Hunter's Prize (32 page)

Delilah’s nimble fingers swiftly turned back to chapter four. “Right here.”

Addie inhaled deeply and began. “‘And immediately I was in the spirit: and, behold, a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne. And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone: and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald.’”

His eyes still hidden, Ceddy’s lips, red and swollen from crying, tilted at the corners. The beginning of a smile.

Addie inhaled sharply. “It’s a miracle.”

“He like this one, too,” Delilah said, swiftly turning the thin sheets of paper.

Leaning closer, Addie read in a breathless voice. “‘Behold, I lay in Sion a chief corner stone, elect, precious: and he that believeth on him shall not be confounded. Unto you therefore which believe he is precious: but unto them which be disobedient, the stone which the builders disallowed, the same is made the head of the corner, and a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence, even to them which stumble at the word, being disobedient: whereunto also they were appointed. But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.’”

Ceddy lay quietly asleep at last, the hint of a smile still gracing his face.

Addie closed the big book, her hands folded on the cover. “Who would’ve thought just hearing these words would bring such comfort?”

Delilah touched her shoulder. “Forgive me, Miss Addie, but them ain’t jus’ any words. They been comfortin’ folk for many an age.”

Smiling through her tears, Addie nodded. In a rush, the stress of the day overwhelmed her. Compassion for a scared little boy, mixed with fear and sorrow for the man she loved, brought her to tears. Needing the same comfort for her wounded heart, she folded her arms on the Bible and wept.

Priscilla pushed off Ceddy’s mattress and hurried around the foot of the bed. Gathering Addie close, she helped her to her feet. “Delilah, stay with Ceddy until I return.”

“Yes’m.” Uncertainty thick in her voice, she added, “Don’t cry, Miss Addie. He gon’ be all right now.”

Priscilla led Addie down the hall and opened a door. Even blinded by tears, she knew by the scent of lavender that they’d entered the lady’s boudoir. Guiding her over soft rugs to the striped divan, Priscilla eased her down.

Addie hadn’t been inside the big room since the first time they’d discussed Ceddy’s attack and the possibility of Pearson as the culprit. It seemed ironic to be revisiting the bedroom and the horrible topic at the same time.

“Dear, sweet Addie …,” Priscilla began.

Addie held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry, but whatever you say, whatever circumstance is causing you to think the worst of Pearson, I can’t possibly agree. Please don’t ask me to.”

Priscilla reared back, her shoulders stiff and her hands folded primly. “Adelina, I care for him, too,” she said quietly. “Has it occurred to you that I want to see him exonerated as much as you do?”

Addie frowned. “You do?”

“Of course! Pearson has come to mean a lot to me.” She studied the fingernails on one hand. “But you see, if he’s not who we think he is, I’ve not only failed Ceddy; I’ve failed your mother’s trust. And most especially, I’ve failed you.”

Addie slid to the floor at Priscilla’s feet, resting her cheek on her knee. “If Pearson is not who we think he is, then your Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde story has come to life in our midst, because the loving, gentle man I’ve been spending time with could never, ever hurt a child.”

Reverend Stroud pulled out a chair, nodding at Pearson to take the one opposite. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me, son?” He took a deep breath. “I’m a good listener, and I’ve seen a lot in my years behind the pulpit. It’s very hard to shock me. Perhaps I can help you.”

Ignoring the offered chair, Pearson scowled. “It sounds like you’re inviting me to confess something.”

The reverend rolled his tongue inside his cheek. “That option’s available, but I’m merely offering you a chance to talk things through.”

“What
things
?”

He shook his head. “I can’t break a confidence, but there are still a few people in Marshall who question your integrity.”

“I thought you’d put those rumors to rest.”

“I did.” He paused. “Those concerning thievery and malicious mischief.” He drew in his lips as if chewing on the rest. “It’s the new allegation I’m concerned with, made by a trusted source.” He waved his hand. “I took the charge lightly when I first heard.” He gazed into Pearson’s eyes. “Maybe too lightly.”

A chair to hold him up became a good idea. Pearson pulled it out and dropped into the seat. “Since you obviously believe I’ve done something, I think I deserve to know what it is.”

Reverend Stroud placed a gentle hand over his. “That’s the peculiar part and the hardest part for me. I haven’t really known you long, but I’m having a difficult time believing it, despite compelling evidence of your guilt.”

“Guilt?” Angry now, Pearson pounded his fist on the table. “Don’t you think you need to tell me what I’ve done before pronouncing guilt?”

“Did you lift a hand to harm Cedric Whitfield?”

Pearson’s head roared. He gripped the sides of the table to still the spinning room. “Why would you think me capable of such a thing?”

“Because the night we found that poor boy, tormented and bruised, there was no one in the house with us but you and Theo, and Theo was with me all evening. Now today … in church … the moment Ceddy’s eyes lit on you, he screamed like he feared for his life.”

Shaking his head slowly from side to side, Pearson fought to breathe. “If Priscilla thought I could hurt that little boy, she’d never have let me stay on her property.”

Pain flashed on the reverend’s face. “She would … if a trusted friend and pastor vouched for you, swayed her to trust you.”

“You mean Priscilla thought—”

The reverend looked away.

A wealth of hurt clogged Pearson’s throat. “And Addie?”

Before he could answer, Theo pushed the door open, his arms loaded with split wood. Rolling the logs into the wood box with a bump and clatter, he turned with a proud smile. “I filled the box outside, too. Is there anything else you’d like for me to do?”

Pearson bolted from the chair and breezed past Theo so fast he spun him around. Outside on the porch, he stared with wild eyes, a wounded animal unsure where to run. He’d once told Addie, in a show of bravado, that he never stooped to defending himself. The truth was he’d never had to until now. His ethics and moral character were part of who he was, and no one had ever questioned them.

Since he’d come to Marshall, he’d been accused of one unspeakable deed after the other, and the accusations cut deep. For Addie to think him a wife-stealing lothario was bad enough, but for good people like Reverend Stroud, Priscilla Whitfield, and his darling Addie to suspect he could harm a child was too much to bear.

Behind him, Theo cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. “Pearson? What’s wrong, buddy?”

Shame coursed through him for running out like a coward instead of standing his ground. Wheeling, he marched to the door and burst into the reverend’s home.

Reverend Stroud raised his head, sadness etched on his face.

“Sir,” Pearson said, his chest heaving, “I don’t know how, but I’ll prove my innocence to you and the others. I’ll win your confidence again or die trying.”

The reverend nodded. “I pray you can, son.”

Pearson turned to leave, but the man of God called his name.

He paused with his hand on the knob. “Yes, sir?”

“Where are you going?”

Pearson hadn’t considered it until he asked. “We’ll be camping out at the lake. I need hard work to occupy my hands and a quiet place to think. After today, I doubt we’re welcome at the mansion.”

“I’ll be praying, Pearson. If this turns out to be a mistake, I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

Pearson’s shoulders slumped. “I already have.” Motioning to Theo, he walked out and closed the door.

D
enny sat in the back of the hired wagon and stared up at the grand old house. A thrill surged through him as he considered the mansion up close and in the daylight. He nudged Charlie. “Look at her, mate. To think that I’ll have a house like this one day soon … only bigger and finer.”

“You mean we will, right, Den?”

He frowned. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I mean.” As he gazed at the tall white columns, impatience squeezed his chest, and he found it hard to breathe. “The only thing standing in our way lies somewhere behind those walls, just waiting to be found.” He elbowed Charlie again. “Pay the driver and ask him to wait.”

Charlie leaned to offer the man his fee then followed Denny off the rig. “Are you sure we should be hanging around here in broad daylight? I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

Denny straightened his collar and tugged on the hem of his new coat. “Good on you that no one needs your ideas. Shut it, and let’s go.” Approaching the imposing entrance, Denny pulled back his shoulders and puffed his chest like a pigeon. “Yes, sir. I could get used to the high life, old boy. I surely could.”

Charlie chuckled. “I reckon we’ll have to before long, won’t we?”

“You’ve got a point there,” Den said, reaching for the brass doorknocker. “I mean, besides the one on your head.”

Charlie started to grouse, but Den punched his arm hard as the door cracked open.

A stern-faced maid in a ruffled white cap stood on the stoop. “May I help you gentlemens?”

Denny yanked off his hat. “We’re here to see the lady of the house.” At her slight frown, he pasted on a bright smile. “It’s a business matter.”

“On a Sunday? She expectin’ you?”

He tilted his head. “Not exactly, but it’s very important.”

Doubt soured her face. “Who should I say is calling?”

“Mr. Currie.”

“And Mr. Pickering,” Charlie added then lowered his eyes at Denny’s scowl.

“Tell her we’re friends of Mr. Foster,” Denny said.

She jutted her bottom lip as if trying to make up her mind. “Wait here,” she said and closed the door.

By the time she returned, Denny had started to doubt she ever would. “Right this way,” she ordered, shuffling aside to let them in.

Denny’s breath quickened. Stepping over the threshold, he drew in sharply, filled with a sense of wonder. He never imagined that money would smell of lavender.

The maid led them down the hall to a set of double doors. Thrusting them open, she motioned for them to enter. “Jus’ have a seat on the sofa. Miss Whitfield be right in.”

Denny raised his brows at Charlie.

With a gap-toothed grin, Charlie winked.

Strutting across the room, they sank together into the plush upholstery.

Denny ran his hand over the satin-covered arm with a whistle. “You ever feel anything like this?”

Charlie shook his head, beaming like a mug.

The clatter of footsteps in the hall stiffened Denny’s spine. Sidling to the edge of the couch, he summoned his false smile and practiced what to say under his breath.

The white-haired lady stepped into sight under the arched entry-way, the picture of class and old money. She crossed the room and offered her hand. “Good afternoon. I’m Priscilla Whitfield. I understand you have business with me?”

Denny stood to shake her hand, and Charlie followed suit. “Yes, ma’am. My friend and me, we’ve come to inquire about a room to let.”

A tiny frown creased her brow. She backed into a big chair near the window and lowered herself down. “A room? I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, sir. This isn’t a boardinghouse.”

Denny shook his head. “Oh no, missus. I never meant to imply that it was.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I reckon I’d best explain meself. You see, we’re associates of Mr. Foster, Charlie and me.”

Unless Denny had lost his touch, the lady winced at the mention of Pearson’s name. “Of course.” She peered at them sideways. “Now I remember. You were his guests at church today.”

“Yes, missus.” Thrown off a bit, Denny swallowed hard and continued. “Therefore, we’re privy to the fact that you’ve recently restored a set of houses out back.”

Understanding sparked in her eyes. “I see.” She ran her birdlike hands over the neck of her blouse, fiddling with the pleated fabric. “Well, regretfully, you’ve still been misled. I have no intention of offering those houses for lease.” She stood. “I’m sorry you wasted your time coming all the way out here. In the future, Mr. Foster should be careful not to misrepresent the facts.” Standing over them, watching expectantly with crossed arms, she left them nothing to do but take their leave.

Denny squirmed with irritation. His plan to use Pearson’s name to gain favor had gone bust. He pushed off the sofa, dragging Charlie up with him. “Well, despite this unlucky turn of events, I’m ever so glad to have met you.”

Her smile seemed more forced than his. “Likewise.”

The maid appeared, as if she’d been standing outside all along.

Miss Whitfield nodded at her. “Delilah, show these gentlemen to the door, please. We’ve finished our visit.”