Page 20 of Montana Bride By Christmas
As he stood before the weathered door, he thought of the morning’s events. Annie had promised her whole family would work together for Evan’s benefit. A most generous offer and one that made him more hopeful than he’d been all week. Don’t count on too much, he warned himself. Annie was young and beautiful and would soon find greener pastures.
The cold knotted the muscles in his chest. Strange that frigid air had never had that effect on him before. He wouldn’t admit it had anything to do with the thought of Annie leaving and the need for him to start the process over again...with a more suitable woman.
Gathering his thoughts together, he rapped his gloved knuckles on the door. Knowing from past experience that it would take a few minutes for Miss Barret to come, he waited. After several minutes, when she hadn’t answered, he removed his glove and banged harder, and then bent his ear to the door to listen, concerned that she might be unable to cross from the kitchen. Perhaps she’d fallen.
He detected a shuffling sound and waited, ready to barge in if he thought it necessary.
He was about to do so when the doorknob rattled, and the frail, white-haired woman opened the door. “Come in, pastor,” she said in her reedy voice.
He hurried inside so she could close out the cold.
“Clarence was just saying that you’d forgotten your promise to visit. He’d have scolded you if you did.”
Hugh knew Clarence Barret’s scoldings took on the form of fire and condemnation, but perhaps Hugh needed to be reminded, occasionally, that he was a man with many flaws.
“I’ve been otherwise occupied this week, but I promised, and here I am.”
She led him through the unheated parlor to the kitchen where the elderly couple spent their days, though he couldn’t say what they did.
Mr. Barret looked up at Hugh’s entrance. “Couldn’t have left it much later, could you?” The old man was reed thin, white-haired—what was left of it—and wore a permanent scowl.
“There’s still one more day in the week.”
“And a whole bushel of excuses, I’ve no doubt.”
Hugh didn’t wait for an invitation to sit because he’d learned there wouldn’t be one. He chose a chair that allowed him to face the elderly man. “How are you faring in this cold weather?”
“Surviving, which is all we can hope for. What’s this I hear about you taking a young woman to live with you? What’s this world coming to that a preacher would live in sin?”
Hugh’s ear tips grew hot. He had no intention of arguing with the old man, but he wanted to defend himself. Before he could speak, Mr. Barret rushed on.
“The young Marshall gal is what I hear. The old man must be getting doddering in his old age to allow such a thing.”
Hugh understood him to mean Grandfather Marshall.
Mr. Barret rushed on with his sister tsking disapproval in the background. “And Bud and his fine sons. Have they all taken leave of their senses?” Mr. Barret leaned forward. “What have you got to say for yourself, young man?”
How had the troublesome old man become aware of this already? Then Hugh recalled that the pair paid a young lad to bring their groceries every week. Likely, they’d heard the news from him and had assumed and embellished it on their own. “Have you heard I found my son?”
“Mrs. Ross says the boy is addled in his head.” Mrs. Ross must have been the boy’s source of information, and he’d simply repeated it to the Barrets.
Hugh doubted Mrs. Ross had used those words but Mr. Barret liked to put an ugly twist to situations.
“He’s been mistreated, but I will take care of him, whatever it takes.”
“Even living in sin with an innocent gal?”
“Certainly not. She has her own quarters.”
Mr. Barret’s snort carried a whole world of doubt.
“Grandfather Marshall is staying at the parsonage as well, and he makes sure things are appropriate.” Hugh had the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Barret momentarily stalled.
“It’s still mighty suspicious looking.”
Hugh understood the old man’s concerns. All the more reason to hope someone older would answer his ad. He knew it didn’t make sense, but someone more mature and less attractive than Annie would invite less speculation. For Annie’s sake, he should tell her to go home. But then, who would look after Evan? He had no choice but to accept her help for the time being. Lord, protect her from gossip and send a more suitable woman.
He turned his thoughts back to the room he sat in. “You asked me to call. Was there a special reason?”
