,” he began.
Within moments, Charity was motionless. Her gaze darted from his lips, to the Good Book, to the breadth of his shoulders beneath his robes. Her thighs began to quiver. Her heart began to pound. When he shouted, “ Praise the Lord ,” she broke out into a sweat. Something was happening to her. Something she didn’t understand.
He moved away from the pulpit and stepped into the aisle, pausing less than a yard from where Charity sat. Anxious not to miss a nuance of this wonderful night, she tilted her head for a better view and within seconds, she started to shake.
Silhouetted against the back light from the torch, Randall Howe looked as if he was on fire. And in that moment he became the figure from her dream—the man surrounded by a bright, burning light—the man who had reached out to her. It was all she could do to sit still.
She never knew when the sermon ended, but her mind was racing. She’d been given a sign. It just wasn’t what she’d expected. So, it hadn’t been God in her dream after all. It had been the preacher. She sighed, reminding herself that wasn’t so far off. Randall Howe was God’s representative. She’d just misunderstood.
She kept remembering her dream, but this time there would be no mistaking the path she must take. By the time the last buggy had pulled off into the night, Charity was wound as tight as a top. To add to the turmoil in her soul, it started to rain.
Randall was beside himself with glee. In spite of its inauspicious beginning, his first sermon on his missionary trail had been a resounding success. The collection money was jingling in his pockets and his fervor was at an all-time high. If only his colleagues could know this sensation, there would be an exodus of preachers out of the cities and into the wilderness. And then he felt the raindrops upon his face and turned with quick concern.
“Miss Doone, it’s starting to rain. I fear it would not be wise to journey back to your ranch tonight. Is there a hotel nearby?”
Still speechless by her revelation, she pointed toward a building across the street. There was no name on the front, only a sign in the window.
ROOMS
“Our horse and buggy are already in the livery. Under the circumstances, I think it would be wise it we stayed in town.”
Charity’s fingers knotted. This was it! She’d been right!
“Will your sister worry if we don’t come home?”
Charity tried not to giggle. “No. She would expect us to stay. After all, she owns the hotel as well.”
Randall thought of his bag in the back of the buggy. It should be safe in the livery for the night.
The sky belched fire. The rumble of thunder put them in flight. They ran, but not soon enough. By the time they gained entrance into the hotel, they were drenched.
The desk was vacant. Only a single lantern burned nearby.
“Oh no, there’s nobody on duty. What shall we do?” Randall asked.
Charity slipped behind the desk and pulled keys to adjoining rooms out of their slots.
“The last man who worked here died. People just choose a room and leave their dollar on the desk when they leave.”
Randall shook his head in disbelief. Despite the lack of amenities, this lawless country had some intriguing ways.
“Here,” Charity said, handing Randall the lantern. “You lead the way. I’ll follow with the keys.”
He did as she asked. Only after they started up the stairs did he realize that he was about to spend the night in an empty hotel with an unattended female. A loud crack of thunder, followed by bright-white shaft of lightning broke the darkness on the staircase.
He looked down at her then and shuddered at the thought of her womanly flesh. His gaze moved from her body, to her face, and to the rapt expression that she wore. It was then he knew a moment of fear. He couldn’t do this—shouldn’t do this. She was an innocent, not a widow well-versed in the ways of a man.
Then she touched his arm. Her voice was low and
Within moments, Charity was motionless. Her gaze darted from his lips, to the Good Book, to the breadth of his shoulders beneath his robes. Her thighs began to quiver. Her heart began to pound. When he shouted, “ Praise the Lord ,” she broke out into a sweat. Something was happening to her. Something she didn’t understand.
He moved away from the pulpit and stepped into the aisle, pausing less than a yard from where Charity sat. Anxious not to miss a nuance of this wonderful night, she tilted her head for a better view and within seconds, she started to shake.
Silhouetted against the back light from the torch, Randall Howe looked as if he was on fire. And in that moment he became the figure from her dream—the man surrounded by a bright, burning light—the man who had reached out to her. It was all she could do to sit still.
She never knew when the sermon ended, but her mind was racing. She’d been given a sign. It just wasn’t what she’d expected. So, it hadn’t been God in her dream after all. It had been the preacher. She sighed, reminding herself that wasn’t so far off. Randall Howe was God’s representative. She’d just misunderstood.
She kept remembering her dream, but this time there would be no mistaking the path she must take. By the time the last buggy had pulled off into the night, Charity was wound as tight as a top. To add to the turmoil in her soul, it started to rain.
Randall was beside himself with glee. In spite of its inauspicious beginning, his first sermon on his missionary trail had been a resounding success. The collection money was jingling in his pockets and his fervor was at an all-time high. If only his colleagues could know this sensation, there would be an exodus of preachers out of the cities and into the wilderness. And then he felt the raindrops upon his face and turned with quick concern.
“Miss Doone, it’s starting to rain. I fear it would not be wise to journey back to your ranch tonight. Is there a hotel nearby?”
Still speechless by her revelation, she pointed toward a building across the street. There was no name on the front, only a sign in the window.
ROOMS
“Our horse and buggy are already in the livery. Under the circumstances, I think it would be wise it we stayed in town.”
Charity’s fingers knotted. This was it! She’d been right!
“Will your sister worry if we don’t come home?”
Charity tried not to giggle. “No. She would expect us to stay. After all, she owns the hotel as well.”
Randall thought of his bag in the back of the buggy. It should be safe in the livery for the night.
The sky belched fire. The rumble of thunder put them in flight. They ran, but not soon enough. By the time they gained entrance into the hotel, they were drenched.
The desk was vacant. Only a single lantern burned nearby.
“Oh no, there’s nobody on duty. What shall we do?” Randall asked.
Charity slipped behind the desk and pulled keys to adjoining rooms out of their slots.
“The last man who worked here died. People just choose a room and leave their dollar on the desk when they leave.”
Randall shook his head in disbelief. Despite the lack of amenities, this lawless country had some intriguing ways.
“Here,” Charity said, handing Randall the lantern. “You lead the way. I’ll follow with the keys.”
He did as she asked. Only after they started up the stairs did he realize that he was about to spend the night in an empty hotel with an unattended female. A loud crack of thunder, followed by bright-white shaft of lightning broke the darkness on the staircase.
He looked down at her then and shuddered at the thought of her womanly flesh. His gaze moved from her body, to her face, and to the rapt expression that she wore. It was then he knew a moment of fear. He couldn’t do this—shouldn’t do this. She was an innocent, not a widow well-versed in the ways of a man.
Then she touched his arm. Her voice was low and
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