Page 17 of Montana Bride By Christmas
For several minutes, he sat quietly in prayer. God, show me how to help Evan. Give me insight into Your Word that I might deliver hope and encouragement to Your people. He readily admitted he needed to hear from God as much, if not more, than those who would gather on Sunday.
He pulled out his notes, opened his Bible, and dipped his pen in ink. Dishes rattled in the kitchen. Grandfather grunted as he made his way to his easy chair. The poor man must be feeling pain today. Annie murmured something.
Hugh leaned closer to catch her words.
“Evan, did you enjoy breakfast? I’m glad to see you ate it all. I hope you got enough.” She chattered away as if Evan understood and responded to everything she said.
Grandfather’s deeper voice chimed in. “Hurts my bones to watch you sit on the floor, young man. I sure do enjoy my soft chair.”
Hugh bent his head, determined to concentrate. He could close the door, but he didn’t. How else was he to know what was going on in the other room? And if he wished, even a tiny bit, that he could be there observing, it was only because he cared about Evan. He refused to admit he wished he could see the expression on Annie’s face as she talked to the unresponsive boy.
He forced his attention to sermon preparation and read over the Bible passage he meant to preach from.
A knock rattled the back door. Hugh set aside his pen and pushed to his feet. By the time he reached the office door, a blast of cold air indicated Annie had let in the caller.
“Hi, Logan. What brings you here? Did you want to see Hugh? I’ll get him.”
“I’m here to see you.” Logan’s voice rang with authority.
“Well, here I am. Can you see me?”
Hugh hung back. Someone would call him if he was needed.
“Dawson told me you moved in here.” Logan’s voice rang with disapproval.
“Would you like a cup of coffee and some cookies?” Annie sounded unperturbed by her brother’s attitude.
“Fine, but don’t think you can keep me from speaking my mind.” The coffee pot scraped across the stove, and china clattered on the table as Annie served her brother.
Should he join them? But Hugh didn’t move.
After a moment or two, Logan spoke again. “Tell me what you think you’re doing.”
Annie chuckled. “I know Dawson told you everything, and nothing has changed since yesterday.”
“You can’t seriously plan to marry in response to an advertisement.”
“Have you never heard of mail-order brides? Isn’t that what they do?”
Hugh marveled at the calm way she answered.
“You aren’t an old spinster. You have a family that gladly wants you to stay with them. Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you object?”
“Because you deserve better than a loveless marriage.”
“I’m not married yet.” She drawled out the final word as if to inform Logan it was only a matter of time.
Hugh had to put a stop to this. He hadn’t promised her a marriage...only a four-week trial period. Was that long enough for someone to answer his ad? Someone more suitable. As he headed for the door, Grandfather spoke.
“Annie thinks she can protect herself from pain by settling for less than love.”
“Why,” Logan demanded in an aggrieved tone, “would she want to do that?”
Hugh slowed, wanting to hear her response.
“Because of that young fella who courted her—what was it?—a year or two ago.”
