Read A Quilt for Christmas for Free Online

Stark’s attention. “You have no call to accuse these good women of compromising themselves. You have embarrassed all the ladies of this congregation with your slander. Your daughter-in-law is a new widow and filled with grief, and instead of offering the deepest sympathy and consolation, you are adding to her misery. I believe you are grieving, too, and that is the only reason we will excuse your talk. But it must stop. This is Christmas Day, and we are here to celebrate the birth of our Lord, Jesus Christ. You and your sons are welcome to join with us if you will sit down in a pew and take a prayerful attitude. Otherwise, we must ask you to leave.”
    â€œHow’s that?” Dad Stark asked. It was unlikely anyone had chastised him before—or ever invited him to a church service.
    â€œAnd afterward you will say good-bye to Mrs. Missouri Ann, and wish her well, and she will be allowed to go wherever she chooses,” the minister continued.
    â€œWhy, you can’t tell me what to do, a puny little feller like you. I’d squash you with the back of my hand,” Dad Stark said. He rolled around a chaw of tobacco in his mouth, then spat it onto the church floor. Eliza put her hand to her mouth in shock and disgust.
    Reverend Hamlin didn’t flinch, although he did look over the Stark brood, who outnumbered him four to one. “Do not threaten me in the Lord’s House,” he said softly.
    Dad Stark grinned, but the grin faded as Print Ritter, a blacksmith built like an oak stump, rose and stood beside John Hamlin. “I stand with the reverend. You going to squash me, too, Stark?”
    â€œAin’t got nothing to do with you, Ritter, or you, neither, Mr. Hamlin. This is twixt me and Hugh’s wife.”
    â€œYou’re profaning the church where Mrs. Missouri Ann is a member, and like the preacher said, she’s a grieving widow. I guess it has to do with me. It has to do with all of us.” The blacksmith made a sweeping gesture with his hand that included the entire congregation—most of it anyway. While the majority of the worshipers nodded, here and there a few who did not approve of Missouri Ann looked down at their Bibles. Several men stood up and moved toward the aisle.
    Stark glared at the parishioners, then turned to his sons. “I guess we’re outnumbered. We could take ’em in a fair fight, but this one ain’t fair.” He shook Missouri Ann’s arm, then dropped it. “This ain’t over with, you hear, Missouri Ann?”
    â€œYes, it is over,” the reverend said. “Mrs. Missouri Ann is free to do what she likes, and if any harm comes to her or those who help her, you will answer to this entire congregation.”
    Dad Stark scoffed, probably thinking that while the churchgoers might be lined up against him that day when they were all together, it was unlikely they cared enough about Missouri Ann to form a vigilante party later on to go after the Starks. “We’ll see about that,” he said.
    â€œAnd you will answer to me personally.”
    At that, one of the Stark boys let out a loud laugh. “Why, I could pound you in the ground with my big toe.”
    â€œPerhaps you could. But do I have to remind you gentlemen that I hold a mortgage on your farm, and I believe you have a payment due on January first?” He paused, then added, “January first of 1864. God bless me, that means you are nearly a year late. And another payment is due on January first next year, just one week from now. I hate to take away anyone’s farm, but…” He shrugged.
    The Starks looked at each other, but before they could respond, the reverend turned and walked back to the pulpit, saying, “Now, friends, our closing hymn is ‘All Hail the Power.’”
    The Starks glared at Missouri Ann, who ignored them and began singing in her sweet voice. She glanced sidelong at Eliza, as the entire Stark family