The Marshal's Promise. Rhonda Gibson

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Seth, but I was wondering if I might have a few minutes of your time.”

       He pulled the door open wider. “Well, sure, Reverend Griffin. Please do come in.” Seth stepped farther back into the room. It was amazing how fast the reverend had located him. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”

       “Only been here a few hours.” The reverend smoothed his mustache over his top lip.

       “Would you like some supper?” Seth asked, leading the way to the kitchen.

       “No, thank you. I just ate over at the diner.”

       Seth stopped and turned to face him. “Oh, would you rather sit in the sitting room to talk?”

       “No, I don’t want to keep you from your supper. We can chat at the table.”

       Seth nodded and continued on to the kitchen. He poured each of them a cup of coffee and then sat. “What brings you here?”

       Reverend Griffin pulled out a chair across from him. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell me about you and Miss Ramsey?” He picked up his cup and held it his hands.

       “There’s nothing to tell. She needed a job and I gave her one.”

       The reverend looked him straight in the eyes and demanded, “Doing what?”

       He took a deep breath and folded a tortilla in half. If it were any other man, he’d tell him it was none of his business, but since James Griffin was a man of God, Seth decided it would be best just to answer. “She cooks and cleans for me.”

       “That’s all?” He arched an eyebrow and studied Seth over the rim of his cup.

       Savory stew and spicy flavors coated Seth’s tongue. He had to swallow before answering the minister. “No, she also agreed to do my laundry once a week. Why all the questions, Reverend?”

       James set his cup down. “It’s like this, son. The ladies think it isn’t decent for a young woman to be here with you alone.”

       Seth sighed. “Reverend, Miss Ramsey isn’t living here with me. She’s coming in every morning, while I’m working, to cook and clean. She wasn’t here this evening when I came home. So I don’t see what they are upset about. And, if it bothers them so much, why didn’t one of them offer to be her chaperone?”

       James laughed. “You better be careful what you ask for, Marshal. I can just see Mrs. Walker and her group of friends doing just that. Now, let me get this straight. You won’t be home when she’s here?”

       Seth pushed his bowl back. All his interest in food was gone. “I can’t guarantee that, Reverend. There may be times we are both here.”

       James frowned. “I see.”

       “But I give you my word, on those occasions Miss Ramsey will be safe with me.”

       The two men studied each other. Finally the minister smiled and pushed back his chair. “Then that’s good enough for me.” He walked to the door and Seth followed.

       “I’ll see you on Sunday, Reverend.” Seth stopped in the doorway.

       They shook hands and then the minister left.

       Seth closed the door and looked about. The sitting room had been dusted and swept. Thanks to his promises, Rebecca now worked for him and the town gossips had started to spread their poison.

      * * *

       Rebecca gathered her basket of applesauce-oatmeal muffins and headed out the door. She stopped on the sidewalk and enjoyed the crisp morning breeze. Mr. Watson entered the newspaper office. He waved at her before shutting the door.

       The sound of skipping feet caught her attention and she turned to see Grace Miller skipping toward her. “Hi, Miss Rebecca.”

       “Well, good morning, Grace. Off to school this morning?” she asked.

       Grace held a lunch pail in one hand and a book in another. “Yeah, Ma makes me leave early every morning. I end up there way before the other kids. Where are you going?” She tugged at the long brown braid that had landed on her shoulder when she’d stopped skipping.

       Rebecca tried to remember if Grace had left early the mornings she’d been staying at the Millers’ house. After a few moments, she gave up. “I am headed to work.” Rebecca started to walk down the sidewalk. She liked the idea that she had a job now and didn’t have to rely on someone else to take care of her.

       “At the marshal’s house?”

       “Yes, at the marshal’s house.”

       Grace walked along beside her. “Mama says you are lucky he needed someone ’cause there isn’t no work here.”

       “Because there isn’t any work here,” she automatically corrected.

       Grace frowned up at her. “That is what I said.”

       Rebecca laughed and continued walking. She was in too good a mood to press the matter further. Grace skipped along beside her.

       “Your mother is right. I feel very blessed.” Rebecca tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. If it hadn’t been for the marshal, she’d have had to go home. The last place she wanted to go.

       “Can I go with you to the marshal’s house? I don’t want to go to school yet.” Grace stopped in front of the diner and looked up the hill at the school.

       The smell of bacon and eggs drifted to them as the town banker opened the diner door and walked out. “Excuse me, ladies.” He tipped his hat at them and then continued on down the sidewalk.

       “Yes, as long as you’re sure your mother doesn’t mind.”

       Grace smiled. “She said she doesn’t mind as long as I get to school on time.”

       Rebecca frowned. Had Mrs. Miller planned on Grace going with her to Seth’s house? That’s the way it sounded, but then again, children often maneuvered things around to fit what they wanted to do. Besides, what difference would it make as long as Grace got to school on time? “Well, then, let’s go.”

       They arrived and Rebecca knocked on the door. Grace shifted from foot to foot as they waited. Seth opened the door. He stood before them with wet hair and stocking feet. The brown curls coiled about his white collar and Rebecca itched to reach out and touch the damp strands.

       “Good morning,” she said in a soft voice.

       Grace looked up at her. The young girl tilted her head as if to study Rebecca’s face further. The expression in her eyes said she knew something was wrong but wasn’t sure what.

       Rebecca cleared her throat and said a little more forcefully, “Good morning, Marshal.”

       He smiled at Grace. “I see you brought a chaperone this morning.”

       “I’m not a chaperone. I’m Grace Miller.” The nine-year-old stood up taller as if to remind him of who she was.

       “So you are.” He tugged her braid.

       Rebecca pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “May we come in?”

       Seth opened the door farther and Grace slid around him. He looked into Rebecca’s eyes and smiled. The dimple in his left cheek winked. “Sure, come on in.”

       He inhaled as she walked past. “What’s in the basket?”

       “Applesauce-oatmeal muffins. My mother’s recipe.” Rebecca walked past him and headed for the kitchen. “I thought you might like them with a hot cup of coffee for breakfast.”

       “Sounds wonderful,” he answered, following close behind.

       Her mother used to say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Rebecca hadn’t thought of that in a long time. She made the coffee and listened to Grace and Seth talk