The Preacher's Daughter
Newton, Kansas, 1894 Her mother had died of boredom. Tedium. Monotony. Lorabeth Holdridge looked up from the worn Bible on her lap to her father, sitting with his eyes closed in prayer. She was convinced that no one could spend every night of their life in this manner without a little piece of their dreams drying up and dying week by week, month by month, until finally there was nothing left alive and their spirit simply left their body.
Beneath her backside, the hard wooden chair deliberately kept her from being too comfortable or allowing her mind to wander. Her father would consider it sinful, but her imagination had been her escape to alluring places ever since she'd been old enough to know there was more to life than this.
She glanced at her seventeen–year–old brother. She'd been waiting to make waves until she was sure he could take care of himself without her here. Until she knew he'd be okay. Simon stifled a yawn behind his hand and raised dark eyes, dull from boredom, to hers.
She crossed her eyes.
The corner of his mouth twitched in an effort to keep a smile from forming.
Ambrose Holdridge reac ... read full excerpt from The Preacher's Daughter ebook
