Read Online The Measure of a Lady by Deeanne Gist - Free Book Online

tried again. They had no mirror, making such simple tasks ten times harder than they had to be.
    Lissa finished tying her bonnet, then shooed Rachel’s hands away. ‘‘No, that’s even worse. Let me.’’
    With tongue held between her teeth, Lissa pinned on the piece of jewelry, then leaned back to inspect it. ‘‘There.’’
    ‘‘Thank you, dear. Michael? Are you about ready?’’ Rachel reached for her shawl, then turned to find Michael resting his long legs atop a chair, ankles crossed and hands hooked behind his head.
    ‘‘I’ve been ready.’’
    She raised one corner of her mouth. ‘‘Well, come on, then.’’
    Standing, he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, shrugged it over his miner’s garb, and opened the door for his sisters.
    The three of them headed to the square, the girls’ muslin delaine dresses collecting brown goo with each step.
    Canvas sheds and half-finished buildings with goods stacked in front of them stood on every side of the Plaza. Nestling in the southwest section of the muddy knoll, a forlorn looking schoolhouse had its door thrown open for Sunday services.
    Several yards north of the school, a tall flagpole fronted a long one-story adobe building used as the customhouse.
    They climbed the stairs of the school and entered the one-room affair. According to Mr. Parker, it had opened a year ago this month, when San Francisco was a quiet little town with a scattering of families and children. But when word came that gold had been discovered, the schoolmaster deserted his post and headed straight for the diggings. The majority of residents evidently did the same.
    Dust covered the shelves, the seats, the stove, the teacher’s desk. Everything. But the rectangular room’s wooden frame sheltered them from the breeze whipping off the ocean; its solid roof, from any weather they might experience.
    Wind whistled around the walls and men rose to their feet while the Van Burens silently wove between a row of chairs toward the middle of the room. As they settled, dust motes swirled in the sunlight pouring through the east windows.
    A thick film of grime covered the leaded glass, and from her seat Rachel had a muted view of the City Hotel down on the corner. She ran a surreptitious glance throughout the room and spotted Soda, but not Mr. Parker.
    A thin ragged man carrying a Bible went to the front. Without an introduction of any kind, he broke into song, wrapping the schoolhouse with ‘‘My Faith Looks Up to Thee.’’
    Rachel started slightly upon discovering such a glorious sound could pour forth from such a puny man. He stood straight and tall, his pointy chin bobbing and swaying with every note. Though his worn frock coat looked as if it had been slung across a valet stand rather than a set of shoulders, his booming voice quickly drew a crowd from outside, several of whom added their voices to the Reverend’s.
    ‘‘While life’s dark maze I tread,
    And griefs around me spread,
    Be Thou my guide.’’
    Rachel closed her eyes, absorbing the words as they poured into her heart, then joined her life’s blood in transporting them to every vein, vessel, and extremity before returning to her heart, only to be pumped throughout her body again.
    The song ended and, for once, all was still.
    ‘‘Your favorite rule in arithmetic is that of loss and gain,’’ the frail man thundered. ‘‘Yet what has a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?’’
    The motionless quiet of the crowd drew Rachel’s scrutiny. All were men. All were grubby, young, and in their prime. With intensity and intelligence, they had fixed their attention onto the preacher as he offered them more than just words from God’s Book; he offered them life.
    She returned her focus to the reverend, his impassioned delivery warming her. Washing her. Renewing her.
    The benediction drew near and he closed his Bible, tucking it underneath his arm. ‘‘There will be divine service