A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,15

Delcie, can I? It’s all right with Mr. Remington, isn’t it?” He looked to Ryder for confirmation.

“Wouldn’t mind a little company.” To his surprise, he realized it was a fact. What had happened to his desire for solitude?

Miss Morton looked too tired to argue “Very well. If you sit in front of me.”

“Me too?” Sally bounced in her eagerness.

“I think you better sit between Auntie Laura and me.”

Sally’s bottom lip quivered.

“Otherwise we’ll miss you.” At her soft words and kind smile, Sally nodded, her expression eager as she perched between the two women.

Ryder and Kent sat ahead of them.

“No talking, and sit still,” Miss Morton whispered. Likely she meant the words for Kent, but Ryder turned and grinned.

“Yes, ma’am.”

To his delight, she blushed.

He turned around. Despite all he’d been through and his vow to live a solitary life, it felt good to know he still had the ability to make a young lady color up at his teasing.

The small church held a dozen or so pews and they were mostly full. Several children besides Sally and Kent sat quietly. The ladies in the congregation smiled at acquaintances then faced forward. The silence lengthened. The children began to fidget.

Ryder wanted to turn around and ask what time the service was to begin but didn’t want Miss Morton to shush him so continued to stare ahead.

Kent shifted from side to side and sighed.

Ryder pressed his hands to his knees to still the restlessness in his legs. Time crept by. He crossed his arms and studied the plain pulpit. Wooden. Square. With no preacher behind it. He looked around the room. Four windows on either side. Plain glass. The walls were painted white. The building was simple.

Time passed like an inchworm with all day to get nowhere.

One of the men in front of Ryder leaned forward to whisper to his wife and then to the man next to them. Whispers passed through those gathered until Burnsie stood up.

“’Pears the preacher is late. T’wont hurt us none to wait for him.” He sat back down.

The room quieted once more. But as the minutes passed, the whispers began again and increased in volume until one man stood.

“I’d say he isn’t coming today. Me and my wife are going home.” He held out his hand to the woman at his side and they slipped out.

Several followed his example while the others returned to waiting.

Kent turned around. “Auntie, can we go?” His whisper carried across the room.

“Hush, Kent. I’ll let you know when it’s time.”

Kent turned back and slouched over his knees, his legs swinging. A minute later he turned back again. “Is it time?”

Miss Morton signaled him to be quiet.

Those remaining in the church slowly slipped out until Ryder, the two ladies and two children were all that remained.

“Now,” Miss Morton said, and eased upright.

“’Bout time,” Kent grumbled.

Ryder understood she had waited until the others left so she could hobble out without an audience. He caught her hand and again rested it on his arm so she could put most of her weight on him. Miss Fisher took her other arm, and they left the building.

If she hoped to avoid having the others see her limping along, she was to be disappointed, for most of the people had gathered in the yard. Many of them in a knot around Burnsie.

“Someone should have taken his place,” one man said.

“Didn’t see you volunteering,” another pointed out.

Burnsie lifted his hands. “He might come yet if ya care to wait.”

“Not me.” Already several families had departed, and the speaker reached for his wife’s arm and followed suit.

“Let’s go home,” Ryder said, surprised when Miss Morton didn’t argue.

They hopped and hobbled past the few that remained in the yard. The women offered sympathy for Miss Morton’s injured ankle and each one had a suggestion as to how to make it better. Miss Morton received all the advice with thanks. “I’ll be sure and try that,” she said.

She waited until they were out of earshot to add, “Everything but tying a cloth covered in bear grease to my ankle and leaving it until it’s ripe.” She shuddered.

Ryder figured it was at the thought of the rotten smell though it might also be from the pain. Not that he was going to mention it. Then again…

He grinned.

“I don’t have a wheelbarrow, but I’m certain I saw one in the back of Burnsie’s store. If you wait here, I’ll go ask to borrow it.”

She squeezed her fingers together enough to warn him she could