led the congregation in an opening hymn, and then Micah took his place behind the lectern. As he surveyed his flock, he noticed that every man wore a gun and every woman carried a reticule that drooped as though containing a heavy object. At the same time, every congregant’s expression bespoke peaceful determination. Micah chuckled to himself. He needn’t be concerned about these good folks. They’d look out for one another. In fact, after the prayer meeting, he’d go home tonight and clean his own guns. The men with whom he’d attended seminary in Massachusetts would be shocked, but out here in the American West, Micah wouldn’t be the only preacher who carried a sidearm.
* * *
After the final prayer, Grace’s parents, Georgia and the rest of the congregation filed out of the pews to the stirring tones of “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” a song well suited to the battle that threatened Esperanza. Grace stayed in her seat in the second row because she never tired of hearing Mrs. Foster play the church organ. The kindly old lady’s face always took on a sweet glow while she played, as though the words to the songs came straight from her heart.
Tonight it wasn’t the music that kept Grace seated, but a bittersweet pang. Due to Mrs. Foster’s fine teaching, Laurie had thrived as a piano student well enough to be accepted at the Denver Music Conservatory. After she completed her studies, she might find a teaching position—or a husband, either of which would probably take her away from home forever.
Grace already felt bereft. With Beryl gone for good and Laurie’s return not certain, nothing would be the same around here. Of course Grace wouldn’t want Laurie to pass up an opportunity to teach music someplace else, but she hoped her sister would come home in a year or so and take dear old Mrs. Foster’s place as the town’s music teacher. In spite of her enthusiastic playing, the older lady was growing feeble and often needed help to get her chores done. Just yesterday, Grace had moved into her boardinghouse to be closer to work. Even though she needed to do that, it took her away from her family. Her days seemed to be getting lonelier and lonelier with everyone she cared about moving away or occupied with their own lives.
“You’re deep in thought.” The Rev walked over and sat beside Grace, resting one arm on the back of the pew. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nope.” Grace emphasized the word with a shake of her head. Here was another person she cared about who would likely be leaving her. Not going away, but leaving the closeness of their friendship as soon as he found some young lady to court. “Just listening.” She nodded toward Mrs. Foster.
“She certainly has a gift, doesn’t she?” The Rev smiled as the last chord died away.
Mrs. Foster gathered her music, stepped down from the organ platform and followed Grace’s family up the aisle. These days she was still trying to persuade Georgia to work harder at her piano playing, but Georgia never seemed to remember to practice.
Grace stood and settled her gun belt on her hips. “Time to go.”
The Rev stood, too, even though he’d had a long day of ministering to folks in the area before conducting the prayer meeting. Always the gentleman, even around Grace. She appreciated his courtesy since he was the only man in town who treated her that way. Well, except the Northam menfolk, but they didn’t count because they were like brothers to her and her sisters.
“It’s mighty good of you to move in with Mrs. Foster.” The Rev followed Grace up the aisle toward the double front doors. “I’m sure she appreciates the company.”
“You know it’s not just for company. When Hardison tried to court Marybeth, Mrs. Foster did all she could to stop him. The sheriff and I want to be sure she stays safe.”
“As I said—” The Rev gave her that look of his, the one she liked and disliked at the same time, chiding her for not receiving compliments well. “It’s mighty good of you.”
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t know why she hated to be praised. She just did.
They’d reached the front doors and stepped outside into the cool evening. The Rev’s house was closer to the church’s back door, so he hadn’t needed to escort her out.
“There you go following me again.” She pulled her hat up on its strings and plopped it on her head.
He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound that always made her feel good.
“Actually, I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask you something.”
Her heart stumbled oddly, so she posted her hands at her waist and cocked her head. “Yeah?”
“You know I’m a fair shot with a rifle, but I’ve never learned to fast draw my revolver. Would you teach me?”
She gave him a sidelong look. “You funning me, Rev?”
He laughed out loud. “I’m entirely serious. You never know when it will come in handy, especially with notorious outlaws making threats against our community.”
Grace faced him and crossed her arms. “I’m a little confused. You’re a man of peace. A minister of the Gospel. But you want to learn how to outdraw an outlaw.”
“Outdraw an outlaw. That has a poetic ring to it, however disconcerting the idea behind it may be.” His jolly expression faded. “To tell the truth, I’ve wrestled with the notion and prayed about it for some time. The Lord reminded me that He sent David to defeat Goliath and Joshua to bring down the walls of Jericho, to name only two biblical warriors. I wouldn’t like to take a man’s life, but I do believe it’s no sin to protect good people from danger.”
A sense of wonderment filled Grace’s mind and heart. There was no end to the depth of this man. “Rev, I’d be pleased and proud to teach you all I know about how to draw fast. If it doesn’t snow, let’s start tomorrow morning before the winds get bad.”
“Would Friday work as well for you? I have some folks to visit tomorrow.”
“Friday it is.”
A pleasant sensation warmed her heart at the thought of spending more time with the Rev before he found his bride. As she strode up the dark street toward the boardinghouse, hurrying to catch up with Mrs. Foster, she decided to help the older lady prepare his supper for tomorrow evening. The married ladies in town took turns sending meals to the minister, but they’d deemed it unseemly for the single ladies to participate lest it become a contest to win him through their cooking. Of course, the Rev didn’t know anything about that. Nor did anyone need to know if Grace put some of her own cooking into Mrs. Foster’s basket. She’d have to think real hard to decide which of her special recipes to prepare.
* * *
On Friday, after Grace completed her morning rounds of Esperanza and the surrounding area, she rode out to the vacated ranch northwest of town. A thin layer of powdery snow covered the house, which was little more than a ramshackle cabin, and the grounds, which included the barn and two or three other outbuildings. In a nearby field, straggly cornstalks and a rusted plow bespoke broken dreams of a pioneer family who’d come out here about the time Grace’s father and Colonel Northam had staked their claims and succeeded in building vast cattle ranches.
The Rev waited for her by the corral, so she rode that way. From time to time, she wondered what people thought about her spending time alone with him. Young women of good character always took along a chaperone when they were in the company of a man, even when a couple began to court. Yet no one had ever mentioned such a
