Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Read Online Free PDF Page B

slipped into the chamber within.
    It didn’t take her long to discover she had entered
the kitchen where she had spent a delightful evening the previous night. Finding
her way to the sideboard where her Aunt had told her she would find a heaping
bowl of fresh apples, Amelia confiscated a large, firm one from the top and
placed the treasure into her skirt pocket.
    She located the pump handle, and then after much
fumbling around, found the hutch containing dishes and glasses. With glass in
hand, she carefully made her way back to pump a fresh glass of cool water ,and,
as usual, she spilled some of the precious liquid down the sides of the glass,
over her hands and shirt sleeves into the basin directly below.
    Amelia huffed as she carefully placed the glass onto
the board beside the pump and began her accustomed search for a towel. After
cleaning the mess as best she could, she reclaimed the glass and located the
back door. Once outside, she locked the door, tucked the key back into her
pocket, and followed the structure until she came to the corner of the
building.
    Leaning backward against the wall and making sure she
was about four feet to the left of the corner, Amelia proceeded to pace forward
in a straight line as her Aunt had instructed her. She counted her steps until
her walking stick hit against the small structure. “Seventeen paces to the
privy,” she reminded herself aloud.
    Meticulously placing the glass of water on the ground,
she covered it with her handkerchief. Upon emerging from the tiny structure she
took up the glass, backed against the side of the edifice and edged her way
around the right corner.
    Counting paces once again, she proceeded to walk a
straight path until her cane collided with a tree. Turning 180 degrees, she sat
down, leaned backward and allowed the hushed reverence of the morning to wash
over her with its cleansing authority.
    Amelia remained silent as she increased in the
knowledge of the unseen world around her. Wrens and robins darted about,
calling their messages in euphonic song to one another.
    She could smell the distinct aroma of pine and spruce
trees. Amelia knew their boughs would be bending and swaying in an orchestrated
dance, stretching ever upward toward their Creator; their mere existence a
testimony of the great and sovereign God who fashioned them from the earth and
who cares for them as a watchful gardener tends to his garden. As she listened
to their sighing, she could almost hear them call out soft praises to their
Creator.
    Amelia began to softly and reverently sing her own
praises to God. There were many who wouldn’t understand her way of
communicating with him, but she didn’t care much what other folks thought. She
simply talked with him as if she knew him intimately, like confiding in a dear
friend. And she counted him as her dearest friend of all. Amelia sang songs of
gratitude and love. She sang humble praises to him. She quietly communicated
with her God in song for nearly forty-five minutes and then began her usual
morning prayers consisting of petitioning the Lord on behalf of others as well
as herself and recalling previously memorized Bible verses.
    Upon completing her prayers, her soul was at peace. A
joy beyond any other had saturated her from head to toe, inside and out, and
she was bursting with it. She thought she might be able to reach up and touch
one of those clouds her dear friend, Molly, had been articulating about since
they were youngsters stretched out on the plush, velvety lawns of the Dodson’s
abundant Southern home.
    As she consumed her apple and drank the water that had
now lost its coolness, Amelia daydreamed about Molly and their childhood
adventures back home in Georgia, recalling minute details of various splendid
adventures they had shared. She smiled at the fond remembrances. Soon, she
would ask Aunt Corrin to transcribe a letter to Molly and would tell her friend
everything that has happened to her since her mother died.
    But a