Free Spring Creek Bride by Janice Thompson Page B

what he’d done to hurt her after all the time she’d just spent explaining, then he must be daft. Ida could hardly control her temper as she spouted, “You’re…you’re…impossible!”
    She stomped her way back into the store, outraged and overwhelmed. No man had ever made her feel so…confused.
    Sophie took one look at her and sighed. “Oh my goodness, Ida. Whatever happened out there?”
    Ida couldn’t answer at first. Speaking over the lump in her throat proved to be nearly impossible. Finally, she managed a few strained words. “He said I’ve missed my calling.” She reached for her apron and, in her fervor, tied it a bit too tight. As sheloosened it, she said, “According to Mick Bradley, I should have been a preacher.”
    Sophie laughed so hard she couldn’t speak for a full minute. Then she said, “You know, he may have a point. You do have passion!”
    “Sophie, I’m not looking for you to agree with the man.”
    “And you have a mighty fine vocabulary to boot! Not to mention the fact that you know the Bible stories inside and out!” Sophie collapsed in laughter again.
    “Sophie, I thought you were in agreement with me about the gambling hall!”
    “I am, Ida, of course I am. I’m sorry for laughing. I just think that Mick Bradley is impossible, don’t you?” she asked.
    Instead of replying, Ida reached for a broom and began to sweep—vigorously. Yes, Mick Bradley was impossible, all right. No question about that. So was her friend Sophie. Those two deserved each other.
    The thought of Sophie and Mick together suddenly overwhelmed Ida with such jealousy she had to excuse herself and get her bearings. She had no idea what was happening to her, but she didn’t like it at all. Not one bit.

Chapter Eleven
    M ick watched from a distance as the foundation was laid on his new property. He always loved this part, watching the concrete, soft and pliable, harden into something of great strength. He understood such a hardening—he had lived through it himself.
    Some of the workers had questioned his use of concrete. Most of the buildings in the area had the usual pier-and-beam foundation. Still, Mick wanted to work with the latest technology, and a concrete slab was the way to go, from what he’d learned. Especially in a humid climate like this, where termites made regular appearances.
    Not that he really minded what the locals thought about his decisions, anyway. They already considered him odd; the concrete had only served to reinforce that fact in their minds.
    What mattered—what really mattered—were the opinions of his investors back in Chicago. They were the only ones he had to please. And surely they wouldagree with his choices. He needed to build a place that would withstand the elements and any other forces that might come along. The stronger, the better. He had a feeling the building would have to withstand some interesting challenges before all was said and done.
    Mick allowed his gaze to shift to the mercantile next door. Several times he’d caught Ida peeking through the window, her interest in his business more than a passing fancy, no doubt. Once he’d even waved, just for fun. Naturally, she hadn’t waved back.
    Mick looked out over the lot once more. Tomorrow morning, the framework of the building would go up. And though he’d hired a perfectly fine contractor, Mick would be right here, watching every move the builders made.
    Lost in his thoughts, Mick didn’t notice the man who sidled up next to him until he heard, “Young fella, how’re you doing?”
    Mick sized up the old man, wondering if he was friend or foe.
    The stranger removed his hat, revealing a near-balding head that glistened in the sun. “We’ve howdied, but we ain’t shook yet,” the fellow said with a smile.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I’ve seen you about town,” the man explained, “and I’ve heard yer name from plenty of folks, but we ain’t been formally introduced.” After a short chuckle,