Dixie Under Siege (A Warrior's Passion #2) - Natasza Waters Page 0,3
mark with few words.
“Pastor Hammond.” Henry Hunter drew her dad’s angry glare. “Your daughter and my son are in love. You raised a sweet, intelligent young woman.” He covered his wife’s hand with his weathered fingers. “Doris and I both think she’s a great gal. Son…I know you two are gonna be happy together.”
Josh’s mom added, “I agree. You should have waited, but maybe this calls for a summer wedding.”
What? “Wait a minute.” Dixie jumped to her feet.
“Why not, Dix?” Josh raised a brow and smiled at her. “Not like I hadn’t already thought about asking you.”
Her pulse raced. “Maybe someday, but…what about college? I’ve been accepted to Penn State. They have the second best marketing program in the nation.”
“You should have thought about that before lifting your skirt,” her father growled, his gaze burning mad. “This is the only appropriate course. You and Josh will marry this summer.” He turned his back on everyone and marched down the hallway toward his office.
Dixie’s mom’s brow scrunched with deep concern, her dark eyes emotionless when she approached. “Nothing will change the fact that you’ve committed this sin. You’ll do the right thing and marry Josh. You’ve disgraced this family by your actions. I think you had better ask for the Lord’s forgiveness, because you will never receive it from your father or me.” And then she abandoned ship as well, heading upstairs, probably to pray in her bedroom.
Josh’s muscular arm slid around her shoulders, but didn’t quell her thumping pulse.
“Hey, Dix. We’re gonna be okay.”
“Honey.” Doris shifted to stand in front of her and Josh. Henry followed and rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Your parents are honest, hardworking folks. Your mother will be fine, given some time. Once you’re married, all will be forgiven. Don’t fret over this.”
Nobody had asked if she wanted to marry Josh. Not even Josh. Marriage was not supposed to be a punitive sentence.
Josh kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna head home with the folks.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
An hour later, Dixie sat in the dark living room and listened to the grandfather clock as it struck nine p.m. The door to her father’s office opened and closed.
As he walked through the living room, she said, “I don’t want to be married this young, Dad. I have plans. College.”
He kept walking and gripped the newel post to head upstairs. “You used to be such a sweet, innocent child. Now you’re no better than a harlot standing on a street corner. There will be a reckoning. God will make sure of that.” He took each stair until he reached the second floor and never looked back.
****
“Dixie, run to the chicken barn and get some fresh eggs,” Amelia Hammond called out while standing over the stove with a dark green apron tied around her waist.
“Sure, Mom.”
With a clack of the screen door, all six of her brothers clambered into the kitchen. Their empty bellies wired with an internal alarm clock that rang near mealtime. Ranging in age from twenty-seven to nineteen, they swept their hands across foreheads covered with sweat from working under the warm, summer sun.
“Coffee on, Mom?” Shane, the oldest of Dixie’s brothers, asked.
“Sit down, boys. Breakfast is almost ready. Where’s your father?”
“Kickin’ the dust off,” Dixie said, seeing her dad on the porch as she slipped her bare feet into her cowboy boots by the back door.
Saturday mornings started early with a whirlwind of activity around the Hammond ranch. Her mom worked from sunup to sundown. Devout and selfless, she didn’t have a choice with a brood their size. Aside from Dixie and her brothers, the youngest of the clan was Sasha. At sixteen and the baby of the family, her sister had few chores around the house. She came and went with friends who all owned horses and rode any chance they got.
“Good morning, Dad.” Dix held open the screen for her father to pass before she headed out for the eggs.
“Morning.”
Since that fateful night, Dixie’s father responded to her with short, blunt answers. Her father’s pious outlook reflected in his devotion to leading the Baptist flock. His paramount purpose in their southern Utah town. He juggled their three hundred acre spread with drafting Sunday sermons and keeping the faithful on track. But as a preacher, he wasn’t very forgiving when it came to his own family. Especially her.
He still fumed four weeks after the fateful night when Dixie’s future had been decided. Her mother barely looked at her.