Molly Noble Bull (14 page)

Regina had aged since he last saw her, but she was still beautiful. He’d always thought she was the prettiest of his two sisters. As a child, she was his favorite. Now, he had nothing to say to her.

“What do ya think of your baby brother now?” He lifted his flask again. “Lawrence Smith.”

Lawrence had been their father’s name. Lucas suited him better. He raised the flask again. “This one’s to Honor.” He took another big swig of whiskey. “And you, too, Ruby.”

Regina was a churchgoer. Had the sight of him, a drunk, disgusted and embarrassed her?

He started down the street again, but another coughing spell erupted. On wobbly feet, Lucas reached down, snatched two handfuls of melting snow and formed a sloshy ball. He drew back his arm and threw the snowball at a white picket fence. It hit the gate, splattering and running down.

Lucas was drunk, but he suddenly realized that the gate looked familiar. Looking around, he recognized the street in front of Reverend Kline’s house. He should leave at once, before Mr. or Mrs. Kline came out and found him.

He turned and fell down in the snow, then tried to get up and slipped, crumpling again. Lucas coughed. He couldn’t stop coughing. The whole world looked fuzzy. He felt fuzzy. Everything was spinning, whirling, circling. He blinked, trying to make the world stand still, but he couldn’t. Then everything when black.

At four o’clock, Jeth returned to the boardinghouse, thinking about a conversation he’d had with John Crammer and the mystery of Honor’s past. He went into the kitchen to speak to Belinda Grant, who was blending biscuit dough. He wanted a report on Honor’s health. While they were talking, there was a knock at the door.

“Just keep on with what you’re doing, Mrs. Grant,” Jeth insisted. “I’ll answer the door.”

He strode through the dining room and into the entry hall. Through the etched glass in the double doors, he could see the sheriff, wearing a cowboy hat and a brown, fur-lined jacket, standing on the front porch.

Jeth forced a smile and opened the door. “Sheriff Green, come in.”

The sheriff nodded. “Thank you, Reverend.”

Sheriff Green wiped his wet boots and came inside. Jeth took his hat and coat and hung them on the hall tree.

“Why don’t we go in and talk?” Jeth motioned toward the parlor.

The sheriff entered the room and sat on the settee.

Jeth took the chair across from him. “What brings you here today?” he asked. “Any news on the stage robbery?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” The sheriff pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his vest and unfolded it. “I got this letter from the sheriff over in Pine Falls, mailed a week ago.” He cleared his throat. “Yesterday, there was a stage robbery a few miles out of Pine Falls. Two of the passengers were injured.”

Jeth leaned forward. His mother could have been on that stage. “Was…was one of the injured a middle-aged woman?”

“No, it was two men.”

“Praise the Lord.” Jeth tried to breath normally again. “I don’t want to imply I’m not sorry about what happened to the men, because I am. I intend to pray they will recover. However, I was concerned about my mother. Mama’s in Pine Falls, visiting my cousin, Margaret Starling. She could have been on the stage.”

The sheriff nodded. “I understand.”

“What else can you tell me about what happened with the stagecoach?”

“A witness said one of the outlaws rode a big, red horse. That sure matches up with what you’ve already told me, doesn’t it?”

Jeth nodded. “What about the brand?”

“Nobody got close enough to see one. But I’ve sent a man to keep an eye on the doings out at the Sharp Ranch. If I learn anything new, Reverend, I’ll let you know. Oh, and another thing. Have you given any thought to becoming a special deputy?”

“I hadn’t,” Jeth said. “But now, I think maybe I might.”

Honor woke and glanced around the room. Jeth sat in the chair by her bed, just as he’d done on the day that she’d arrived at the boardinghouse. When he saw that she was awake, he got up, went to the door and took his customary stance—hands behind his back.

Even when he stood at attention like a tin soldier, he reminded her of Lucas. Fortunately, the resemblance didn’t bother her too much anymore.

Honor curled a strand of her long hair around her forefinger. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“All day, according to Mrs. Grant. She said she came in several times to check on you, but you slept right through it. How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy. I’m not really awake yet.”

“Mrs. Grant has food warming in the oven for you,” he said. “Would you like for me to go down and get it?”

“No.” She started to rise. “I’ll go down.” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I’m feeling more like myself now.”

“You do look better. No more dark circles under your eyes.”

In the kitchen, Honor ate her meal while Jeth drank a cup of coffee. After she finished eating, he got a look in his eyes that told her he was about to ask her more questions.

“There was another stagecoach robbery.” Jeth shook his head. “The sheriff stopped by and told me. Two men were injured.”

“People aren’t safe anywhere these days, are they?”

“Apparently not. Do you remember the day we saw the young boy in town on the sorrel horse?” he asked.

“How could I forget? You never did tell me why you found the boy so interesting, or why you talked to the sheriff.”

“I didn’t have enough information then. Remember when I asked you about a red horse? Well, I saw an outlaw riding one the day of the first stage robbery. And the sheriff said a red horse was also seen at the site of the second robbery.”

“Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing a red horse,” she said, “just before I was knocked out.”

He nodded. “I was hoping you’d finally remember.”

Holding a cup of coffee in one hand, Jeth moved to the cookstove. Then he turned back to Honor at the table. “I met someone today at the fair. A man from Falling Rock. He told me that he works for your uncle. He’s watching his place while Mr. Scythe is out looking for you.”

Here it comes, she thought.

Jeth sat down in his chair again, watching her closely. “His name’s Mr. John Crammer. Know him? ’Cause he sure knows you.”

“I knew John as a child.” She worked to keep her voice calm. “But not well.”

“Mr. Crammer said your uncle has been looking for you. Said he even offered a reward for information as to your whereabouts.”

“You—You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell him a thing. But I wanted to.”

“Wanted to?”

“I think your uncle has a right to know where you are, Miss McCall, no matter how many times you quarreled.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the way you do about this. And remember, you promised not to tell where I am.”

“I’ll never tell where you are unless you want me to, ma’am. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s right.”

H
onor quaked in her bed. The room was cold, but that wasn’t the only reason she was trembling. She’d had another horrible dream and she could still see it in her mind—see her uncle chasing her. Honor had thought the nightmares would end in time, but they hadn’t. Now she wondered if they ever would.

She regretted missing church that Sunday morning and not hearing Jeth’s sermon. She hated saying she was still ill when she wasn’t. Her feeble excuse hadn’t sounded believable, even to her. Could it be that her bad dreams would go away when she stopped telling lies?

She hadn’t wanted to take the chance that she might run into John Crammer again at church. He’d seemed too eager to collect the reward Lucas was offering.

Still, her lies bothered her. Keeping God’s commandments was becoming important to her, and she didn’t like breaking them.

Honor threw back the covers, jumped out of bed and
quickly went to the wood-box. Empty. Shaking her head, she dressed quickly. It would be warm downstairs by the kitchen stove.

Before leaving her room, she looked out the window near her bed. She saw Jeth’s buggy slowly moving away, toward the wooded area beyond the house, and she hurried down to the kitchen.

After warming herself in front of the stove and eating a light breakfast, she put on her coat and her head-covering. Then she went out to gather wood. She was pulling a short log from the pile when the black buggy returned and stopped in front of the kitchen door. Honor groaned. Jeth must have forgotten something. Now she would have to try to explain why she wasn’t upstairs resting.

But a man in a dark coat and hat jumped down from the buggy. At first she could see only the back of his head. Then he turned, and a red beard caught the morning sun. She recognized John Crammer. He was with his new wife.

What was he doing here? She had thought John would either be back in Falling Rock by now or attending church in Hearten. His visit to the boardinghouse could only mean trouble.

John Crammer lifted his wife down and placed her on the frozen ground by the steps. As they started toward Honor, she waved and tried to smile. She had no choice but to go forward and meet them.

“Is the pastor home?” John asked.

“No, he already left for the church. I’m surprised to see you here, John. To be honest, I thought you would have gone back to Falling Rock by now.”

“We aim to go to church first.” John held his wife’s hand protectively. “In fact, we was on our way there now. But I have a question for the preacher, and thought I might catch him before he left for church.”

Was his question about Honor? Did John think Jeth would tell him things about her that would help him collect the reward?

“But when I seen you standing by the woodshed, Miss McCall, I thought we best stop and say hello even if the pastor’s done gone. So, why ain’t you in church this morning?”

“I’ve been feeling poorly.” Honor glanced down at the pine log in her arms. “And I needed wood for the stove in my room. It’s cold in there.” She waited, hoping John would say what else was on his mind and go away.

At last, she said, “I know you’re in a hurry to get to the Sunday service. So I won’t keep you any longer. But it was nice to see you again.” She started to walk off.

“Wait a minute.”

Honor stopped and looked up at him.

He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “We have time. Would you mind if we went inside and visited a while? I reckon we have some catching up to do, and I could use a cup of coffee.”

The word
no
shouted through her brain. He’d probably want to know when she planned to leave Hearten and where she might go when she did. Honor hoped to end this conversation. John had tricked her when she was a child and he might try to do it again. She could end up saying more than she planned to.

She faked a coughing spell, hoping he would take the hint and keep the visit very short. “Do come in, then.” She coughed again to underscore her point.

“Thank you. We’ll go in, then. Won’t we, hon?”

Willa blushed, looking embarrassed. “Whatever you say, dear.”

Honor led John and his wife into the kitchen, settling them into chairs around the table. Then she put the pot on the stove to warm. Keeping busy meant more time to collect her thoughts before she had to face John Crammer.

“Coffee with cream and sugar?” she asked.

“Willa takes hers that way. I drink my coffee black.”

Did John always speak for his wife? Honor wondered. Didn’t she have a voice of her own?

When the coffee was hot and on the table, Honor took a chair next to Willa.

“So you ran away from home, huh?” John said.

“Not really.” Honor’s temper flared, but she tried not to let it show. “I’m old enough to leave home now. Why, Willa’s about my age and she’s already married.”

“She’s my wife.”

Poor Willa, Honor thought.

“So if you ever leave Hearten,” John said, “where would you go?”

“I have no plans to go anywhere. Why would you think otherwise, John?”

“Just making conversation.”

He took a sip of coffee. “As I mentioned, my little brother and I are taking care of your uncle’s farm for him ’til he gets back, and he’s been gone a long while now,
looking for you.” He looked at his pocket watch again. “I guess we best go. It’s getting late. Church starts soon.” He rose from his chair. “Come on, hon.” He stared back at Honor. “I reckon I’ll ask the reverend them questions after church. But if not, I ’spect we’ll try to stop by again before we leave town.”

Honor forced a smile. “I’m sure Reverend Peters would enjoy visiting with you, but he’s really been busy lately. It’s hard to catch him.”

“We’ll take our chances, won’t we, Willa?”

“Yes, John.”

“As I said,” he went on, “’spect we’ll be back if we can spare the time.”

Then they left. Honor didn’t take a full breath of air until John’s buggy had rounded the hill at the end of the lane.

As she was clearing the table, she noticed that he’d barely touched his coffee. Willa’s cup was almost full, as well.

So, Honor thought, it was just as I thought. John wasn’t interested in coffee.

She tossed her head and poured the black liquid into a bucket she would empty later. Her encounter with the man had been exhausting. Now she
really
felt tired. Perhaps she would go up to her room and read for a while, maybe take a nap.

She reached for the pine log. Besides, Jeth wanted her to rest, didn’t he?

Lucas opened his eyes, coughing, and he found himself in a new world, but he had no idea where he was. A metal
teakettle sat on a table at the foot of his bed, steam pouring from it.

He lay in a tidy bed, and the blue nightshirt he wore smelled clean and fresh. His hair and body had been washed. Yet all he wanted was a drink. He threw back the covers and started to get up.

“Not so fast, sir.” The man’s voice came from a corner of the room.

Lucas turned. “Reverend?”

The minister nodded. “You’re not ready to be out and about yet, Mr. Scythe. You have a fever and a bad cough.” Reverend Kline rose from his chair to stand near the bed. “But I’m glad you’re awake. We’ve been worried about you.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

“Two days? Why, I done missed my job interview. What day is it, anyway?”

“Monday.”

Lucas swung his bare feet to the floor. “I gotta get out of here.” A wave of dizziness overcame him, and he started coughing again. He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, suddenly aware of a pounding headache. “I gotta get out of here,” he repeated.

The Reverend shook his head. “The doctor will want to see you first.”

“What doctor?”

“Dr. Brown, the one who’s been treating you. So please, lie back down. He should be here in a little while. Until then, just rest.”

Lucas remained on the edge of the bed. His shoulders shook, and he was having a hard time breathing. The minister was bound to notice. Though he had no desire to get back under the covers, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand.

“How are you feeling?” Reverend Kline moved closer to look down at Lucas. “You had us all concerned.”

“I’m all right. But I’d feel a lot better if I had me a shot of whiskey.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Preacher. You being a man of the cloth and all, you probably ain’t got none. That’s why I gotta get out of here.”

“Whiskey isn’t what you need right now.”

“But it would sure help my cough some. It always does.”

“A doctor’s what you need. The doctor who lives here in Pine Falls. And the one up there.” The pastor pointed toward the ceiling. “You’re in God’s hands. So please, lie back down and let my wife and me take care of you. You would be doing us a great favor if you would let us help you.”

“Why would helping me do you any good?”

“That’s a long story. Remind me to tell it to you.” He hesitated, looking at Lucas. “If nature calls you, I’ll be glad to hand you a pot. Would you like it now?”

“As a matter of fact, I would.”

Later, the minister reached for a small metal bell on the table by Lucas’s bed. It gave out a soft tinkling sound when he shook it.

“Why did you ring that there bell?” Lucas laughed. “Is it time to go to school?”

The pastor chuckled. “I told my wife to bring you a tray of food when she heard the bell. You must be starved. Do you feel like eating?”

“I reckon I could tolerate a cup of coffee if you could see your way clear to put a little something extra in it.” Lucas grinned sheepishly. “I shore am shaky, Preacher, and whiskey is powerful medicine.”

“As you thought, we don’t keep
that
kind of medicine in the house. But the doctor will give you plenty of good medicine when he gets here.”

The minister turned toward the doorway as Mrs. Kline swept into the room, carrying a wooden tray. Lucas had never seen a smile as bright and warm as hers. For an instant, he almost forgot about how much he needed alcohol.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Scythe,” Mrs. Kline said. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake. We’ve been praying for you.”

“Praying for me?”

“Of course. And I’ve brought your supper and a big glass of water.”

Lucas’s mouth felt dry, but not for water. Why didn’t these people understand that?

“The doctor said he wants you to drink a lot of water.” She put the tray on the table by his bed and handed him the glass. “Here. It’s good for what ails ya.”

He
was
thirsty. Lucas reached out and took the glass from her. Lifting it to his lips, he drank.

“Don’t drink too much at one time,” Mrs. Kline warned. “The doctor said to drink a little, put down the glass, wait a minute or two, and drink again. He wants you to empty
the entire glass. And if it stays down, you can have your supper.”

Lucas wanted more of the water, but he put down the glass as she had requested. He couldn’t figure out why they were treating him with such kindness. Didn’t they know he was the thief who had stolen the silver coffeepot and tray?

On Tuesday morning, Jeth arrived at Baker’s Grocery and Mercantile soon after it opened for business. When he walked inside, a tinkle sounded directly above his head. Looking up, he saw a bell nailed above the door, just like those used in big-city stores back East.

Well, what do you know? Mr. Baker is going modern, he thought.

Smelling the brine from the pickle barrel mixed with the fresh scent of baked goods, Jeth tossed his hat on a hook near the front door. Drifting toward the back of the store, he gazed at the items on display.

Mrs. Withers, in a dark gray hat, stood in front of the counter while Mr. Baker tallied her bill. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeth saw Mrs. Baker talking to Miss Sally Bennett. According to Belinda Grant, the forty-year-old Miss Bennett was the biggest gossip in Hearten.

Jeth turned his back on the women and looked at the sign above the storekeeper’s head: Ring Sale—All This Month.

Rings.
Just this morning Jeth had pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and found the small, purple-velvet box that he’d forgotten was there. It had been pushed to the back of the drawer, under a neatly folded stack of long
underwear. When he’d opened it again, after all these months, a wave of grief had overwhelmed him. It was the first time he’d looked at Selma’s engagement ring since she died.

The diamond had also belonged to his mother. But would it be right for Honor? Knowing it had once been Selma’s, Honor could refuse to wear it. Jeth had put the box back in the drawer, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Mr. Baker put Mrs. Withers’s purchases in a burlap sack. “All right, ma’am, that will be fifty-nine cents.”

The stout widow wore dark, plain-looking clothes, but Jeth had always admired the liveliness in her pale, gray eyes, as well as her dedication to the Lord.

“Can you put this on my bill, Mr. Baker?” she asked. “Money will be hard to come by until I sell the calves I’ve been raising.”

“Of course. I’ll be glad to.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.” Mrs Withers reached for the burlap sack.

“Would you like me to carry your sack out to the wagon for you?” the storekeeper asked.

“No, I can manage on my own. It’s not heavy.” She shook her head. “But thank you for asking. And I hope you and the missus have a nice day.” She turned to Jeth and smiled. “And you, too, Reverend.”

“Same to you, Mrs. Withers, and I hope to see you in church on Sunday.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

When Mrs. Withers left the store, Mr. Baker turned to Jeth. “So what can I do for you today, Pastor?”

“I would like to look at those rings you have on sale,” Jeth whispered.

“Rings?” Mr. Baker said aloud. “What kind of rings are you looking for?”

Jeth put his forefinger to his mouth. “Engagement rings. But please don’t say anything about it. I haven’t even asked the young lady yet.”

“My lips are sealed.”

The storekeeper pulled a box from under the counter and placed it on top. Jeth heard muted giggles coming from behind him. He expected Mrs. Baker and her friend to sidle up beside him and start asking questions, but they kept their distance.