Shameful Celia (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t help feeling dreadful.”
    He escorted me to the door. “No harm’s been done. Mrs. Wellington will be well taken care of.”
    The kindly pastor had my attention, as curiosity propelled me to ask, “You sure are handsome for a preacher. I didn’t see a wedding ring. Why aren’t you married?”
    Startled by the compliment and the blunt question, he blinked rapidly. “I … um … ”
    Mrs. Hershey’s laughter filled the room. “My dear, you’ve just asked the one question everyone in town has wanted to ask, but never dared.”

Chapter 4
    “ I ’ve never been married because I’m too busy sorting everyone else’s life out.” He glowered at Mrs. Hershey. “This woman is in need of lodging. I’ll speak with you later about the details.”
    She smiled strangely, her attention drifting between us. “I’ll go see about Doctor Baker. Don’t trouble yourself with that.”
    We were nearly out the door. “Thank you. We’ll be in the restaurant after I get the key from Buddy.” His hand fell to my back. “Off we go.”
    “Thank you again, sir. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
    “It’s my job to take care of people,” he murmured.
    Strolling past the nave of the church, my eyes skimmed over empty pews, noting light green walls with ornate, white trim. “This is pretty.”
    “I’m glad you think so.”
    The pews were stained oak, the wood new smelling. “I’m fond of church, cause I love to sing. Haven’t been in ages, though. I had to put the horse down after she injured her foot. Walking ten miles in my condition made everything a chore and a half.”
    “I can imagine.”
    “How long have you lived in Boot Creek?”
    “Five years.”
    Leaving the church, we emerged into the yard, with a busy thoroughfare just beyond the white picket fence. Several people strolled by, paying us little notice, although a few greeted the pastor.
    “Hello, Kinsley. How goes it, preacher?” asked a rough-looking man in a wrinkled tow shirt and vest. A six-shooter hung from each hip.
    “It’s good, Lamont, and you?”
    “Things are as fair as can be expected.” He eyed me. “Who’s this ragamuffin?”
    “She’s new to town.” He steered me onward, not wanting to stop to talk. “Have a good day, Lamont.”
    “You too, pastor.”
    “Ragamuffin?” I muttered. “I guess I must be a sight. Haven’t seen a mirror in years. Don’t know what I look like, really.”
    “It’s of little consequence.” We neared the Men’s Emporium, which was an enormous two-story building with wide windows. We did not enter from the front, as Nicolas led me down a narrow alleyway to the back. “The living quarters are only accessible here. Buddy doesn’t want the tenants going through the store.”
    “Oh.”
    The rear of the building faced what looked like a warehouse. “A garden.” Someone had fenced in an impressive array of vegetables, the greenery brimming with tomatoes, beans, broccoli, and carrots.
    “This belongs to the Wexler’s.” A high fence surrounded the garden; the latch had been secured with a heavy-looking lock.
    “Looks mighty good to me. Best looking garden I’ve ever seen.”
    He held open a door. “Mrs. Wexler gives away what they can’t eat. She’s a generous woman. I’m sure she’ll offer you produce sooner than later. It’s a shame to let perfectly good food spoil. I’ve eaten plenty of tomato sandwiches.”
    “Gosh, I sure hope so. I love tomato sandwiches.” We stood in a small entryway, facing a staircase. “This looks clean.” The wooden walls held hints of rain damage.
    “I’ll get the key. Wait right here.”
    I stared after him, thinking he was possibly the most handsome man I had ever met. He’s just being kind because he’s a preacher. Don’t go getting any strange ideas about him, Celia. “I’m not,” I whispered to myself. “He’s a breath of fresh air, though.”
    “Pardon?” Nicolas approached, smiling. “You say