Courting Emma (Little Hickman Creek Series #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

dough beneath her hands.
When she finished, she molded the clump into a ball and laid a
towel over it. Then she wiped her floured hands on her apron.
Luke kept watch from his place in the doorway.
    "M-nie and Pa, we liked them big ones," he remarked in
his flat, monotone voice, his words always coming out slow and
labored, with intermittent stuttering. "They made me sh-shake
right here." He put a stubby hand to his chest.
    Emma laughed. "I know what you mean."
    Luke took a step forward, eyes eager. "Want me to sweep
the f-floor?"
    She glanced around the tidy kitchen. "It's been done, but
you could take the broom to the front porch. That could use a
goin' over. After that-"
    Just then, a squawking male voice made her pause midsentence. She walked to the kitchen window overlooking the
backyard. A sudden gasp escaped her throat.
    Luke came up beside her. "Ain't that the p-preacher?"
Her shoulders slumped as she heaved a sigh. Jon Atkins
was helping old Ezra out of the tin tub, and from the sound of
things, her father wasn't too happy for the help.
    Why couldn't the reverend mind his own business?

     

$~a~ii 1 /vzee
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    emme go," Ezra screeched, both hands flailing. "I
don't need no help."
    "I beg to differ, old nian," Jon argued. "You can't even
stand up on your own. Look at you."
    Jon caught sight of Eninia Browning bounding off the
boardinghouse back stoop, skirts flaring, wisps of blond hair
coming loose from their tight little bun. Her blue eyes sparked
with a mixture of anger and confusion as she marched with
purpose in their direction, Luke Newman on her heels.
    "What do you think you're doing, Jon Atkins?" she asked.
    "I'ni about to take this odorous fellow to the bathhouse."
    Eninia fixed hint with a perplexing stare, squinting against
the sun. "Why would you do that?"
    "He could use a bath, don't you think?" The man's stench
was enough to knock a skunk to its knees.
    "Don't need no bath," Ezra grumbled. "Had one already."
    "When? Last spring?" Jon asked, trying to make light of
the situation. It had been at least a week since the guy had
even shaved, let alone bathed himself.
    Ezra coughed and spat, just missing Jon's boot. It was all
Jon could do not to set the oaf back down in the tub and let
him sleep awhile longer. But he'd determined to get involved
in the fellow's life-actually, God had prompted him to
get involved-and so here he was defending himself to the
drunken fool's daughter.
    "It won't do you any good," Emma said. "Matter of fact,
you'd be wastin' your tine." Her eyes skittered over Ezra's slouched frame. She crossed her arms and stuck out her obstinate little chin. "He's nothin' but a drunk."

    Jon took a moment to study Eninia's stance, spine straight
as a pin, jaw tense, eyes hard and proud. She'd learned that
stance from years of struggling to survive. "When was the last
time you saw him sober?" he asked.
    Enema laughed, but there was no warmth in the sound.
"Well now, that'd take some recollectin', preacher."
    Preacher? Jon? Reverend Atkins? Which was it? Jon mused.
She'd known him all her life, but since his return to Hickman
a little less than a year ago, she didn't seem to know quite how
to address him. Furthermore, she was determined to dislike
him.
    Ezra swayed, and Jon got a firmer grip on his arm. The
bum was still so liquored up he didn't even know he was the
topic of conversation.
    "Cone on, old man," he said, turning Ezra around and
pointing hint in the right direction, slanting his face away
from the worst of Ezra's overpowering odor.
    "You w-want some h-help?" asked Luke. Up until now, he'd
been the silent observer. Matter of fact, Luke spent most of his
time on the sidelines watching life go by. Jon wondered if the
boy didn't know a whole lot more about living than most folks
gave hint credit for knowing.
    "That'd be real nice, Luke. You take the other arm."
    Luke stepped forward and Emma's frown grew. "There's
no hope for Ezra, Jon. You might