Spring Creek Bride Read online

  That this world’s empty glory is costing me too dear.

  Yes, and when that world’s glory is dawning on my soul,

  Tell me the old, old story: “Christ Jesus makes thee whole.”

  Empty glory reminded Mick of his now-empty lot. And that line about Jesus making you whole made him think of something Reverend Langford had said the first day they’d met. You can put yer boots in the oven, but that don’t make ’em biscuits.

  The pain in Mick’s leg intensified, to the point where he ached to sit. He tried to shift his weight, but found himself more uncomfortable than ever.

  As Mick finally gave in and eased his way down into the pew, he pondered the dilemma he now faced. At this point, he couldn’t be sure which bothered him more—his leg, or his still-empty heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ida kept a watchful eye on Mick. She could tell the song was affecting him. His entire demeanor changed the moment Myrtle Mae’s fingers hit the keys.

  Longing took hold of Ida’s heart as she realized what surely must be taking place, and she whispered up a silent prayer for the Lord to somehow woo Mick into His arms. While she had once thought his salvation an impossible task, even for the Almighty, Ida now pleaded for that very thing. She approached the Lord in a humble state of mind, asking Him to forgive her for ever having doubted His love for Mick. What an arrogant, narrow-minded girl she had been, to think the Creator wouldn’t be bothered with a gambling-hall man.

  She sang the final words to the song. Tell me the old, old story, Christ Jesus makes thee whole.

  The old Ida—the prideful, biased one—spent the next few moments allowing God to do just that. The fears and failings she had struggled with in the past dissipated as the final notes to the song were played. And by the time she took her seat next to Mick, Ida truly felt the words taking root in her heart.

  She listened with renewed interest as Reverend Langford delivered his sermon, using the Fourth of July as the foundation for a powerful message on liberty in Christ. Though she had known the Lord from childhood, had given her heart to Him as a youngster, something about today’s words stirred her heart anew.

  Just a few lines into his text, a rustle at the back of the building caught Ida’s attention. She looked back to discover the door flung wide and Nellie DeVries standing there, arm in a cloth sling, a nervous look on her face. Reverend Langford interrupted his message to welcome her at once, and she eased her way in, looking for a familiar face.

  Thankfully, Dinah caught Nellie’s eye and waved for the frightened young woman to join her. As Dinah scooted over to make room, Ida noticed Johnsey Fischer seated next to her. She caught Dinah’s eye and smiled.

  Reverend Langford continued on with his message, the words ringing clear across the sanctuary. The resounding theme of the morning—Christ’s ability to heal His weary, wounded children from the sins of their past, and the resulting liberty when one placed one’s trust in Jesus’s work on the cross. A liberty far more precious than any Fourth of July celebration, and one that involved a chorus of angels singing with heavenly gusto.

  The weeping started quietly at first. But as the message reached its peak, Nellie’s sniffles evolved into full-fledged sobs. Ida wanted to wrap the young woman in her arms. When she looked over her shoulder, she noted that Dinah had already taken care of that.

  Myrtle Mae approached the piano for the final hymn, and the congregation rose to sing. Ida wasn’t sure which made the stronger impression on her heart—the undeniable glistening in Mick Bradley’s eyes, or the wails coming from the pew behind her.

  The service drew to an end, and Mick breathed a sigh of relief. Unlike Nellie, he had resisted the urge to go to the front for prayer as the final song concluded. No, he would rather do business with God—if that was truly what was happening—on his own. One private step at a time. And, no matter how much Reverend Langford turned up the heat, Mick still wasn’t sure he was ready to pull his boots out of the oven.

  Not that he owned any boots.

  The message had served to shift his attention away from his problems for a few minutes, at least. His animosity toward Brewster, his ever-present thoughts about the investors—somehow they’d all taken a back seat to Reverend Langford’s powerful words.

  Ida excused herself to help set up for the picnic. Mick took the opportunity to visit with Mr. Mueller. However, the older fellow looked a bit off-kilter today. Pale, even.

  “Are you not feeling well?” Mick asked.

  “Oh, fine.” Mr. Mueller pressed his hands into his pockets and looked to the front of the sanctuary. Mick followed his gaze, noting Myrtle Mae rising from the piano bench with sheet music in her hands. Ida’s father eased his way through the crowd to offer his assistance.

  So that was it. The man had his eye on a woman. And in church, at that.

  Well, could any less be said of Mick? Though he’d listened to Reverend Langford’s sermon, his mind had wandered a time or two to the gorgeous woman on his left. And who could blame him? His heart felt as if it would leap from his chest every time Ida opened her mouth to sing.

  Easing his way around on his crutches, Mick turned and found Johnsey standing behind him. Happy to see a familiar face, Mick smiled and shook his hand.

  “What did you think?” Johnsey asked as they made their way toward the door.

  “Not quite what I was expecting. I rather imagined more red-faced shouting, that sort of thing.”

  Johnsey laughed. “It’s hard for me to picture God hollering at folks, so it never makes much sense when I see preachers doing it.”

  Mick pondered his friend’s words before adding, “Well, I guess I just figured God was in the shouting business. Never knew the difference.”

  Johnsey offered his assistance, and before long they had reached the bottom of the front stairs. Colorful quilts dotted the church lawn, the patches of vibrant blues, whites and yellow providing a nice contrast against the green grass and the shade trees overhead. The hot afternoon sun blazed down on them, and he longed for a breeze to blow through.

  Mick watched as Ida prepared a spot off in the distance. Dinah was spreading a quilt next to hers, so he and Johnsey headed in that direction.

  “Looks like we’re both thinking the same thing,” Johnsey said with a laugh.

  Mick nodded. “I don’t mind admitting, she’s done something to me.”

  “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” Johnsey slapped him on the back and chuckled. “I know just how you feel. As far as I’m concerned, Dinah is manna from heaven.”

  Mick watched as Ida interacted with Carter and the other children. Listened to their voices raised in song as she led them on a Pied Piper trail around and through the pine trees.

  A woman like that could certainly get under a man’s skin.

  Johnsey went to sit with Dinah, and Mick made his way through the throng of people to Ida’s side, happy when she turned to him with a welcoming smile. Reverend Langford called for everyone’s attention and led the group in a prayer before the meal.

  Then the real fun began. Folks gathered in long lines to fill their plates. Mick willingly agreed to let Johnsey fetch his plate for him, and stretched out on the blue and white quilt underneath a canopy of pine trees, alongside Ida and her father. And Myrtle Mae, of course.

  Mick kept a watchful eye on several things. Ida, who seemed more than a little giddy today. Her father, who acted like a nervous cat. Myrtle Mae, who gabbed with Emma Gertsch about those ridiculous dime novels—the same ones he’d secretly taken to reading. And Nellie, who talked quietly with Dinah about her ailing mother in Houston.

  After eating his fill of Emma’s homemade pickles, Myrtle Mae’s fried chicken, baked beans from the reverend’s wife and plenty of Ida’s lemon meringue pie, Mick settled back to watch the entertainment. A couple of the men, including Sophie’s father, stood with fiddles in their hands and began tuning them. Within minutes, hands were clapping, toes were tapping
and several of the children had taken to skipping beneath the pines, their merry voices reverberating against the dense forest behind them. My, but these Texans sure knew how to throw a nice lawn party.

  Mick took a sip of his lemonade and looked at the crew of people gathered around him on the quilt, his heart feeling as though it might burst at any moment. They looked for all the world like family…a family he could learn to love.

  A startling idea entered Mick’s mind, one he could not ignore. The more he chewed on it, the more he realized it made perfect sense. Within a few minutes the idea grew into a workable plan, a perfectly wonderful one. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  Mick leaned back and contemplated the idea rolling around in his head. It had come from somewhere. The Lord, perhaps? Anything was possible.

  Maybe, just maybe, Mick could pay his investors back by September after all.

  If he could just get the townspeople to join him—and keep a secret.

  Ida finished up a plate of ham and baked beans, and offered her remaining piece of chicken to Johnsey, who gladly accepted it. Then she took a sliver of lemon meringue pie, eating it slowly. The sun hung bright and heavy above them, and she felt herself perspiring. Glistening, as Dinah called it. Thankfully, she’d chosen a spot underneath the trees to place their quilt. The shade provided a bit of relief.

  She looked over to the Weimers’ quilt and saw Sophie watching her. Ida lifted a hand in greeting, but did not get up to say hello. Sophie waved back, a strange look on her face. Ida felt uneasy for reasons she could not explain. There was something between them, something she could not identify. A tension…

  Once the fiddlers got to fiddling, Ida leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes. Her mind wandered—until the music came to an abrupt, unexpected halt. She heard a giggle of embarrassment from Myrtle Mae. Ida’s eyes flew open at once, and she saw her papa on bended knee in front of the woman he loved, his hand tightly clasping hers. Even from here, Ida could see the trembling.

  He reached into his pocket and came out with a slender silver ring, which he held up for all to see. “I want my friends and neighbors to witness this,” he said in a resounding voice. “I am a man in love.”

  Myrtle Mae’s cheeks reddened and she let out another giggle. All across the churchyard, folks quieted their conversations and turned in rapt attention.

  Ida couldn’t help but laugh, too. Her papa looked his bride-to-be in the eye as he spoke tenderly. “Myrtle Mae, I love you. I’d shout it from the treetops, if I thought it wouldn’t embarrass you.”

  “It wouldn’t.” She gave him a wink.

  He nodded then finished up his little speech. “I’m askin’ you to be my bride. Will you marry me, Myrtle Mae? Put me out of my misery once and for all. Say you’ll be mine.”

  She nodded and whispered a tearful, “Yes.” A roar of applause rose up from the crowd.

  Myrtle Mae got her ring.

  Papa got his bride-to-be.

  And Ida…well, from where she sat, the only thing more appealing than the scene before her was the look in the eye of the man who reached over and took hold of her hand, giving it a squeeze.

  With joy flooding her heart, she squeezed back.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Did you save room for cobbler, Mr. Bradley?”

  Emma Gertsch’s words certainly got Mick’s attention. He opened his eyes and looked at the older woman in curiosity.

  “Cobbler?”

  “Yes indeed.” She rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her dress. “It’s our annual cobbler bakeoff and we’ll be needing judges.”

  Though he wanted to groan, his stomach already painfully full from the meal he’d just consumed, Mick thought better of it. “Am I to assume you’ve entered a cobbler in the bakeoff?”

  “Well, now that you mention it…” She fanned herself. “But I would never stoop to persuading you to vote for mine. That would be wrong. Though I must say the dewberries from my property are the juiciest in the county and I do spend hours collecting them each spring.”

  “I see.”

  From behind him, Ida laughed. “You have nothing to fear, Mick. None of the entries are marked, so you won’t have any idea whose is whose. I’ve entered a cobbler myself.”

  Mick looked over at Johnsey and patted his full stomach. With a laugh, Johnsey stood and helped Mick to his feet.

  Fifteen minutes and a dozen bites later, Mick and Johnsey declared a tasty peach cobbler the winner. Truly, Mick didn’t know when he’d ever tasted anything so fine. He prayed the flavorful concoction belonged to Ida. A blue ribbon would go a long way toward winning her heart. Unfortunately, Myrtle Mae bounded to the front of the crowd to claim her ribbon, a tenacious smile on her face.

  “Looks like it’s been your day,” Reverend Langford said, handing her the ribbon. “Not quite sure how you’re going to top this one!”

  “Oh, we’ll top it, all right.” She turned her attention to the crowd. “We’ll be having the weddin’ soon, and I’ll bake up the tastiest cake you ever did see. We’ll celebrate together.” She turned to face her husband-to-be as she asked, “How does an autumn ceremony sound to you?”

  “If I can wait that long.” He winked and reached for her hand.

  “We look forward to that,” Reverend Langford said.

  As Mick moved back in Ida’s direction, he thought about the upcoming wedding. He wondered what it would be like to settle here, marry Ida and raise a family.

  The longer he thought about those things, the more plausible they became. Within minutes, he felt as though his heart might spring from his chest. Could he really do it? Live here in Texas? Maybe he’d been right when he compared Spring Creek to the Promised Land, especially in light of the new plan that now consumed his thoughts. Perhaps that’s what the Lord had had in mind all along.

  Ida worked alongside Dinah, packing her aunt’s wagon. With so many things to return to the mercantile, she thought it best to offer a hand. Besides, a ride into town meant a few more minutes with Mick, something she dearly craved—even if he hadn’t voted for her apple cobbler.

  Still, in spite of her growing feelings, Ida knew better than to give her heart just yet. She sensed that the Lord had quite a bit of work to do in Mick’s life, and she certainly didn’t want to get in the way of that. Too much too fast could have devastating consequences. To put the cart ahead of the horse—especially in matters of the heart—was never a good idea.

  A short time later they arrived at the mercantile, and Ida looked on with a smile as Johnsey helped Dinah down from the wagon. After all the sadness Dinah had endured, she deserved the kind of happiness a man like Johnsey could bring.

  Ida turned and looked at the empty lot next door. Though she didn’t want to see it used for a gambling hall, she had to admit that the charred ruins made her sad. And the look in Mick’s eyes every time he gazed at the property nearly broke her heart. Lord, lead the way. Show him what to do. Show us all what to do.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  Ida swung around, unable to hide her grin as she saw Mick standing close by. “Oh, I was just thinking about Dinah and Johnsey.”

  He glanced up to see them disappear into the store. “They make quite the couple, don’t they?”

  “Yes,” Ida agreed, “though I never saw it coming, if you want to know the truth of it. They seem so different. And he’s nothing like Larson, in any respect.” In fact, Ida didn’t know when she’d seen two more different men. Larson had been older than his years, an average-looking man with a heart as big as Texas. Johnsey’s wide smile invited others in, and almost made them forget about his wholesome good looks and boyish face.

  “I’ve always heard that opposites attract.” Mick drew a bit closer, and Ida felt her breath catch in her throat.

  “True,” she whispered, “though I cannot help but think that any romantic union would be unduly strained if the parties were vastly different.”

  “Different, as in a big-cit
y gambling-hall man and a small-town girl who is more at home on a church pew than a bar stool?” His eyes twinkled with mischief, but Ida struggled to find the humor in his words.

  “I thought you’d laid the idea of a gambling hall to rest, Mick.”

  “I’m not saying otherwise. It’s just interesting to think I’ve come all the way to Texas looking for one thing,” he said with a pensive look, brushing a loose hair out of her face, “and ended up with another.”

  “Another?” Is he referring to…me?

  He looked toward the empty lot. “My original plans lie in ruins.”

  Ida followed his gaze. No doubt, giving up on his dream had come at a cost, but he needed to let go of that altogether, or she could never consider marrying him.

  Marrying him? Where had such a notion come from? Mick Bradley had never even asked to court her, let alone offer a marriage proposal. Surely the heat must be playing with her thoughts today. She took a step backward.

  Mick gave her a curious look. “What did you think of that sermon this morning?”

  “I enjoyed it immensely. Reverend Langford always manages to tie his messages in to the holidays, and I thought his liberty theme was quite brilliant. Of course, I always love to hear his testimony. He is quite a changed man. Gives me hope.”

  “For me?”

  She smiled. “For people in general, I mean. Myself included.”

  “I guess it’s going to take a while for the Almighty to convince me He’s got a grandiose plan for my life. Seems like the only thing He’s shown me so far is, well, ashes.”

  “There’s a wonderful scripture about God’s ability to bring beauty from ashes,” Ida said. “And I’ve no doubt He will do that for you, if you ask Him to.”

  “He’s already brought one good thing from the rubble,” Mick said. “I never would have known you—really known you—if not for the attack I’ve come under.”