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

with cress and chip potatoes. The soup of the day is Onion.”
    My mouth watered. “I’ll have the special. That sounds real nice.”
    “I’ll have the chicken with mushrooms.”
    “Oh! That’s delicious too.”
    He grinned. “You can have a bite, if you wish. I'm not all that hungry.”
    “What would you like to drink?”
    “I’ll have coffee,” said Nicolas.
    “What is there to drink?”
    “We’ve got hot chocolate, mulled cider punch, grape juice, lemonade, sarsaparilla, and ginger beer.”
    “I’ll take the mulled cider punch, please.”
    She smiled politely. “I’ll give the cook your order.”
    After she had left, I gazed at Pastor Kinsley, finding his attention elsewhere. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Those intriguing blue eyes focused on me.
    “I was born in Cass County, Missouri. I’m the middle child of fifteen brothers and sisters.”
    I snorted. “Gosh, that’s a lot.”
    “Yes, my family was rather large.”
    “Is that why you left, to escape them?”
    “No, that’s not why I left.”
    “What brought you to Boot Creek?”
    “After I finished seminary school, a friend of mine was heading west. I thought I’d join him.”
    “For adventure? Did you think you might kill some Indians?”
    “No, Celia. That’s not the reason.”
    “Most of the Indians are gone now anyway. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the government, but I think it’s shameful what they did.” I lowered my voice. “I don’t agree with the Indian Removal Act. It led to nothing but wars and senseless killing.” This was a topic I felt passionate about, hating the policy that had been signed into law by President Andrew Jackson. “If you ask me, they could’ve handled that better.”
    Now I had his complete attention. “It was inevitable. It’s tragic, but there’s nothing stopping westward expansion.”
    “Chief Justice Marshall said the Cherokees were their own nation. They were here long before us white folks showed up. My grandparents came over from Ireland. My ma was Irish. Most people came from somewhere else. It’s wrong to toss people off their own land.”
    “You do hold some strong opinions, Mrs. Wellington.”
    “Lloyd got the newspaper once a month. I’ve had some schooling, so I can read just fine. I used to read them papers back to back, even the advertisements for soap and baking power.”
    “I see.”
    “I do love to read. If I ever get enough money, I’m buying a book or two. I’ve read a book before, but I had to hurry on account that it belonged to my pa’s friend. We were at their place for supper.”
    “You read a book in one sitting?”
    “Yes, I did. It was awfully good too.”
    “Do you remember the name?”
    “Yes, of course. ‘Rip Van Winkle’.”
    “You read that in one evening?”
    “I started after supper. It was less than two hundred pages. So I read about fifty pages an hour. I think we left around ten.”
    He sat back in the chair, eyeing me. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
    “Expecting what?”
    “It just goes to show you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.”
    Then it dawned on me what he meant. “I look a fright, I know. I can’t help it. I’m always trying to improve myself, but it’s hard when you don’t have any money. I’m hoping I’ll end up on my feet soon enough. I know there won’t be too many men who’ll want to raise somebody else’s baby, but I really need to find a daddy for this little boy.” I patted my belly.
    “Little boy?”
    I nodded. “I know I’m having a boy.”
    “You do, huh?”
    “Yes, sir.” I smiled brightly, delighted that I had his full attention and he hadn’t chastised me for some of my radical ideas. Lloyd would berate me sideways and upside down for implying the government dealt wrongly with the Indians. I spied the waitress approaching carrying a tray laden with something that smelled delicious. “Oh, my stars! So much food in one place.” My happiness could not be