Texas Brides Collection (38 page)

“I’d like to hear what Rosie thinks about the day the church was born.” Macy Braum, a pleasant contrast to her stuffed shirt of a brother, gave Rosie the courage to speak.

“It’s the place where it says people were mocking the disciples and all, saying they were drunk. Here God was doing something amazing and wonderful and all they saw was drunks.”

“Yeah, Braxton, maybe we should hold the next service at the saloon down the street,” a young man Rosie didn’t recognize said.

Laughter followed, although Rosie didn’t think it was such a bad idea. Didn’t Jesus eat with publicans and sinners and even ladies of the night? They were the people who knew they needed a Savior, not people who had grown up without ever wondering where their next meal was coming from.

“At least they took a risk in sharing their faith.” A deep voice from the back of the room said.

Turning, Rosie registered his blond good looks while feeling a bone-deep fear of the authority shouting from every inch of his frame.

Ranger Owen Cooper smiled inwardly at the excitement generated by the young lady’s comment. He almost quoted the verse from Ephesians, where Paul said, “Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit.” He would love to hear Miss Carson’s take on that verse. She might be the only one who noticed it said “in excess.”

Since his parents’ death, Owen hadn’t been home to San Antonio for more than a weekend for several years. His work as a Texas Ranger kept him running from Texarkana to El Paso year-round. On the rare occasions he had time to himself, he stayed near the headquarters in Austin. The life of a Ranger, with open sky and an outlaw’s trail to follow, appealed to him more than the closed-in feeling he had in town and in the congregation of the New Testament Church of San Antonio.

Miss Carson was a pleasant exception. The way the red in her cheeks matched the red leather Bible cover, brown curls bounced against her neck, and her expressive faith shouted her love for God’s Word—she couldn’t bore him if she tried.

The Bible study ended not long after that, leaving the sermon the apostle Peter preached at Pentecost for another lesson. How could a sermon that convicted over three thousand people when Peter preached it stir little more emotion than a recitation of the Apostles’ Creed in the nineteenth century?

After the “amen” of the closing prayer, Owen’s eyes sought out Rosie. She hung back from the crowd, taking a glass of lemonade before retiring to a quiet corner. Wanting to discuss her thoughts on the Bible study, he headed in her direction. Before he could make progress, Macy and two of her friends interrupted him.

“Ranger Cooper.” Nancy Wilkerson, as vapid a woman as Owen had ever met, breathed his name as if the continuation of the state of Texas depended on it. “We were ever so concerned to hear about your injury at the hands of that awful outlaw Wilson. We have been praying for your recovery.”

Owen looked for an escape but found none. The injury she mentioned, not to mention his upbringing on the treatment of ladies, kept him slow of movement. “Your prayers are appreciated. I hope to resume my duties soon.”

“Not too soon,” the third woman, whose name escaped Owen at the moment, simpered. “We are hoping you can stay in our midst for an extended period this time.”

“That depends on the doctor’s report.” And whether Owen could sway his opinion to let him return to duty as soon as possible. He glanced again at Miss Carson, who sat by herself, responding on the infrequent occasions when someone spoke to her.

Miss Wilkerson turned in the same direction as Owen’s gaze. In a stage whisper, she said, “You seem quite taken with our Miss Carson. But I must warn you, she isn’t someone you would want to associate with, not at all.”

Someone as experienced as Miss Wilkerson must know that kind of warning often served to send most men straight to Miss Carson’s side. He simply lifted his right eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Nancy.” Macy stopped her friend before she could say more. “Miss Carson is our sister in Christ. I especially invited her to come, and I won’t have you gossiping about her past. In fact, I will go over there right now and say hello. Do you want me to introduce you, Owen?”

Rosie had moved. She returned her glass to the refreshments table and walked out of the house.

“Too late. She just left.” He moved in the direction of the door, but another group of interested ladies, as his mother described them, blocked his path.

Owen sighed. If Miss Carson was a new Christian, he should have other opportunities to speak to her, away from curious stares.

He found his next opportunity at church on Sunday. New Testament Church offered a Sunday school class for the adults as well as for children. Owen spied Miss Carson in the back row of the sanctuary, where the class was held. By virtue of moving quietly during the final prayer, he reached her before she could disappear.

“Yes?” Lively brown eyes peered at him from beneath a fringe of curls.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Owen Cooper.” He didn’t give his occupation or rank. “I find myself in San Antonio for a few weeks.” He didn’t like to mention the injury either, not wanting pity.

Recognition dawned in Rosie’s face. Of course, his name had been placed on the church’s prayer list. Miss Carson’s mind was cataloging him, name, rank, and family.

“You’re the Ranger.” Her eyes clouded. “You were injured, chasing that outlaw Wilson.”

“That’s me.” He wanted to get her mind off the subject that had drawn a curtain of some kind between them. “I confess I’ve spent several moments wondering about the reaction of the crowd to men who appeared drunk.”

A bit of humor returned to her expression. “I went ahead and read the rest of the chapter. That was quite a sermon Peter preached! Although I do have some questions about—”

Before Miss Carson had a chance to voice those questions, Miss Wilkerson came up behind them. “Excuse us, please, won’t you, Miss Carson?” Somehow she swept toward the doors, holding on to Owen’s arm. She leaned in, closer than he liked, and whispered, “I wanted to warn you. Miss Carson is a thief. She’s spent time in jail. She only started coming to church a month ago, after she came forward at a revival meeting.”

“Miss Carson is a thief.”

Nancy Wilkerson’s words stung Rosie like the bite of a whip. Pastor Martin said to hold her head high; she was a new creation. The old, thieving Rosie had passed way, and a brand-new, baby Christian had taken her place.

At the pastor’s urging, two weeks ago Rosie had shared her testimony in front of the church. Mostly she had done what she had to to get food and shelter for her family. But during that last robbery, the storekeeper had pulled a revolver. Rosie’s brother struck first; the storekeeper was injured, but Jimmy died. Because of the physical injuries, to both the criminal and the victim, the judge had decided to send a strong message. She’d spent two years in jail, only getting released two months ago. When the police officer who’d taken an interest in her suggested she attend the revival service, she learned about a loving God, and the Good News transformed her life.

Most of the church people didn’t know what to do with her. At best, they pitied her. At worst, they shunned her.

The first person who had seen the new Rosie, the woman who was hungry for God, and who considered her worth listening to, stood on the other side of the door.
God, You’re up to some strange tricks if You think a Texas Ranger and a convicted thief can ever be friends
.

I
don’t understand why you have to go out again tonight, Rosie gal. You just got in from your job.” Ma’s quavering voice almost broke Rosie’s resolution. Old before her time, bent, thin, and hungry looking, Ma depended on her daughter more than she let on.

“I’m going to a meeting of the Ladies’ Aid Society at church. Seems to me like they’re the ones who are supposed to help folks like us. I figure they must not know much about us, or they’d be doing more.” Rosie added the winning card. “After they heard my testimony, they wanted to hear more.”

“I just hope those church folk don’t disappoint you too bad.”

“I know, Ma.” Rosie filled her mother’s bowl with more beef broth. “You need to eat some more and regain your strength.”

A few minutes later, Rosie left. Her mother’s warning stayed in her head as she chased down streets that some people avoided. If only Ma didn’t keep repeating the same warning. It made her suspicious of folks’ intent. A few were spiteful, but most of them were nice enough. That would all change tonight, she hoped. Once they saw what the need was, why, they’d do the right thing.

As Rosie approached the homes in the King Wilhelm’s district, her feet slowed. Even with Jimmy, she had never come to this part of town. Adobe homes that looked like they belonged to Old Mexico sat side by side with fashionable houses on parcels big enough for two or three apartment buildings, like the one Rosie lived in with her Ma. Whatever the style, they all spoke “money.” Imagine her, plain old Rosie Carson, being invited to a place like this.

At the last street crossing, she started across the road without checking for traffic. The neighing of a horse, the shadow of a horse rearing over her head, warned her of danger, and she jumped back.

Bringing his horse under control, the rider of the horse dismounted and called her name. “Miss Carson?”

Ranger Owen Cooper, again.

Rosie Carson’s presence didn’t surprise Owen. Pastor Martin had advised him of her attendance when the Aid Society invited him to speak tonight. “That way, they figure they’ll hear from two different sides of the same question. From a lawman and from, well, a lawbreaker. They want to help, but they don’t quite know how or what’s best.”

Seeing her on this street, wearing what was probably her Sunday-best dress, she looked as out of place as a whale swimming in the San Antonio River. “I’m sorry for the way my horse nearly trampled you there.” He held tight on the gelding’s reins, and the horse snorted in resentment, as if to say, “I know when to stand still.”

“That’s all right.” Rosie shook her skirts, stirring some dust from the ground. “It’s my fault. I didn’t look proper.” She stopped, staring at the biggest house on the street. “That’s it, isn’t it? The Wilkerson mansion?”