recalled his passionate oration. The man had a gift. A gift she’d stolen from the people of Brenham.
Joanna pushed her father’s floppy hat off her head, letting it dangle down her back from the string around her neck. She needed to see Brother Archer’s face, his eyes. “How could you want to preach here when it is because of me that you lost your position?”
“Ah, Joanna.” Her given name fell from his lips as his gaze melted into hers. “It was never my position to lose. If it had truly been God’s will that I preach in Brenham, no abduction could have prevented my appointment. You are not to blame. And I know your rascal of a father’s not, either—despite my carrying on the other day. God is the one in charge, and it is he who led me back here. Will you have me?”
Although she knew he only meant in an official preaching capacity, her heart fluttered with a little thrill at his words as she let herself imagine for the briefest of moments what it would be like to have Crockett Archer ask her the same question with a much more personal implication.
Foolish girl. She stood on the verge of having her dearest wish granted. Why did she have to go and start hungering for more?
Joanna resolutely turned her mind back to the gift Brother Archer was offering her, and a genuine smile burst across her face. “Of course I’ll have you!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, heat sprinted to her cheeks. Heavens, that wasn’t how she’d intended to answer. She cleared her throat, and dropped her gaze. “Having you here would do our community a world of good, Brother Archer. We’d be honored to have you serve as our minister.”
There. That sounded better. More formal. Perhaps that would cover her earlier blunder. However, when she looked up, the parson’s eyes twinkled with far too much merriment for her peace of mind.
“Wonderful!” he declared, and his enthusiasm eased some of her embarrassment. “Now, all I have to do is find sufficient employment to keep me in food and supplies until we can get this church of ours established.”
This church of ours. It was amazing what that simple phrase did to her insides. Ours. This was their project. Both of them. Together. She wasn’t alone in her mission anymore. And she’d make sure he wasn’t alone in his.
“I can ask around. Introduce you to a few . . . ” An idea struck her so hard while she was speaking, she almost felt the blow. “Wait! I know the perfect person to ask.” Excitement buzzed over her nerve endings faster than a message on a telegraph wire. She’d taken three steps toward the barn before she remembered she was leaving a thoroughly bewildered preacher standing in the middle of her squash rows. She couldn’t stop, though. Not now. Not when her mission was so clear.
“Go take stock of the parsonage,” she called over her shoulder as she picked up speed. “See what you’ll need to make it habitable. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
Crockett watched Joanna dart through her garden like a rabbit fleeing a shotgun blast. Only it wasn’t fear that drove her. It was purpose. She was definitely up to something.
Once she disappeared into the barn, Crockett broke out of his bemused stupor. He grinned over his own foolishness. What was it about Joanna Robbins that took his attention hostage whenever she was near? The expressive features that displayed her every thought? The delightful way she blushed when he teased her? Or perhaps it was the way she threw herself wholeheartedly into those things that were important to her. Whatever it was, it was certainly compelling.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Crockett glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only thing Joanna had abandoned in the garden. Her hoe lay fallen atop the winter squash plants she’d been tending so carefully moments ago. And near the garden gate, a small burlap sack with a head or two of cabbage peeking out from between the folds sat forgotten.
Since Joanna
Joanna pushed her father’s floppy hat off her head, letting it dangle down her back from the string around her neck. She needed to see Brother Archer’s face, his eyes. “How could you want to preach here when it is because of me that you lost your position?”
“Ah, Joanna.” Her given name fell from his lips as his gaze melted into hers. “It was never my position to lose. If it had truly been God’s will that I preach in Brenham, no abduction could have prevented my appointment. You are not to blame. And I know your rascal of a father’s not, either—despite my carrying on the other day. God is the one in charge, and it is he who led me back here. Will you have me?”
Although she knew he only meant in an official preaching capacity, her heart fluttered with a little thrill at his words as she let herself imagine for the briefest of moments what it would be like to have Crockett Archer ask her the same question with a much more personal implication.
Foolish girl. She stood on the verge of having her dearest wish granted. Why did she have to go and start hungering for more?
Joanna resolutely turned her mind back to the gift Brother Archer was offering her, and a genuine smile burst across her face. “Of course I’ll have you!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, heat sprinted to her cheeks. Heavens, that wasn’t how she’d intended to answer. She cleared her throat, and dropped her gaze. “Having you here would do our community a world of good, Brother Archer. We’d be honored to have you serve as our minister.”
There. That sounded better. More formal. Perhaps that would cover her earlier blunder. However, when she looked up, the parson’s eyes twinkled with far too much merriment for her peace of mind.
“Wonderful!” he declared, and his enthusiasm eased some of her embarrassment. “Now, all I have to do is find sufficient employment to keep me in food and supplies until we can get this church of ours established.”
This church of ours. It was amazing what that simple phrase did to her insides. Ours. This was their project. Both of them. Together. She wasn’t alone in her mission anymore. And she’d make sure he wasn’t alone in his.
“I can ask around. Introduce you to a few . . . ” An idea struck her so hard while she was speaking, she almost felt the blow. “Wait! I know the perfect person to ask.” Excitement buzzed over her nerve endings faster than a message on a telegraph wire. She’d taken three steps toward the barn before she remembered she was leaving a thoroughly bewildered preacher standing in the middle of her squash rows. She couldn’t stop, though. Not now. Not when her mission was so clear.
“Go take stock of the parsonage,” she called over her shoulder as she picked up speed. “See what you’ll need to make it habitable. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
Crockett watched Joanna dart through her garden like a rabbit fleeing a shotgun blast. Only it wasn’t fear that drove her. It was purpose. She was definitely up to something.
Once she disappeared into the barn, Crockett broke out of his bemused stupor. He grinned over his own foolishness. What was it about Joanna Robbins that took his attention hostage whenever she was near? The expressive features that displayed her every thought? The delightful way she blushed when he teased her? Or perhaps it was the way she threw herself wholeheartedly into those things that were important to her. Whatever it was, it was certainly compelling.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Crockett glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only thing Joanna had abandoned in the garden. Her hoe lay fallen atop the winter squash plants she’d been tending so carefully moments ago. And near the garden gate, a small burlap sack with a head or two of cabbage peeking out from between the folds sat forgotten.
Since Joanna
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