Something More by Janet Dailey

remaining on her plate, but it, too, had grown cold while she was on the phone. With a sigh, she laid her silverware on the plate and pushed it back as Griff returned to the table with her coffee.
    â€œWant me to warm that up in the microwave?” He gestured to her plate.
    She hesitated, then shook her head. “No. My hips really don’t need the calories.” She gathered the cup to her. “I’ll just drink my coffee, then give you a hand with the pulpit.”
    Doubting her hearing, Angie asked, “Did you say ‘pulpit’?”
    A smile stretched Ima Jane’s mouth. “I did, indeed. We hold church services here every Sunday.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” Angie blurted in amazed delight.
    â€œI’m not, I promise,” she replied. Then she explained, “You see, nine years ago, heavy snows caved in the roof of the town’s only church, collapsing one of the sidewalls in the process. Unfortunately, the loss wasn’t covered by insurance and, so far, we haven’t been able to raise enough money to build a new one. In the meantime, since the Rimrock is the only place in town big enough to hold everyone, we have church here on Sunday.” Pausing, she ran a self-conscious glance over the interior. “I know it isn’t exactly an appropriate place of worship—”
    â€œOh, but it is,” Angie insisted. “Back in the days of the Old West, a saloon often doubled as the town church.”
    â€œReally? I didn’t know that.” Ima Jane lowered her cup to stare in surprise.
    â€œIt’s true. Saloons were invariably the first substantial structures built in a town. I guess”—Angie allowed a smile to show—“the first settlers in a town had a greater thirst for whiskey than they did for the Word. And, just like here, saloons were the only places large enough to accommodate a crowd, which made them the logical choice.”
    â€œIsn’t that something, Griff?” She gave her husband’s arm a pat of amazement. “And here I thought our situation was unique.”
    â€œI’m afraid not.” Always fascinated by the history of the Old West herself, Angie couldn’t resist the chance to share interesting tidbits of it. “Most saloon keepers looked at church services as being good for business. Probably because, back in those days, most of the preachers were the hellfire-and-brimstone kind—true Bible-thumpers determined to put the fear of God in their listeners. And after a heavy dose of Godly fear, some listeners felt a desperate need for a drink. Of course, some saloons didn’t shut down at all, and people continued to drink and gamble during the sermon. And in some places, the saloon owners insisted that services be held on Saturday because they did more business on Sunday.”
    â€œHow do you know all that?” Ima Jane marveled.
    â€œI teach American history.” Angie smiled. “A long time ago I found out that students pay more attention when you include bits of background trivia along with major historical events,” she explained. “It keeps history from seeming so dry and boring, little more than a bunch of dates to be memorized and later forgotten.”
    â€œI hadn’t thought of it that way. Still”—she studied Angie with bright, speculating eyes—“to know so much about saloons and churches seems unusual.”
    â€œProbably, but I did my college thesis on the role religion played in settling the West. The Old West has always been a special love of mine. It probably comes from watching all those Western movies with John Wayne and Randolph Scott when I was growing up.” That, and all the whispered family stories about her outlaw ancestor.
    Ima Jane looked at her askance. “You’re too young to remember Randolph Scott.”
    â€œIn theory, yes.” Angie smiled at the comment. “But he was my grandmother’s