The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,7

as he knew his own name, that his days at the United Brethren Church were numbered. He pasted on a sweet, sickly smile and tried to focus on something besides throwing up.

“My goodness, Priscilla, you take me by surprise. I was not expecting such forwardness from a woman of your stature.”

Priscilla heaved herself out of bed, unmindful of her naked state or the fact that her bosoms were swinging.

“Forward? We’ve made love, Randall… several times, in fact. I’ve risked my reputation to be with you.”

She threw herself into his arms, and it has to be said that for a moment, when her bare body pressed against him, Randall did consider the institution of marriage. But the thought left almost as quickly as it had come. All he could do now was placate her until he figured a way out of this mess.

He pressed a nervous kiss to her cheek and then helped her into her robe.

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “And I appreciate your feelings. But you must give me time.”

Her pout tightened. “I never did like to wait, and Papa would tell you it’s true.”

The fact that she’d thrown her father’s name into the conversation had been no accident. It was a subtle reminder that her father was the deacon of his church. He stifled a curse and took her into his arms.

“My dear, it is with sorrow that I must leave you now. The church council meets tonight. I need to have time to gather my thoughts, both for it… and for the future.”

He watched as her face broke into a smile. He’d purposefully misled her into thinking that his future and hers were one and the same. His conscience pricked again, but not enough to make things right. A few minutes later he was in his buggy and leaving the small country inn with haste. Priscilla Greenspan had gotten herself there. She could get herself home. He had plans to make and they did not include the deacon’s daughter.

To say that Bishop Hale was surprised by Randall’s request to move on was putting it mildly. He still couldn’t reconcile himself with the man he knew, to the man standing before him now.

“Are you certain this is what you want?” Hale asked.

Randall nodded solemnly, clutching his bible close to his chest.

“As I told you before, I believe it to be a revelation from God, Himself that I am to turn to missionary work.”

The bishop frowned. “But to the Territories?”

Randall wore his most benevolent expression. “Where else is God’s word more needed?”

Bishop Hale felt like crying. All these years and it seems that he’d been misjudging this man terribly.

“Then the West it shall be! I’ll firm up your initial itinerary by the end of the week. In fact, this timing is most opportune. I’ve had a letter just last week from a friend. It seems there is a need for a man of the cloth in a place called Lizard Flats.”

Randall’s heart skipped a beat. Lizard Flats? Somehow he doubted that the amenities of civilized society had yet to reach that far, but he nodded in accord.

“And Randall, after the first month, you will be on your own as to where or how far you travel. As for monies, you understand there won’t be a lot. Our missionary budget is slim. You must count on donations for a goodly portion of your livelihood.”

At this point, Randall gave himself a mental pinch. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d been so set on escaping before everything fell down around his ears that he hadn’t taken into consideration his standard of living would suffer as well.

Then he sighed. It was, after all, no more than he deserved. “When I am in need, I’m certain that God will provide.”

It was the perfect answer. Bishop Hale beamed.

While Howe’s journey was about to begin, there was the story to be told of the people he was being sent to wed.

Alfonso Worthy was the banker of Lizard Flats. His rise to success had been hard-won. He was not a man given to flights of fancy, and yet, because of his adoration for Sophie Hollis he’d become something of a rake. For the first time in his life he’d fallen in love. Making money no longer gave him the satisfaction it once had.

He had long ago accepted that his physical appearance was less than admirable. He was small and skinny and his white-blonde hair had been thinning for years. He feared that