A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 by Heather Blanton

in .  . . and I’ll get you
some dinner.” She pulled the astonished girl to her feet. “We’ll just take this
one day at a time.”
    “Why—why are you
helping me?”
    “Why?” Delilah feigned
complete astonishment. “Because it’s the right thing to do. I can’t leave you
alone, here on the street. I couldn’t call myself human if I didn’t help you,
especially when I have the resources.”
    The two women started
walking back toward Tent Town, and Otis drifted into the shadows of a doorway
as they passed by him. “What’s your name, dear?” Delilah asked, nearly choking
on the sugar in her voice.
    “Mary Jean.”
    “Ah, such a pretty
name.” Delilah pulled a hair, still wet with tears, from the girl’s cheek and
tucked it behind her hear. “Innocent and pure, just like you, I bet.”

Chapter 9
     
     
     
     
    Logan leaned on the bar
and scanned Rebecca’s article announcing the arrival of a pastor, while Emilio
loitered at the door of the dilapidated church. Almost amused, Logan read aloud
phrases that struck him as carefully crafted . “ . . . a
new era dawns in Defiance . . . the preacher brings with him
myriad experiences and insights . . . and he seems unafraid of
our town’s rough and rowdy ways.”
    Translation: The
Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. A man of God who has enough sin in his background
to embarrass even the residents of Defiance has come to share the Good News.  
    But Rebecca’s final
sentence, “All are welcome at the Crooked Creek Chapel,” swelled Logan’s heart
with . . . peace.
    She had written a fine
article, all without using his name.
    He suspected that
wouldn’t hold water for long. He rubbed his smooth chin, hoping the shave, haircut,
and bath might go a ways in making him less easily recognizable. He would
introduce himself simply as Preacher, and see where that got him.
    “Emilio, thank you for
bringing me this. And to your questions, please tell Rebecca I think the
article is fine, and Mr. McIntyre that his crew can start whenever they’re
available.” He glanced up at the torn, mildewed canvas. “Let’s build a church.”
    The young man
straightened and snugged down his worn, tan cowboy hat on his head. “He said he
could have men here this afternoon.”
    Accepting help
graciously had been one of the hardest lessons Logan had had to learn about
being a pastor. Giving folks a way to serve the Lord was not the same thing as
accepting charity. Charles McIntyre had the means to renovate this building.
The sooner a church was up and running, the better. Besides, Delilah’s place
was going up at a breakneck pace. “This afternoon is fine.”
    Emilio nodded and
slipped out the door to deliver the messages.
    Logan folded the paper
and laid it on the bar. Searching for his enthusiasm, he surveyed his
ramshackle church. While he’d swept it clean of leaves and broken glass, and
turned up the few remaining chairs, he knew God hadn’t sent him here to play
house.
    Other men would build
this church. His job was to fill it with people.
    He dragged his hat off
the bar and headed out to round up a flock. He hadn’t yet stepped into the mud
of Bonanza Street when he noticed Delilah making her way toward him down a warped
boardwalk, a brawny, wide-chested Negro following close behind her.
    Logan waited on the
bottom step, refrained from putting on his hat, and watched her. She sauntered
up in a red silk dress, as smooth as a housecat headed for its favorite spot in
the sun.
    “Preacher.” She flipped
a fan open like a switchblade and waved it back and forth at her throat.
    “Miss Delilah. What can
I do for you on this fine day the Lord has made?”
    Her delicate features
tightened, golden brown eyes narrowed, seeming to glitter. “You shaved and cut
your hair.”
    Logan scratched the
back of his neck, now bare. “Yes ma’am. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, I’ve
been told.”
    Myriad emotions raced
across her face, but he couldn’t make heads or