Stealing the Preacher (15 page)

The boy cupped the watch in his hand as if it were a piece of fine china. “I’ll be careful with it. I swear.”

“I know you will.” Crockett thumped him on the shoulder. “Go on, now. Take up your position and prepare the rope like I showed you.”

The boy traipsed to the back of the sanctuary, leaving Crockett all too conscious of the woman who had moved down the aisle to join him.

“If you win over the rest of the folks the way you have Jackson,” she said in a quiet voice that suggested she had no doubt he would, “you’ll soon be in need of a larger building.”

Crockett darted a glance at her, then directed his attention to the floorboards, an unseen band tightening across his chest. “He’s a good kid.” A lonely kid who needed a friend. Easy enough to handle. Crockett understood loneliness. Seclusion. He’d lived it. It was no hardship having Jackson around. He kind of reminded Crockett of his kid brother, Neill.

But meeting the spiritual needs of grown men and women was different. More complicated.

Crockett stared at the notes still in his hand. How inadequate they seemed. What did he know about shepherding a flock?
I’m not ready. I—

“Everyone is looking forward to the services today.” Joanna’s innocent comment only fueled his doubts. “I told the women when we were cleaning about the sermon you preached last Sunday—how powerful it was, how it moved me.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, his clothes starting to itch against his skin. He paced behind a pair of
pews to the window that overlooked the road and scratched a spot on the back of his neck near his collar. “They’ll expect too much of me.”
You’ll expect too much of me.
“I’d practiced that sermon for weeks. This one . . .” He held up the notes and waved them dismissively in the air. “This one I didn’t even finish until late last night.”

“But I heard you when I came in,” she argued, her footsteps echoing on the floor behind him. “Your words touched me the same way as before. Such wisdom and confidence. I know the others will hear it, too.”

Confidence? Ha! What confidence?
It had deserted him along with his clarity and focus.

She had no business building up people’s expectations. He was just an ordinary preacher, self-taught for the most part. Who was he to bring a community together? Who was he to break through to her father when neither she nor her mother had been able to? It was too much to ask.
I should have never agreed to—

A gentle hand suddenly covered his fisted one where it ground into the windowsill. Crockett closed his eyes as her calm soaked into his spirit.

“Moses doubted he could lead God’s people,” she said, her voice as gentle as her touch. “Jeremiah thought himself too young and inexperienced to speak for the Lord. It was only when they realized that success was not up to them but up to God that they were able to accomplish what the Lord asked of them.”

Slowly, her fingers worked their way into his until his fist loosened and his hand lay relaxed, cradled within hers. “I, more than anyone, know how heavy the burden can become when we feel incapable of coping with the calling set before us. But as my mother used to remind me, I now remind you. Our only job is to be obedient to the call, to scatter the seed. It
is God’s job to give the increase. Don’t try to carry that load. No human can.”

Finally he turned. His eyes met hers, and the confidence that had abandoned him in such haste began trickling back.

“Speak the words God has given you, Crockett. Let him worry about the rest.”

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull Joanna into his arms and hold her against his chest, to absorb her strength and refuel his depleted stores. But such an act would be neither proper nor prudent, so he settled for squeezing her hand and smiling into her sweet face—a face that hid the heart of a warrior.

“Thank you.” Crockett prayed she could read the depth of his gratitude through those paltry words. “God must have known I’d need you to bolster my confidence this morning.”

“So it’s
your
fault that ornery rooster sounded off an hour early.” She startled a laugh out of him with that sassy retort, and all at once, it seemed as if the earth shifted back onto its normal axis.

Crockett straightened away from the window and reluctantly released Joanna’s hand. “Seems only fitting that a rooster would help me get my swagger back.” He winked, and she cuffed him lightly on the arm, her own eyes dancing.

“Seems to me, you have swagger to spare.” Her voice was playfully prim, but the quick glance she shot at him over her shoulder as she moved away left him fighting the urge to engage in some very rooster-like strutting.

The chiming of the church bell saved him from any barnyard theatrics—that and the fact that his little chick had flown the coop to check on Jackson. Crockett tipped his head back and grinned up at the rafters.

“Impeccable timing—as usual, Lord.”

His optimism and good humor restored, Crockett sauntered
down the aisle and vaulted back up onto the dais to return his notes to the pulpit before taking up his place at the door to greet his congregation.

Let them come,
he thought as the first wagon appeared around the curve in the road.
I’m ready.

17

J
oanna’s heart swelled with satisfaction as the service neared its close. Crockett’s sermon had been delivered flawlessly, as she’d known it would be, full of the same passion and sincerity that stirred her soul the first time she’d heard him speak. And if the few amens that had echoed in the rafters earlier were any indication, she wasn’t the only one who’d been moved.

In truth, the only thing that would have made her happier was if her father were sitting in the pew beside her and Jackson. But she wouldn’t get ahead of herself. One step at a time.

“One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.”
The familiar verse ran through her mind as Crockett invited the congregation to stand for the final hymn, “Trust and Obey”—a fitting selection, as well as a fitting reminder. Joanna joined her voice with the others as her heart prayed for greater patience and trust in the Lord’s timing.

Once the song concluded, Crockett asked the members to retake their seats. “I have a few announcements to make before we dismiss,” he said, his smile apologetic. “I promise not to take long.”

He waited for the shuffle of bodies settling to quiet before he continued. “I wanted to give special thanks to the ladies who worked so diligently on Friday afternoon scrubbing, sweeping, and shining things up in here.” His focus rested briefly on each of the women who’d helped with the cleaning, including Holly Brewster, who was leaning so far forward in her pew to preen that for a moment Joanna thought the girl would rise and take a bow.

When Crockett’s eyes finally met Joanna’s, the twinkle she loved was in full force, as if he could read her thoughts and was sharing a private laugh with her. Wishful thinking, most likely, but pleasant warmth spread through her nonetheless.

“Now that we have the inside refurbished, I’d like to enlist your aid in fixing up the outside.”

One man grumbled something under his breath from a row or so behind Joanna, then another from across the aisle. She had to fight the urge to glare some courtesy into them. This building belonged to all of them. It was only right for everyone to contribute to its upkeep. Especially since Crockett had yet to draw a salary.

“I know everyone is busy,” Crockett conceded, moving out from behind the pulpit, “so I thought we would turn our workday into a celebration with games and activities for the whole family. Horse races and shooting contests for the men, pie-baking contests for the women, and maybe a greased pig for the kids.”

An excited buzz now hummed through the chapel.

“Instead of a barn-raising shindig, we’ll have a church-painting one. I’ll need some help in organizing the activities, so if there is anyone who would like to volunteer to chair a planning committee, please speak with me after we dismiss. We’ll take the funds collected from the offering today and next Sunday to purchase paint and supplies. Then, two weeks from Saturday we’ll gather for the event. Everyone in the community
will be welcome to participate, whether they attend services here or not.” Crockett looked directly at her as he imparted this last bit, and her pulse leapt at the implications.

Her father. He couldn’t resist a chance to show off his marksmanship. And she doubted he could keep from entering Gamble in the races, either. He’d been itching for a chance to pit his new horse’s speed against mounts offering more competition than the Lazy R cow ponies. This event would be the perfect enticement.

“Did you know about this?” she whispered to Jackson when Crockett turned his attention to the rest of the crowd.

The boy bent his head close to hers. “Nah. I knew he wanted to paint, but I never guessed he’d throw a party. You think it’ll work?”

“We’ll just have to make sure it does. Deal?” She extended her gloved hand to shake on it.

Jackson fit his hand to hers, his jaw set. “Deal.”

Her mind suddenly swirling with ideas, Joanna reached for the small tablet she carried with her for taking notes during the sermon and flipped to a clean page. She’d never planned any kind of community event before, but she’d attended them. Surely she could figure out what needed to be done. Crockett would help.

Joanna bit her lip as her pencil hovered above the paper. The thought of having an excuse to spend more time with the parson set her stomach to dancing. So distracted was she by the image of the two of them huddled together on the settee in the parlor, that she failed to hear Crockett’s dismissal. When Mrs. Grimley stopped by her pew, it startled Joanna to realize that everyone was up and milling around and probably had been for several minutes.

Clutching her Bible and tablet to her chest, she lurched to her feet. “Oh, Mrs. Grimley! I didn’t see you there.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you think of the preacher’s plan?” The stern-faced woman raised a brow at her, but Joanna
had known her too long to be fooled into thinking the dour expression actually indicated what was in her heart.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea. In fact, I was thinking of volunteering to help with the planning committee.”

Mrs. Grimley tilted her head toward the pulpit. “Better get a move on, then. That Brewster gal’s already got a jump on you.”

Sure enough, Holly had Crockett blocked in at the front of the church. She and Becky Sue stood side by side, barricading the center aisle while Holly gushed all over the parson.

Crockett smiled and nodded politely, but there was a tension about his eyes that Joanna hadn’t seen since the day her father brought him to the ranch with a lariat around his middle. Clearly, the man was crying out for rescue.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Grimley,” Joanna said as she started backing toward the outer aisle. “I believe I’m needed at the front.”

She had already turned and had nearly reached the end of the pew when Mrs. Grimley’s quiet chuckle met her ear. “Yes, dearie. I believe you are.”

Strengthened by the thought of having at least one ally in her corner, Joanna skirted a pair of farmers discussing the worth of a particular mule another man had for sale, and made her way along the wall to the dais. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, what with Holly’s mother and Etta Ward working hard to eavesdrop from their position in front of the first pew, where they pretended to converse. Joanna supposed she could walk over the dais to get to Crockett, but somehow it seemed wrong for her to step up there, despite the fact that she’d crawled across it on her hands and knees not two days ago. So instead, she twisted sideways and inched along the edge of the stage until she stood a few feet behind Crockett.

“I have so many wonderful ideas,” Holly was saying, “and I know simply
everyone
around here, so you won’t have to worry about a thing with me in charge.” Holly laid her hand
on Crockett’s arm, and Joanna had to fight the sudden urge to slap it away.

“I’m grateful for your assistance, Miss Brewster. I have no doubt that you are the perfect person to head up the planning committee.”

The perfect person
? The words cut a surprisingly deep gash in Joanna’s hide. Of course he’d think she was perfect. Perfect hair, perfect figure, perfect smile, perfect connections. Perfect veneer for that perfectly horrid temperament she hid so well from the male population.

“Becky Sue and I can arrange decorations for the tables, and I’m sure Mother would be happy to oversee the food arrangements. Wouldn’t you, Mama.” Holly finally tore her gaze away from Crockett to draw her mother into the conversation, but when she saw Joanna, she immediately turned back to the parson.

“Mama’s the best cook in the county. And she knows what every woman’s specialty is. She’ll organize a feast like you’ve never tasted. And I’m sure her dear friend Mrs. Ward would volunteer to plan the pie-baking contest. Her husband would be the perfect judge. Nelson Ward’s sweet tooth is legendary in these parts.”

“That sounds splendid. I’m sure they’ll do a fine job. Now, if—”

“Oh, but what about the games?” Holly interrupted, determined to monopolize his time. Didn’t she care that she was keeping him from speaking to the other members? It was essential for a new minister to get to know the people of his congregation. All he needed was for one or two crotchety souls to get their dander up because he didn’t speak to them before they left.

Joanna frowned. Her own hurt feelings no longer seemed so important. The important thing was ensuring Holly didn’t sabotage Crockett’s chance to make the best possible first impression.

“I’ll need your input on the arrangements for the men’s sporting events,” Holly insisted.

Crockett backed away, and began looking past her to the rear of the building, where people were slipping through the door. “I’ll be happy to assist you, Miss Brewster, but now is not the time.”

“Of course.” Holly must have sensed that she’d pushed him too far, for she immediately changed tactics. “How silly of me. I just got so excited. We can discuss it over dinner. Mother insisted that I invite you to join us after services.”