He’d taken three photographs of the First Congregational Church family, as Tucker referred to them. And, surprisingly, today he felt like part of the family. He considered it amazing that he’d been so comfortable sitting in the sanctuary this morning. In front of the preacher, no less.Now if only he felt half as good about his predicament with Susanna. She’d made the decision to come to Cripple Creek, and it was her choice whether to leave or not. But she was imprudent and alone here, and he couldn’t help but feel bad for her.“What you did was amazing.” Willow walked up the hill toward him with a pie plate in her hands, a vision of remarkable grace and beauty. “How many photographers would attempt to assemble and organize sixty squirming men, women, and children?”Not many that he knew.“I brought you a reward.” She glanced at the dish.“You saved half of a p-pie for me? However did you manage?”Pink tinged her cheeks, the perfect complement to her burgundy plaid shirtwaist.
