Chapter Six
THE SMALL WHITE CHURCHon the edge of town was filled with people when Nick arrived barely a moment before the service began. Dr. JT sat with his family a few rows up from the back. Spotting Nick, he made a space in their pew and motioned him over. Nick gratefully took the seat and nodded greetings at both the doctor and Mrs. Thomas as the congregation rose to sing the first hymn.
It was truly a morning worth singing about, Nick thought as he sang softly, with a fresh blanket of snow on the ground and the sun shining. Of course, it would help if he could carry a tune. He kept his voice low as he glanced about the crowd in the church. There were more ladies here than he’d seen in his few days in Creede. They sat interspersed with an unlikely gathering of gentlemen, miners, cowboys, and men of all sorts. This place was so very different from Cincinnati. There, Nick would have attended the same church he’d grown up going to each Sunday, one that filled with the well-to-do where his family had a pew. But here, this one little church welcomed men of all ilks. Something about it soothed Nick’s soul and made him want to sing more loudly, but he held back, lest he scare off the older ladies seated in front of him.
His eyes continued to rove the people gathered as the congregation launched into another familiar hymn. As soon as his gaze settled on a young woman with chestnut-colored locks nestled under a dark red hat, he smiled. Miss Rousseau stood next to her father a few rows up and to the left. He could see her so long as the ladies in front of him stood just so. She appeared to be singing. He wondered what she sounded like. He imagined her singing voice to be rich and pleasant, much like the way she spoke, hitting every note with beautiful precision.
Or, she could be like him, unable to string two notes together. But if that were true, it didn’t appear that she cared. She sang as if she were thanking God for all that was good in life.
Nick clutched the hat he still held in his hands, trying to contain the strong desire he had to find a way up there and hear her voice. The cold, pretty day must have been going to his head. Or perhaps he was only giddy with the fact that he was attending a church service without having to elude the attentions of Miss Rosemarie Bell, the young lady his parents thought would make an excellent wife. They were right—there was nothing wrong with Miss Bell, save her enthusiasm at the idea. But the more they pushed it, the more Nick equated Miss Bell with his entire existence in Cincinnati—dull and without purpose. Miss Bell was not the sort of lady who would survive here in Creede. She was more the sort who needed an entire household staff to prepare and serve a single dinner.
The pastor of the little church began his sermon, to which Nick attempted to give all his attention. Yet he kept finding his gaze drifting toward where he could just barely see Willa’s red hat. How many churches had she likely attended in her travels? He wondered how this one compared. He was pleasantly surprised to see her in attendance, although why, he didn’t know. Perhaps he’d thought that keeping up with religious obligations might fall by the wayside when one moved from town to town as Willa and her father did. Or perhaps he doubted a man peddling lies the way this so-called Dr. Rousseau did found it possible to seek solace from God.
But here she was—with her father—and something about that sat well within his heart.
When the service ended, he exited the church with Dr. JT and his family and enjoyed a pleasant conversation with them outside while their younger children chased each other through the snow.
“Are you looking for someone?” JT finally asked as Nick’s gaze wandered to the church doors yet again.
“I . . .” Caught off guard, and a little embarrassed at his obvious inattention, Nick shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Well . . .”
At that moment, a woman in a red hat strolled through the snow, arm in arm with an older man in a bowler hat. Miss Rousseau. Nick stood straighter, wishing she’d turn and see him.
JT followed his gaze and then gave his wife a knowing glance. “Perhaps you ought to make the acquaintance of the man you seek so wholeheartedly to run out of town.”
Nick frowned, about to protest, until he realized JT wasn’t saying anything Nick hadn’t already said himself. To introduce himself was the gentlemanly thing to do. It would be cowardly never to speak to the man face-to-face. “You’re right. It was good to see you again, JT, and a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thomas.”
He moved quickly through the snow, which sparkled under the sun as if it were littered with stars. All around them, the mountains peered down, patches of white covering their sides. It made a pretty picture, one that might be seen in a painting or in a stereoscope.
“Pardon me,” he said as he reached Dr. Rousseau.
The man turned, his daughter on his arm. She looked like an angel out here in the snow, despite the way she regarded him with an apprehensive frown.
“I’m Dr. Nicholas Gatewood.” He held a hand out to the man.
Dr. Rousseau took it, his curious gaze turning into one of amused recognition after a couple of seconds. “Ah, yes, my very own heckler. Dr. George Rousseau, although I suppose you already know my name.”
Nick had been so incensed at the man’s outrageous claims before that he hadn’t taken close notice of him. Here, outside the church, with his daughter next to him, he simply looked like a friendly but tired older gentleman rather than a man bent on stealing the coins out of the pockets of every hardworking person in this town.
“My father and I were on our way to get Sunday dinner,” Miss Rousseau said impatiently. She didn’t want him near her father, that much was clear from the tone in her voice and the way she pulled a little at Dr. Rousseau’s arm. Nick couldn’t help but admire her protectiveness.
“This would be my daughter, Miss Rousseau,” the supposed doctor said.
