Love On The High Plains Collection

Chapter 5

“And last but not least, the church.” James Heitschmidt waved a hand towards the steepled structure.

Big church for such a small town, Reverend Cody Williams thought. His gaze traveled up the façade, from the thick stone foundation to the tip of the steeple, where a gleaming wooden cross crowned an open-sided bell tower with a hefty bell visible from the street.

Big church for such a small town,Lower down, above the arched doorway, a round stained-glass window bore an image of a green hill, on which three crosses strained towards a blue sky. It was simply rendered but no less lovely because of it.

A gust of icy wind shot down the street and straight through the young man"s thin wool coat into his flesh, chilling him deep. After five years in Galveston"s soupy heat, this cold, blustery town would take some getting used to.

Cody mounted the groaning wooden steps and reached for the handle of one of the peaked doors. At that moment, a blast of sound so loud it nearly sent him tumbling on his back reverberated through the building. The low, rumbling vibration made his eardrums feel expanded, as though he had dived deep underwater.

The tone was followed by another, a little higher, and then a third before being replaced by a lilting melody. Now Cody recognized the tune from his required music classes at seminary. “All My Heart This Night Rejoices” by Johann Sebastian Bach.

Recovering his balance and composure, Cody grasped the wrought-iron handle and hissed as the frigid metal burned his bare hand. I need gloves as soon as possible. Of course, I"ll have to wait until I begin earning a salary first. I wonder how much they"ll pay me. The letters said "a comfortable living wage," but who knows what that means.

I need gloves as soon as possible.Of course, I"ll have to wait until I begin earning a salary first. I wonder how much they"ll pay me. The letters said "a comfortable living wage," but who knows what that means.He stepped over the high threshold, making a mental note not to stumble on it.

James followed, closing the door behind him.

The weak November sunshine barely penetrated the stained-glass windows that lined each of the two longer interior walls. One side featured six scenes from the Old Testament: The Garden of Eden, Noah"s Ark, the Ten Commandments, the walls of Jericho, David and Goliath, and finally, Elijah taking on the prophets of Baal while stones and water burned.

Cody glanced across the room to the other side. Just as he suspected, a Nativity Scene, the boy Jesus at the temple, Jesus turning water into wine, the healing of the blind man, a crucifixion, and the scene of the empty tomb. All of Christian faith summed up in twelve simple, crudely-rendered collections of glass and lead. They were far from works of art, but Cody preferred their simplicity. They felt more real this way, something everyday folk could understand.

The organist finished the piece and immediately launched into a lively rendition of “Joy to the World.” The rumbling bass of the foot pedals kept time while fingers plunked out a rolling counterpoint. Cody heard a soft thump as the musician changed the stops, and the new verse had a different quality than the previous one.

. From his spot at the back of the church, Cody couldn"t see the organ. It stood on a balcony directly above him, but the pipes wrapped around the upper walls to the front, behind his pulpit. Seems odd that a church in such a small town would have such a magnificent organ. Perhaps it was built specifically for this musician. If so, it was worth the exorbitant cost. I hope the man isn"t too high-strung.

Seems odd that a church in such a small town would have such a magnificent organ.Perhaps it was built specifically for this musician. If so, it was worth the exorbitant cost. I hope the man isn"t too high-strung.On either side of the aisle stretched row after row of gleaming wooden pews, each with a scarlet cushion running its entire length. Ornate patterns of vines and leaves scrolled on the wooden arms.

Darker than the pews, the wooden floor shone in a high polish. At the front, a long communion rail with delicate spindles curved around the single step, split in the center by his pulpit. Before each one lay another cushion, also deep red, for people to kneel on while receiving the bread and wine. A potbellied stove in the rear corner provided heat.

Sharp contrast drew his eyes to the ceiling. Adorning the whitewashed boards, mahogany beams crossed each other over and over.

Cody regarded the pulpit again. Unlike the rest of the church, the plain, unadorned brown box for him to set his notes on suited him fine. He felt no need for displays of extravagance.

The song ended, and James boomed out, “Stop practicing now, Kristina, and come down here. There"s someone I want you to meet.” His Kansas twang still sounded strange to Cody, who had lived his whole life in Texas. Then the words registered.

Kristina? But… that"s a woman"s name. Who is Kristina and where is she? Why is James calling her?

Kristina?But… that"s a woman"s nameWho is Kristina and where is she? Why is James calling her?A clatter of high-heeled boots drew Cody"s gaze to the steps, and he turned to see those boots appearing at the top of the twisting staircase. Flashes of dove gray leather, almost hidden under a skirt of the same color, covered a figure that nipped in sharply at the middle, before swelling again to fill a white shirtwaist, buttoned to the neck and covered with a black crocheted shawl.

At last, he could see the face, and his own went slack with astonishment. Her braided bun was gold, not silver. It gleamed with hints of red, even in the weak sunlight. The face, though smooth and unlined, made his smile fade.

Kristina was not a lovely girl. Heavy freckles dotted every inch of her skin. Adding a short, upturned nose and a firm, stubborn jaw, she resembled a brindled bulldog.

On the other hand, her eyes sparkled with turquoise warmth, like the Gulf of Mexico, and her full, pink slips curved into a perfect Cupid"s bow.

“Reverend Williams, this is my daughter, Kristina Heitschmidt. Kristina, this is our new pastor, Reverend Cody Williams.”

Kristina gave him a frank, appraising look and extended her hand. He grasped it. She wore no gloves, and her fingers felt nearly as cold as his.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Heitschmidt,” he drawled, wondering how his Texas accent would sound to them.

“Likewise, Reverend. We"ve heard so much about you.” She smiled, and her face changed from bulldog to appealing puppy. He couldn"t help but smile back. “Dad,” Kristina scolded, “you never told me Reverend Williams was so young and handsome. All the young ladies will be chasing him.”

Cody colored at the unexpected compliment. He knew he was not a bad-looking man. The mirror this morning had shown black hair with a hint of a curl, bright blue eyes, smooth skin. Nothing so handsome as to cause jealousy, or so he hoped. Being chased by a bunch of silly young girls would be a nuisance and a distraction. “Was that you playing the organ?”

“Yes,” she replied, lowering her burnished gold eyebrows. The movement caused her short nose to wrinkle.

Something about this woman made him feel slightly off-balance, as though he couldn"t draw a full breath. He blurted. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

She smiled, though it didn"t look altogether convincing. “From the previous pastor"s wife. She had no children, so she sort of adopted me when I was six, taught me piano, organ, and voice.”

“Excellent. Well, Miss Heitschmidt, you and I will have to get together soon and discuss the music at this church. I assume you would like to continue playing?”

His graceless question didn"t sit well with her, he could see. Her lowered eyebrows drew together until they looked like auburn storm clouds. “Of course. Was that in question?”

Her stern regard made him feel off-kilter. “No, um, naturally not,” he spluttered, “I mean…”

“Do you play the organ, Reverend Williams?” she asked her voice soft in a way that warned him he was on thin ice.

you“No.”

“Then I had better continue, don"t you think? Unless you"ve married an organist since we received your letter a month ago?”

Where did that sarcastic tone come from? This girl appeared as high-strung as he"d feared the church musician would be.

Where did that sarcastic tone come from?“Kristina,” James said, laying a hand on his daughter"s arm.

She spared her father a glance before returning a stern gaze to Cody"s eyes that resembled the warm ocean suddenly turning to ice.

“I"m unmarried, and I"m hiding no replacement organist in my valise,” he replied, unable to suppress a hint of irritation. “Your playing was lovely, and I would very much like for you to continue as you always have.”

She glared another moment, letting the silence grow strained. At last, she nodded. “Thank you. I plan to do so. It was a pleasure to meet you, Reverend. Now, if you will excuse me, I have dinner to prepare. Bye, Dad.” She headed for the door, lifting her shawl to cover her hair.

“Kristina, set an extra place. The reverend will be dining with us tonight.”

The pale flesh between her freckles flamed, but all she said was, “Very well.”

Then, scooping up a heavy black woolen coat from the last pew by the door, she bundled herself in it and left them.

Cody watched her go, puzzled about what had just happened. I normally get along well with men and women alike. Kristina Heitschmidt must be a particularly prickly young woman.

I normally get along well with men and women alike.Kristina Heitschmidt must be a particularly prickly young womanShaking off the encounter, he turned his attention back to the church that would form the center of his existence for the foreseeable future. He walked up the central aisle to the altar, raising his eyes and noting the rough-hewn cross hanging behind the pulpit. Two baskets of fall flowers adorned little tables behind the rail, though they were quickly fading.

He"d passed the last several hours staring from the window of the train on his way out here and seen nothing but oceans of dry, waist-deep prairie grass crackling in the wintry wind, stretching to the horizon in all directions. Wheat fields and cattle pens only occasionally broke up the horizon. Of flowers, he had seen no sign.

I wonder how they decorate the church in the winter. Oh well, no matter. Surely there"s a women"s guild to tend to such matters, and its pecking order has no doubt been established long ago. He had little interest in meddling with it, provided it was more or less amicable.

I wonder how they decorate the church in the winter.Oh well, no matter. Surely there"s a women"s guild to tend to such matters, and its pecking order has no doubt been established long ago.Stepping behind his pulpit—which he noted was hollow in back and contained a shelf where he could place a cup of coffee—he looked out over the area that would soon be filled with his congregation.

Though he never would have admitted it, he felt a surge of apprehension as he imagined the rows of seats filled to capacity with what, from the look of the room, might well be nearly two hundred parishioners. He only knew two of them, and so far, only one had been to his liking.

Cody"s eyes met those of the man who was responsible for him being here. James, the head of the elder board, had described himself in letters as a widower of middle years. He ran the general store and was designated a lay minister. With luck, James will act as a mentor and liaison… and friend.

With luck, James will act as a mentor and liaison… and friend.It struck Cody how much James"s daughter looked like him. Same features, same freckles, same hair. But on the man, it looked… ordinary, not surprising at all. To see those pugnacious attributes on a woman had given him pause.

Kristina. Thinking of the lady drew his eyes upward to the balcony. In some churches down south, such spaces contained extra seating. Here, the balcony extended across the back wall of the church, containing only the organ, which, as he had suspected, was rather too large and ornate for the town. Still, it"s a lovely instrument.

Kristina. Still, it"s a lovely instrumentThe afternoon sun passed through the colored glass of the crucifixion scene window he"d noticed earlier, beaming in irregular patches of green and blue. They lay across the wood of the bench where, moments ago, that sharp-tongued young woman had sat, her capable, chilly fingers flying over the keys, her gray-booted feet working the pedals. Every Sunday from here until the Lord called him away, he would spend his sermon looking across the congregation and up at that woman.

I have to make peace with her, Cody decided, even if she is a hedgehog. It"s my Christian duty, and I"ll do it to the best of my ability.

I have to make peace with hereven if she is a hedgehogIt"s my Christian duty, and I"ll do it to the best of my ability.Leaving the pulpit, he knelt for a moment at the altar and said a quick prayer for patience in the face of prickly and easily offended women. Then he rose, stalked to the back of the church and rejoined his host.

“Well,” James asked him, “is everything in order? Will this do?”

Cody nodded. “It will do quite nicely. I"m pleased you invited me. Lord willing, this should be a good placement for me, and it’s good for the congregation finally to have a full-time pastor.”

James nodded. “I hope so. Kristina was right though, you know. We have a number of unmarried young women in this town, and I suspect there will soon be an unofficial "find the new pastor a wife" competition. Are you inclined to be married?”

Cody smiled wryly. “I"m neither inclined nor opposed, I guess,” he replied. “At this point, my priority is to get situated with the congregation. But I thought in Western towns, men outnumbered women, and every girl had three or four suitors to choose from.”

James grinned. “You"re right. There are a great many single men around here, but most are farm hands and cowboys. These girls are from middle-class families, and many of their parents would prefer them to have husbands with higher standing. It makes for a nicer life for their daughters, you know?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Cody replied. His stomach rumbled. It had been a long day of travel, and his lunch had been small—just a sandwich and a cup of coffee at some stop whose name he"d forgotten five hours back along the tracks.

“Well, young man, sounds like you could use something to eat.”

“Yes, please,” Cody replied eagerly.

“Come on then. My house is just down the way, and I believe Kristina made beef and barley soup.”

Cody"s mouth watered at the thought. Pulling his coat tighter around his body, he followed James back out into the cold and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets.

James"s idea of "just down the way" meant five face-numbing blocks down Main Street.

Cody examined each house they passed to take his mind off his freezing fingers and face. Though similar in shape and size, each house differed wildly in color from its neighbors. One was sky blue with white trim, the next sage green with black, a third red with dark brown.

At last, James stopped in front of a narrow white structure. Strips of dark wood adorned the pale façade.

Cody looked up at the six steep steps that led to the covered porch and the front door. In his numb, shivering state, it looked like a mountain. His feet didn"t want to lift high enough to land on the first step. Only the knowledge that up those stairs waited shelter from the biting wind forced his frozen knees to bend, bend again, and then again. At the top, he lost track of how many steps there were and stumbled on the flat surface.

The door flew open just in time to display his awkward movement to the young woman he"d met earlier. Her unpleasant expression disappeared into a look of concern. Stepping onto the icy porch, she took his arm and led him into the parlor.

For a moment, his brain felt as numb as his fingers, and he started violently as a weight urged him into a rocking chair. Something heavy landed on his lap, and something warm touched his hand.

“Dad,” a female voice said in a disapproving tone, “did you bring him all that way in this flimsy coat? The poor man is half-frozen.”

“It"s all he had,” a male voice replied defensively.

“Did you forget the charity rack in the storage room? I know there are at least three good men"s coats there. They may be old and unfashionable, but they"re warm, and I doubt a man of God would be worried about fashion. Especially in this cold.”

It"s a cup in my hand, he realized. A cup means liquid, and it"s warm. His hand was starting to thaw, so he wrapped the other around the porcelain. It felt good. Warm liquid can help my insides, too. He raised it to his lips and sipped. Tea. Milk. Sugar. He sighed with pleasure.

It"s a cupin my handA cup means liquid, and it"s warmWarm liquid can help my insides, too.“I forgot. Charity stuff is women"s business,” the male voice protested.

“Women"s business, pshaw,” the woman"s voice sneered. “This Christmas we"re reading Dickens whether you like it or not. Then we"ll see whose business is what.”

Cody took another deep swallow of the tea, and his brain began to focus.

“Dickens?” The male voice… from somewhere deep in Cody"s mind, the name James floated up. James did not sound happy about Dickens. He was almost whining.

James“Reverend Williams?” A face was in front of him. A freckled, snub-nosed face.

He blinked. “Miss… Heitschmidt?” The complicated German name barely emerged on his tongue.

“Are you all right?”

Cody downed the tea in a single scalding gulp but kept the still-warm mug clutched in his hands. At last, he felt fully awake. “Yes, thank you. I appreciate the tea… and the help.”

She smiled a warm sincere smile and adjusted the weight on his lap. He glanced down to see a heavy blanket in thick, red-flecked gray wool. His eyes returned to the friendly, homely face, and he curved his lips into a smile. Only then did it occur to him how strong she must be.

Cody had passed six feet in his early teens and continued growing. He had lent his back to charity building projects and church constructions, and aided farmers, fishermen and dockworkers in their tasks. As a result, he had grown bulky and muscular, and yet this woman had steadied him with apparent ease. Now that he thought back, the top of her head had been above his shoulder, a great height for a woman. The puppy-faced Miss Kristina Heitschmidt appears to be quite an sss.

The puppy-faced Miss Kristina Heitschmidt appears to be quite an Amazon.Seeing he was no longer in imminent danger of frostbite, the young woman bustled out of the room. James had also departed, leaving Cody alone in the parlor, sitting in a rocking chair beside the fireplace.

He gazed around the room. Spacious, as one would expect from one of the most influential people in town, with furniture that spoke of the Old Country. The high-backed sofa, sitting adjacent to the fireplace, was one of the most ornately carved he"d ever seen. The arms clustered with a bas-relief of vines and flowers, which echoed the scarlet roses on the black velvet upholstery.

To either side sat a black lacquer table, their tops contrasting in shades of ecru with more red flowers. On one rested an oil lamp, on the other, a fat family Bible, the leather cover etched and gilded in German. A grand piano dominated the entire room opposite the rocking chair, its lid propped half-open and sheet music spread across the stand, ready to be played at a moment"s notice.

Above the sofa, a cuckoo clock with a brass pendulum had been mounted on the whitewashed wall. The swirling curlicues of open woodwork revealed gleaming gears inside.

“Reverend?” A familiar face appeared at the doorway. “Dinner is ready.”

Cody rose from the rocking chair. Glancing back at it, he saw it featured carved woodwork just as fine as the clock.

He folded the blanket in half and draped it neatly over the back of the chair before following Kristina down a narrow hallway with echoing wooden floors and a prominent painting of Jesus feeding the five thousand.

She indicated an open doorway, and he entered to find a table lit with candles and set with a comforting spread of white plates and matching bowls. In the center, a silver soup tureen emitted wafts of mouth-watering beef-scented steam.

Adding to the perfume of a satisfying meal, a loaf of fresh bread sat in a basket, sliced and ready, next to a silver butter dish. A tray of cheeses had been placed on the other side of the candelabra, as well as a platter of dried fruit.

James already sat at the head of the table, and he indicated a chair to his left.

Cody sat, unfolding an embroidered linen napkin on his lap. Kristina ladled each man a generous bowlful of soup. Cody had to tighten his lips to keep from drooling at the intoxicating aroma of beef and vegetables. He took a slice of bread, and then a pat of butter, a bit of cheese, and a small portion of prunes and dried apples.

Kristina seated herself across from him.

“Reverend Williams, would you please ask the blessing?” James requested.

Cody"s stomach was cramping with hunger, so he kept his prayer brief. “Thank you, Lord, for new friends and new opportunities. I pray my work during my sojourn in this town would be blessed by you and a blessing to everyone. And Lord, I also ask your blessing on the hands that prepared this fine dinner. In your heavenly name I pray, amen.”

He opened his eyes to see both Heitschmidts looking on approvingly. Then they all raised their spoons and began to eat in silence.

Kristina watched Reverend Williams eat. Remote as Garden City is, few pastors are willing to cut themselves off from the world and minister in such a place. I hope he"ll fit in here.

Remote as Garden City is, few pastors are willing to cut themselves off from the world and minister in such a place. I hope he"ll fit in hereIt didn’t seem likely. Reverend Williams was accustomed to big-city living. His application showed he"d lived in Texas all his twenty-some years of life—born and raised in Austin, attended seminary in Jacksonville, and served his first pastorate in Galveston.

.With his handsome face and urban veneer, Ilse Jackson will swarm all over him. He might just be swayed by the black-haired beauty, too, if he"s susceptible to flirtatious women. What a lovely matched set they would be. Their personalities should be well suited too. The young pastor seems very traditional in his thinking so far, and Ilse would appreciate that.

With his handsome face and urban veneer, Ilse Jackson will swarm all over himHe might just be swayed by the black-haired beauty, too, if he"s susceptible to flirtatious women.What a lovely matched set they would be. Their personalities should be well suited too. The young pastor seems very traditional in his thinking so far, and Ilse would appreciate that.She could picture them together; the perfect little lady knitting, sewing, and decorating while Cody bent his head over a Bible and mapped out a fancy sermon with lots of big words and no content.

Kristina glanced around the dining room. There were no frilly feminine touches to be found in the house because she simply couldn"t be bothered with them. Every piece was either a family heirloom her grandfather had brought from the old country or a gift from a friend. The house was immaculate but sparse and simple. Honestly, she preferred it that way. Fewer odds and ends meant less cleaning and therefore more time to practice on the piano in the parlor or head down to the church to visit her one true love, the pipe organ.

The clink of silver on china woke Kristina from her contemplations, and she observed Reverend Williams regarding his empty bowl and plate with a wistful expression on his face.

“Would you like some more soup?” she asked, reaching for the ladle.

“Yes, please,” he replied, a white-toothed grin setting his handsome face alight.

If I were the sort to be susceptible to a good-looking man, I might have succumbed to a giggling infatuation on the spot. As it was, a sizzle shot through her belly.

If I were the sort to be susceptible to a good-looking man, I might have succumbed to a giggling infatuation on the spot.She suppressed a sigh. It would be easier to embrace the spinster lifestyle if she lacked human urges. Yes, she was moved by the smile of a handsome man. Moved enough to smile back, showing her teeth. She ignored the fact that the front two were recessed, the ones on either side marginally protruding. I"m not pretty, so what difference do misaligned teeth make? None, and I refuse to feign vanity.

. . I"m not pretty, so what difference do misaligned teeth make? None, and Irefuse to feign vanity.Rising, she scooped more soup into his bowl. “There’s pie for dessert,” she told him, “so save room.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is your pie as good as your soup?”

“Better,” she admitted immodestly as she smiled again.

“I like pie. Don"t worry, Miss Heitschmidt. I"ll find room for both.”

“After a long ride on that wretched train, I have no doubt about it.”

He took another mouthful of soup, savoring the meltingly tender chunks of beef, chewing the toothsome barley, and his face took on an expression of rapture that warmed her clear to her heart. Then he swallowed and spoke. “Have you taken the train?”

“Yes. To Kansas City and home again many times. I attended a music school there several years ago.”

He looked askance at her.

“Kristina, three years is not several,” her father reminded her.

Now she could see the pastor mentally calculating her age.

“I"m twenty-three,” she said, saving him having to ask the indelicate question. “At any rate, I know how dull the long ride across the prairie is. You came from much further. How far is it from Galveston to here?”

“Too far,” he replied, and the fatigue of travel chased across his features. “But I stopped briefly in Austin to visit my parents. Who knows when I might get home again?”

“Perhaps, in time, you might come to think of Garden City as home?” Kristina suggested hesitantly.

“I"m hoping to,” he replied, and then he ate another spoonful of soup, savoring it with an expression of intense concentration.

She found she quite enjoyed watching him eat. His obvious pleasure felt as good as a spoken compliment.

Cody met Kristina"s eyes again. I"m glad she got over whatever was bothering her earlier. If we can get along, it will certainly make my transition easier. The pastor and the organist had to communicate frequently in the preparation of services, and he needed her agreeable to his leadership, not sulking.

I"m glad she got over whatever was bothering her earlier. If we can get along, it will certainly make my transition easier.The smiles she sent his way were growing in appeal. While no one would say she was pretty, once a person grew accustomed to her appearance, it was unfair to call her ugly. Cute. She"s cute. Like a little girl with all those freckles. There are worse things to be. I hope we can become friends.

Cute. She"s cute. Like a little girl with all those freckles. There are worse things to be. I hope we can become friendsThe rest of dinner passed in idle conversation and deep-dish apple pie with cream. He had to admit, in the far recesses of his mind, that it was better than his mother"s.

Then, fed to bursting and at peace with the world, he agreed to borrow one of James"s coats and a pair of gloves, a hat and a scarf, and bid his hosts goodnight.

The borrowed garments made a tremendous difference.

When he arrived at the church, joy bubbled in his soul to see smoke pouring from the chimney he could barely see behind the church. Someone had lit a fire in honor of his arrival.

I suppose was the same deacon who met the train with James and volunteered to take my suitcases to the house. Thinking hard, he remembered the young man—a banker—was named Wesley… Fulton. That"s it, Wesley Fulton.

I suppose was the same deacon who met the train with James and volunteered to take my suitcases to the house.… Fulton. That"s it, Wesley FultonHe traversed a walkway back behind the church. The winding path—clearly made of bricks left over from the construction of Main Street—led to a small house with a sharply peaked roof. Fumbling the key out from under his coat, Cody fitted the heavy metal rod into the lock and jiggled it, eventually making the correct contacts and opening the door.

A blast of blessed warmth spilled into the street, and Cody hurried inside wanting to keep the rest for himself. Shutting the door, he surveyed his new home. The house consisted of a single good-sized room with whitewashed tongue and groove walls and pale pine boards on the floor. In one corner, a red and tan crazy quilt covered a heavy bedstead. A low bureau acted as clothing storage and bedside table in one, and a hurricane lamp of red glass sat on top.

Opposite the bed, he noted the kitchen: a simple stove and washbasin with a hand pump set in a short stretch of wood counter below a row of three cabinets, also painted white.

To the left of the door, two high-backed armchairs flanked a loveseat with simple, green upholstery and appliquéd pillows. To the right, four wooden chairs encircled a small round table. Along the wall between the table and the bed, a bookshelf jutted from the wall.

His two suitcases waited on the table. The rest of his belongings—mostly books—would be arriving soon by freight train.

He nodded approvingly. This is more than sufficient for my needs, and it appears comfortable and well-appointed.

This is more than sufficient for my needs, and it appears comfortable and well-appointed.The pleasant warmth of the room quickly dispelled the cold of the night, and he removed his borrowed outerwear, tucking the hat and gloves into the pockets of the coat, which he hung on a hook mounted on the inside of the door.

He could see no sign of the necessary, but a quick peek out the back window revealed the outhouse in the yard.

He crossed to the table in three long-legged strides and opened his suitcase, removing his clothing and placing it inside the bureau.

But what to do with the suits? They"ll be crushed in the drawers. He scanned the room again and noticed a curtain beside the bed. Pulling it aside, he revealed a minuscule dressing area. A clumsily constructed rack of poles with three wooden hangers dangling would suffice for storage. He placed his three suits—two brown, one black—on the hangers and closed the curtain. He set his comb, razor, brush, and mirror on top of the bureau. Last, he arranged his Bible and a few reference books on the bookshelf.

But what to do with the suitsThey"ll be crushed in the drawersThough it wasn’t particularly late, long hours of travel had left Cody weary. He hurried through the bone-chilling cold to the necessary and returned, shuddering with disgust. Some thoughtful person had left soap at the washbasin and a hand cloth hanging on a bar above, and he washed his hands, saying a brief prayer of thanks for small blessings.

Then, exhausted, Cody cleaned his teeth, stripped down to his undergarments, and slipped under the covers.

Sadly, the sheet beneath the comforter felt as icy as the night wind. It took long, shivery moments before his body heat sufficiently warmed the fabric. At last, Cody relaxed, and his eyes slid shut. His last thought before sleep bowled him under was a vision of turquoise eyes alight with laughter.