Read Online Spring Creek Bride by Janice Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: Janice Thompson
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home,” she muttered after he’d gone. However, after a long day of work, she might actually enjoy an evening of being waited on.
Even if it meant eating someone else’s cooking.
Ida took advantage of her time alone to tuck some loose curls into place. And she couldn’t very well go into the restaurant at The Harvey House wearing her dull brown gingham dress, could she? No, she might as well put on her Sunday blue with the puff sleeves. It wore well, and brought out the color in her eyes—or so she’d been told by Sophie, who knew more about fashion than anyone else in town.
As she dressed, Ida thought about the meeting she’d had with Reverend Langford earlier. He’d suggested they all do what they could to win Mick Bradley to the Lord. Not exactly the response she’d been hoping for. It seemed that no one was taking thisgambling hall as seriously as Ida. She’d work to change that, surely.
Nearly fifteen minutes later, Ida made her appearance on the front porch. Papa started to scold her until he noticed her attire. “Why, Ida Mueller. I dare say you’re as pretty as a field of bluebonnets.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She took his arm and together they made their way into town, talking all the way. Though she wished to avoid the subject of Mick Bradley, Ida could not. She found herself telling Papa everything she’d learned at the mercantile—how he planned to begin work on the gambling hall within days, and how he’d already hired men to clear the land.
Papa drew in a deep breath but did not respond, at least not at first. When he finally did speak, his words stopped her cold. “I did business with Mr. Bradley this very afternoon. Found him to be an amiable fellow.”
“What do you mean?” She stopped and stared at her father, stunned. “Surely you did not sell the man lumber for that den of iniquity he is building.”
“Daughter, I cannot control what people build with the lumber I sell them. Nor did the Lord tell me to avoid selling to him. This is not a matter of my linking arms with the man. I’m simply treating him with the courtesy I extend every customer.”
“Papa.” Ida shook her head, so upset she could barely speak. In her nineteen years she could not recall questioning any of her father’s decisions. Andyet, in one short day, he’d managed to arouse suspicions twice. Myrtle Mae and Mick Bradley? Had Papa lost his mind?
Pushing her misgivings aside, Ida entered the restaurant on her father’s arm. The most wonderful aroma filled the air. Ida breathed it in, suddenly quite glad she had agreed to come.
She closed her eyes for a second. The noises in the room captivated her. The clinking of silverware and glasses. The sounds of waitresses bustling back and forth with their full skirts swishing this way and that. Boisterous laughter from a couple of men at a nearby table. Voices raised in conversation. The Harvey House was a lively place, no doubt about that.
She opened her eyes, noticing familiar faces in the crowd. To her great surprise, Sophie’s entire family sat at a large table near the center of the room. The Weimer boys—Sophie’s three older brothers—ate with gusto. And her parents looked up with matching smiles, motioning for Ida and her father to join them.
After taking her seat, Ida glanced at the menu, then turned her attention to the conversation at hand. The Weimers were talking about the upcoming church picnic on the Fourth of July, and the annual cobbler contest. She was about to express her desire to enter the contest this year when she spotted Mick Bradley at the restaurant door. Flustered, Ida tried to hide behind her menu.
“Is everything all right, daughter?” Papa asked, easing the menu down to look into her eyes.
“Oh, yes,” she offered. “Everything just looks so good, I can hardly decide. I need to take a closer look.” She peered up over the menu to look at Mr. Bradley once more.
“I’m having the pot roast,” Papa
Even if it meant eating someone else’s cooking.
Ida took advantage of her time alone to tuck some loose curls into place. And she couldn’t very well go into the restaurant at The Harvey House wearing her dull brown gingham dress, could she? No, she might as well put on her Sunday blue with the puff sleeves. It wore well, and brought out the color in her eyes—or so she’d been told by Sophie, who knew more about fashion than anyone else in town.
As she dressed, Ida thought about the meeting she’d had with Reverend Langford earlier. He’d suggested they all do what they could to win Mick Bradley to the Lord. Not exactly the response she’d been hoping for. It seemed that no one was taking thisgambling hall as seriously as Ida. She’d work to change that, surely.
Nearly fifteen minutes later, Ida made her appearance on the front porch. Papa started to scold her until he noticed her attire. “Why, Ida Mueller. I dare say you’re as pretty as a field of bluebonnets.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She took his arm and together they made their way into town, talking all the way. Though she wished to avoid the subject of Mick Bradley, Ida could not. She found herself telling Papa everything she’d learned at the mercantile—how he planned to begin work on the gambling hall within days, and how he’d already hired men to clear the land.
Papa drew in a deep breath but did not respond, at least not at first. When he finally did speak, his words stopped her cold. “I did business with Mr. Bradley this very afternoon. Found him to be an amiable fellow.”
“What do you mean?” She stopped and stared at her father, stunned. “Surely you did not sell the man lumber for that den of iniquity he is building.”
“Daughter, I cannot control what people build with the lumber I sell them. Nor did the Lord tell me to avoid selling to him. This is not a matter of my linking arms with the man. I’m simply treating him with the courtesy I extend every customer.”
“Papa.” Ida shook her head, so upset she could barely speak. In her nineteen years she could not recall questioning any of her father’s decisions. Andyet, in one short day, he’d managed to arouse suspicions twice. Myrtle Mae and Mick Bradley? Had Papa lost his mind?
Pushing her misgivings aside, Ida entered the restaurant on her father’s arm. The most wonderful aroma filled the air. Ida breathed it in, suddenly quite glad she had agreed to come.
She closed her eyes for a second. The noises in the room captivated her. The clinking of silverware and glasses. The sounds of waitresses bustling back and forth with their full skirts swishing this way and that. Boisterous laughter from a couple of men at a nearby table. Voices raised in conversation. The Harvey House was a lively place, no doubt about that.
She opened her eyes, noticing familiar faces in the crowd. To her great surprise, Sophie’s entire family sat at a large table near the center of the room. The Weimer boys—Sophie’s three older brothers—ate with gusto. And her parents looked up with matching smiles, motioning for Ida and her father to join them.
After taking her seat, Ida glanced at the menu, then turned her attention to the conversation at hand. The Weimers were talking about the upcoming church picnic on the Fourth of July, and the annual cobbler contest. She was about to express her desire to enter the contest this year when she spotted Mick Bradley at the restaurant door. Flustered, Ida tried to hide behind her menu.
“Is everything all right, daughter?” Papa asked, easing the menu down to look into her eyes.
“Oh, yes,” she offered. “Everything just looks so good, I can hardly decide. I need to take a closer look.” She peered up over the menu to look at Mr. Bradley once more.
“I’m having the pot roast,” Papa
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