Read Online Apache Flame by Madeline Baker - Free Book Online Page B

was falling when he stepped outside. His horse
looked up at him and shook her head. With a grin, Mitch closed the front door,
then descended the stairs. He patted the bay on the shoulder, then slid his
rifle into the boot and swung into the saddle. He remembered his mother telling
him that the Apache were usually in Apache Pass this time of the year. If he
rode hard, he could be there day after tomorrow.
    Settling his hat on his head, he lifting the reins and urged
his horse into a lope. A long ride in the rain was just what he needed.
    Alisha lifted her head as her father said the final Amen.
Taking her seat at the organ, she glanced quickly toward the back of the
church, frowned when she saw that Mitch was gone. She told herself it was just
as well; she had nothing more to say to him, but she couldn’t suppress her
disappointment. She like having Mitch around, liked knowing he was there.
    Roger was waiting for her when she left the church a few
minutes later.
    “Hello, Alisha,” he said. “Right nice sermon your father
preached today.”
    She smiled up at him. It was the same thing he said every
Sunday.
    “Yes.” She glanced around the churchyard, hoping to see
Mitch loitering about.
    “Mind if I walk you home?”
    “Of course not.” He asked that, in one form or another,
every Sunday, too. It had never bothered her before. Why did she suddenly find
it so annoying? And where was Mitch?
    “Is your father feeling well?”
    “What do you mean?”
    Roger patted her shoulder. “Nothing. He just looks a little
pale this morning.”
    “Does he?” She felt a stab of guilt of conscience,
remembering the scene she had caused the night she’d had dinner with Mitch. Her
father had been unusually quiet and withdrawn ever since then. Now that she
thought about it, he had looked a little wan these past few days.
    “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Roger said. He
patted her shoulder again. “You haven’t been out to see the house in the last
few days. It should be finished by the end of next week.”
    “That’s wonderful.”
    “Shall we go look at it now?”
    “If you like.”
    “I think you’ll be pleased,” Roger said, taking her hand in
his.
    Reversing direction, they walked through the town. Alisha
nodded at the people they passed—old Mr. West sitting in a rocking chair in
front of the barber shop, Mrs. Chamberlain, who was sweeping the boardwalk in
front of her shop, the Kensington twins who were tossing a ball back and forth
in the alley beside the sheriff’s office.
    They turned left at the corner of Front Street and First and
followed the narrow rutted road that led to the house they would share when
they were married.
    “Oh, Roger, it’s lovely,” Alisha exclaimed.
    “You said you wanted yellow trim. I hope it’s the right
shade.”
    “It’s perfect.” The house was L-shaped, with a peaked roof
and a red brick chimney. She slipped her hand from his and ran up the three
stairs to the verandah. Opening the front door, she stepped into the foyer,
then moved into the parlor. Roger was planning to quit his job at the store and
devote all his time to his trade. The house was the first he had built entirely
on his own, and he was hoping that when people saw what a good job he had done,
they would want to hire him. He loved his work and took pride in his craft, and
it was reflected in every room. The floors were made of oak, sanded and waxed
to a high sheen. The walls were painted white.
    She moved through the house, imagining how she would
decorate each room. She paused in the bedroom they would share, feeling a
twinge of unease as she imagined sharing a bed with Roger. Would he be
disappointed when he learned she wasn’t a virgin? Should she tell him before
the wedding? She wished she had someone to talk to, someone she could confide
in. She had no close friends in town. Even though no one knew she had born a
child out of wedlock, speculation had run rampant when she and Chloe left