The Bride of Willow Creek(76)

She held Daisy’s small twisted foot between her hands, and raged in her heart at a fate that had let this happen. Tears lay close to the surface and she felt like weeping.

Instead she blinked hard and reached deep for a smile. “Do your good Sunday shoes fit as well as these?”

Daisy nodded, studying Angie’s expression for any hint of revulsion or pity.

And in that moment Angie knew she had to be present for Daisy’s operation whether Sam arranged the surgery or the Govenors did.

When she answered Peter’s letter, she would tell him that she couldn’t accept his money. He would protest and attempt to persuade her. Then she would answer that she couldn’t make any decisions about the divorce until after Daisy’s operation. If she explained carefully, surely he would understand.

“Excellent. I’m glad they fit.” Standing, Angie removed her apron and hung it on the hook beside the back door, hoping nothing in her demeanor suggested that something momentous had just occurred. “If we don’t dawdle, we have just enough time to pick up this batch of new dresses, then hurry back and get you dressed before your grandparents arrive to fetch you.”

While the girls were having lunch with the Govenors, she would do her baking for Sunday, return a cup of cornmeal she’d borrowed from Molly, and scrub the floors. If she had any extra time, she’d pull the weeds in the front yard around her struggling columbines before she started supper. As she worked through her list of chores, she’d think about what to say when she answered Peter’s letter.

But something else lay heavy on her mind. After they married—would Peter be shocked to discover that she wasn’t a virgin? Or would he assume that she and Sam had consummated their marriage all those years ago? She decided Peter most likely believed the marriage had been consummated. Therefore she could stop worrying about not being virginal when she married him.

That didn’t make her betrayal any less reprehensible, she told herself sternly.

Nevertheless, her mood improved and her conscience relaxed, as consciences often did when assured that a wrongdoing would not be found out.

“Come along, girls,” she said briskly. “It’s a grand day. School is out for the summer, you have new dresses, and you’re going someplace nice for lunch.”

They skipped down the road in front of her, kicking up puffs of dust that made Angie sneeze. But nothing could spoil the day.

She had waited ten long years for her life to begin. Now Peter had appeared like a fairy godfather to grant her fondest wish. It was a lovely gesture even if she couldn’t accept.

An odd thought occurred while Mrs. Hooten folded the girls’ new dresses into packages. Was obtaining a divorce truly her fondest wish? Well, of course it was.

Except for having to leave Sam. And the girls.



After Sam walked through the new parsonage with the Reverend and Mrs. Dryfus, accepting their compliments, he presented them with the house keys, then headed downtown to spread the word that the job was finished. With a little luck, the information would reach Herb Govenor before the Govenors caught the train for Colorado Springs. As far as the Dryfus project was concerned, the fire danger would end and Sam could relax.

“Sam Holland. You’re just the man I’m looking for.” The mayor slid onto the barstool next to Sam and signaled Maxie for a beer.

“I’ve been looking for you too. It’s time we discussed building the school.”

“There’s been some developments.”

Sam turned his head. “I’m ready to start work as soon as you and the council decide on the land and start soliciting the donations we need.”

“We’ve decided on the lot, but there’s a problem with the current owner. He wants twice what the ground is worth. We’ll handle things, but it’s going to take a few weeks.” The mayor slid Sam a look, then concentrated on his beer mug. “As for donations, it turns out that a single donor has stepped forward. He’ll pay for everything.”

Marcus Applebee, it had to be. Sam nodded. “The delay on the lot will give me time to work my claims and put aside a little money to tide me over.”

The mayor wiped a hand across his mouth after a long swallow of beer. “I’m glad the Dryfus place went up with no incident. People are saying all that talk about you and the fires was just talk. Nothing to it.”

Any niggling leftover doubt would vanish when the word got out that the mayor and town council had approved Sam to build the new school.

“But we have a problem.” Lifting his head, the mayor met Sam’s gaze in the mirror above the back bar. “Herb Govenor is the man who’s paying for the new school. It won’t cost the town a red cent. Govenor will pay for the building lot, hell, he’ll pay for everything right down to chalk for the blackboard and enough firewood to get through next winter. He’ll even furnish housing for a new teacher.”