Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (47 page)

BOOK: Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2)
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Papa took one look at the fireplace, its flames died down to a few red
embers. Without a second's hesitation, he tossed the treasured volume into
the fire, ignoring her sudden gasp. A puff of black smoke climbed the chimney until the hard cover of the book took hold, reigniting the flames to a rich
orange-red.

The sound of trudging feet coming up the stairs dragged Emma's
sullen thoughts back to the present. She took a gander at her watch and found it near suppertime. Gideon Barnard glanced inside the open door
on his way past then halted and backtracked. "You lookin' for somethin',
Miss Emma?"

She jammed the wool sock back in her apron pocket. "Just cleanin'
out Mr. Dreyfus's old room, makin' way for the next boarder."

Gray eyes slanted under a crinkled brow, lending credence to the
older gentleman's perpetual frown. "Yeah? Who's movin' in?"

"The Reverend Atkins." She purposely kept her answer short, not
wanting to elaborate. Bending, she picked up the bucket of water she'd
used to mop the wood floor, gathered up the dusting cloth and a few
other items, and headed for the door, hoping to slip past Mr. Barnard
without further incident. But it wasn't to be.

"That so? The preacher?" He moved aside to let her pass, then,
rather than go to his room as he'd earlier intended, he followed a few
paces behind her. "That mean we have to clean up our talk around
here?"

"I've been askin' you hooligans to do that for some time now. Don't
imagine a preacher will have any more success at it than me." On the
way down the hall, she stopped, set the bucket down, and with her free
hand righted another picture, then ran her fingers along the top of the
frame, pleased to find it dust-free.

"I ain't cleanin' up my mouth-or my actions, for that matter."

She sniffed. "Fine. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to be checkin' on
my supper." She picked up the bucket and resumed her steps.

When she turned to take the stairs, Gideon Barnard was muttering something under his breath.

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