June (15 page)

"Oh, yes. Angeline's. Wonderful woman doing an admirable job with those children."

"My friend Sam-Samantha Harris-you remember Sam? She was with me the day you met me at the dock."

"Yes, I remember Sam. A bright child, freckle faced and precocious."

June grinned. "That's Sam."

"What about her? Does she need special prayer?"

"That would be nice, Reverend, but Sam's not the problem; it's her Aunt Angeline. She cares for the orphans, and she's very ill."

"Yes, you requested prayer for Angeline this evening. I'm sure the Lord will hear her needs."

"Yes, I believe he will." June paused. "But the orphanage has dire needs right now, needs that have to be addressed."

"Did you pray for those needs to be met?"

June glanced at the safe. "I prayed, Reverend, and I'm hoping we can do more than pray. I thought perhaps the ministry might be willing to give the orphanage a small donation. The children need shoes and warm clothing. There's only one stove in the drafty house, and they desperately need a second stove for the upstairs bedrooms. If the crusade could share even a small portion of tonight's offering for the children-not a lot, maybe twenty dollars. Just enough to help-"

She faltered when Reverend Inman shook his head sadly.

"I'm afraid that would be out of the question. The crusade money is for the tabernacle."

"Yes, I know. But twenty dollars-the money would hardly be missed."

Reverend Inman shook his head again. "My heart goes out to the children, and I deeply wish the ministry could be of assistance, but there are so many needs, and so few funds to meet them. No, we cannot use tabernacle funds for other purposes.

June's spirit sagged.

The reverend's features gentled. "I understand your concern, June dear, but we must keep our focus on the tabernacle. God's work must be our first priority. The tabernacle will portray his glory to all who see it. Glory be to God."

June wanted to help the orphans as well as see the tabernacle built. Both were worthy causes.

"But twenty dollars, Reverend. The people give so generously-all they can spare."

Patting her shoulder, the reverend busied himself reading the night's tally. Obviously he considered the matter closed.

June sighed. She'd lost this battle. She was a mere lamb, and Reverend Inman was the shepherd. He was wiser than she, and he knew the most urgent need. He would never lead his followers astray....

Her heart was heavy as she let herself out of the tent a few minutes later and closed the flap behind her. Reverend Inman had promised to extinguish the lamp.

The children needed warm clothes, shoes, proper food. The concern refused to leave her.

Twenty dollars was a lot-but so little to ask for the orphans' sake.

Perhaps if she mentioned the orphans' needs to Parker tomorrow, he would allow her to....

No, he'd forbidden her to take up an offering. She could hold services, but she wasn't allowed to accept donations.

When she blew out the light and climbed into bed a short while later, her mind was still on the orphans. Clothes. Nourishing food. A second stove to warm a cold bedroom floor.

Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling.

Souls saved. God's Word proclaimed to thousands. The tabernacle.

Which was the more worthy need?

Chapter Eight

IGS! June had never seen so many pigs! White pigs, black pigs, big pigs, little pigs, white sows with their litters beside them, all rooting beneath the pines for acorns.

June shook her head at the comical sight. Pine Ridge Logging Camp was alive with pigs!

"Did ya ever see so many 'ogs in your life?" Sam sat up straighter, straining to get a better look. "Does Mr. Sentell raise 'ogs or cut timber?"

June frowned. "Apparently a little of both."

Sam tucked a lock of windblown hair beneath her bonnet as June drove the buckboard through an open gate. "There won't be none of that carryin' on and prayin' out loud, will there now, lovey?"

June swerved the buggy to avoid a boar sprawled sideways in the middle of the road. "Some-but I won't call on you to pray aloud."

"Right ducky of you," Sam grumbled. "Don't know 'ow I let meself get talked into this."

June made a face at her. "Samantha Harris, the Lord loves you despite your heathenish attitude." Sam needed a little spiritual tune-up, and June happily accepted the challenge.

The wind was nippy this morning in spite of a dazzling blue sky overhead. June welcomed the change to dry weather. Above, geese flew in a pretty, symmetrical formation. June concentrated on the message she wanted to bring to the women.

"I'll be speaking on faithfulness this morning."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "Be steppin' on a few toes, I'll wager."

"I'll do my best to avoid yours." June patted Sam's head and laughed.

The logging camp was active for Sunday morning. June frowned when she recalled that Parker hadn't attended a single crusade service this week. Where had he been? Eli had said Parker wasn't married, but she wondered if perhaps a woman occupied his thoughts. The idea intrigued her. That might explain his odd conduct, his lack of patience, his downright boorish behavior at times. Of course at other times, he could be very nice.

She was surprised when her thoughts took off in a new direction. Exactly what sort of woman would interest the gruff, opinionated logger-perhaps one of the scantily dressed women employed at The Gilded Hen? The notion left her feeling unsettled, though she couldn't imagine why.

Simon met the wagon as it rolled to a stop in front of the camp office. A shy grin spread across the giant's rugged features as he extended a hand to help June down.

"Good morning, Miss Kallahan. I've been expecting you.

"Good morning, Simon." June gave him a warm smile as she removed her gloves. It was interesting how Simon's gaze fixed solidly on Sam.

June glanced at Sam. It was clear to see she had no objections to the intense perusal.

"Simon, this is my friend, Samantha Harris. Sam is helping with services this morning."

Smiling, Simon effortlessly lifted Sam out of the buggy and set her lightly on her feet. The two continued to stare at each other as if this were their first encounter with the opposite sex.

Clearing her throat, June brought the moment back to the business at hand. "Simon, there's a box of study material in the bed of the wagon. If you would be so kind as to carry it in for me?"

"Yes, ma'am." Simon's eyes remained riveted on Sam's.

"Simon?"

He glanced up. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Please, don't call me ma'am." That made her sound like an old woman. "June will be fine."

"Yes, ma'am June." Simon reached for the box of study material and hefted it onto his wide shoulder. A sea of ridged muscles played in his forearms. June hid a smile when Sam gaped at the display of brawny masculinity.

June fell in step with Simon, aware of the curious eyes now focused in their direction.

Men paused in front of sudsy washtubs, watching the entourage as they moved through camp. Others were playing cards on a nearby porch. Two men in barber chairs lay back in the warm sunshine and enjoyed a shave.

"Don't mind all the gawking," Simon called over his shoulder. "We don't get many women up this way."

"But you have some?" June questioned. Otherwise, her purpose to hold camp services would be useless. Surely Parker would have said if there were no women in camp! Her footsteps momentarily slowed. She started to fume. She wouldn't put it past him to let her come all the way up here for nothing.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Oh, there are a few," Simon conceded. "Eddy Crager's wife, Mary. She's a cook. Loren Jacobs's and Jim Bushy's families live up here, though Ellen Bushy doesn't like it. Come spring, she'll be leaving. Can't take the isolation anymore."

Sam turned to peer over her shoulder at the activity. "Why are the men washing their clothes on Sunday?"

Simon flashed her a friendly grin. "Sunday's boil-up day-the day the men delouse their blankets and clothing."

"Sunday's the Lord's day." June wrinkled her nose at the peculiar tang that saturated the air. "What's that smell?"

"Laundry soap, scalding water, and Peerless tobacco. It's the only thing we've found to kill lice."

June shuddered. "Lice."

"Yes, ma'am." His features sobered. "We try real hard to get rid of them." Simon headed for the cookshack. "Parker said for you to hold services in here. We eat dinner at eleven on Sundays. You'll need to be through by then."

They entered the cookshack, and June deeply inhaled the pleasant aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls.

Setting the box on the table, Simon looked at Sam. "I have a few things left to attend to. I'll be back for the services."

Sam flushed a pretty red.

The door closed behind him, and June laughed. "I think he likes you."

"Ow, what a crock of rubbish. The bloke barely knows me.

"Still-" June stripped off her bonnet-"by the gleam in his eyes, I think he'd like to know you better."

A few minutes before nine, Mary Crager removed her apron, hooked it over the back of a chair, and took her seat at the long table. June welcomed her with a friendly smile.

"Mary?"

The woman nodded. She was painfully thin, with shoulder-length brown hair that could stand a good washing. June recognized shyness in her doleful nut brown eyes. Her hands were rough and reddened from hard work and scalding dishwater. In her right one, she clutched a small, worn Bible.

"I'm glad you could come," June said, and meant it. She hadn't known how many to expect in the first service. One was a promising start.

Sam fished in the box and handed Mary a colorful chain of Bible verses. "Here, lovey. June made 'em herself, she did."

Mary's smile was saintly as she modestly accepted the gift. "Thank you.... I've ... looked forward to you coming all week."

"God bless you," June said softly.

The door opened, and two women entered. Ellen Bushy and Amy Jacobs walked to the table and sat down at the end of the bench, their eyes darting around the room. They clearly were uncomfortable with the situation.

Sam forced a paper chain on them, though they protested, each trying to give Sam a coin in return.

"It's free, lovey. June made 'em."

The women perused the paper chains, exchanging dubious looks.

"It's all right," June explained. "They're Bible verses. You can refer to them during the coming week."

The women slowly nodded as if that was acceptable.

By ten minutes after nine, Simon and two men who introduced themselves as Pete Ridges and Arnold Atkinson joined the service. June stood up, her gaze encompassing her small flock, and her heart swelled with joy. She expected the services to be small; size didn't matter. Where two or more gathered in his name, God promised to be there also.

She glanced up expectantly as the door opened again, hoping Parker had decided to attend. Instead she saw a burly logger carrying a fifty-pound sack of potatoes on his shoulder. He walked past the bench and strode back to the kitchen.

Opening her Bible, June sighed, ignoring a prick of disappointment. She glanced up when the door opened again, and this time her hopes were realized. Her heart thumped when she saw Parker standing at the back of the room, arms crossed, waiting for services to begin. For the life of her, she didn't know why his approval should matter to her. But oddly enough, it did.

Releasing a pent-up breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she reminded herself that at least he was here. That was more than she'd expected.

Smiling, she welcomed the small group. All in all, the services were off to a promising start.

A month later Parker stood at his office window, arms akimbo, watching Simon load a box into June's buggy after the morning worship service. Services were going better than he had expected, but he still thought he was going to live to regret allowing her into camp. If he got wind she was attempting to raise funds for Inman, she would be gone before she could say, "God bless you."

Guilt nagged at him for not participating in the services. He attended because Sunday was the Lord's Day and up until now worship opportunitites had been pretty slim. But wild horses couldn't make him tell her he actually approved of her interference. From the time he'd been knee-high to a grasshopper, he'd attended church services. Uncle Walt had insisted on it; Aunt Lacey upheld the edict with a stiff hickory switch. Stubbornness was the only thing keeping him from actually taking part in Miss-High-and-Mighty Kallahan's service.

The memory of Uncle Walt sobered him. Where had Walt gone wrong?

June must think I'm a cold, cantankerous man, Parker mused. She couldn't be more wrong.... Not that it bothered him a bit what her opinion of him was. He was a thinking man. And he happened to think Isaac Inman, just like Uncle Walt, had let his desire to serve the Lord get out of hand.

Building that fancy tabernacle, using money to construct an extravagant exhibition that would bring thousands of strangers streaming into the area to view the spectacle! Thousands of people would be crowding the streets, overflowing the hotels, making a nuisance of themselves. The church itself would be miles from the logging camps, but it would still interfere with everything.