chores. Clean, neatly dressed, and her hair piled high and pinned into place, Casey felt much better about her second meeting with Reverend Rainer. She made her way down the stairs of the boardinghouse and ran straightway into the sheriff, a tall man with hair and eyes as dark as Jenkins’s. The star on his chest fixed in her mind.
“Afternoon, ma’am.” He tilted his hat.
She held her breath and smiled. “Afternoon.” Someday she planned to look a lawman in the eye and not fret about being recognized. And someday she planned to pack away the derringer in her dress pocket and the knives in her boots.
This time she walked to the parsonage and endured the heat. Birds sang and insects chirped, but nothing soothed the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. Whether her nervousness came from her brief meeting with the sheriff or talking to Reverend Rainer about work, she had to shake off the trembling inside her. If this job didn’t work out, she’d ride on to Mexico and maybe South America. But she wanted to give the town a try.
A short while later, Casey stood on the wide front porch of the Rainer home and rapped lightly on the door. Everything looked newly painted, from the steps to the heavily carved front door, all in the cloud white she’d noticed earlier. An assortment of potted green plants lined the perimeter of the porch, except on the west side where a swing eased back and forth in a light breeze. A tabby cat slept on a braided rug, oblivious to Casey’s presence. She bent to scratch its head, and the animal barely opened its eyes to acknowledge her.
Smoothing her dress, Casey took a deep breath and waited for the reverend. Now she felt like a proper lady. All she had to do was act like one. Someday she’d be one. A lot of “somedays” had floated through her mind this afternoon.
Reverend Rainer opened the door with a feed sack apron wrapped around his waist. He’d rolled up the sleeves of a white shirt past his elbows, and flour coated his forearms. With a towel in one hand, he wiped the white dusting from his exposed hands and arms.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I thought I’d be finished before you arrived.”
“Would you like me to come back later?” Where was his wife?
“Certainly not.” A warmness in his gray eyes relaxed her. “I’ve looked forward to our visit since noon.”
As he reached to rub his nose, a fine mist of flour covered his nostrils, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry,” Casey said. “I’m forgetting my manners.”
“Nothing of the sort.” He chuckled. “Cooking is not what I do best. I’ve learned a lot of things in these aging years of mine, but mastery of the kitchen is not one of them. The only thing I can make is biscuits, and the Good Book says that ‘man does not live by bread alone.’” He wiped the white powder from his face and ushered her inside. “Do come in, Miss Flanagan. Would you like to sit in the parlor?”
“Why don’t we talk in the kitchen?” A fresh fluttering of nervousness attacked her. “You probably need to finish what you’ve started.”
“That sounds good to me. We could continue our discussion while I roll out biscuits.”
Casey liked the reverend’s kind face, although his eyes reminded her of an eagle, somewhat piercing, as if he knew a secret. For certain, he looked out of place in an apron. She considered taking more than a passing glance at the furnishings but thought better of it. She had no idea what folks were supposed to talk about with a preacher, other than God things. The idea of drowning in silence needled at her.
In the kitchen, he pulled out a chair from the table, and she sat on the edge just as she’d seen some ladies do during the past few weeks. “You have a fine home,” she said.
“Thank you. Several members of our church painted it last week. They did a good job.” The reverend paused. Picking up the rolling pin, he cleared his throat. “I’m not used to delivering speeches in an apron, but I’ll do my best.” He eased the pin across the dough. “Let me begin by saying my wife is upstairs sleeping. She’s been ill for some time now. When she wakens I’ll introduce you.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Casey folded her hands in her lap. Noting the exquisitely carved oaken table and chairs