Wanted Preacher (Silverpines Book 9) Read online

  Wanted: Preacher

  Silverpines

  Wanted: Preacher

  Silverpines Series

  Renea Westlyn

  Wanted: Preacher

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious products of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All scripture is quoted from New International Version of the Holy Bible.

  Wanted: Preacher ©2018 Renea Westlyn

  Visit my website at reneawestlyn.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover Design by Josephine Blake https://coversandcupcakes.wordpress.com/

  Editing by Carolyn Leggo and Amy Petrowich

  Acknowledgments

  To Jesus, the master storyteller and ultimate creator. Thank you for gift of love, the gift of storytelling and the desire to touch another’s heart through the simple words I write. May they always be led by your hand.

  They say, “out of the mouth of babes” comes wisdom and strength. I am always astonished by the things my children say. One day the words my son spoke hit me in the heart. I was struggling with the empty nest that is approaching. Frustrated he asked me, “Well, Mom, what did you want to do before you were Mom? Perhaps, it’s time to do that, whatever it is.”

  To David, my husband, and Ashlynn and Brier, our children, I love you so deeply I can never fully express it. You are my heart. Thank you for supporting me and pushing me to chase my dream. For dealing with my long hours, my crankiness, my tears and the lack of proper dinners. I owe you all a night of fried chicken.

  To Ashlynn and Madalyn, thank you for inspiring my story with your friendship.

  To Jenny, I was truly blessed the day I said, “I don’t like you.” In my wildest dreams I could not have fathomed the amazing blessing of friendship that formed from those four little words. You’ve been beside me every step of the way and without you I’d be lost. I owe you a girl’s weekend.

  To my new friend Danica, thank you for answering my questions and for your guidance. I look forward to continuing to work with you.

  To the authors and editors of the Silverpines series, thank you for your patience, the opportunity and the lessons learned.

  To you, the reader, thank you for your patience. I pray you enjoy my little story and I look forward to hearing from you.

  May God bless you all.

  For Ashlynn

  “Beginnings are scary. Endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most and you need to remember that when you find yourself at the beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up and it will too.” – Hope Floats

  It’s time to fly baby girl and chase your dreams.

  I know that you are ready. You are beyond ready, don’t doubt it for a minute. You are strong, and your heart is deep. You don’t take others down to get to where you need to be. Instead, you take the time to uplift those with broken wings, so that they may learn to fly again.

  You are going to be just fine. I, I might cry a little, but you, you’re gonna be incredible. I still cannot believe God chose me to be your Mother. You are one of my life’s greatest gifts and I will forever treasure you.

  Fly high, my precious angel. I love you, always.

  And in Memory of

  Paul and Fannie Edmondson

  The greatest grandparents a girl could ever have.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 1

  Abby tugged open the door, revealing a tall dark-haired man with storm-colored eyes. He looked somewhat familiar but rather miserable. Perhaps, a cookie would cheer him. They’d be done in just a moment, ready for when her new husband, Samuel, returned with his never-ending sweet tooth. She chuckled slightly at the thought.

  “Forgive me, I’ve met so many people this past week, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name,” she grinned prettily, hoping he might smile back, he did not. The tension was rolling off of him in heavy waves. It set her mind to worry as she recalled the shifting winds of the 1898 Georgia hurricane that had thrown the entire state into a raging panic. Anxiety rose up within her like the crashing of the tides. How easily the winds could change and cause the storm to hit. Something was wrong, she could feel it in her gut and her instincts were never far off shore.

  “Marshal Alexzander Sewell, Ma’am.” He tipped his hat.

  “Oh! Samuel was looking for you. Did he find you?” she asked as she wiped her hands on her chocolate stained apron, the worry leaving her for just a brief moment.

  “No Ma’am, he didn’t. I uh— I found him. Would you umm… like to take a seat?” He motioned toward the chairs on the front porch. “I— I’m afraid I’ve some bad news, Mrs. Bates.”

  Abby slowly lowered herself into the chair and waited. Had something happened to Kitty? Is that why her sister had yet to arrive? She had promised she’d only be a week behind her… but the week had just ended. Kitty had tried to reassure her that she had nothing to fear. Abby knew better. She had firsthand experience with the evil that resided in their stepmother and she had the scars to prove it.

  “I— I hate this part of my job, Mrs. Bates,” he said as he took his hat from his head. He ran his fingers through his thick black hair and took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry to say that, Reverend Bates— Samuel, he… uh— he was killed in a drowning accident about an hour ago.”

  Abby stood, only to sit back down again. She looked at the Marshal with wide eyes and covered her mouth with a shaky hand, leaving a smudge of chocolate across her cheek. She must have heard him wrong. This couldn’t happen! Not after all she went through just to get here. Samuel would be home soon to clear up this misunderstanding and she would spoil him with cookies. It would be alright.

  “I— I must of, umm—” she cleared her throat and tried again, “misheard you Marshal. Samuel went to-to see you. He— he couldn’t have p-p-possibly drowned, he wasn’t fishing.”

  “I’m sorry Ma’am, but the last time I saw Reverend Bates he was trapped between a fallen white oak tree and the broken dock.”

  “He was not!” Abby screeched, her heart pounding in disbelief.

  “He was, ma’am. The dock broke loose from the bank. He never made it to my office.”

  “Why are you saying this to me? And to think I was going to offer you a cookie because you looked sad!” Tears began to spill from Abby’s eyes and tumble down her cheeks.

  “I am absolutely miserable, Ma’am! I lost a great friend today and no, he wasn’t fishing. He was saving the life of young Reuben Messer as he nearly drowned himself trying to rescue a kitten. We tried to save the Reverend too. I am sorry we were unsuccessful. I hate to have to deliver this news to you, but he died a hero, Ma’am.”

  “I don’t care if he died a hero!” Abby leapt to her feet, turning on the Marshal, who stood with her, taking a step back. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t be a widow after only one week of marriage! I— I made him cookies!” cried Abby. “H-he lo-ves coo-kies.” She sank back into the chair sobbing as the Marshal stood there unco
mfortably, twisting his hat in his hand looking for an escape route. He could handle chasing down criminals she knew, but apparently a few female tears had him ready to cut tail and run. Abby wondered if Betsy knew her husband was a big ole chicken. She was just mad at the tall Marshal, though she knew it wasn’t his fault. She was being irrational. Still, she wouldn’t be giving him cookies anytime soon... if she ever baked again. The tears poured uncontrollably from her eyes and she buried her face in her apron, “Whatever am I going to do now?” Abby sobbed.

  “I— I’m sure Mrs. Edmondson and Hattie can be a comfort to you. I am sorry I had to bring you such dreadful news, Mrs. Bates.”

  Abby watched as the Marshal stepped off the porch, placed his hat back on his head and slipped off down the street, his head bowed.

  Fannie Pearl rushed over to Abby and wrapped her arms around her. “I’m so sorry, dear. Samuel was loved by everyone. He will be greatly missed.”

  Hattie, the town doctor, sat down next to Abby, “I’m sorry as well. He was always kind to me. I was there when they pulled him from the river.” A tear slipped down her golden-skinned cheek, “I wish there was something I could have done, but he was already gone. I would have been here sooner had I not taken Reuben Messer home. He’s real shook up. You won’t blame him, will you?” Hattie asked cautiously.

  Tears were still streaming down Abby’s face. Though she and Samuel had only been married a week, she was very fond of him and well aware of his love for children. She had felt, perhaps, that she was even starting to fall in love with him herself. Now she would never know.

  “I would never blame him,” she cried softly. “Samuel loved children. He would have done anything to protect them.”

  “That’s right, my dear,” Fannie Pearl chimed in. “Samuel was just a big ole young’un himself.” She pulled the handkerchief with the embroidered purple letter P from her handbag and dabbed her eyes. “He was like a son to me.”

  “I know,” Abby said taking Fannie Pearl’s hand in her own, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.” Abby murmured. “I doubt the church elders will allow me to stay here in the parsonage without Samuel. It’s a wonderful little home, the first of my own.” She sniffed as Fannie Pearl handed her the handkerchief and caught the scent of burnt chocolate on the air “Oh! My cookies! They’re burning! Samuel will be so disappointed.”

  “Honey,” Hattie said gently, “Samuel’s not coming home for cookies.”

  “Oh.” Abby sat back down, “He’s not, is he?”

  “No, but let me get those out of the oven for you, dear.” Fannie patted her hand, “You just sit here with Hattie, and don’t you worry none. I’ll handle the elders. I’ve been doing it for a long time. Remember, my Paul—God rest his soul— was the Reverend of this community for many years. He groomed Samuel to step into his place. The elders will show you grace, trust me on this.”

  “Thank you.” Abby held up the handkerchief and then wiped her eyes. “I suppose I will need to get my own stash of handkerchiefs. It seems I’m always needing one.”

  Millie Messer came rushing down the street at that moment and darted straight up to Abby, placing her hands-on Abby’s knees as she knelt down. “I am so very sorry. I had no idea Reuben had gone fishing!” Tears poured down the tired mother’s face, “I just, I— I am so very sorry. If there is anything you need, please let me help. I know— I know it won’t bring Reverend Bates back, but please. I must do something. I’m so dreadfully sorry, if only Reuben had stayed in the park.”

  Millie was crying harder now, and Abby handed her the overused handkerchief. “It’s alright, Millie. I know Samuel would have done the same for any child.”

  The women sat hugging, crying and sharing memories of Reverend Bates for a long time after that and then they helped Abby to settle the funeral arrangements.

  The funeral of the beloved Reverend Bates was held just before noon the following day. Rhys Huber, one of the church’s elders performed the sorrowful ceremony. Abby stood dressed in mourning clothes once more, feeling as though she would never wear her favorite soft pastels again. The pain of losing her beloved Papa prior to arriving in Silverpines had resurfaced with the sudden death of her husband.

  She stood at the front with Fannie Pearl holding her hand. Fannie Pearl claimed not to be an angel, but everyday Abby was assured just a little more that Fannie Pearl was wrong about that tiny little detail. Abby looked up through her lashes at Fannie Pearl to see tears filling in the wrinkles of her sweet face. She had loved Samuel like a son, and now she’d outlived him and her husband, Paul. How does she keep on going? Abby wondered. Fannie Pearl had been a godsend to her from the moment she had arrived in Silverpines.

  Between the fear of her stepmother, the death of her beloved Papa, and the homesickness she felt from not having her sister Kitty with her, Abby was more than sick with grief. Just when she thought she’d survived the storm, the waves crashed down upon her again. Fannie Pearl shined like a lighthouse through it all and Abby was thankful for the day she very nearly fell into Fannie’s arms.

  She remembered that day so clearly. She’d been so frightened, sneaking out into the middle of the night to escape. The feeling of the rickety steps beneath her boots as she carefully descended from the stagecoach, her black mourning dress covered in dust and her injured arm still hanging snugly in the sling around her neck. Looking around at the disheveled little town of Silverpines caused the tension to build in her abdomen and her breath to catch. Quickly she sent a prayer heavenward. Papa, if there are truly angels watching over me, I could surely use one now. This does not look like a safe place to be.

  “Oh! Well, hello there, dear,” the elderly woman said as Abby opened her eyes and found herself face to face with the gentlest doe-eyed woman she’d ever seen.

  Abby grasped the woman’s hands. “Are you an angel by chance?”

  The woman laughed merrily, easing the tension in Abby’s shoulders.

  “No, child. I’m just Mrs. Fannie Pearl.”

  “Oh,” Abby said sadly, “I was praying for an angel. I thought maybe you were her.”

  “Why is it you need an angel, my dear?” Concern had etched its way over her wrinkled brow then as it did just now.

  Well, she certainly needed an angel now, she thought, as she turned to look at Lily Jo, the sweet, bubbly owner of the Silverpines Cornerstone Cafe. She stood on Abby’s other side with crocodile-sized tears spilling from her large, blue eyes. No matter where Abby looked, tears flowed from the congregation members like the river that had claimed Samuel. There were faces she didn’t recognize and far more people than she had thought had known Samuel. Samuel had been deeply loved by his congregation and his community. It was written upon every face and it shone in every tear that fell.

  Abby watched as Rhys Huber made quick work of the ceremony. The man was doing his best to choke back his own emotions. Just before the last Amen, Reuben Messer broke free of his mother and flew up front through the crowd to the casket. He choked back a loud sob as he lay a single chocolate chip cookie atop it. If there had been a dry eye among them, young Reuben’s act of love, and the pure heartache written upon his face, had taken care of that. Abby’s heart broke as he ran past her with his red face, swollen eyes, and his vest soaked with tears. He had yet to speak with her and Abby wanted him to know she didn’t blame him, but it seems the young man had placed the blame squarely upon his own small shoulders. She longed to comfort him.

  Hattie stood quietly by her side after the service ended. Abby appreciated her quiet, comforting presence. Hattie always seemed to have a way of knowing when to speak and when to be silent. Abby admired that about her.

  Abby glanced toward Messer’s Mercantile where she could still just make out the back of Reuben’s vest as he rushed to the door, “Do you think he’ll ever speak to me again?” She brushed a tear off her cheek and glanced up at Hattie.

  “He just needs time. He loved the Reverend, and he’s experienced much loss in suc
h a short time. Millie told me he has been having nightmares about the accident, poor guy.” Abby looked across the park and watched Reuben enter the mercantile. Another blasted tear slid down her cheek. She hated crying, and she’d done more of it in the last two weeks than she ever cared to do.

  “I know how he feels,” she whispered, “I lost my Papa the night before I left Atlanta.”

  Hattie’s dark eyes found hers, “I did not know. Is that why you became a mail order bride?” she asked innocently.

  “Partially.” Abby wrapped her good arm through Hattie’s and headed toward the church. She had no wish to discuss Natalie O’Byrne, the cruel woman who had turned her life upside down.

  “How’s the arm doing? Any more pain?”

  “It’s much better. Thank you for tending to it.” She moved it around a bit to show Hattie the improvement as they made their way into the church for the meal the women of the community had put together. Abby hadn’t made anything, she couldn’t even bring herself to make any cookies, though she knew the children loved them.

  Ambrose Skinner could not believe his luck! Who knew the goody-two-shoed Reverend would go and get himself killed, leaving the lovely Mrs. Bates behind. She was the perfect bride and Ambrose intended to have her. He could not wait to get her out of that widow's garb and into something of a softer color that allowed her golden skin to shine like a brand-new penny.

  He made his way towards her and that half-breed Injun woman that claimed to be a doctor, to offer his sad, sad condolences. He’d had years of practice at manipulating and convincing others of his sincerity. He looked forward to practicing this particular talent on Abby. He watched her now as she stood chatting with that half-breed and began to wonder, not for the first time, if Abby herself had an Injun ma or pa. Something about her was different, though it didn’t stop him from wanting to claim her as his own.