June (7 page)

Later, June stood with the other mourners as the pine box was slowly lowered into a gaping hole in the muddy ground. When she saw tears unabashedly rolling down Parker's cheeks, she leaned closer, pressing a clean handkerchief into his right hand. He took it, refusing to meet her eyes. Her heart ached for his pain.

"Dust to dust," Reverend Inman intoned softly. "We are all but dust. Brother Eli, you will be sorely missed, but by your devotion you have given us a measure to live up to; by your faith you have given us a light, and by your faithfulness you have given us courage and a greater conviction toward the work we have yet to accomplish."

June wept openly, feeling more than ever that she was called to be a part of something miraculous. Something destined to be a lasting tribute to God, to Eli and Reverend Inman, and, yes, even to Papa, for generations to come.

At the moment, she asked for no more.

Chapter Four

T was settled. June would stay on in Seattle and help raise funds for the tabernacle.

As she dressed the following morning, June thought about the conversation she'd had with Reverend Inman over supper the night before.

"I want to stay on and work to see Eli's dream realized."

Reverend Inman had laid his napkin aside, obviously surprised by her decision. "I thought you would want to return to Michigan."

"No. No," she repeated more softly. "I thought God brought me here to Seattle to marry a wonderful man. Now that Eli's gone, I feel God has a more defined purpose. You know my papa was a pastor."

Reverend Inman nodded. "So Eli said."

"Well, Papa never so much as thought about building anything so grand as a tabernacle, but I believe he would approve of your and Eli's dream. When Eli told me about the dream you and he shared, something moved in my heart, Reverend Inman. Something so deep and so profound that I believe God wants me to stay here, to do all I can to help carry on Eli's work."

Leaning back in his chair, Reverend Inman appeared to weigh her suggestion. "You're most welcome to stay if you feel this is where God is leading you. The ministry can use all the hands we can get."

June could see he was touched that she had caught Eli's vision. "I've prayed about it, and I believe this is what I am to do. In a small way I'll be doing it for Papa, too. I think he would be proud of my being part of such a grand endeavor."

"Then, of course, you must stay. Might I hope you will remain here at the complex?"

June nodded. "If that would be all right with you."

"I would have it no other way." He patted her hand. "Oh, my dear, you are indeed a godsend. Eli would be overjoyed to know that you're carrying on in his footsteps."

June sighed, pushing her half-empty plate aside. "Do you think Eli knows, Reverend Inman?"

Reverend Inman smiled. "I think Eli's joy knows no bounds, my dear. Could we ask for anything more?"

"No, nothing more," she agreed. "I thought I would begin tomorrow morning. I have an idea for raising funds I would like to talk over, if I may."

"Certainly." Reverend Inman reached for his coffee. "What's this idea you have?"

His eyes widened as she chatted on. He stirred four teaspoons of sugar into his coffee instead of his usual two, his jaw slackening on occasion. When she was finished, he took a fortifying sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair.

"Well." He cleared his throat. "It is a most uncommon approach, but I can think of nothing scripturally wrong with it-provided you in no way imply the men should give out of guilt."

"Oh, no! I would never imply that. Giving should be from the heart-a freewill offering. It's just, that's where so many men go-and I think they'll be happy to donate to the tabernacle if given an opportunity."

"Well, they could attend services nightly," Reverend Inman pointed out.

"Yes, but they don't, Reverend. So I'll go to them."

The following afternoon June stood in front of the saloon, gazing up at the large, crudely constructed sign nailed to a weathered-looking shack.

The Gilded Hen looked downright sinful.

She shook her head, wondering if Eli would have approved of her scheme. More important, would God object? Reverend Inman had said he could think of no scriptural reason not to....

Piano music spilled through the double swinging doors as she balanced on tiptoes to peek in. Scruffy men sat around tables playing cards while others stood at the bar and flirted with scantily dressed women with flaming rouged cheeks.

Oh, the shame of it all. What would Aunt Thalia say about such goings-on?

When June first thought about a plan to raise funds for the tabernacle, the saloon had immediately come to mind. She and Reverend Inman had driven past the establishment the day he met her ship. Stationed beside the door of The Gilded Hen, she could sing and ring a bell. When the men started home after a long night of drinking and ... well, whatever a man did in an establishment like The Gilded Hen, she could offer them an opportunity to contribute to a worthwhile community project. If they didn't want to give, they didn't have to. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Aunt Thalia would say.

Positioning herself to the left of the wood porch, June hummed a few practice notes, then began to sing "Amazing Grace" in a strong, clear alto. The tones were as sweet and pure as the message. Ringing the tiny silver bell, she flashed passersby her sweetest smile. "Donations for the Isaac Inman Crusade! Would you care to give?"

A passing matron responded immediately. "The Isaac Inman Crusade thanks you, and God thanks you," June said as the woman dropped a coin into the cup and walked on.

"Thank you, sir. God bless you."

"Thank you."

"Your kindness is deeply appreciated."

By the end of the first hour she'd emptied the cup once and sung "Amazing Grace" fourteen times. Her mouth was as dry as the floor of a chicken coop, but she'd collected five dollars and twenty-two cents for the Inman Crusade.

Darkness closed around her, and the wind picked up. Huddling deeper into her wool cloak, she rang the bell, keeping an eye on the saloon doorway. The door swung open, and a group of men emerged, holding on to each other for support.

Straightening, she sang louder, "that saaaaaved a wretch like meeeeee. I once was lost ..."

The men stumbled down the steps, barely sparing her a glance.

She watched them walk on down the street, then eyed the half-empty cup. Drats. The door opened again, and two large men-loggers, she assumed by the impressive width of their shoulders-teetered out.

Lifting the bell, she rang it harder, extending the tin cup. "Can you spare a coin for the Isaac Inman Crusade, sir?"

"For what?" One man stopped to focus on her.

"For the Isaac Inman Crusade. Reverend Inman intends to build a tabernacle right here in Seattle-the likes of which you've never seen." She smiled, holding the cup a little closer. "Can you spare a coin?"

The man leaned unsteadily against the saloon wall, squinting at her.

"The Isaac Inman Crusade," June repeated. "Donations are gratefully appreciated."

He finally focused. "What's yer name, girlie?"

"June, sir."

The two men obediently fished in their pockets and came up with a few coins. Dropping them into the cup, they draped their arms around each other's shoulders and teetered on. She could hear their deep voices singing in disjointed harmony:

"God bless you, sirs!" June called.

"Well, well. Now, what's your name?" a man sporting the remains of his supper in his unkempt white beard asked a while later.

"God's emissary!" June replied, holding out the cup.

The man gave generously, but his unwarranted winks and ribald remarks brought a blush to June's cheeks. Blowing on her icy fingertips, she thought about calling it a day. Donations had been good, and evening services would be starting soon. Reverend Inman would be delighted when she dropped the day's contributions into the offering plate. The men, for the most part, had given from the heart, pausing occasionally to ask her to remember them in her prayers.

She turned to look over her shoulder when she heard hoofbeats approaching. A huge man rode up and swung out of the saddle, tossing the reins around the hitching post. June frowned when she recognized Parker Sentell.

A shiver raced up her spine. What was he doing at The Gilded Hen?

She had no explanation for what happened next. It was if an invisible force gave her a shove from behind. As the big logger stepped onto the saloon porch, she blocked his path. Her gaze collided with his silver belt buckle, then lifted to follow the long, long row of buttons on his shirt. The man was as tall as a mountain! Lifting the bell, she rang it. "Care to spare a coin, sir?"

Taken off guard, Parker stepped back. June grinned as recognition, then disbelief, dawned in his eyes. She lowered the cup. "Good evening, Mr. Sentell."

Parker eyed her sternly. "What are you doing in a place like this?"

"Collecting donations." She shook the cup, and the coins jangled. "They've been quite good. Care to make a contribution?"

His scowl reminded her of her childhood and Aunt Thalia's disapproving looks. He stepped around her, and she resumed her position by the steps. She didn't care if she annoyed him. Now maybe he would realize she was serious about her intentions to carry out Eli's work. Jingling the tin cup, she called, "Donations for the Isaac Inman Crusade!"

A logger dropped a coin into the cup and walked on.

"God bless you!"

Giving her a look of pained tolerance, Parker pushed through the doorway and disappeared into the saloon.

Anxious to see what he was doing, she scrambled to the swinging doors and peeked inside. Parker stood at a table of young men playing cards. They looked to be very youngno more than early teens. Towering over the boys, the logger issued a few curt words. Chairs overturned as the boys darted toward the door.

June jumped back to avoid being trampled as the four burst out and struck off down the middle of the street in a dead run.

Wow! What had Parker said? Whatever it was, she was glad it hadn't been directed at her.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped back to the doorway. The sound of heavy boots hitting hardwood floor met her ears as Parker forcefully strode out, almost bowling her over. Stumbling, she reached out to grasp the railing.

Giving her a hard look, he walked down the steps, reached for the reins, got on his horse, and rode off.

Leaning against the rail, she took a deep breath, sourly eyeing his disappearing horse. He was such an unpleasant man.

Thirty-five dollars and sixty-two cents for the tabernacle. June lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, exhausted. She'd been in Seattle a little over two weeks, and already she was well on the way to helping Reverend Inman and Eli achieve their goal. Her heart sang with accomplishment. The only damper on her enthusiasm was Parker Sentell. What would it take to make him warm up to her? His continuing aloofness was like ice water on her joy.

Until she came to Seattle, June had never been more than fifty miles in any direction outside of Cold Water.