Deeanne Gist - A Bride in the Bargain

A

B RIDE

in the

B ARGAIN

Books by

Deeanne Gist

A

B RIDE

in the

B ARGAIN

D EEANNE G IST

A Bride in the Bargain
Copyright 2009
Deeanne Gist

Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann

Scripture quotations are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE,
Copyright The Lockman Foundation 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973,
1975, 1977. Used by permission.
( www.Lockman.org )

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwisewithout the prior written permission of the publisher.
The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

E-book edition created 2009

ISBN 978-0-7642-0407-4

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Wanna know something cool?

Thats my daughter on the front cover!

So, sweet pea, this ones for you!

Love, Mom

DEEANNE GIST has a background in education and journalism. Her credits include People, Parents, Parenting, Family Fun , and the Houston Chronicle . She has a line of parenting products called I Did It!Productions and a degree from Texas A&M. She and her husband have four children in college. They live in Houston, Texas, and Deeanne loves to hear from her readers at her Web site, www.IWantHerBook.com .

CONTENTS

I dont know what I would have done without my sister, Gayle Evers, and my critique partner, Meg Moseley. When I was in a crunch, both went above and beyond the call of duty. They gave abundantly of their time, their expertise, and their wisdom. Thank you seems so paltry for all that they did, but here it is anyway: Thank you, girls, so, so much!

I wanted to give a very special thanks to Ted and Marietta Terry, who welcomed me into their home while I did my research in Seattle. They have such an incredible gift of hospitality and have carved out a very special place in my heart. I love you both.

Jim and Ruth Darling graciously allowed me to use their beautiful lake house as a getaway those last few critical weeks before deadline. I have never been so productive in my life. Thank you so much!

So many folks in Seattle bent over backward when I asked for help with my researchthe Pioneer Square Community Association, the Pioneer Association of Washington, the Washington State Library, the University of Washington Library, the MOHAI (Museum of History and Industry) Historical Society, and so many, many more. Thank you so much for your patience and assistance.

God bless you!

Joe Denton scoffed at the ad and scanned the rest of the page. The lopsided ratio of men to women once again filled the columns of the Seattle Intelligencer .

Glancing at the mantel clock, he shifted on the maroon-and-gold sofa, then read the next page. The troops at Hatchers Run now had a series of signal towers along their entire line and almost every movement of the rebels could be observed. If Lee were to fall back in an effort to overwhelm Sherman, he would find Grant thundering close upon his rear.

The door to the parlor opened and the head of a small, brown-haired boy poked around its edge. I thought that was you I saw coming up the walk. You here to see my pa?

I am.

Sprout Rountree stepped inside and hitched up his short pants, revealing scuffed knees. His stiff white shirt was untucked, grass-stained, and torn at the elbow.

Looks like youve had a hard morning, Joe said.

Sprout puffed out his chest. Ive been practicing to be a lumberjack, just like you.

You have?

A grin split his freckled face. I have. I chopped down Mamas tree out back all by myself.

Joe hesitated. That sapling, you mean? The Chinese pistachio your mother ordered from the Sandwich Islands?

I dunno. Just a minute and Ill show you.

He darted out of the room and returned in another minute holding what was left of his mothers pride and joy.

Joe swiped a hand across his mouth. When did you do that, son?

This morning. I used my pas ax. It sure is heavy. But I got big muscles for a boy my age. Everbody says so.

They do?

Yep. You wanna see em?

Without waiting for an answer he strode right up between Joes knees and flexed his little arm. It wasnt much thicker than the sapling he held, but Joe assumed a serious air and scrutinized the boys arm, squeezed his muscle, then whistled. Very impressive.

The boy beamed. Lemme see yours.

I cant roll up my sleeve right now. Im waiting to see your pa.

His little shoulders wilted. Aw, please?

Not today, Sprout.

Could you let me squeeze it, then? You wouldnt have to roll up your sleeves for that.

Joe glanced at the slightly cracked door, then flexed, making his arm bulge.

Sprouts hand couldnt begin to encompass the muscle, but he squeezed what he could, his eyes huge. Mine are gonna be just like that someday.

Ruffling the boys hair, Joe chuckled. I imagine they will. Until then, though, you might not want to chop down any more of your mamas trees. They arent ready for the lumberyard just yet, and Im not sure how shed feel about you handling an ax.

Then how am I gonna learn lumberjacking?

Well, maybe your parents will let you come out to my place sometime and help me.

His face lit up. Can I go home with you today?

Joe chuckled again. No, not today but

Sprout Rountree! Come here this instant!

Burdensome footsteps followed the strident voice until the door to the parlor swung open. A young woman large with child stood at its threshold, her face pinched with anger.

Sprout eased back into Joe. Whats the matter, Mama?

What happened to my... Her eyes went from the boy to the sapling he held in his hand. Oh, nooooo!

Placing his hand on Sprouts shoulder, Joe stood. Afternoon, Mrs. Rountree.

She glanced at him. O.B.s in his office, Mr. Denton. You can go on in. She turned her attention to Sprout. What have you done to my pistachio tree?

The boy shrunk at his mothers tone. I har-visited it, but Ill put it back if you want.

Joe didnt wait for her response. Instead, he picked up his hat and slipped through a connecting door leading to the library and office of Judge Obadiah B. Rountree.

A cloud of tobacco mixed with traces of lemon oil filled the room. Hooking his hat on a hall tree, he clicked the door shut behind him, cutting off the drama unfolding in the parlor.

The judge, with his back to Joe, scribbled on a piece of parchment while sitting at an ornate mahogany secretary that had come clear around the Horn. His white shirt, entirely too big for his small frame, bunched beneath dark suspenders crisscrossing his back. Short black hair surrounded a perfectly circular bald spot.