The Chapel Car Bride Page 5

  “There’s usually a reason, my dear. Perhaps folks don’t have the funds to keep their homes or businesses in good repair. My carpentry skills can be put to good use here in Finch. I think the Lord is providing me with an opportunity to become acquainted with lots of folks who need help.”

  “I suppose that’s a good way to look at things, but it would take a lifetime for one man to get this town presentable.” She looked toward the houses perched on the hillside. “And another lifetime to get those houses repaired and painted.” She gave her father a sideward glance. “But knowing you, I’m sure you’ll do your best to get it all done in less than a month.”

  “Oh, I think I’ll need at least six weeks.” Her father’s laughter was contagious, and Hope joined in. He lightly grasped her elbow and directed her to the other side of the street. “Let’s begin at the general store.” A wooden sign hung at a lopsided angle over the front door. Chipped white paint announced they were about to enter the Finch General Store.

  Hope leaned close and kept her voice low. “I hope the inside is in better condition than the outside.”

  Her father patted her hand. “We need to have a spirit of kindness, my dear. Over the years I’ve discovered that most folks do the best they can with what they’re given. We won’t win the hearts of people if we are critical, now, will we?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. With his quiet comment, he was reminding her why they’d come to Finch. For her to point out shortcomings was neither helpful nor becoming. “I’m sorry, Papa. You’re right.”

  “No need to apologize. Finch can’t compare to Pittsburgh, but you must remember I warned you that life would be very different and much more difficult.”

  She bowed her head in a slight nod. How could she forget the cautionary tales her father had spun as he’d attempted to deter her from joining him? Hope had initially decided his claims of a difficult life in the railcar and small towns were exaggerated and she’d quickly pushed them from her mind. While life in the railcar hadn’t been particularly pleasant, living in this town might prove to be more of a challenge. A thought she would keep to herself.

  Once inside, her father glanced around the store, then turned to Hope. “Do you see the proprietor?”

  Hope craned her neck to the left and then to the right before moving toward the right side of the store. “I don’t see any customers, either.” She gestured to the left side of the building. “Why don’t you go that way and I’ll look over here?”

  She’d passed the canned goods and fabrics when she heard her father’s voice. Apparently he’d located the owner. She soon found the men and stepped to her father’s side. He looked at the older gentleman. “This is my daughter, Hope. Mr. Woodbine.” He looked down at her. “Mr. Woodbine owns the general store, so you’ll be seeing him when you purchase our supplies.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy doing business here, Mr. Woodbine. It looks like we’ve come at an opportune time since you’re not particularly busy.” She glanced toward the counter at the front of the store. “Perhaps we could leave some of our flyers on the counter and you could give them to your customers.”

  Her father cleared his throat, and Hope turned toward him. His forehead creased into tight wrinkles, his brows dropping low. She’d obviously overstepped.

  She inhaled a deep breath. “Why don’t I look around the store while you and Mr. Woodbine finish your conversation?”

  Her father reached inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “Better yet, take this to the post office and mail it for me.” He handed her the envelope and two one-cent coins to purchase a stamp. “Mr. Woodbine tells me the post office isn’t far.”

  Thrusting his thumb toward the far wall, the older man gestured to the west. “Jest go outside, turn in the opposite direction of the train depot and keep walking until you see the sign. It’s on the other side of the street. You’ll pass the livery and hotel afore ya get there.”

  “Shall I return here after I’ve posted your letter? Or perhaps I should stop at some of the other shops and ask to leave our pamphlets?” Hope tucked the change into her pocket and looked up at her father.

  “That will be fine, but stay on Main Street so I can find you when I’ve finished speaking to Mr. Woodbine.”

  The store owner laughed. “This ain’t no big city, Preacher. Most any business you want to visit is on Main Street.” He hesitated a moment. “’Course you might want to take your preachin’ to some of the folks who frequent the speakeasies outside of the small towns in these parts. Liquor’s not legal anymore so they say there’s only dancin’ and such going on, but I think they may enjoy a little moonshine, too.” He winked at the preacher.

  “I may want to visit those establishments in the future, but I don’t want my daughter inside such places.” He turned a stern look on her. “You understand, Hope?”

  “Of course, Papa.” After her problem with the hooligans in Brookfield, Hope wasn’t about to chance a meeting with men who might be drinking liquor.

  Pamphlets in hand, she lifted them in a quick wave and strode outdoors. The afternoon sun was bright for springtime and warmed her back as she headed off toward the post office. Along the way she stopped at the bank, a barber shop, and several other small shops where, along with her flyers, news of their arrival had been welcomed.

  Like most folks they’d met on their journey, the residents of Finch had never heard of a chapel car. She invited them to attend the meeting that evening and remained patient as she responded to the same questions she’d answered at each stop along the way. After walking farther than she’d anticipated, Hope wondered if Mr. Woodbine had played a trick on her. She’d passed the livery and the hotel, but she still hadn’t seen the post office. She was about to ask an approaching young woman when she spotted the structure tucked between a boardinghouse and a hardware store.

  If her father hadn’t met her by the time she left the post office, she would stop at both places once she posted his letter. Unlike Pittsburgh, there was no line at the Finch post office, and it took only a few minutes to purchase her stamp and mail the letter. Her request to place a small stack of flyers in the business was met with enthusiasm. She departed, pleased with the reactions she’d received thus far.

  She was intently counting the number of flyers in her hand when she approached the hardware store and didn’t notice the rakes and shovels leaning against several wheelbarrows outside the store. Her foot came down on the tines of a rake that instantly popped forward, hit her head, and then sent the remaining rakes and shovels clattering to the wooden sidewalk.

  Her hat tipped to the side as she rubbed the lump that was now rising on her temple with one hand and reached down to retrieve one of the fallen rakes with her other.

  “Trouble seems to find you wherever you go, doesn’t it?”

  Hope looked up and was met by a lopsided grin and eyes the color of lush spring grass. Her head throbbed. She’d seen this man before, but where?

  He stooped down, picked up the rakes and shovels, and leaned them against one of the wheelbarrows. “You met up with some trouble in Brookfield, too.”

  She gasped. This was the man who had chased off the ruffians. “I remember who you are. You hurried off before I could thank you for helping me while I was teaching the children in Brookfield.”

  He nodded and picked up several rakes. “Luke Hughes.”

  “Hope Irvine,” she said with a slender smile.

  “Nice to meet you. I rushed off because I didn’t want to miss my train. I live here.” He glanced toward the hardware store. “Well, not here. I mean, I don’t live in the hardware store. I live in Finch.”

  She giggled, but her laughter caused a sharp pain in her head. She touched the tips of her fingers to her temple. “I believe I’m going to have a terrible headache.”

  He leaned closer to her. “You may have more than a headache. Given the size of the lump and where the rake hit you, I think you may have a black eye by evening
.”

  “Oh, no. How awful. What will people think if they see me with a black eye at the meeting tonight?”

  He grinned. “Your husband’s a preacher. I doubt they’ll think he’s at fault. Maybe you can tell folks what happened before you begin the singing.”

  She massaged her temple and stared at him. He wasn’t making any sense. Had the blow to her head muddled her brain? “My husband? Whatever are you talking about?”

  CHAPTER

  5

  Luke looked deep into the young woman’s eyes. Maybe she needed medical attention. Her memory seemed flawed. She had recalled who he was, yet confusion had taken hold when he mentioned her husband.

  He frowned and continued to stare at her. “Maybe you should see a doctor.” He pointed down the street. “Doc Burch might be in his office. I can walk you over there. If he’s not around, maybe you should go back and rest.”

  “Unless the doctor can do something to make this lump disappear or stop the possibility of a black eye, I don’t think I need to see him.” She touched her hair. “I’m not bleeding, am I?”

  “No.” He leaned down and swooped up her hat, brushed a smudge of dirt from the brim, and handed it to her. “At least not that I can see. Would you like me to take a closer look?” He lifted his hand toward her mane of reddish-brown curls.

  She pulled back a step.

  “Watch out!” Luke pointed at the tools he’d restacked only minutes earlier. “Sorry. I thought you wanted me to check if you were bleeding. I didn’t mean to be forward.” Hoping to assure her, he shoved his hand into his pants pocket. “Where’s your husband? I can fetch him if you’d like.”

  Hope sighed and gave a slight shake of her head. “Why do you keep asking about my husband? I don’t have a husband.”

  For a moment he remained silent and attempted to digest what she’d said. It made no sense. A proper young lady wouldn’t be traveling alone with a man who wasn’t her husband, and a preacher wouldn’t bring along a woman who wasn’t his wife, would he?

  “You’re not married and you’re traveling with a man? Without a chaperone?”

  He shouldn’t have been so bold, but she needed to know that folks living in the hills of West Virginia would be as disapproving as those living in large cities. Hadn’t she and the preacher encountered any questions before now? Or had people simply assumed they were married? Was he the first to ask? He lowered his eyes to look at her ring finger. She was wearing gloves, but he didn’t see any sign of a ring beneath the cotton fabric.

  “I hope you won’t fault me for accompanying my father without a chaperone.” Red splotches colored her cheeks, but there was a defiant tone to her voice. She lifted the flower-bedecked hat to her head and gave a firm tug to its brim.

  Her explanation left him momentarily speechless. Luke hadn’t been able to get a close look at the preacher back in Brookfield. He simply assumed the preacher was her husband. Embarrassment seized him, but was quickly replaced by a sense of unexpected exhilaration. This lovely young woman wasn’t married—wasn’t even betrothed. At least he didn’t think she was. There he went again, jumping to conclusions.

  “I-I’m very sorry.” He bowed his head. “I hope you’ll accept my apology and we can start over.” He looked up and grinned. “Maybe become friends? I’d be happy to show you around town.”

  “From what Mr. Woodbine over at the general store told me, a grand tour won’t be necessary. He said all the businesses except a couple of taverns are located right here on Main Street.”

  “That’s true, but there’s more to Finch than Main Street. I thought you might want to meet some of the folks who live here.” Luke gestured toward the hillside. “Of course, there’s the mine, but I don’t think you’ll want to spend much time there. You’d get pretty dirty if you went over there to do any visiting. Besides, management frowns on uninvited visitors.”

  “Hope!”

  Miss Irvine turned and waved at the tall gentleman striding toward them. The man’s eyes narrowed as he drew near her side and looked at him. Concern etched his face. “I hope there isn’t any problem?”

  Hope shrugged. “Not unless you consider knocking over a pile of shovels and rakes a problem.”

  Her father let out a short gasp and turned toward the window of the hardware store. “I’m pleased to see there’s no broken glass.” He offered Luke a narrow smile. “If there are any damages, I’ll take care of them for my daughter.”

  Luke shook his head. “I don’t own the store. I don’t even work here. I just happened to come along when the mishap occurred and I offered a bit of help.” He tapped his finger to his temple. “Your daughter took a good hit to the side of her head. I figure she’s gonna have a pretty bad headache and maybe a black eye, but she said she didn’t want to see the doc.”

  The preacher twisted around and lifted his hand to his daughter’s head. “Let me see, Hope.” He frowned. “I believe Mr. . . .” He extended his hand toward Luke. “We haven’t even met, have we? I’m Pastor Layton Irvine. And you are?”

  “Luke. Luke Hughes. I work for the mining company. My family lives up there.” He nodded toward the hillside.

  “Well, thank you for coming to my daughter’s assistance, Mr. Hughes. We’ve brought our chapel car and hope to hold meetings . . .”

  Hope touched her father’s arm and stayed him. “He knows, Papa. Mr. Hughes was in Brookfield when you were holding meetings there.”

  “Ah, well that’s good to know. Perhaps you can help us spread the word to your friends and neighbors that we’ll be holding a meeting tonight at the chapel car. It’s short notice, but we’d like to begin our ministry as soon as possible. If the folks who attend tonight enjoy the meeting, I hope they’ll encourage others to come in the future.”

  Luke smiled. “I’ll do what I can, Preacher, but you need to know that folks around here don’t take to strangers. There’s only a few reasons for anyone to come to Finch, so folks are mighty suspicious of new arrivals.”

  “I’d like to learn whatever you’re willing to share about the town and the folks who live here, Mr. Hughes.”

  Luke pushed his cap back on his head. “If you call me Luke instead of Mr. Hughes, I’ll tell ya what I can.”

  “Agreed,” the preacher said. “If you have time, we could go back to the chapel car and visit.” He glanced at his daughter. “And you, my dear, can rest and perhaps take some headache powders.” He patted Hope’s arm. “I’m hopeful you’ll be able to help with the music this evening, and teach the children.”

  “I don’t need to rest, Papa, and I’ll have no problem conducting classes for the children this evening. You’re going to discover I have more resilience and determination than most women.”

  Luke glanced at Hope. She’d directed a smile at her father, but Luke didn’t miss the grimace that followed. There was little doubt she was in pain. Did she believe revealing her discomfort made her appear weak? He’d judged her to be a meek and obedient young woman, but perhaps he was mistaken.

  “What about it, Luke? Do you have time to visit with us?” The preacher arched his brows.

  Luke accepted the invitation. He wanted to remain in Miss Irvine’s company, but if her father had his way, Hope would likely go off to rest once they returned to the chapel car. Still, he knew the preacher would be more quickly accepted in Finch if he had an understanding of the challenges he’d encounter, and he wanted to do all he could to help the people of this town find hope in the Lord. Luke decided to do his best to explain things. And if he was completely honest with himself, he wanted the opportunity to get to know Miss Irvine much better.

  On the walk back to the train station, the preacher detailed their journey from Pittsburgh to Finch. “The two of you must enjoy traveling. What other states have you visited, Miss Irvine?”

  Before she could answer, the preacher shook his head. “This is the first time Hope has traveled with me.” There wasn’t time for further explanation before they crossed the railroad tr
acks and reached the spur where the crew had placed the chapel car.

  Eager to see the inside of the railcar, Luke followed the preacher and his daughter up the steps. “As you can see, this is the portion where we hold our meetings.” He chuckled. “I forgot, you saw all of this in Brookfield, didn’t you?”

  Luke shook his head. “No, the car was already full up when I arrived. I got a glimpse from outside but never was able to see much.” He looked around, amazed at the sight. “This is really something. Looks like you can fit sixty or seventy people in here.” He pointed to the wooden lectern and small organ. “Hard to believe you can get everything in here. It’s just like a church, only a little more cramped.”

  The preacher laughed. “Folks are a lot more crowded in here, and when winter arrives, it’s too cold for the children to have their classes outdoors. When I’m in a town for the winter, I try to find an empty building to use if there’s no church.” He gestured for Luke to follow him. “Is there a church in Finch?”

  “There was up until about five years ago when we had a fire that destroyed it. There’s nothing much left. Nobody made any effort to rebuild since we never could get a preacher to stay for more than a month or two. Outsiders aren’t easily accepted in these parts, not even preachers.”

  The pastor pointed to one of the chairs tucked into their living quarters and motioned for Luke to sit down. Luke didn’t want to gawk, but it was hard not to try to figure out how two people could live in such a small space. It appeared there was something tucked away above and below every piece of furniture.

  “Why is that, Luke?”

  His breath caught when Hope passed by him. The preacher cleared his throat, and Luke pulled his attention away from the young woman. “Why is what?”

  The preacher’s glance traveled to his daughter, then back to Luke. “Why don’t folks trust outsiders?”

  Luke bobbed his head. “Oh, right. Outsiders. Most strangers who show up in Finch are men looking for work in the mines. You’ve come from Pittsburgh so you must know there’s not as much need for coal right now, meaning the owners have cut production. The men in the office tell us it’s called a financial downturn and that it’s all over the country, not just here in West Virginia. Anyway, most of us have had our hours cut and work only two or three days a week.”