Courting Emma (Little Hickman Creek Series #3) Read online

  WHAT PEOPLE ARE WRITING ABOUT

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  04,

  Pastor Jon and boardinghouse proprietor Emma are convincing characters in this spirited romance. MacLaren writes a captivating, rich historical tale that hooks readers with human emotions and experiences in the first pages. If you like wholesomeness or themes of faith, I recommend Courting Emma. This book promises to be as wildly popular as the two earlier Little Hickman Creek books.

  -Brenda Nixon Speaker and Author www.BrendaNixon.coin

  Courting Emma takes a candid look into the souls of abused children and their different ways of overcoming their pasts, presenting characters so realistic that you'll want to wrap your arms around them and tell them everything will be all right. The tale stood easily on its own in spite of being the third in the series, and the deep hearts of the characters and their struggles kept the pages turning at a fast clip. Courting Emma is the best yet from Sharlene MacLaren. I've read all her books thus far and absolutely adored this one. Anyone who has read Shar's previous books will definitely want to pick this one up, and any lover of historical romance will love this story of romance, forgiveness, and budding faith.

  -Roseanna White Christian Review of Books

  Courting Emma is one of those stories that makes you laugh, puts a tear in your eye, and when you've read that last page, inspires a satisfied sigh. I loved it!

  Sharlene MacLaren captures the period and the place in this truly charming tale. Courting Emma has a steady, pleasant pace that will keep readers turning pages to find out what dilemmas Emma and the rest of Little Hickman will face next....

  MacLaren's gift for storytelling is topped only by her ability to create characters readers can identify with. Delightful, realistic, and charming, Courting Emma is going straight to my "keepers" shelf!

  -Loree Lough Best-selling author of 64 books, including the award-winning The Wedding Wish

  Sharlene MacLaren's Courting Emma takes you through a gamut of emotions. You'll experience life with her very real characters, delve into your own heart on spiritual issues, smile and rejoice when victories are won, and find deep satisfaction in a story well told. This sweet novel will keep you enmeshed till the end as it weaves its spell around your heart.

  -Miralee Ferrell Author, The Other Daughter

  I highly recommend Courting Emma by Sharlene MacLaren. It's a soulful journey back in time to the late 1800s....The author took the time to set the scene with careful detail, which included getting to know each character, from their smiles to minute mannerisms. But it's the heart of Emma and her spirit that propel the reader from chapter to chapter. If you like to read historical fiction, then this is a must-read. If you are unfamiliar with this genre, then this book is a good place to start, but be sure to get the complete series of MacLaren's Little Hickman Creek....

  I must admit that my favorite aspect is the cornerstone salvation scene. It's real and unpretentious. By that time I was so invested in the characters that it touched my heart and brought tears to my eyes. Salvation is a gift for all, and how it impacted each character in the story was just as touching. Christ's love shines through each page, not only changing the characters but the reader as well.

  Sharlene MacLaren has become one of my favorite authors, and I cannot wait to read her next book.

  -Robin Shope Author, The Chase, The Replacement, and The Candidate

  Watch for this author when you want just the right touch of detail and depth mixed with humor and meaningful emotion brought to a satisfying ending.

  -Mildred Colvin Author, Winner of Reader's Choice Award

  Sharlene's Little Hickman Creek series just keeps getting better! Flawed characters with painful pasts embark on a spiritual journey where love and reconciliation team up to make for an exciting tale. And as usual, the romantic tension was delectable. I loved it!

  -Michelle Sutton Book Reviewer Author, Its Not About Me

  Little Hickman Creek Series

  To Debbie: My precious friend, Provider of giggles, Sharer of secrets, Spreader of joy, Partner in prayer. Life would be much duller without you. I love you, girlfriend.

  -6~ !~Ppie

  July 4, 1896

  ninia Browning's boot heels clicked out a rhythm on the wooden sidewalk as she strode purposely toward home. She'd just spotted Ezra, her galoot of a father, staggering in her direction, and if she didn't get out of sight soon, he'd be sure to make a fool of her-again!

  She glanced skyward and watched as one tiny cloud rolled across a blanket of blue, obliterating the sun's rays for the briefest of moments. Oppressive humidity and uncommon heat created sweat drops that trickled down her back. Without thought for propriety, Emma loosened the tie on her bonnet and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing skin baked to a golden tan from working in her vegetable garden.

  A red, white, and blue banner bearing the words INDEPENDENCE DAY stretched across Main Street from the upper story window of Flanders' Food Store to Community Bank and Trust, catching the eye of every passing citizen. And passersby were something the town of Little Hickman, Kentucky, had plenty of today. In fact, it would seen the whole of Jessamine County had shown up for the town's festivities, which included field games for the children, horseshoes and target shooting for the men, pie-eating contests, food booths, cakewalks, and a host of other activities to keep a body busy for hours.

  The slight breeze stirred up the wonderful aroma of roasted chicken. Emma's stomach growled as she stepped down from the sidewalk and passed Irwin Waggoner and Toni Flanders, both donning long white aprons and standing in the alleyway between Winthrop's Dry Goods and Flanders' Foods, turning several chickens on spits over an open fire pit.

  "Afternoon, Miss Eninia," called Irwin, smiling from ear to ear, one crooked top tooth jutting past his upper lip. Emma waved a greeting, glad when they didn't stop her to make conversation. Earlier, Fancy Jenkins, Bess Barrington, and Caroline Warner had talked her ears nearly off about everything from the weather to this fall's upcoming United States presidential election, Bryan versus McKinley, and, frankly, she was too done in to listen to more banter.

  "Miss Browning, Miss Browning!"

  Eninia stopped at the high-pitched squeal and discovered Lilt Broughton running toward her, her toddling younger sister, Molly, clinging to her skirts. Molly's elfin nose was smudged with dirt and her red-and-white checked pinafore was covered with sticky goo.

  "Are ya havin' fun?" Lill asked, coning to a stop in front of her, pushing a strand of golden hair out of her eyes.

  Emilia smiled in spite of the snag in her plan to escape the hullabaloo taking place on Main Street. Tall for her age and sweet as sugar, Lilt's own smile stretched wide across her face, revealing a deep dimple in her left cheek.

  "Oh, yes, a grand tine," she fibbed, glancing behind her and giving a quick sigh of relief to find that old Ezra Browning had disappeared from sight.

  "We're having a grand time, too. There's fireworks tonight. Did you know that? Are you plannin' to watch 'em?"

  "Oh, I 'spect I'll see 'em, all right. And where are you young ladies off to now?"

  Lili's eyes sparked with eagerness. "Papa says nie and Molly, er, Molly and I," she corrected, "can go have a mule ride. 'Cept we have to wait for hint and my stepmama to catch up.

  "Oh?" Eninia's gaze meandered to the middle of Main Street, now closed off to traffic, and spotted Benjamin and Liza Broughton chatting with a group of farmers. Ben looked up, no doubt keeping an eye out for his children. He waved at Emnia, and she smiled, returning the greeting.

  "Did you know Mr. Livingston has the tallest mules in all of Jessamine County?" Lill
prattled, her enthusiasm drawing Eninia back into the conversation.

  "Does he now?" she said. Sam Livingston owned and operated Little Hickman's only livery. Although Emma, sole proprietor of the town's boardinghouse, had little use for a horse, when the rare need did arise to venture beyond the town limits, she'd rent one of Sam's. "I guess I have heard talk about them. Didn't they will a couple of ribbons at the county fair last summer?"

  Lill nodded, slanting her face at Emnia, the sun's intense rays making her wrinkle her nose and squint. "Did you know a mule is half horse and half jack-well, Papa says I'm not to say the real word for the other half of a mule, even though it's right there in the Holy Bible. I know it's there, too, 'cause Reverend Atkins said it last Sunday right durin' the Scripture readin'."

  She couldn't stop the sudden giggle that escaped. "Is that so? Well, your papa's probably right; a real lady watches her manner of speaking."

  Molly tugged at her sister's arm and shrieked her impatience. On cue, Ben and his pretty wife of less than a year started toward them. "Hello, Emma," Liza Broughton called on their approach, lifting her skirts as she and Ben scuttled across the dirt-packed road, Ben's boots leaving dust clouds in their wake. With nary a drop of rain in the past several weeks, and a seemingly endless heat wave, the earth's topsoil had turned to dust, and Emilia swore it was all coming to settle on her parlor floor.

  Nearly five months pregnant, Liza showed the barest beginnings of a rounded belly. Emma smiled at the pair as they stepped up to the sidewalk. Ben took Liza's hand and gazed at her adoringly, making it clear their newly married status hadn't yet worn off.

  "Lill here was just tellin' me she's about to go for a mule ride," Emma said, fighting off the urge to add she'd also been about to tutor her on the mule's mutant beginnings.

  Ben grinned, took off his battered Stetson to scrape a hand through his black hair, then plopped it back in place. "It's all she's been talking about. Liza and I decided if there's to be any peace in the family, we'd best get over to Sam's before the line of squalling kids grows any longer. After all, it's not every day one gets to ride an ornery old mule, you know."

  "Papa, they ain't ornery. Leastways, I don't think they are. And they're prize-winnin' mules. Even Miss Browning says so.

  `Aren't, Lill," Liza corrected, stepping forward to give one of Lili's braids a tiny, tender yank. "They aren't ornery." It would seem Lill didn't stand a chance with her countrified drawl and misuse of grammar. Liza, Little Hicknian's former schoolteacher, would no doubt see to it that her new daughters spoke proper English.

  "Gus Humphrey told Andrew Warner that Sam Livingston's mules was the tallest mules in all of Kentucky. It's so, ain't it, Papa?"

  Liza angled a weary glance at Ben and shrugged her shoulders. It was all Enna could do to hold in her laughter.

  "Would you care to join us for supper?" Liza asked, putting a hand to her belly and turning her attention on Emma. "I packed plenty of food. Ben's already laid out our blanket where we can get a good view of tonight's fireworks, and we've a basketful of goodies all set for our evening meal."

  Although Emma appreciated the invitation, she looked forward to enjoying a casual evening of uninterrupted solitude. A good book was more to her liking on a night like this. "I thank you for the invitation, but I 'spect I should head back and tend to my own evenin' meal. No telling how many will show up at my table tonight, but I best be prepared."

  Ben's brow arched. "I hear one of your boarders moved to Oklahoma. Doesn't that leave you with an opening?"

  She had a notion what he was getting at. Since late spring, Ben's lifelong friend, Jonathan Atkins, Little Hicknian's new preacher, had been hounding her about taking a room in her boardinghouse. Short on room, she'd had a good excuse for turning hint down. Besides, her boarders consisted mostly of loud-mouthed ruffians, not the sort suited for any preacher's company. Moreover, Jon Atkins had a way of setting her on edge with his jocular manner and handsome looks, not to mention his blatant Christian testimony. As if her boardinghouse wasn't already a mishmash of unfortunate misfits, adding a man of the cloth to the pot might really stir things up.

  "Shouldn't take long for another hooligan to come knockin' on my door once news gets out."

  Ben tipped back on his boot heels. "Wouldn't hurt to let Jon take a room, you know. You probably heard lie's sold his farm. Plans to donate most all his profits to building a new church."

  "That's a mighty generous act," Enema said. Foolhardy, too, she silently added. What Yvan in his right mind did a thing like that? Sold his property, then wound up giving his profits to the church? These were hard times. It was a fine fix she'd be in if she let the man take a room with her only to discover he hadn't the means for paying his rent. She didn't imagine the congregants of Little Hickman Community Church indulged hint in much of a salary.

  "All he needs is a place to lay his head," Ben said. "Might be a smart thing to allow his good influence in your establishment. Matter of fact, I should think you'd welcome it."

  The last thing she needed, or wanted, was some preacher forcing his beliefs on her, and she didn't imagine the bunch of sad sacks she housed would appreciate it, either. Keeping her opinions to herself, she said instead, "I'll give it some thought."

  "Can we go now, Papa?" Lill asked, tugging on Ben's arm with her free hand, her other one clutching tightly to little Molly.

  The nearby aroma of fresh baked bread blended with the roasted chickens, reminding her it'd been awhile since her meager lunch, an apple and a bowl of vegetable soup. She smiled at the little fancily. "You'd best get over to Sani's before them mules start balking at all the free rides they're forced to give.

  "I think you're right," Liza said, bending to take Molly into her arms. The child nestled her head into the crook of Liza's neck, rubbing her eyes with her pudgy fists. "If you change your mind about the supper offer, be sure to join us," Liza said over the child's head. "It's to be quite a fireworks display from what we hear. Ben says Clyde Winthrop footed the entire bill, sending for some company out of New York."

  Emma had no doubt it would be quite the show, but it didn't interest her. What did interest her was going back to a quiet boardinghouse, making a simple supper, then running a tepid bath. Perspiration dotted her forehead and ran in little droplets down her temples. About all she could think of now was getting out of this heavy dress and into her cotton chemise. Perhaps later, after the sun went down, and folks gathered out behind the livery in the big open field for the fireworks display, she would sit at her open window and watch from afar.

  "I'ni sure it-" Eninia was interrupted by a huge coninio- tion. Everyone's eyes alighted on the staggering, slightly round man coming up the street. Dirty trousers sagged below his belly, one suspender keeping them from sliding to the ground. A bottle of booze swung from his hand as he belted out some indecipherable song.

  Eninia put a hand to her throat. It was what she'd feared. Disgust and shame roiled in the pit of her stomach. How could Ezra Browning keep doing this to her-mortifying her in plain daylight? Someone ought to shoot the miserable, tanked-up, tangle footed jug-head, she thought, then heave him facedown into Little Hickman Creek's deepest waters. If she weren't afraid of the consequences, she'd do it herself.

  Hauling in a heavy dose of air, Emma mopped her damp forehead with the back of her hand and sighed, avoiding the gazes of Ben and Liza. "Guess I should get hint off the street."

  When she stepped forward, Ben reached out a hand to stop her. "He's not your responsibility, Emma. He may be your father, but Sheriff Murdock should be the one tending to him."

  She breathed past a knot welling up in her chest. "He has enough on his hands what with all the extra folks in town today. Besides, the people of Hickman shouldn't have to put up with that barrelhouse bum another minute."

  "And what do you propose to do with hint?"

  She knew what she'd like to do. "I'll stick hini in that old tin tub out back. He can lay there till he sobers up."
r />   Ben frowned. "I'll go get the sheriff."

  "No, don't bother," Emma muttered, raising her chin a notch. "I'll just...."

  "Well, my At Gertie's gravy! Would you look at that old coot? Such a disgrace." Iris Winthrop, Little Hickman's own over-the-fence ear duster and owner of Winthrop's Dry Goods, joined the small throng of citizens gathering on the sidewalk, face pinched into a contorted frown. "Doesn't he have an ounce of sense under that filthy cap?" she sputtered. Always dressed to the nines, the high-nosed woman sniffed, her multicolored, feather bonnet bobbling in the breeze. Some nodded their agreement; still others merely watched as the pathetic Ezra Browning tripped and nearly fell flat on his whiskery, redeyed face, then managed to right himself. Ezra laughed at his blunder, had a coughing spell, then resumed his off-tune song, swaying and teetering as he went.

  "Oh, my stars in heaven," Mrs. Winthrop spat.

  "One of these days he'll drink himself to death," someone at the back of the crowd mumbled. Emma recognized the voice as that of George Garner, Little Hickman's new postmaster.

  And not a day too soon. A fresh dose of bitterness stirred in Emma's heart. Wasn't it enough that Ezra Browning spent every waking minute of his life making her miserable? Did he have to punish the entire town?

  More under-the-breath comments came from several onlookers, as mothers herded their children to the opposite side of the street, away from the drunken ignoramus. Emma wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. Instead, she gathered her wits and faced the hodgepodge of curious faces. "Please. You folks go about your business," she instructed, shoulders pulled back. "I'll tend to old Ezra."

  "I'll help," Ben offered, stepping forward.

  "No." The single word cane out harsher than she intended.

  "Enna...." Liza gathered a wide-eyed Lill close to her side with one hand, her other arni still supporting Molly. Her brow furrowed with sympathy.

  Eninia shook her head. "He's my father. I thank you for your concern, Ben, Liza-and everyone-but I'll take it from here. Please. Go on about your day."