she murmured, blessing him with a bashful smile.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Ravages of her soul, indeed. If this fine figure of a woman became a nun, it would be the greatest waste of femininity ever known to man.
He patted her hand and then took a step back, hoping to maintain a proper distance between them. Yet even after she’d moved away, he could still feel her touch—hear her voice—even smell the scent of verbena on her person. She was woman personified. But a nun? He thought not and cleared his throat.
“Sometimes we misinterpret God’s messages.”
Hetty laughed out loud. “That’s what I been a’tellin’ her all along. I ain’t never heard tell of anyone becoming a nun after dreaming they was naked.”
Randall’s mouth dropped.
Charity glared at her sister, the flush high on her face. “You hush now, Sister. I won’t be made fun of.”
“Is this true?” Randall asked.
Charity shrugged. “Only in a manner of speaking.”
“You dreamed you were naked?”
Her lower lip jutted, not enough for a pout, just enough to show her disapproval. “Well… yes.”
“And this was the sign that said you must be a nun?”
“It’s a bit more involved than that,” Charity said.
Randall smiled benevolently because he couldn’t think of a single comment that wouldn’t be misconstrued.
“You know,” he said. “It’s been a long trip. If you would be so kind as to show me to my room, I’d like to rest before my sermon.”
“Shore,” Hetty said. “Charity, you show him the way. I got things to do.”
Charity smiled, pleased she would have the preacher all to herself. She could explain about her dream. Then he would understand.
Randall grabbed his bag and started to follow the want-a-be nun when he remembered something he’d been going to ask.
“Oh Hetty, I forgot to ask you something.”
She was already buckling on a gun and holster and swapping hats.
“Like what?” she asked.
“What time did you schedule my sermon?”
“Ask Charity, she’s the one who’s in charge of all that. All I did was promise to pick you up at the station. You and Sister Bare Ass there are on your own.”
She strode out the door, ignoring Charity’s indignant glare and leaving the unlikely duo alone. Randall licked his lips and then turned.
“My sermon,” he prompted. “What time?”
Charity beamed. “Why, you’re giving it tonight, under a full moon.”
***
The benches were full to overflowing as Randall gazed out across his new congregation. He would have been disappointed to know that they’d come out of curiosity, more than a desire to be saved. Life was difficult enough out here without worrying about a few measly sins. A couple of torches had been stuck into the ground on either side of his pulpit. Their fires burned hot, sending sparks and smoke spiraling up into the night sky. A lantern hung on a nail outside the livery, its flame weak—the wick in need of a trim. Lights from the bar next door spilled out of dirty windows and onto the ground.
After the dusty ride from the train station to the ranch, Randall had brought his bag back into town so that he could change into clean clothes before the sermon. He had wanted to appear as fresh and dust-free as possible. But now he stood silently in the midst of the smoke and flames, his clerical robes billowing out about his feet and his bible held close to his chest.
More than one person in the congregation took note of his holy appearance and commented upon it to a neighbor. But none were as taken as Charity Doone. She sat loose-lipped and silent, staring up at the man who would help seal her fate. Transfixed by his demeanor, she watched as he stepped up to the pulpit. When he opened the bible, she took a deep breath. Then his magnificent voice spilled out across the gathering like water over a damn, cleansing lost souls and healing weary bodies. She shivered where she sat.
“ Judge not, lest ye also be judged
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Ravages of her soul, indeed. If this fine figure of a woman became a nun, it would be the greatest waste of femininity ever known to man.
He patted her hand and then took a step back, hoping to maintain a proper distance between them. Yet even after she’d moved away, he could still feel her touch—hear her voice—even smell the scent of verbena on her person. She was woman personified. But a nun? He thought not and cleared his throat.
“Sometimes we misinterpret God’s messages.”
Hetty laughed out loud. “That’s what I been a’tellin’ her all along. I ain’t never heard tell of anyone becoming a nun after dreaming they was naked.”
Randall’s mouth dropped.
Charity glared at her sister, the flush high on her face. “You hush now, Sister. I won’t be made fun of.”
“Is this true?” Randall asked.
Charity shrugged. “Only in a manner of speaking.”
“You dreamed you were naked?”
Her lower lip jutted, not enough for a pout, just enough to show her disapproval. “Well… yes.”
“And this was the sign that said you must be a nun?”
“It’s a bit more involved than that,” Charity said.
Randall smiled benevolently because he couldn’t think of a single comment that wouldn’t be misconstrued.
“You know,” he said. “It’s been a long trip. If you would be so kind as to show me to my room, I’d like to rest before my sermon.”
“Shore,” Hetty said. “Charity, you show him the way. I got things to do.”
Charity smiled, pleased she would have the preacher all to herself. She could explain about her dream. Then he would understand.
Randall grabbed his bag and started to follow the want-a-be nun when he remembered something he’d been going to ask.
“Oh Hetty, I forgot to ask you something.”
She was already buckling on a gun and holster and swapping hats.
“Like what?” she asked.
“What time did you schedule my sermon?”
“Ask Charity, she’s the one who’s in charge of all that. All I did was promise to pick you up at the station. You and Sister Bare Ass there are on your own.”
She strode out the door, ignoring Charity’s indignant glare and leaving the unlikely duo alone. Randall licked his lips and then turned.
“My sermon,” he prompted. “What time?”
Charity beamed. “Why, you’re giving it tonight, under a full moon.”
***
The benches were full to overflowing as Randall gazed out across his new congregation. He would have been disappointed to know that they’d come out of curiosity, more than a desire to be saved. Life was difficult enough out here without worrying about a few measly sins. A couple of torches had been stuck into the ground on either side of his pulpit. Their fires burned hot, sending sparks and smoke spiraling up into the night sky. A lantern hung on a nail outside the livery, its flame weak—the wick in need of a trim. Lights from the bar next door spilled out of dirty windows and onto the ground.
After the dusty ride from the train station to the ranch, Randall had brought his bag back into town so that he could change into clean clothes before the sermon. He had wanted to appear as fresh and dust-free as possible. But now he stood silently in the midst of the smoke and flames, his clerical robes billowing out about his feet and his bible held close to his chest.
More than one person in the congregation took note of his holy appearance and commented upon it to a neighbor. But none were as taken as Charity Doone. She sat loose-lipped and silent, staring up at the man who would help seal her fate. Transfixed by his demeanor, she watched as he stepped up to the pulpit. When he opened the bible, she took a deep breath. Then his magnificent voice spilled out across the gathering like water over a damn, cleansing lost souls and healing weary bodies. She shivered where she sat.
“ Judge not, lest ye also be judged
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