Love On The High Plains Collection

Chapter 7

Sunday morning found Cody standing behind the pulpit of his new church, waiting for the organist to arrive. She came early, of course, so she could begin the prelude before the congregation started to file in.

“Miss Heitschmidt,” he called to her, and she jumped. “Sorry, I didn"t mean to startle you. I have a request. I know you said the music would already be taken care of for today, but I would like the sermon hymn to be ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’.”

She looked at him from across the room but said nothing.

“Is that a problem?” he asked.

“I suppose not. I was saving it for advent next week, but…”

“You still can. Do it both times. It ties in with my sermon.”

“I don"t usually use the same hymn two weeks in a row.” The cold tone had returned to her voice.

Irritated, he said sharply, “It makes no difference to me whether you play it next week or not, but I want it for the sermon hymn today.”

“You"re the pastor,” she said with a sigh.

Instead of climbing the stairs to the balcony, she walked up the aisle and opened a door to the far-left side of the communion rail. A moment later, she emerged with a battered wooden box. Quickly snagging a hymnal from the back of the nearest pew, she leafed through the green book and set it open on the seat. From a board set with pegs that hung on the wall near the front, she removed three thin plaques with numbers on them and replaced them with new ones. Setting the old numbers in the box, she crossed the front of the sanctuary to the other side and repeated the process with an identical board on that side.

“Is that where the hymns of the day are posted?” he asked

“Yes,” she snapped, her voice clipped. Anger seemed to radiate off her.

“Do you normally set them?”

“Of course. I"m the organist.” Her sharp tone made him feel like an imbecile.

“Well, don"t you think it"s a good idea for me to know how it works? In case you were ill or out of town or something?” Cody tried to suppress his irritation at her unexpected prickliness by reciting the fruits of the spirit in his mind. Love, joy, peace…

Love, joy, peace…“I suppose. The numbers are in the box. They hang on the pegs. The box is on the shelf in the storage room, next to the crowns.”

“Crowns?”

“For Christmas plays,” she drawled, as though any child would know that"s what they were for.

Patience, kindness, goodness… “Of course. Thank you, Miss Heitschmidt.”

Patience, kindness, goodness…“Is there anything else, or may I go and practice now?”

“No, that"s it.”

She stomped up the stairs hard enough to make the wood rattle.

Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Oh Lord, grant me self-control with this woman. She switches from pleasant to surly without warning.

Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Oh Lord, grant me self-control with this woman. She switches from pleasant to surly without warning.The organ began to hum, and a moment later, Kristina crashed out a loud and dissonant chord. It startled him so much he banged his knee on the pulpit.

He scowled at her, but of course, she had her back to him and couldn"t see. He knew she had heard the reverberation of flesh against hollow wood though. He could imagine her smirk.

Shaking his head and rubbing his developing bruise, he checked for the hundredth time to be sure his notes were in order. Then, glancing at his pocket watch, he pulled on his borrowed coat and headed to the door to greet the arrivals.

James Heitschmidt ambled up the street and mounted the stairs. He shook Cody"s hand and greeted him warmly.

Next came a family with three daughters who appeared to be in their early twenties: pretty blonds with warm brown eyes and rather vacant expressions. They wore matching blue wool pea coats and matching insipid smiles.

I wonder how I"ll ever tell them apart. They look like they were rolled out on a printing press. Their mother, a shrewd, dark-eyed woman, introduced them as April, May, and June. He tried not to roll his eyes, especially when he learned their last name was Day.

I wonder how I"ll ever tell them apart. They look like they were rolled out on a printing press.Another family approached, then another. Next, a dark-haired man with a pencil-thin mustache escorted an attractive woman through the door. A teenage boy and a young woman with striking blue eyes in a lovely face trailed after him. A wisp of black hair slipped out from under the young woman"s white knitted hat.

“Paul Jackson.” The man shook Cody"s hand with a bit more pressure than was necessary. It didn"t hurt Cody"s calloused palm, but he felt sure it was intended as a mild intimidation tactic. “My wife, Gretchen, and our daughter Ilse. This is our son, Frederick.”

Cody nodded to each in turn.

Gretchen gave him a snooty look, pursing her lips as she looked him up and down. Ilse, however, gazed at him with frank admiration and a flirtatious little tilt of her head.

He felt nothing, despite her beauty.

Shrugging off his unexpected lack of reaction, he greeted the next people in line: an elderly couple, and then a young family with a swarm of red-haired boys milling around the feet of their parents. The children"s threadbare clothes made it obvious their father struggled to provide for such a brood. “Charles Wade,” the man introduced himself. “Sheriff"s deputy. This is my wife, Miranda.” She smiled distractedly, and they herded the unruly pack into the church and began arranging them in a pew, trying to keep all the boys separated.

On and on it went, until Cody"s head swam. At last, his pocket watch showed 10:30 and he shut the heavy door. The organ, which had been playing prelude music for the last hour, completed one last verse while he made his way back to the pulpit.

“Good morning,” he began, and the crowd returned the greeting in a rumbling murmur. “I"m so glad to be here with you today. In case you haven"t heard, my name is Cody Williams, and I"ve been called to be pastor of this congregation. I look forward to getting to know all of you, which I promise to do… eventually.” A wave of chuckles ran through the room. “During the sermon, I"ll tell you all a little more about myself, but for now, let"s get started with our opening hymn.”

As he had hoped, the congregation had already found the correct page. From the balcony, he could see Kristina"s back as she began to crash out the chords. Then he noticed she wasn"t alone. He"d been mistaken in assuming the balcony contained no seating. A double row of adults, men in back, women in front, sat beside the organ. How interesting. No one mentioned a choir.

How interesting. No one mentioned a choirCody returned his attention to the service, which progressed quite normally. Songs, scriptures and announcements all passed by in their customary sequence. Next on the agenda, according to his notes, would be the offering.

While a group of ushers passed the plates down the aisles, Cody noticed movement on the balcony. Kristina had risen from her organ bench and stood in front of the choir. She made a sweeping gesture and the group rose as one. Then she lifted her arms, beating out a quick tempo with a swinging movement of her hands. Cody had taken two requisite music courses at the seminary, but he"d never mastered such a fluid conducting stroke.

Four beats in, the ladies opened their mouths, inhaled silently, and began. “‘Come thou Lo-ng Expected Je-sus’.”

They sang in unison, the warbly-voiced older women doing their best to blend with the younger ones, so it almost sounded like a single voice. In the second phrase, they split into two-part harmony for “‘From our fears and sins release us’.” Two lines later, the tenors joined in on “Israel"s strength and consolation,” and for the last two, the basses added a low-pitched, rumbling foundation on “‘Dear desire of every nation.’”

Cody found himself nodding. For a simple hymn arrangement, it"s quite effective and attractively presented.

For a simple hymn arrangement, it"s quite effective and attractively presented.The second verse began with all parts in harmony on “‘Born thy people to deliver,’” but when they commenced the next phrase, Cody noticed they sang without a director. Kristina had slipped back to the organ adding a rolling accompaniment line with one hand, and then both, and at last, at the end of the second verse, she added foot pedals, so an intricate blending of vocal and instrumental music reverberated through the cavernous interior of the church.

The song ended. The ushers brought the offering plates to the front where Cody prayed over them, fumbling his words as the music echoed in his brain. Then he pulled himself together as James gathered the plates and he and Wesley walked around to the side opposite the storage room, where Cody had earlier noticed a small office. The congregation, as requested, opened their hymnals and sang “‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel.’”

As the hymn ended, Cody knelt at the altar, closed his eyes and prayed under his breath, “Lord, make my words meaningful to the people in front of me. Help me strengthen their faith.” Then he rose and approached the pulpit.

“Good morning, again. I"m so thankful to y"all for bringing me here,” he said, watching them smile at his soft, Texas drawl. “I hope, Lord willing, we all learn to pull together, to make this a real community of faith in action. That"s one thing you"ll learn about me. I"m not a pastor who stands in the pulpit making speeches and then goes home. I"ll be out among you, giving my all, helping in whatever way I can and generally making a nuisance of myself.”

Polite chuckles.

“For our service this morning, I asked our esteemed music leader if she would kindly change her plan for the hymn so we could have that beloved Advent song fresh on our minds. I chose it because of how it talks about waiting for some joyous event. If you would, please turn in your Bibles to the book of Isaiah.”

Paper rustled amongst the congregation. Cody gave them a moment to settle. Leafing through the Old Testament could be tricky, but at last, the majority of the paper crackling stilled, and faces looked up to see what he was going to say next.

“So, as I"m sure you know, Isaiah was a prophet from the past. He lived long before Jesus"s birth, but he predicted the coming Messiah. It was kind of like… getting a letter saying a new pastor is coming. You know it"s going to happen. You even know some details about it, but until the time comes, you don"t really understand what it"s going to be like.”

He paused, giving them time to digest his words. “Imagine, if you will, the Children of Israel. They knew a Messiah was coming to save them, but they had no idea what it meant. From our perspective, having read the whole story, it seems obvious—but to them? What did they think about it all? Try to imagine knowing nothing about Christ but what you read in this passage. Wouldn"t you be puzzled by the phrase, "the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all"? Or "by his stripes, we are healed"? They had no idea it would be meant literally.”

He turned over his page of notes. “Now, for me, being the pastor who was coming, I also didn"t know what to expect. I knew some facts: the size of the town, its location, the names of a few people, but I had no idea how cold and windy it would be here, and I wasn"t prepared. There"s still a lot I don"t know about this town, and about y"all. But I"m ready and willing to learn, to find my place here. To help and lead.”

He paused for the length of a long breath. “Now, friends, think about this. Christ knew exactly what he was facing when he came. He knew how this story would end. He knew he would bear our griefs and carry our sorrows. He knew he would be wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. He came anyway. That is a love beyond our ability to comprehend, and I thank God for it. Let"s pray.”

exactlyThe congregation, stunned into silence by the hard-hitting point, bowed their heads obediently. Cody prayed a long time, but only the smallest children began to squirm. When he finished, they sang one last hymn and the service concluded.

As he stood again at the back of the church, shaking people"s hands and wishing them a good afternoon, he reflected on how well it had gone… better than he"d expected. He couldn"t take credit for it. Sometimes the Lord just took him over. He found it disconcerting when it happened—but exciting too.

“Well, Reverend, would you like to come to lunch with us today?”

Cody looked up, discovering James had invited him.

“Oh, Mr. Heitschmidt,” a sultry voice behind him cooed, “you can"t keep him all to yourself. We"d like to have him to lunch at our place today. What do you say, Reverend? Will you come eat with us?”

His gaze turned to the pretty, black-haired girl who had flirted with him earlier. Elsie, was it? No, Elise… that doesn"t sound right either. This is going to take a while.

Elsie, was it? No, Elise… that doesn"t sound right either. This is going to take a while.She seemed to sense his trouble. “Ilse Jackson.”

A glance at Mrs. Jackson showed her looking over the other women of the congregation with a condescending smirk. Why would such a snooty family want me for lunch anyway?

Why would such a snooty family want me for lunch anyway?Cody suppressed a sigh. There"s a family like this in every congregation. Might as well get it over with.

There"s a family like this in every congregation.Might as well get it over with.“Miss Jackson. Yes, I would be delighted to accept your invitation. Thank you. James, some other time, okay? I need to meet everyone.”

James nodded. “Don"t forget you’re meeting with the elder board this afternoon.”

“I won"t forget.” Of course I won"t. They"ll be discussing my salary.

Of course I won"t. They"ll be discussing my salary.Ilse"s lips curved into a sultry smile, and she batted her eyelashes.

He gave her a friendly but impersonal grin and turned to the next person. Turquoise eyes bored into his with intensity and a hint of uncertainty.

“Miss Heitschmidt, I appreciate you changing the hymn for me. I imagine it"s difficult to do at the last second, so thank you.”

She seemed mollified by his thanks. “You"re welcome. Maybe in the future, we can meet ahead of time and plan it out so there"s less confusion.”

Ah, good. A perfect lead-in. “Yes, ma"am, we do need to meet. Is there a time tomorrow we could get together?”

Ah, good. A perfect lead-in.“Certainly. Would you like to meet for lunch at Lydia"s?”

“If I can find it,” he said, with a self-deprecating grin.

“It"s just up the street.” She indicated a two-story white structure with a sign over the door, the name of the proprietress painted in bold black cursive. The wooden shingle clunked in its metal frame as the wind sent it flapping.

“Oh,” Cody said, his grin widening when he realized how near the place was. “I think I can manage. How’s the food?”

“It"s great,” she explained. “If you go to the hotel, you might never get anything to eat. They"re very slow. Lydia has a limited menu, but everything on it is delicious and reasonably priced.”

“Then I think meeting there tomorrow for lunch would be perfect. Until then, Miss Heitschmidt.” He ended the handshake with a gentle squeeze.

She gave him one of her appealing, freckle-faced smiles and moved on, letting the trapped parishioners out from behind her before the grumbling could commence in earnest.

As the last elderly couple made their unsteady way down the steep stairs, Cody met the eyes of his lunchtime hosts, who waited in the biting cold to escort him to their home.

He ducked inside to retrieve his borrowed winter wear. Shoving his hands into the gloves, he followed his hosts down the street. A frigid wind whistled between the buildings and nipped him squarely on the end of his nose. The cold took his breath away. It isn"t even December yet, and I"m already freezing.

It isn"t even December yet, and I"m already freezing.“Is it always this windy in Kansas?” he wheezed.

“Usually,” Paul shouted over his shoulder. “The wind always blows. The only thing that changes is the temperature.”

“That"s good to know.”

Unlike the Heitschmidts, the Jacksons only lived a block and a half away from the church. They turned left at the corner, passing a wind-blasted oak tree with no leaves and a couple of small square boxes of homes before arriving at a two-story in dusty blue with black trim and ostentatious shutters on each window.

Paul ushered Cody into a sitting room of suffocating coziness. Hand-embroidered pillows in shades of blue and black piled high on each of the sofas. The legs of both shone with black lacquer, as did the stiff, high-backed chairs, end tables, and the fireplace mantle. The floors, pale pine, added almost no color to the room. It took Cody a minute to realize it matched the women"s coloring. Black hair. Blue eyes. It makes sense in a vain sort of way.

Black hair. Blue eyes. It makes sense in a vain sort of way“Have a seat,” Mrs. Jackson urged. “Lunch won"t be ready for a little while.”

Cody eyed the sofa, but Ilse sank gracefully onto it, so he chose one of the hard, black armchairs. The seat lacked comfort, but it kept the little flirt from scooting closer and closer to him. She had a predatory expression, and it made him uncomfortable.

“So, Reverend,” Paul said, sitting on the sofa adjacent to his daughter, “what do you think of our little town so far?”

“It"s windy,” he replied, and the Jacksons laughed. “I"m sure, once I get to know everyone, it will be fine. It might take a while though. It"s a pretty big congregation.”

“One hundred eighty-six souls, and two more due to arrive in the spring,” Paul told him proudly.

“That"s a lot of names to learn.”

“Ilse, why don"t you go get your photograph?” Paul suggested. “Lend it to Reverend Williams and give him a list of everyone"s names so he can study them.”

Ilse"s eyes flashed with excitement, and she scampered out of the parlor.

Cody wanted to sigh. He didn"t do it, but he wanted to. Looking at a photograph together meant sitting shoulder to shoulder. I wonder if her father is trying to push us together. It seems unlikely, as I"m hardly a catch. Pastor is far from a glamorous job, and I don"t even have enough money at the moment to buy myself a new hat.

I wonder if her father is trying to push us together. It seems unlikely, as I"m hardly a catch. Pastor is far from a glamorous job, and I don"t even have enough money at the moment to buy myself a new hat.Knowing he would have to do this, he moved to the sofa in anticipation of Ilse"s return. Moments later she hustled back into the room with a piece of paper, a pencil, and a photo displayed in a black lacquer frame.

She settled down next to him, and as he had feared, her shoulder pressed firmly against his arm. She set the photo on his lap and peered at it, and Cody bent his head to study it.

The faces he had seen this morning looked up at him, devoid of color and smiles but still recognizable. He identified the Jacksons. Ilse, an adolescent in this picture, was still too beautiful to be real. Their son Frederick was a chubby-cheeked boy. Near them stood James Heitschmidt, a lovely woman at his side, a young man standing behind him. Of his daughter, there was no sign.

“Where"s Miss Heitschmidt?” Cody asked.

Ilse scowled at the mention of the other woman. “This photo was taken three years ago,” she said as though that answered the question.

It told Cody nothing. “Where was she?” he insisted.

Ilse sighed in irritation. “She was away at music school. She was there for three years. One more year and she would have completed her course of studies.”

“Ah, yes. She mentioned that at dinner. Why didn"t she finish?”

Ilse indicated the photograph. “This is Kristina"s mother, Gertrude. She got cholera and died about two months after this photograph was taken.”

“Cholera?” Cody met his host’s gaze, concerned.

Paul crimped his lips. “There was a bad outbreak right about the time Ilse said. We lost the pastor, his wife, Elder Heitschmidt’s wife and about half the rest of the town. It’s when we decided to construct the city sewer. Safer water, you know? Nearly all the houses opted to connect, and we haven’t had another case since.”

“Good to know the town takes these things seriously.” He bent over the picture again. “Who"s this?”

“Kristina"s brother, Calvin,” Ilse explained, sounding sulky.

“I didn’t know she had a brother. Where is he?”

“He went off to seek his fortune. He hasn"t been seen or heard from since.”

“And Kris… “He cleared his throat. “That is to say, Miss Heitschmidt came home…”

Ilse glanced sharply at his slip of accidentally using a near stranger"s first name, but she answered, nonetheless. “Just before her mother died. She could have gone back, maybe, but then her brother left. She couldn"t stand for her father to be alone. That, and Mr. Heitschmidt couldn"t afford the tuition anymore. So here she is.”

“What a shame.”

“It is for her,” Ilse sneered. “She needed a career. It"s not like she"ll ever find a husband looking the way she does.”

“Miss Jackson!” Cody exclaimed. “How rude. That"s no way for a Christian woman to be talking. As though a woman"s looks are the only things to recommend her. Might I remind you, looks fade? Miss Heitschmidt is a kind and talented woman, and to some men, that might be more appealing than a pretty face.”

Cody colored. He"d revealed things he hadn"t fully realized himself. Could it be true? Could I be drawn to Miss Heitschmidt? He shook off the image of her freckled face and realized the Jacksons were staring at him.

. Could it be true? Could I be drawn to Miss Heitschmidt?Recovering, Paul spoke to his daughter sternly. “Ilse, you apologize. It isn"t right to speak of Miss Heitschmidt so harshly. She can"t help the way she looks.”

“I"m sorry,” Ilse choked, her face flaming. Then she rose stiffly to her feet and fled the room.

Cody knew he"d gone a bit far, but Ilse"s unwarranted attack needed to be addressed. I will not let snobbery go unchallenged in my congregation, and they will either acquiesce or throw me out.

. I will not let snobbery go unchallenged in my congregation, and they will either acquiesce or throw me out.Poor Miss Heitschmidt. Missing out on her studies so close to completion, losing her mother and her brother in the space of a few months, and being trapped in this tiny town. No doubt being bullied by that little brat. No wonder her moods vacillate so wildly.

Poor Miss Heitschmidt. Missing out on her studies so close to completion, losing her mother and her brother in the space of a few months, and being trapped in this tiny town. No doubt being bullied by that little brat. No wonder her moods vacillate so wildly.Lunch turned out to be a strained and silent affair, the food showy but tasteless. Ilse refused to come down from her room. After overcooked roast beef with bland potatoes and mushy vegetables, followed by apple pie that tasted of sugar and little else, Cody glanced at his pocket watch. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must go. The elder board is meeting shortly, and I need to be there.”

He shook Paul’s hand, pretended not to notice Gretchen’s sour look, and bundled himself up to walk back to the church.

The elders—James Heitschmidt, John Fulton, William Schultz and Louis Claiborne—sat around the small table in the office behind the sanctuary. Cody looked over the four men who were responsible for him being here and wondered if they would approve or disapprove of his actions today. Not that he regretted anything, but it was, perhaps, not the best introduction to the town.

Pushing aside his embarrassment, he focused his attention on the meeting.