Courting Emma (Little Hickman Creek Series #3) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Sharlene MacLaren
roof.
"Vinegar, you say?" Harland Joked. "Ha! Miss Emma's
as scrappy as a hog-tied Indian squaw. I daresay she could
swallow down a teaspoon o' vinegar with nary a wince." To
that, both men cackled loud enough to wake the mongrel dog
lounging under Emma's porch. The mangy mutt sauntered
out and shook the dust off himself, then voiced his annoyance
with a low growl.
Emma frowned and turned away from the window.
It was high time she drew herself a bath and tried to wash
away the memory of this day.
"Mr. Atkins, come and sit by us," came the shrill invitation
from Lill Broughton.
"Reverend, Lill, not Mister," Ben corrected. The entire
family scooted over on their blanket, making room for Jon's
approach. He grinned and filled up the distance between
them with a few long strides.
"Mister will do just fine, Lill," he said, dropping down on
the blanket in the precise corner that Lill patted with her hand.
Her entire freckled face was awash with excitement. By contrast,
her little sister Molly lay sprawled across her stepmother's lap,
dead to the world, her plump, round face smudged with grime,
her (lark hair mussed and coming loose from its short ponytail.
Jon couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You're not excited about
these fireworks, are you, Lil?"
"My insides is 'bout to explode!" she exclaimed. "Papa says
it'll be at least another half hour. The sky needs to get a lot
more stars in it."
Jon couldn't blame her for her excitement. If he were honest
with himself, he'd have to admit to having a few butterflies
himself. It'd been a good long while since Little Hickman had
sponsored a fireworks display. Jon reached in his pocket and
pulled out a piece of wrapped taffy. "Maybe this will tide you
over?" he asked, handing it to the eager child.
"Mm, thank you, Mister-uh, Reverend." All fingers, Lill
hastened to unwrap the concoction, momentarily losing herself in the effort. Jon chortled to himself. In the unlikely event
lie ever had children, lie would want them to be just like Lill
and Molly.
"Did you get that tanked up Ezra Browning situated over
at Enmia's place?" Ben asked. Sitting close to Liza, he had
propped an arm over his bent knee and was chewing on a long blade of grass, his hat tilted so that it nearly covered one
dark eyebrow.
"How'd you hear about that?" Jon asked, dragging his eyes
away front Lill.
Ben harruniphed. "Who in Hickman hasn't heard about
it? 'Fraid you were an interesting topic this afternoon, my
friend." Eyes twinkling, Ben went on. "Topics ran the gamut,
too. Everything from `What would possess the preacher to
be seen with that pickled fool?' to `Did you notice Reverend
Atkins' new boots?"'
Jon shot Ben a curious look then glanced at his boots, not
new, but shined that morning by a young lad anxious to make
a dime. "You're joshing, right?"
Ben shook his head and laughed. "I'ni serious as a doublebarreled shotgun. Course, in this town, it doesn't take much to
get tongues wagging. I have a feeling Iris Winthrop was a mite
put out with you for walking down the same side of the street
as Ezra Browning, much less helping him along."
"It was no less than Jesus would have done," Jon countered.
"Does she not know that our Lord took meals with the scum of
the earth? In fact, He associated with them every day."
"You don't need to convince nie of that, but do you think
that matters one bit to Mrs. Winthrop? Everyone knows that
woman is all about upholding her fine character. Nothing
is more important to her than status and maintaining Little
Hickman's spotless reputation." Ben cut loose with another
low-throated chuckle. "Mightn't have been so bad if we hadn't
had so many visitors today."
Jon's eyes scanned the field where literally hundreds,
maybe even a thousand or more, folks had heard about Little
Hickman's fireworks and come out to watch. Buggy after
buggy lined the outskirts of town, where folks had left them and their horses tied to makeshift
"Vinegar, you say?" Harland Joked. "Ha! Miss Emma's
as scrappy as a hog-tied Indian squaw. I daresay she could
swallow down a teaspoon o' vinegar with nary a wince." To
that, both men cackled loud enough to wake the mongrel dog
lounging under Emma's porch. The mangy mutt sauntered
out and shook the dust off himself, then voiced his annoyance
with a low growl.
Emma frowned and turned away from the window.
It was high time she drew herself a bath and tried to wash
away the memory of this day.
"Mr. Atkins, come and sit by us," came the shrill invitation
from Lill Broughton.
"Reverend, Lill, not Mister," Ben corrected. The entire
family scooted over on their blanket, making room for Jon's
approach. He grinned and filled up the distance between
them with a few long strides.
"Mister will do just fine, Lill," he said, dropping down on
the blanket in the precise corner that Lill patted with her hand.
Her entire freckled face was awash with excitement. By contrast,
her little sister Molly lay sprawled across her stepmother's lap,
dead to the world, her plump, round face smudged with grime,
her (lark hair mussed and coming loose from its short ponytail.
Jon couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You're not excited about
these fireworks, are you, Lil?"
"My insides is 'bout to explode!" she exclaimed. "Papa says
it'll be at least another half hour. The sky needs to get a lot
more stars in it."
Jon couldn't blame her for her excitement. If he were honest
with himself, he'd have to admit to having a few butterflies
himself. It'd been a good long while since Little Hickman had
sponsored a fireworks display. Jon reached in his pocket and
pulled out a piece of wrapped taffy. "Maybe this will tide you
over?" he asked, handing it to the eager child.
"Mm, thank you, Mister-uh, Reverend." All fingers, Lill
hastened to unwrap the concoction, momentarily losing herself in the effort. Jon chortled to himself. In the unlikely event
lie ever had children, lie would want them to be just like Lill
and Molly.
"Did you get that tanked up Ezra Browning situated over
at Enmia's place?" Ben asked. Sitting close to Liza, he had
propped an arm over his bent knee and was chewing on a long blade of grass, his hat tilted so that it nearly covered one
dark eyebrow.
"How'd you hear about that?" Jon asked, dragging his eyes
away front Lill.
Ben harruniphed. "Who in Hickman hasn't heard about
it? 'Fraid you were an interesting topic this afternoon, my
friend." Eyes twinkling, Ben went on. "Topics ran the gamut,
too. Everything from `What would possess the preacher to
be seen with that pickled fool?' to `Did you notice Reverend
Atkins' new boots?"'
Jon shot Ben a curious look then glanced at his boots, not
new, but shined that morning by a young lad anxious to make
a dime. "You're joshing, right?"
Ben shook his head and laughed. "I'ni serious as a doublebarreled shotgun. Course, in this town, it doesn't take much to
get tongues wagging. I have a feeling Iris Winthrop was a mite
put out with you for walking down the same side of the street
as Ezra Browning, much less helping him along."
"It was no less than Jesus would have done," Jon countered.
"Does she not know that our Lord took meals with the scum of
the earth? In fact, He associated with them every day."
"You don't need to convince nie of that, but do you think
that matters one bit to Mrs. Winthrop? Everyone knows that
woman is all about upholding her fine character. Nothing
is more important to her than status and maintaining Little
Hickman's spotless reputation." Ben cut loose with another
low-throated chuckle. "Mightn't have been so bad if we hadn't
had so many visitors today."
Jon's eyes scanned the field where literally hundreds,
maybe even a thousand or more, folks had heard about Little
Hickman's fireworks and come out to watch. Buggy after
buggy lined the outskirts of town, where folks had left them and their horses tied to makeshift