Molly Noble Bull (18 page)

Once he would have secretly feared that the rat would chew all the way through the wall and bite him in the dark of night. Now he felt safe somehow.

If there was a rodent behind the dresser, he needed to kill it. It also occurred to him that if he angled the heavy oak chest of drawers in front of the door, nobody could see his bed from the doorway, giving him a measure of privacy.

Lucas got on one side of the heavy piece of furniture and pushed with all his strength. It hardly moved an inch. When he shoved again, he heard something that sounded like a small object falling to the floor.

On his hands and knees, Lucas looked under the chest and saw something—something long and white. He reached in and pulled out Harriet’s pearl necklace. He
could not believe it. The strand must have been stuck in a crack of the chest all this time.

Lucas counted the pearls. There were forty-eight in all, just as he remembered. Reverend Kline had said he had prayed that Lucas would find the necklace. Now Lucas had. Could this be God’s doing? Lucas was beginning to think it was.

On Friday night, Lucas wrote a letter to Ruby, apologizing for hurting her. He also requested Ruby’s forgiveness for all the things he’d done in the past. He considered asking her to wait for him, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He would never be the kind of man Ruby needed.

As it was, Lucas had said more in his letter to Ruby than he had intended. First, he wrote “I love you, too, Ruby.” Then he marked a line through it and wrote “I wish you the best in your new job.”

On Saturday morning, after he dropped the letter in the mail slot, he realized that one line through a sentence didn’t completely block it. He would have known that if his thinking had been clearer, but it was too late now.

It snowed all day, and by the time Lucas got off work in the late afternoon, a thick coat of icy whiteness covered the ground. After hours of honest work, the cool air invigorated him. He decided to take a walk in the woods just for the fun of it.

He turned down a street he’d never visited before and saw a woman in a dark green cape, climbing the steps to the house on the corner. As he looked on, she went inside. His heart raced. Lucas couldn’t be sure, but he thought the
woman was Regina. His sister had worn a similar cape both of the times that he had seen her.

He’d been hoping to find Regina again. Although, at the same time, he hadn’t known how he would be able to face her after all these years. After all that he’d said and done, why would she want anything to do with him? Regina was a lady, and Lucas was…a drunk.

A woman like Regina would expect her only brother to become successful in life. Yet Reverend Kline had defined prosperity differently from the way Lucas always had. To the minister, successful people needed only to repent for all their sins, invite the Lord into their hearts and lives, and then know that their names were written down in God’s book.

Like the preacher, Regina was a Christian.

Lately, Lucas was thinking a lot about what it might be like for him to become a believer. But that would mean giving up drinking and gambling forever, and he didn’t think he could ever do that. Besides, he had never been able to control his anger. He might be able to change for a while, but when things got bad, he knew he would always return to his old ways.

There were plenty of good folks in the world. Why would God choose a no-good loser like Lucas Scythe?

On the day he’d seen Regina at the café, he’d thought that her eyes had seemed kind. Her voice had sounded gentle, too, as gentle as Mrs. Kline’s. And Regina had been dressed like a respectable lady, not like the women Lucas met at saloons.

He’d met Ruby in a saloon, but somehow she’d always seemed different from the other saloon girls. Maybe that was because she’d always claimed to love him.

Suddenly, a face peered out from behind the Christmas tree at the front window of the white house on the corner. Lucas squinted, hoping to glimpse Regina again. But it was a child who was looking out at the falling snowflakes, a handsome little boy with golden hair. He was smiling and appeared to be about seven or eight. Was Lucas related to that child? He desperately wanted to know.

Lucas waited a moment longer, knowing he wouldn’t find answers tonight. Then, slowly, he turned and walked away.

From time to time, the general store in Hearten carried books. Honor had purchased one on the history of Colorado. On another occasion she found a book on kite-making and bought it for Timmy’s birthday. Honor wrote a note and tucked it inside the box with the book.

Then she wrapped the package in white paper and tied the red ribbon in a big bow.

After Miss Jordan’s reading lesson on Monday, Honor walked to the little brick cottage at the end of the street
where Timmy and his family lived. She cradled the package in her arms.

Honor knocked at the door. A pretty young woman with dark hair answered. She looked like Timmy.

“Hello. May I help you?” the woman asked.

Honor nodded. “Hello. I’m Miss Honor McCall, and I work over at the boardinghouse. I’m looking for Timmy Rivers. Am I in the right place?”

“Yes, indeed. Timmy mentioned you.” The woman smiled. “I’m Mrs. Rivers, Timmy’s mother. Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you.”

Honor followed her into the parlor. The woman turned to Honor and smiled.

“Timmy isn’t home right now. He’s playing with the little boy down the street. But please, sit down.”

“I can’t stay. But I bought this gift for Timmy’s birthday.” Honor handed the package to the child’s mother. “Please see that he gets it.”

The woman nodded, but Honor thought she looked confused. Perhaps she wondered why a perfect stranger was giving her son a gift.

“I was on that stagecoach,” Honor explained, “the one that was robbed. One of the outlaws hit me over the head with his gun, and the doctor kept me in bed for a while after that. While I was recovering, Reverend Peters told me amusing stories about Timmy and his adventures with his kite. Later, Timmy came to the boardinghouse where I work and said his kite was broken. So I bought him a book on kite-building. I hope it’s all right.”

“Of course it’s all right. You are very kind to think of buying it, Miss McCall.”

There was an embarrassing pause. Honor didn’t know what else to say. Mrs. Rivers wasn’t speaking, either.

Honor drifted to the door. “As I said, I have to go now. But please wish Timmy a happy birthday for me.”

“I will.”

Honor reached for the doorknob. Then she glanced back and smiled. “He’s a wonderful child.”

“Thank you, Miss McCall. He thinks you’re pretty wonderful, too.”

After work on Monday, Lucas stood at a distance, hidden behind a clump of trees, watching the house that his sister, Regina, had entered. He longed to go to the front door and knock, but he couldn’t find the courage.

All at once, the front door opened. Two young children in dark-colored coats and red neck scarves raced out of the house. The little boy who Lucas had seen at the window was pulling a sled, much like the sleds Lucas had owned as a child. The little girl had long, dark curls and carried a rag doll. Lucas heard their laughter and he could almost feel their merriment.

The door opened again, and Regina joined the children in the front yard. Lucas watched them talking and laughing, although their voices sounded joyful, he couldn’t decipher their words, no matter how hard he tried.

Regina picked up a handful of snow and molded it into a ball. The children laughed, dashing around the yard, moving closer to where Lucas stood.

“You can’t catch me, Aunt Regina!” the boy shouted.

“Me, neither!” the girl added.

“We’ll see about that.” Regina pulled back her hand and threw the snowball at the little boy. It hit his shoulder and splattered. The boy giggled. Regina scooped up another handful of snow and repeated the process. Only this time, she aimed for the girl. The snowball missed and landed near the girl’s feet.

“See?” The little girl jumped up and down, giggling. “I knew you couldn’t get me!”

“The day isn’t over yet, Martha Marie Starling.”

Martha Marie.
His throat tightened, and a rush of warmth filled his heart. Martha Marie had been his mother’s name.

“Can we go sledding now?” the boy asked. “You promised.”

“We can if you two are very, very good and promise to do exactly as I say.”

“We will,” the children said together.

“Then, I guess it’s time to go,” Regina said. “Would you like for me to pull the sled?”

“I will,” the boy said. “I like to.”

“Very well, then, Sammy,” Regina said. “Follow me.”

Lucas followed, too, but some distance behind them, out of sight. Twigs cracked under his feet. The scent of pinecones and the slushy sound of boots on melting snow reminded him of other visits to the woods when he and his sisters were children. He might never get the chance to see his eldest sister, Clara, but it wasn’t too late to connect with Regina—though he couldn’t imagine that he would.

Now that he knew Honor didn’t live in Pine Falls, he would be leaving town as soon as he’d saved enough for a stagecoach ticket. He had a farm to manage, calves to sell—and a woman to marry, if Ruby still wanted him. But before he left town, Lucas hoped to see a lot more of Regina, the children and the pregnant young woman—from a distance, of course.

Lucas continued to watch as Regina and the children climbed to the top of a hill that looked a little too steep for sledding.

“I get to go down first.” The boy said, positioning the sled at the top of the hill and climbing on.

The little girl turned to him, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her doll. “You went down first last time, Sammy Starling. It’s my time to do it first.”

“Wait!” Regina exclaimed. “That side of the hill looks dangerous!”

But it was too late. Sammy started the downward slide at a rapid speed, and a tree loomed just ahead.

“Look out!” Regina shouted. “Sammy!”

Lucas stared in horror as the sled hit the thick trunk head-on. “No!” he charged out of his hiding place and raced toward the injured child.

Regina was already there, wiping blood from Sammy’s forehead. As a former cowboy with a long history of cattle drives, Lucas knew some doctoring skills. When he reached them, he knelt, removed his jacket, and applied direct pressure to the child’s head wound. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could think to do.

L
ucas and Regina carried the unconscious child into the house. For days, Lucas had watched the Starling home from a distance, never expecting to go inside. Now, all he could think about was little Sammy.

“What happened to my baby?” a woman shouted, rushing forward.

“There was an accident, Margaret,” Regina said, continuing down the entry hall.

“Mama!” Martha Marie called out. The little girl reached out to her mother. “Sammy’s hurt, Mama. Bad.”

The woman picked up her daughter and held her, but her eyes were on the injured boy. “Dan! Get in here! Quick!” she called.

Lucas and Regina entered a small parlor. A young man appeared before them. “Oh, no!” he cried, turning pale. “What happened?”

“Hit his head on a tree while he was sledding,” Lucas said.

Lucas felt sorry for everyone. He assumed the man was the little boy’s father. He’d already identified Margaret as the young woman he had seen that day at the Starling Café, as well as the child’s mother. If only there was more he could do.

Lucas noticed only heavy green drapes and dark paneling as he and Regina made their way to one of the bedrooms. When they laid little Sammy on the bed, the entire household gathered around the injured child.

“I’ll need sheets for bandages,” Lucas said calmly. Nobody seemed to notice that he was a total stranger.

“Sheets?” Margaret glanced around as if she were confused. “I can’t even think where they are.”

Regina grabbed a sheet from a shelf nearby. “Here.” She handed it to Lucas.

“Tear it in strips. And hurry!” he instructed.

“Dan,” Margaret said in a shaky voice, “g-go get the doctor!”

“I’m on my way, dear,” Dan said, heading for the door.

“Is Sammy gonna die, Mama?” Martha Marie asked.

“No, he’s going to be fine.” Margaret pressed the little girl’s dark head against her chest.

Suddenly another woman, an elderly lady with gray hair, appeared near the door. She moved forward. “Come to Grandma, sweetheart.” She reached for the child.

The little girl shook her head and held tight to her mother.

“Go with Grandma Starling, Martha Marie.”

The woman took the child from her mother’s arms. Then she carried Martha Marie from the room.

By the time Dan Starling led the doctor into the sickroom, Lucas had managed to stop the bleeding from Sammy’s head wound. The doctor took one look as his patient and shooed everyone out, except the boy’s father.

They all went into the parlor to wait, although Lucas longed to stay with the doctor and listen to what he had to say about the child’s condition. The cut on the boy’s head looked deep. The bump could be serious.

For several long minutes, no one spoke, then Dan joined the family in the parlor. Lucas thought he still looked very upset and discouraged. He sat soberly in a chair by the child’s door. Then he stared at Lucas for a moment. At last, he turned to Regina.

“Aunt Regina, who is this man?”

“I’ll explain later. But first, tell us what the doctor said about Sammy. Will he…will Sammy be all right?”

“Dr. Young didn’t tell me anything,” Dan Starling slumped in his chair. “He said he would talk to us later. We’ll just have to wait.”

Lucas sat in a maple rocker. He’d never liked chairs that moved, yet he found himself rocking back and forth. He also trembled, and, for the first time in years, he wasn’t shaking because he wanted alcohol. He was truly concerned about Sammy.

“I think it’s time we all prayed.” Regina glanced at Lucas. “But first, I never got the chance to introduce our guest.” She gestured toward her brother and then to the elderly woman Lucas saw earlier. “Mrs. Starling, I would like you to know my only brother, Lawrence Smith.”

Lucas nodded. “Ma’am.”

“Mrs. Starling is Sammy’s grandmother.” Regina’s gaze shifted to the child’s parents. “Dan and Margaret Starling and Martha Marie, I would like to present Lawrence Smith. As I just said, he’s my brother. Clara’s and mine. That makes him your uncle, Margaret—your uncle Lawrence.”

“Glad to know you, sir,” Sammy’s father said. “And I appreciate what you did for our son.”

Lucas nodded.

Margaret appeared to be trying to smile through her tears. “Hello, Uncle.”

Uncle.
Honor had called him Uncle until Lucas had told her not to anymore.

He gazed at Margaret. “Hello.”

She was the one who reminded him so much of Clara. Margaret had been in the family way that day at the café. Now she held a baby in her arms.

“What’s the baby’s name?” Lucas asked.

“Regina Ann.” Margaret turned to Regina. “She’s named for Aunt Regina.” Margaret paused, looking back at Lucas. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

“Yes,” Regina put in, “you have. But we won’t go into that now. As I said, we need to pray. And since Lawrence is the oldest male member of this family—” She gazed at Lucas. “Will you lead us in prayer?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I ain’t—I reckon I’d rather you did it.”

“Very well, then.” Regina bowed her head, closed her eyes and folded her hands just as the Klines had done. When she finished praying, she said, “Amen.”

The others echoed it.

Lucas wanted to say “Amen,” too, but didn’t. He hoped the prayer would be answered. No point in messing up Sammy’s chances with something he might tack on at the end.

He glanced at his niece, Margaret. Tears still streamed from her eyes. Regina wept, too. Little Martha Marie sat on the floor at her mother’s feet, playing with her rag doll. But when she glanced up and saw the women crying, she began to sob, too.

Didn’t they believe little Sammy would recover? Didn’t they have hope? What happened to that Christian faith of theirs? Reverend Kline had said that God answered the prayers of those who truly turned to him.

The doctor opened the door, everyone turned, staring at him. Lucas looked for some indication that the news would be hopeful, but the doctor’s expression didn’t tell him anything.

Dan jumped out of his chair. Margaret got up, too, handing her baby to Regina. Then they just stood looking at the doctor, waiting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Starling.” The doctor smiled. “I think your prayers have been answered.”

Margaret moved toward him. “Do you mean…?”

“Yes. Sammy’s awake and doing extremely well.”

“Praise the Lord,” Margaret whispered.

“When I first examined your son, I felt sure Sammy wouldn’t make it. But a few minutes ago everything changed.” Tears filled the doctor’s eyes. He removed his
spectacles and wiped them with a white handkerchief. “We’ll need to keep watching him. But he’s improved tremendously. I was amazed. Keep those prayers coming.”

“The Lord healed our son,” Dan stated firmly.

“Yes,” the doctor said, “I know.”

Later that evening, Lucas and Regina sat facing each other before the redbrick fireplace. They held cups of hot chocolate, and except for their whispered voices in the semidarkness and the sounds of the fire in the hearth, the house was silent. Lucas needed time to be with his sister, to discuss what happened that day and to think about all that had happened in his life since he’d last seen her.

Margaret was with Sammy in the downstairs bedroom. Dan Starling, his mother, Martha Marie and the baby were all upstairs, sleeping.

Regina leaned forward, moving closer to him. “Tell me about your life, Lawrence. You’re my very own brother. Yet I know absolutely nothing about you.”

“I don’t know nothing about you, either,” he said. “Why, I don’t even know if you’re married.”

“I was, but my husband died some years ago. His name was James Peters.”

“Peters. I’ve heard that name somewhere or other.”

“I doubt that you knew him. I met James a year or so after you moved away. We have a son.”

“I’m mighty glad for you, Regina. Reckon I always wanted a son. Now tell me about Clara? Is she…?”

“Yes. Clara and her husband died of a fever five years ago. Now they are with the Lord.”

“Is Margaret Clara’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Wish I’d known about Clara. That she died and all.” He swallowed. “And Mama and Pappy?”

“They’re dead, too, Lawrence. I’m sorry to deliver such bad news all in one evening.”

“Don’t fret none. Just give me a minute to get it all straight in my mind. My memory ain’t what it once was.”

“Neither is mine.” She hesitated. “Are you married?”

“My wife died in October.”

“I’m sorry. Did you have children?”

“She couldn’t have any, but we raised her niece like she was our own. Then the girl ran away ’fore my Harriet was cold in the grave. Don’t know why. I came to Pine Falls to fetch her home. Now I learned that she ain’t even here. She’s staying at a rooming house over in Hearten.”

“Hearten?” Regina’s eyes widened, and her voice sounded louder. “What’s the girl’s name?”

“Honor McCall. Why?”

“No!”

Regina’s face paled. Lucas thought she might be about to faint.

“What’s wrong, Regina? What did I say?”

A look of pure horror shone in her face. “Honor McCall is living at my rooming house in Hearten. And I think my son, your nephew, is sweet on her.”

His heart seemed to be doing flip-flops. In that moment, all his hope for a relationship with his sister and the rest of his relatives vanished. He took a breath and exhaled, trying to hide the sense of loss he felt.

“Honor said she had an uncle. And my son told me that Honor called him Lucas. I think she was afraid of Lucas. Are you that man, Lawrence? Are you Lucas?”

His muscles tensed even more, the way they always did when hate and anger boiled deep inside him. His hands became fists. Lucas stood, his jaw like stone. He had to get out of the house before he hurt somebody.

“Are you Lucas Scythe?” she exclaimed. “Tell me!”

He glanced toward the door. “Yes,” he shouted. “I am.”

Without another word, Lucas ran out of the house and down the darkened street. His hands shook. He felt trapped, discovered. He stopped and glanced back. The house looked dark except for one dim light in the parlor by the fireplace.

He needed a drink. Now!

Lucas kicked the trunk of a nearby tree. Then he stood a moment longer, shivering in the snow and cold. He’d left his jacket back at the house, but there was no chance he would go back for it now. Besides, his jacket was soaked with blood.

A lamp glowed in the distance, a few blocks down the street. He started running. With the street lamp to guide him, he should be able to find the nearest saloon.

He should never have allowed that preacher to talk him into giving up alcohol. It was never going to work, not for a drunk like Lucas Scythe.

In the bright light of morning, Honor was polishing the pump organ in the parlor, but her thoughts were on Lucas. She couldn’t get him out of her mind.

Mrs. Peters’s six-shooter was still under her bed, and nobody was likely to find it there. But if the time ever came, would she be able to use it, to pull the trigger? She hoped it never came to that.

She inhaled the perfume of beeswax and continued her chore. Dipping the cloth into the can of wax again, she thought she heard something. She stopped and listened hard.

She heard the scrape of the entry door opening, and Honor turned, trembling.

Timmy Rivers bounced inside, followed by Jeth. The mere sight of them washed away all thoughts of Lucas.

“Timmy!” Honor smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, Miss McCall.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Jeth said.

Honor looked behind the child, and her gaze met Jeth’s. Time stopped—at least for her. She glanced away so her feelings for him wouldn’t become apparent.

When she looked back, she noticed that snowflakes fell from Jeth’s and Timmy’s coats and caps onto the polished floor. Honor hardly cared.

Jeth frowned, looking down at his wet boots. “Why, we’re tracking snow inside, Timmy.” He looked at Honor and smiled as though he hoped to make amends. “Sorry.” He reached out and pulled Timmy back into the entry hall.

“We forgot to wipe our shoes on the rug, Timmy. Guess we better do it, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir.”

Honor watched while they wiped their shoes and boots. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” she suggested. Honor took their coats and hats and hung them on hooks in the hall. Then she continued toward the kitchen.

“Hope your mother isn’t sick again,” Honor said to the child.

“No, Mama’s not sick. I came to thank you for my birthday gift.” He grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. I like my book very much.”

“I’m glad. Have you read it yet?”

“No, but the reverend and I plan to, don’t we, Reverend Peters?”

Jeth nodded and grinned.

“We’re going to read the book together,” Timmy said.

Jeth held up the book on kite-making for Timmy and Honor to see. Until that instant, she hadn’t known Jeth had it with him.

“Sit there at the table, then, you two,” Honor said, “while I get us some hot chocolate. Then you can tell me all about those plans of yours, Timmy.”

“The book has drawings in it.” Timmy sat down at the table beside Jeth. “And it tells exactly how to make a kite that will really and truly fly. Reverend Peters and I are going to study the drawings in the book today and learn how to do it right, aren’t we.”

“We certainly are.” Jeth pulled a roll of string from his pocket and set it on the table. “And remember, Timmy, getting the right kind of string, the right kind of paper and the right kind of wood is very important if we want your kite to fly. And we might need to take some wood off the sticks
we use before making the frame. Heavy wood won’t do with kites. You have to make the wood lighter. Ever done any whittling, boy?”

Timmy shook his head. “Mama won’t let me play with knives.”

“You have a wise mama. You can help cut the paper and wind the string.” Jeth opened the book and pointed to one of the drawings. “Now, there’s a kite!”

A few moments later, Honor set three cups of hot chocolate on the table. Then she came around behind them and leaned over their shoulders. The drawing they studied looked identical to all the other drawings in the book. She wondered what they found so unique about that one, but decided not to ask.