Priscilla took Mitch’s arm as they climbed the steps. Close up, the pastor looked even older and more fragile than he had from a distance.
Mitch stopped in front of the man. “Reverend, I would like to introduce you to Miss Cochran, the town’s new teacher.”
“New preacher? I’m not ready to retire. And we can’t have a woman preacher, anyway.”
His lips twitching, Mitch leaned in further. “No, Pastor, Miss Cochran is the teacher.”
“Oh, another one, eh?” He glared at Priscilla with watery blue eyes. “You gonna stick around or take off like the last one?” He shook his head. “Poor girl cried her eyes out. Didn’t like Dogtown at all.”
“No. I plan to stay for a long time. I like it here in Dogtown. The people are friendly and I’m anxious to meet all of my students Monday.”
The old man took her hand and patted it. “Good. Good. We need strong women here.”
They moved past him and into the church. Mitch spoke out of the side of this mouth. “And you don’t mind lying to a man of God?”
Anger flashed through her, and she had an urge to kick him in the shins. If they weren’t in church, she might have even done that. “I did not lie to him, and please stop this constant barrage.” She released his arm and entered a pew, muttering, “Sacré bleu! Cet homme est une douleur dans mon cul.”
Mitch almost choked on Priscilla’s referral to him as a pain in the ass. He really should tell her he understood her insults, but he was having too much fun allowing her free rein with her comments.
Ian slipped into the pew just as Reverend Thatcher toddled up the aisle to the sanctuary. Mitch’s thoughts wandered as the pastor gave his Sunday sermon. For the man’s age and decrepit appearance, he still gave a moving sermon each week. But this Sunday Mitch’s thoughts were on the woman sitting next to him in church.
No woman had ever gotten under his skin the way Priscilla had. He had the intense need to constantly remind her she wasn’t staying. He loved watching her breasts heave and her eyes flash with annoyance. Priscilla Cochran in a temper was a sight to behold. To see all that fury unleashed in bed had him hardening and shifting in his seat.
He wondered if his constant prodding was his way of reminding himself that his attraction to her was futile. Even if he was crazy enough to consider marrying—which he wasn’t—a woman from her background and upbringing was so far above him as to be laughable.
When a man fell in love—which he hadn’t, thank God—he become vulnerable. His pa left Canada because his ma was unhappy there. He gave up fur trapping and opened the gun shop for the same reason. She hadn’t liked him gone for weeks at a time.
And what had happened when his pa gave up those things he’d loved? She died and he was miserable until his final breath. If Mitch allowed himself to become involved with Priscilla, chances are when she packed up and caught the mail coach back to civilization, he would be left with a broken heart or forced to move from his beloved town, all his plans for the future gone.
No. It was best that he kept reminding Priscilla—and himself—the town was a passing fancy for her. He rose, along with the others, to the sound of the organ playing the final hymn, realizing he’d ruminated the entire service away.
Priscilla’s voice next to him was clear and sweet. Ian kept glancing up at him, a questioning look in his eyes, so he moved closer to Priscilla to see the hymnal. Big mistake. Her scent of lemons, sunshine, and woman assailed him, drying up his mouth, making it hard to sing.
He was in trouble.
Mitch strode to the buggy to fetch Priscilla’s contribution to the lunch. The basket of biscuits and box of cold chicken smelled wonderful. On top of everything else, the woman could cook. He would have thought a senator’s daughter had been raised with servants. He never would have guessed she would soil her hands in the kitchen.
Was it possible he’d misjudged her? No.
He added her food to the table where the women were busy arranging the food and drinks. Priscilla was right there in their midst, chatting away, laughing and generally looking as though she belonged there. He snorted and headed to the area where the men were setting up the tables and chairs.
“Pa, when we gonna eat? I’m starved.” Ian raced up to him, his shirttail hanging out, his face flushed.
“Soon. Right now you go wash up and tuck in that shirt. Then come back here and help us finish setting up. As soon as we get this all done, we can eat.”
About fifteen minutes later, the ladies called everyone to get their food. Priscilla gathered the children to her and lined them up in a proper manner. While the adults filled their plates, she bent and spoke to each child in turn, resting a hand on a shoulder, patting heads, smiling brightly. Amazingly enough they all settled down and walked quietly to the table and filled their plates.
Mitch was stunned.
Priscilla loved the look of amazement on Mitch’s face. There was nothing she loved more than seeing him baffled.
Take that, Mr. Beaumont.
Once the children had filled their plates and took seats near their families, Priscilla filled hers, her stomach growling. She turned from the table to see Mitch wave at her. Since he was the one who’d invited her to attend, it was good manners to sit with the man.
Not that she minded. Not in the least. Perhaps they could spar some more. She was really coming to enjoy their bantering. She smiled at Ian as she took the seat across from him and next to his father.
“Your chicken was delicious,” Mitch said as he pushed her chair in. “And so were the biscuits.”