Molly Noble Bull (15 page)

A pearl ring caught Jeth’s interest immediately. Honor had told him that her aunt had owned a pearl necklace that had once belonged to Honor’s grandmother. Her aunt Harriet had promised Honor she would have it one day, but the necklace had disappeared long before her aunt died.

Jeth tried not to look at the pearl ring. His mother had taught him long ago that a wise shopper didn’t show an interest in the item he intended to buy. Jeth picked up a diamond ring. Looking at it briefly, he dropped it back in the slot.

He lifted the ruby ring and examined it. “How much is this one?”

“Seventy-five cents. It’s a genuine imitation ruby.”

“Is the pearl imitation, too?”

“Yes, but of the finest quality.”

“Do you have any real pearl rings?”

“Oh, well…” Mr. Baker hesitated. “No. But I can order you one. I have a catalog here somewhere. Excuse me a minute.” The storekeeper went to the back of his shop and out of sight.

Jeth glanced over his shoulder. The two women had moved much closer to the counter and were whispering back and forth. When they saw him watching them, Sally Bennett elbowed Mrs. Baker, and they ended their conversation. Then they grinned at Jeth.

Forcing a smile, Jeth drummed his fingers on the countertop. In his opinion, the women were up to no good.

A few minutes later, Mr. Baker returned, holding a thick book in both hands. He put it on the counter, then opened it to a marked page.

“Here it is.” Turning the catalog around, Mr. Baker pointed to a drawing of a pearl ring. “Would you like me to order it for you?”

Jeth squinted at the page and read the information. The price was more than he wanted to pay. But the ring was exactly what he’d been hoping for. Honor would love it. “Yes, I would like you to order this one for me,” he said. “Will it be here by Christmas?”

The storekeeper frowned. “Let me think. It’s still mid-November.” Mr. Baker turned and gazed at a calendar on the wall behind him. When he swung back around, he smiled. “Yes, sir. I’m sure it will be. Maybe sooner. I know a jeweler in Denver, and he handles rings like the one you want.”

“Good.” Jeth closed the catalog, sliding it back to Mr. Baker. “As I said, I hope you’ll keep this purchase between the two of us.”

“Oh, yes, Pastor. Nobody else will know.”

As Jeth started for the door, he saw Mrs. Baker and Sally Bennett whispering and looking animated and excited. He hoped they had been discussing matters other than his purchase, but he doubted it.

Maybe Mr. Baker would take hold of the reins and demand they keep Jeth’s secret. But knowing the storekeeper and his wife, Jeth found that possibility unlikely. If the tongue-wagging started, he would have to find a way to stop the story before it spread.

A rat the size of a big dog ran halfway across Lucas’s bed and stopped. Lucas screamed. He could smell its vile breath. The rodent turned and snarled at him, showing long white teeth. Lucas shrieked again.

Reverend and Mrs. Kline raced into his room.

“What’s wrong?” the minister exclaimed.

Lucas pointed a shaky finger toward the foot of his bed. He’d always hated rats. At the moment, he was too frightened to speak.

The minister put a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, Mr. Scythe? What do you see?”

“That…that big rat. It’s daylight outside. Can’t you see it?”

The reverend shook his head. “Nothing’s there, believe me. You’ve had another bad dream, probably brought on by your fever.”

“I…I ain’t dreaming. My eyes are wide open.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but there is no rat. Nothing’s there. Your mind is playing tricks on you
because of all your drinking. Remember, the doctor said you were to expect this.” Reverend Kline put his hand on Lucas’s forehead. “Your fever’s high again, too.”

“No matter what you say, this ain’t all in my head, and it shore ain’t because of no fever. It’s real. I know what I seen.” Lucas screamed again.

“What happened?” the reverend asked.

“It bit me! On the foot!”

Lucas began to weep, shaking all over. He couldn’t seem to stop. Reverend Kline took him in his arms, as if he were a baby, and held him tight.

“Bless your heart,” Mrs. Kline said, leaning forward and patting Lucas on the shoulder. She handed him a white handkerchief. “Here, sir, use this.”

Through his tears, he saw compassion on her face.

“And remember,” she added, “you’re not alone. We’re here, Mr. Scythe. And we’re praying for ya.”

“Yes, we are,” the reverend put in, “and the Lord’s here, too, watching over all of us.”

Lucas sniffed and wiped his nose on the handkerchief. “Why would God waste his time on somebody like me? I ain’t worth it.”

“Oh, you’re worth it, all right,” Reverend Kline insisted. “And God loves you, Mr. Scythe. He truly does.”

“How do you know?”

“The Bible says so, that’s why. And it is impossible for God to lie.”

Lucas cast a quick glance toward the foot of the bed.

“Is the rat still there?” the minister asked.

“Yes, but his mouth is shut. And he ain’t as big now.”

Reverend Kline folded his hands. “I’ll bet if we pray together, he’ll get even smaller. Maybe he’ll go away completely. Will you pray with my wife and me, Mr. Scythe?”

“I ain’t no praying man, Preacher. Never have been.”

“You don’t have to say or do anything if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to say ‘amen.’ But the wife and me—well, we’re going to pray. And we’d love for you to join us.”

Lucas didn’t hear much of the preacher’s prayer. But all at once, the rat started growing smaller and smaller. Trembling, he watched until the varmint disappeared.

Lucas must have gone to sleep. When he awoke again, it was dark outside. An oil lamp burned on the table by his bed, and the reverend slept in a chair nearby. The covers on his bed looked wrinkled, and his feet felt icy. Lucas hesitated to glance toward the foot of the bed to see why. The rat could have returned. When he finally looked, however, he discovered the blanket had pulled out from the edge of the mattress and his feet were uncovered.

Despite his fear of rats, Lucas sat up to fix his covers. When he did, the bed squeaked, and the minister stirred in his chair.

“Are you all right, Mr. Scythe?”

“I’m fine now, Preacher. Why don’t you go to bed? I figure that there chair is mighty uncomfortable to sleep in.”

“What about the rat?”

“I reckon he went back where he came from.”

Reverend Kline chuckled softly. “How are you feeling?”

“As I said, I’m doing plenty fine. So why don’t you go? Get some sleep?”

“You’ve had a bad night. Bad dreams. Tossing and turning. I think I’ll stick around a little longer. Would you like something to drink—besides you-know-what?”

“I’m pretty dry at that. I reckon water might be powerful nice after all.”

The minister poured water from a china pitcher into the empty glass. “I found a key in your pocket. Would it be the one to the place where you live?”

“I reckon. I have a room over Wilson’s Grocery Store in the center of town.”

Reverend Kline handed Lucas the water and watched while he drank. “I’ll be going over to that rented room of yours this morning to get your things and haul them over here. Is there anything special you would like for me to bring you?”

“You don’t need to bother, Preacher. About all I’ve got over there is dirty clothes.”

“My wife is good at washing and ironing. And you’ll be doing me a favor by letting me get your things.”

“How?”

“It’ll give me an excuse to go downtown and look around. Maybe do a little shopping,” he whispered. “I need to buy an anniversary gift for the wife, but don’t tell her I said so.”

Lucas laughed with real amusement for the first time since he had arrived at the Klines’ home. “Don’t worry, Preacher. I won’t tell her nothing.”

“Did I mention that I mailed those letters you had when you came here?” the minister asked.

“What letters?”

“The ones I found in your pocket. There was a letter addressed to Mr. John Crammer and the other was to Miss Ruby Jones.”

Lucas had forgotten he’d written any letters.

“While I’m in town,” the minister went on, “would you like for me to check with the man who owns the grocery store downstairs? See if you have any mail?”

“Suit yourself. But I doubt I’ll have any. I ain’t never got many letters. Unless folks have something to fuss about, that is. Or want me to pay ’em some money.” Lucas chuckled. “Now them are good reasons to write me, ain’t they?”

Then he added, “But if’n I ever do get any mail, I reckon my landlord would bring it up to me. Slip it under the door or tote it on inside. I ’spect he’s got a key, since he owns the place.”

A
t three o’clock on the next afternoon, Reverend Kline came into Lucas’s room carrying a book. A closer look revealed Harriet’s Bible.

“I’ve brought your Bible.”

“Why did you bring it in here?” Lucas demanded. “I’ve been meaning to sell it, but I ain’t been able to find no buyer yet.”

“My wife is washing all your clothes right now,” the minister said, ignoring Lucas’s comment. “Mrs. Kline should have them ready by nightfall.” The minister set the Bible on the table by the bed.

“Get that book away from me,” Lucas shouted. “I done told ya. I don’t have no hankering for the Good Book.”

Lucas grabbed the Bible and threw it as hard as his weakened condition would allow, barely missing the minister’s shoulder. The Bible hit the chest of drawers and landed on the floor.

He expected the minister to be angry. His outbursts
usually caused fear or anger in others. Without saying a word, Reverend Kline picked up the Bible and placed it right back on the table.

Lucas shouted out a curse, but the minister appeared not to notice. Reverend Kline had nerves as hard as an anvil. Lucas had to respect a man like that—even if he was a preacher.

On Monday morning, Honor went to Lucy Jordan’s home to teach her weekly lesson. In Miss Jordan’s living room, Honor finally met Lucy’s blind, widowed mother, Mrs. Annette Jordan.

Wearing a violet dress, Mrs. Jordan looked a lot like Lucy, but her smile was sweeter. She was also small and dainty and had a fair complexion like her daughter, but in Honor’s mind, the similarity ended there. The older woman’s long dark hair was streaked with gray and piled on top of her head in a tight knot. Pearl earrings dangled from her ears.

Honor had loved pearls ever since she’d first dreamed of inheriting the string that had belonged to Aunt Harriet. After the necklace had disappeared, Honor had tried to put the pearl necklace out of her mind. But now, Mrs. Jordan’s earrings brought all Honor’s losses to the surface of her mind again.

Once, in a sermon, Jeth had told the story of the pearl of great price mentioned in the Bible. He’d said he thought the pearl was a symbol of Jesus and salvation by grace. Although Honor attended church services regularly now, terms Jeth used still baffled her. Some of Jeth’s warnings frightened her, as well, so much so that she wanted to
crawl under a pew and hide, especially when he stressed the importance of being saved from the fires of hell.

She didn’t want to believe there was a hell. If there was such a place, Honor was probably doomed.

“May I touch your face?” Lucy’s mother asked in a gentle voice, interrupting Honor’s thoughts. “I know it’s a strange request. But I can see people better when I do.”

The question gave Honor an uneasy feeling, but when Mrs. Jordan gestured for Honor to come closer, she did. Kneeling before the older woman, she removed her bonnet.

Mrs. Jordan placed wrinkled hands on Honor’s face, moving them as an artist might as she molded a piece of clay. “Oh, Miss McCall, you have high cheekbones, a wide mouth and soft skin. You are very beautiful.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I’m just average looking.”

“Nonsense, you’re lovely. My fingers never lie.”

Honor couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t received many compliments in her lifetime, and cherished each one.

Mrs. Jordan ran her fingers through the curls that had escaped Honor’s bun.

“Shouldn’t we start my reading lesson now?” Lucy asked from across the room.

“In good time, daughter. I want to finish looking at this pretty young lady first,” Mrs. Jordan said. “Your hair is soft and thick, my dear.” She brushed the tips of her fingers lightly over Honor’s eyelids. “You have long lashes. What color are your eyes and hair?”

“I have brown eyes and dark, reddish-brown hair, ma’am.”

“Ah, yes, auburn hair and brown eyes. A nice combination. Do you enjoy reading, Miss McCall?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“So did I, once. But now—” She licked her crinkled lips. “I miss reading the Bible. But thanks to you, young lady—” She folded her hands, put them in her lap and sent a smile in Honor’s direction. “Thanks to you, my Lucy is learning to read. Soon she’ll be able to read the Bible to me. What a joy that day will be.”

While Mrs. Jordan talked, a current of warmth started in Honor’s heart and spread throughout her body. Until now, instructing Lucy in reading had merely been a job. But Mrs. Jordan made teaching seem like a calling—a Christian ministry, as Jeth would say.

Honor wanted to continue talking to this dear lady, but she knew that she should start the lesson. Nevertheless, she would be eternally grateful to Lucy’s mother. She’d helped Honor see herself in a fresh way.

After Mrs. Jordan had left the room, Honor sat down by Lucy on the couch and pulled a slate and a piece of chalk from her carpetbag. “I guess we can start now.”

“Why don’t we pray first?” Lucy suggested, and then immediately bowed her head.
“Lord,”
she prayed.
“Teach us what You would have us learn during today’s lesson.”

When the prayer ended, Honor drew the letter
A
on the slate and gave the chalk to Lucy. “What are the long and short sounds of this letter?”

Lucy took the chalk between her thumb and forefinger. “Let me see.” She tilted her head. “
A
gives its short sound in words like
apple.
” Lucy put a small chalk mark over the
a.
“And it gives its long sound in words like
table.
”

Honor smiled. “Very good.”

Lucy produced the sounds of all the letters in the alphabet and read several verses from the Bible aloud. She wasn’t the best reader Honor had ever heard, but she was showing a lot of improvement.

“You’re reading well, Lucy. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth. I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t.”

Honor put the slate and chalk back in her bag.

“You’re in love with Pastor Peters, aren’t you, Miss McCall.”

Shocked by Lucy’s question, Honor stared at her. Then she fumbled with the leather handle of her bag, wondering how to reply.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said. “I had no right to ask that question.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it.” Honor rose. “But I really must go. I have shopping to do before I return to the boardinghouse, and I’d better get started.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

Honor forced a smile. Forgiveness didn’t come easy to her. But she planned to be extra nice to Lucy the next time they met.

After the lesson, Honor was picked up in the wagon by Jeth. “Would you mind stopping by the general store before you drive me back to the boardinghouse?” she asked when she’d taken her seat beside him. “I need to buy thread and a few other things.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”

As soon as Honor stepped inside the store, a bell rang above her head. Several women were huddled around Mrs. Baker, talking, their backs to the door. When they heard the bell, they turned and looked at Honor, watching her for several moments.

Honor hated attention and knew she must be blushing. At last, they turned around and continued their conversation.

Honor dismissed the incident and went directly to the display of threads on a small table near the jars of candy. She selected spools of white and pale blue and dropped them in her carpetbag, intending to pay for them later.

Now, what else do I need? She puzzled, trying to remember. I should have made a list. Oh, yes, white material for a new blouse. She gazed at the piece goods area, close to where the ladies stood.

Taking her time, Honor surveyed every table as she meandered through the store. She needed shoes, and she picked up a pair of brown high-buttoned ones that she immediately saw were much too big. She put them back and moved on down the aisle.

From the rear of the store, she slowly made her way back to the table where cloth was displayed, hoping none of the women would notice her.

Honor ran the palms of her hands over rolls of white material, trying to decide which one felt the softest.

“Are you saying Pastor Peters ordered an engagement ring?” one of the women asked.

Honor paused to listen.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Mrs. Baker answered.

Honor jerked her hands from the fabric as if it were hot. Did this mean Jeth was engaged? Or about to be? And who was the lucky bride? Lucy Jordan?

“Does anyone know who the pastor’s lady-love is?” another woman asked.

“I can’t say for sure, mind you,” Mrs. Baker went on. “But I was told on good authority that…” Her words faded into a whisper.

Honor strained to hear more but couldn’t.

The bell over the door chimed.

A gray-haired man whom Honor had seen at church came into the store. Honor didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping. Grabbing her carpetbag, she quickly walked away from the group of women. She was about to open the door when she remembered that she hadn’t paid for the thread.

Whirling, she snatched the spools from her bag, tossed them on the nearest table and dashed outside. She’d almost reached the wagon when a new thought hit her. Could
she
be the future Mrs. Jethro Peters?

Impossible.

She didn’t smile when she climbed onto the seat beside Jeth, but she didn’t frown, either. She simply sat there like a wooden statue, contemplating.

Three days later, Lucas lay in bed awaiting his breakfast. He licked his lips. Mrs. Kline was a good cook and he smelled bacon frying. Lucas was feeling better and had begun to get out of bed for a few hours each day. Now he reached for the pitcher on the table by his bed, and as he poured water into the glass, he thought about what he used to drink in the morning. It wasn’t water.

Casually, he glanced out the window beside his bed. A woman in a dark cape was trudging through the snow outside. Lucas looked again. Could it be his sister? Opening the window wide, he leaned closer to it. A draft of frosty air made him shiver. Lucas hugged his arms close to his body and watched. He couldn’t see the woman’s face, but her purposeful gait reminded him of Regina.

The woman turned. She
was
Regina. Where was she going? Was she looking for him? Lucas doubted it.

Then Regina moved out of his line of vision. Lucas hoped she would turn around and walk by his window again, although he wasn’t ready to talk to her face-to-face. He might never be.

Lucas partially closed the window, settled back in the bed, and pulled the covers around his shoulders. Reverend Kline had told him that if he hoped to recover from the fever, he should stay warm.

Reverend Kline also had left Harriet’s Bible on the table. Lucas recalled that Regina had studied the Bible every day after she’d learned to read, and so had his eldest sister, Clara. Lucas was the black sheep of the family—just like Pappy. With those memories came the thought that a shot of whiskey sure would taste good right now.

Lucas gazed at the Bible again and saw a gold ribbon dangling from it. He’d been carrying that Bible around since the day Ruby had given it to him. Why hadn’t he noticed the ribbon before?

Sipping his water, he wondered what the ribbon meant. Why was it there? He had no intention of reading the Good Book. However, the ribbon intrigued him.

He put down the glass, reached for the Bible and opened it. Holding the Bible with his left hand, he ran his fingers down the marked page. The silk ribbon felt soft to the touch.

Lucas looked closely. Some of the words had been underlined. He shook his head. Who had the audacity to write in a Bible? He’d always been taught that such behavior was shameful. His schoolteachers would have switched him if he’d underlined words in a school book. Still, he was curious to know what was written on that page.

His eyesight wasn’t as good as it had once been. Squinting, he stretched his arms out almost as far as they would go and read.

“I noticed you squinting,” Reverend Kline said. “Are you having a hard time reading?”

Startled, Lucas glanced toward the doorway and closed the Bible. He hadn’t known the reverend was watching.

“I ain’t been reading. Just looking over this here book some, that’s all.” Lucas tossed the Bible back on the table by his bed.

Reverend Kline came closer, and pulling a pair of spectacles from the pocket of his shirt, he placed them over the Bible like a paperweight and glanced toward the window. “The house is a little drafty. We best close the window there by your bed, Mr. Scythe. It’s getting cold in here.”

Since Lucas made no attempt to do as he suggested, the minister leaned over the bed and closed the window all the way. “That’s an extra pair of spectacles I’ve had for a long time,” the minister added. “I thought you might like to have them. They’ll make it a lot easier for you to read.”

“I don’t need nothing like that. ’Cause I ain’t planning to do no more reading—at least not the Good Book. But if you have any of them ‘shoot ’em up’ stories, I’d be obliged if you would bring one of them in here so I could read it. I like to read about outlaws and cowboys and Indians.” Lucas coughed. “When am I getting out of this here bed?”

“The doctor said you could be up and around as soon as your fever goes down.”

Lucas glanced at the Bible again. “I noticed somebody’s been marking in the Good Book,” he said. “Guess it must have been my wife. This here book belonged to her ’fore she—” After telling everybody in Pine Falls that his wife was still alive, he almost let it slip that Harriet had died. “As I told ya, we raised her niece as our own. That’s why I came here to Pine Falls, to find the girl. But nobody’s done seen her. Least, I ain’t found anybody what has.”

“God knows where your niece is.”

“How do you know that?”

The minister glanced at the Bible. “It’s all right there—in God’s Word.”

Lucas thought of the underlined words again. “My pa would have taken me to the woodshed if I’d marked up an expensive book like Harriet done.”