To Win Her Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

righteousness once, if not repeatedly, when they chose to commit unlawful acts.”
    Ladies bent their heads together, and low murmurs broke out across the room.
    “Miss Spencer makes a valid point,” Emma conceded. “In fact, those are some of the very issues we struggled with in making this choice. Jonathan Willis, the chaplain at the Huntsville prison, has assured me that he will only distribute copies of Scripture to men who have attended his Bible studies and worship services. But even if nine of every ten men who receive a Bible never open it, isn’t it worth our participation for the one soul who does? Jesus himself said that there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who comes to repentance than for the ninety-and-nine just persons who need no repentance.”
    The fire that had burned inside Eden began to sputter.
    “We are called to be sowers, ladies. It is not our business to decide which soils are most likely to give success, for the Lord rarely confines himself to areas dictated by human wisdom. We are to scatter seed. God will give the increase. And I believe he will give great increase, indeed, if we join him in this endeavor.”
    Her voice rose on a crescendo, and applause erupted. Without much enthusiasm, Eden joined the ovation, clapping her fingertips limply against her palm. Her heart still sided with the children at Seeds of Hope, but she could no longer argue in good faith that the Huntsville cause had no merit. Her spirit had perceived too much truth in Emma’s defense.
    So she would do her duty. She would solicit funds for prison Bibles and even contribute her usual personal sum to the effort. She’d not particularly enjoy it, but she’d do it.
    Then another thought hit her, this one causing a whole different type of disturbance to Eden’s system. Her assigned merchants to approach for donations would be the same as in years past, those with businesses on the west end of Main Street. The saddler/boot maker, the livery owner, and . . . the blacksmith.

Chapter Four

    “Well, here she is.” Claude Barnes twisted the key in the padlock that kept the wide double doors chained together.
    Levi’s gaze traced the outline of the stone structure. It looked nothing like the wooden building his father had used, yet an odd sense of coming home settled over him as the livery owner pulled the first door wide. The hitch in the older man’s gait made the going slow, so Levi stepped forward to take over the task.
    “The place ain’t ’zactly been kept up.” Barnes relinquished his hold on the door. “The council only gave me the key so’s I could take care of shoein’ when the need arose. Not to be a caretaker.”
    Levi shrugged. “I can clean.”
    The man’s rigid posture relaxed, and a smile cracked his white-whiskered face. “Glad to hear it. You ever get bored, feel free to come over to my place and muck stalls.” He slapped Levi’s arm and chortled as he led the way into the smithy. Levi grinned and followed.
    A large brick hearth sat on a stone foundation in the center of the workshop, its chimney funneling up through the roof. Levi was pleased to see a lever rod hanging down from a chain at about shoulder height. If he was to be working alone, having a way to pump the bellows without leaving the forge would be essential. He’d have to inspect everything, of course, but not having to rig his own pull rod would save time. Levi gave it a yank, and when a stream of air stirred the dirt and ash in the cold hearth, he nodded in satisfaction.
    He moved to the anvil and tested its height, swinging an imaginary sledge. It might be set a bit low for him, but it stood mounted close enough to the hearth that he would be able to maneuver between the two with only a quarter turn. Whoever designed the shop knew what he was doing.
    A wooden rack a few feet away boasted a selection of tongs, chisels, scroll forks, punches, and hammers. Sledges and vises littered the floor, along with leftover rod iron