Broken Vows Read Online Free PDF Page A

to another. And an Irish immigrant, also no doubt, Catholic. Do you have any idea what these things mean, Rebekah?”
           “I'll never see him again, Papa. I only had to warn him about the danger,” Rebekah replied miserably.
           “That appears to make you unhappy, daughter,” he replied gravely. “Think, child. He is not the kind of man with whom you should be keeping company. The Irish mostly are a drunken lot, I fear, and firmly entrenched in Romanish superstitions. You've been raised with a fine religious heritage, Rebekah. Your faith should be everything to you, as it is to me.”
           She could feel his eyes on her, sad and gentle, yet censuring all the same. Although a tolerant champion of blacks and Chinese, as well as many of the other diverse immigrants to Nevada, Ephraim Sinclair's intense dislike of Irish Catholics had always been steadfast since her earliest childhood memories. She often wondered why, but never dared to ask such a personal thing. “I'm certain Mr. Madigan will be gone in a few days, Papa. There's no danger to my faith.”
           Ephraim sighed. “Ah, but you're coming of age, and it is natural for you to think of marriage. The important thing is to find a suitable husband—a fine, God-fearing man from my flock. Did I mention, Rebekah, that Amos Wells is coming for dinner on Sunday after church?’'
           Rebekah's head shot up in amazement. Amos Wells was a deacon at First Presbyterian and the wealthiest contributor in the congregation. But what did he have to do with her reaching a marriageable age? The man was positively ancient. “I'm sure Mama will be thrilled. Mr. Wells is the leading citizen of the town. After all, it was named after him. His mining and banking ventures made Wellsville,” she said, testing the waters. Her father was a man who often kept his own council when it suited him. She looked at him expectantly.
           Ephraim cleared his throat, more nervous than was his usual wont, uncertain of how to phrase what he needed to say to Rebekah. Perhaps, the bald truth would serve best. Rebekah was willful; and if she did not fancy the match, he would never force her, no matter what Dorcas wished. “Mr. Wells has been a widower for over a year now. He is a vigorous man in the prime of his life, a wealthy man without heirs since the Lord did not see fit to bless him and the late Mrs. Wells with offspring. He's looking for a wife, Rebekah, and expressed to me an interest in courting you. I said I was pleased, but the final decision, of course, must be your own. He's a fine, upstanding man, Rebekah.”
           She felt pole axed, unable to speak a word for several moments. “Celia Hunt favors him,” she finally blurted out.
           Ephraim shook his head and sighed. “Celia is a dear, sweet girl, but far too scatterbrained and spoiled for a man like Amos.”
           “But—but, why me? I'm scatterbrained, too, and not at all pious and proper like Leah.”
           Reverend Sinclair smiled. “You're impulsive and a bit rebellious at times. For example, jumping in the creek to save Laban Parker's little boy at the Sunday school picnic before one of the young men could do it. Or the time you took all the food from your mother's pantry and distributed it to the miners' children. But you have a fine mind, Rebekah. You've read every book in my library, even the Greek mythologies your mother deemed unsuitable for a young lady.” He made a mock scowl.
           “I remember,” she said with a blush of mortification. She had been caught with the page open to the story of Leda and the Swan, for which crime she had been soundly paddled and sent to bed without supper by her mother. Sometimes, she had wondered about the frankly carnal descriptions of mating in Greek myths and what truly went on between men and women to beget children. What would it be like to have a man touch her unclothed body? Rory