister, not to be wishing she were anywhere but in the theater. And the minute she was free, she needed to see Silas. He would make everything in her world right again. Being with him calmed her fears, assured her of his love, and made her feel like there was nothing they couldn’t conquer together.

She buttoned up her costume, her fingers chilly. That was it. All her fears would be allayed if she could just see Silas. If only they didn’t have two performances and a reception. And Silas would be busy with his sermon preparations. Tomorrow after church they would sort everything out.

“Is Mr. Mackenzie at home?” Silas removed his hat and stepped into the foyer of the Mackenzie home.

“Good evening, Pastor Hamilton.” Buckford took his dripping coat and hat. “The family is in the parlor. I’m sure they will be glad to see you.” In keeping with all Silas knew about the manservant, Buckford gave no indication he had even seen Silas’s black eye, and he certainly didn’t ask about it.

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Jesse privately.” Though Silas loved the Mackenzie family, he needed wise counsel from one of his elders rather than an evening of fellowship.

“I see. Would you like to wait in the study while I fetch Mr. Mackenzie?” He motioned to the door on his left.

“That would be perfect. Thank you, Buckford.” Silas entered the study and plucked a match from the holder on the desk to light the lamps. Red globes bathed the room in rosy-yellow light. Removing the fire screen, he poked the bed of coals glowing in the grate and added a couple of logs. Rain continued to pelt the windows.

A glance at the clock on the desk told him Willow would be in the middle of act 3 of the evening performance. With Philip. His hands fisted. Bill, the theater guard, had assured Silas that Willow would be safe, that he would watch out for her tonight. Though Silas wasn’t in the habit of attending the theater on Saturdays, reserving that day for sermon preparation and prayer for the coming Sunday, it had required all his self-discipline not to show up and watch over Willow himself.

“Silas?” Jesse strode into the room, his presence as always charging the air with a feeling that nothing was impossible or as bad as it seemed. A more capable, stalwart man Silas had never known.

“Evening, Jesse. I’m sorry to drop in on you like this.”

“Nonsense. You know you’re always welcome. Anyway, your being here saves me a trip. I was just heading into town to see you.” He shook Silas’s hand. “That’s some shiner. Did you walk into a door?”

“Not exactly. I ran into a fist.”

“Oh?”

As succinctly as possible, Silas recounted the events. “The eye will heal. What’s important is Willow wasn’t harmed, and Philip Moncrieff will think twice before he bothers her again.”

“Good for you. I’m not a man of violence, but there are times when it is the most effective and reasonable response.”

Silas nodded. “Why were you coming to see me?”

Jesse grimaced. “There’s trouble brewing. Ned Meeker stopped by this afternoon and told me that Larry Horton and Mrs. Drabble had their heads together over at Drabble’s Store, and when they saw him, they hushed up right quick, but not before he heard your name and Willow’s.”

Silas rubbed his hand down his face. “I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. It seems no matter how much I try to placate Mrs. Drabble, things just get worse and worse. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I visited the Drabble home this morning with the unpopular news that Alicia is now married.”

Jesse’s eyebrows rose, and he bent to poke the fire. “Who did she marry, and how did you find out about it?”

“She married Kenneth Hayes, one of your shift foremen, and I found out about it because I was the one who performed the ceremony.”

“Hmm. Kenneth came to me yesterday morning and asked for a week off to take care of a family matter. Didn’t know he meant to get married. Well, that’s a poke in the eye for old Beatrice, isn’t it? How’d she take the news?”

“About like you’d expect. I tried to reason with her, but she’s blaming me for not dragging Alicia home and running Kenneth off.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I had some very good reasons for going ahead with the wedding, but I can’t go into them with you. You’ll have to trust me when I say their getting married was the right thing to do.”

“I see.”

“But I’m afraid Mrs. Drabble will never forgive me. And Alicia’s marriage is only part of the reason for her antagonism. Jesse, I’m worried. Mrs. Drabble’s unhappiness with me is just the sort of canker to spread right through a church. It’s already divided the board, and it’s only a matter of time before it divides the church.”

Jesse eased onto the settee and motioned for Silas to sit in a chair opposite him. “Sadly, I’m afraid it already has. More than one person has asked me about your relationship with Willow. I’ve told them all I support you, and if they have a problem they should talk to you personally. I’ve seen this kind of thing happen before, and I’d do about anything to head it off. If it continues, pretty soon folks are deciding which side of the church aisle they’ll sit on, and little things that shouldn’t be a problem become a shooting war. And the major casualty is the church. Gives the congregation a black eye worse than yours.”

Silas dragged his hand across the nape of his neck. “How did we get here, Jesse? All I want is to be a good pastor. I went against my father’s express wishes when I took this church. I turned my back on everything he’d planned for me. And it wasn’t a decision I made lightly. I prayed and prayed about coming to Martin City, and I was sure God had brought me here.”

“What makes you think He didn’t?”

“How can a church in turmoil be God’s will? If I hadn’t come here—if a married man with a family had taken the position—Mrs. Drabble wouldn’t have been obsessed with Alicia marrying the minister. She wouldn’t have become dead set against Willow. And the ministry here wouldn’t be in jeopardy.”

“What does Willow say about all of this?”

“She doesn’t know. I haven’t seen her today. Saturdays are extra busy for her with two performances, and I try to focus on the preparations for Sunday services. Willow knows some people have skewed ideas about actresses and such, but she doesn’t know of Beatrice’s animosity. I thought if the church folks just got to know Willow, they’d see what a wonderful person she is and what a great pastor’s wife she would make.”

“She is a wonderful person, and folks will come around if they only give her a chance.”

“But will they give her that chance before the district supervisor visits and finds the church in an uproar?” Silas pulled the telegram from his pocket. “Walter Drabble gave this to me this morning. The Reverend Archibald Sash will arrive on the midnight train and be attending church tomorrow morning. The Drabbles are meeting his train and taking him home with them tonight. I can only imagine what they will say to him. After the services, there is a board meeting, followed by a one-on-one interview for me. When is the church supposed to have time to change their minds about Willow?”

Jesse grimaced, showing a fair number of teeth. “What rotten timing.” He rubbed his chin. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way or assume I’m anywhere but squarely behind you on this, but is there any chance you can maybe back off things with Willow to let people get used to the idea? Just to lessen the tension and give folks time to come to their senses?”

Only the sincerity and warmth in Jesse’s expression kept Silas from giving in to the despair rising in his chest. “I can’t. I’ve asked Willow to marry me, and she’s agreed. I can’t back away, and I wouldn’t even if I could. Giving in to Mrs. Drabble’s tyranny isn’t the way to heal the church. I’d only be prolonging the trouble.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be fair to Willow, and it wouldn’t change anything for tomorrow. It’s like we’re sitting on a powder keg, and there’s a fuse burning.”

Silas nodded, his heart sinking. “I don’t know how we got here so quickly. Everything was fine, or so I thought, and within the space of a few weeks, the church is coming apart at the seams. I feel as if God is asking me to choose between my church and the woman I love. I was sure I was supposed to pastor the Martin City Church, and I was sure I was supposed to marry Willow, and now I’m not sure of anything.”

“I’m not saying you’re right about God wanting you to choose, but if you had to, would you walk away from this ministry to be with Willow? Or would you walk away from Willow for the Martin City Church?”

Silas tunneled his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Right now I feel as if either would rip my heart out. How can I turn my back on my ministry, on my flock? And yet, how can I let Willow go?” He pounded his fists on his thighs. “I can’t. There has to be another way.”

Chapter 15

S
ilas arose from a troubled sleep to a world washed new and blanketed in sunshine. It was out of balance with the sense of foreboding in his chest. The vigor that usually surged through him on a Sunday morning eluded him. As he dressed in his starched shirt and freshly pressed suit, he felt as if he were donning armor, one piece at a time.

He glanced out the window across the lawn to the church. How odd that the storm clouds had cleared from the sky yet still seemed to hang over the cupola.

Lord, I don’t believe You want to force me to choose between the church and Willow, and I pray that You would go before me, that You would work in the hearts of the congregation so that a choice isn’t necessary
.

Sherman regarded him with solemn eyes from the bedroom doorway. That cat was like another conscience with his penetrating stares.

And Lord, if I’m misreading everything, then please open my eyes. Show me what to do, and give me the strength to do it. Make me willing to sacrifice my desires to Your will
.

Unable to face the idea of breakfast, he strode across the wet grass to open up the church and prepare for the service.

Willow ignored the tea tray on the dressing table. “Francine, I want to know what you’re up to. Where are you going on a Sunday morning all dressed up?”

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