Molly Noble Bull (21 page)

“A good thing you’re giving him a pair of socks for Christmas, Miss Honor.” Belinda went on. “Have you finished knitting them yet?”

“I’ve not only finished them, I’ve already wrapped them and put them under the Christmas tree.” Honor reached down and picked up Simon’s shirt. “I guess you’ve finished washing the injured man’s clothes by now, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but look what I found in his pocket.” Belinda handed Honor a black Bible. “Guess he must be a religious man.”

Honor put down Simon’s shirt and took the Bible in both her hands. Opening to the first page, she read the dedication.

A mournful cry escaped from deep in Honor’s throat.

Belinda grabbed Honor and held her close. “What’s wrong, honey? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“This…this Bible reminds me of one my late aunt had.” She handed the Bible back to Belinda. “It was just a shock to see it, that’s all.”

“You’ve been working too hard.” Belinda patted Honor’s back gently. “Why don’t you go up to your room and rest a while? I can finish the wash. I’ve done it dozens of times.”

“No, I’m fine now.” She held out her hands for Belinda to see. “Not even shaking.” Honor forced a weak grin. “Be
sides, I’m your boss until Mrs. Peters tells us differently. And I say I’m going to finish this wash.”

Belinda giggled and shook her head. “Well, if you’re sure you’re all right.”

“Positive.” Honor glanced at the hitching post in the backyard where Jeth sometimes tied his horse. Where was Jeth? She’d expected him back hours ago. Had something happened?

Slowly an image of Lucas replaced Jeth’s handsome face in her mind’s eye. She tensed. Uncle and nephew. Even their eyes were the same shade of blue.

Jeth was sure to become fond of his only uncle. If Lucas ever changed, that is. Lucas could become the father Jeth never had. Or was Dr. Harris expected to play that role?

The kitchen door opened a crack.

“Miss McCall,” Dr. Harris said.

Surprised, Honor turned.

“Would you mind coming in here a minute, please?”

“Of course.” She sent Belinda a smile spiced with amusement. “Here I go again. But I’ll be back to help you finish the wash before you know I’m gone.”

Honor followed the doctor to the front of the house. As she walked past the parlor, she glanced inside at the Christmas tree, which was charming, decorated with popcorn, paper flowers and colored ribbons.

Honor looked back at Dr. Harris, who now stood in front of the room Lucas occupied.

“What is it, Doctor?” she asked in as calm a tone as she could produce.

“I have to leave now to deliver a baby. Joe Miller stopped by to say that his wife’s time has come. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And Reverend Peters should be back shortly.” He looked down at his pocket watch. “Frankly, I don’t know what’s keeping him, and I don’t know where Regina is, either. Upstairs maybe. Until she gets back, you and Mrs. Grant are in charge of the wounded man.”

“But—”

“But what?” Dr. Harris pulled off his spectacles and wiped the lenses with a white handkerchief.

“I’m not a doctor.” Honor’s knees felt like jam. “And I don’t know anything about nursing sick people.”

“Hogwash! The three of you ladies will do fine. But I’ll admit this isn’t the best way to spend the day before Christmas Eve, is it? Hope you’ve finished your holiday buying.” He shrugged and put his spectacles back on his nose. “The gentleman inside isn’t going to do much for the next few hours, except sleep. The best thing you can do for him is pray he wakes up.”

“Is there a chance he might not?”

“Are you a praying woman, Miss McCall?”

She nodded.

“I thought so.”

Honor noticed her hands shaking and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“I’ve seen you in church lately,” he said. “In fact, you’re a new member, aren’t you?”

“I joined a few weeks ago.”

“Joining the church is a good first step. But true Christians invite the Lord into their hearts and give their bodies as a living sacrifice to the Lord.”

Worry lines formed on her brow. With thoughts of Lucas and what he might do to her flooding her mind, she was having a hard time concentrating on what the doctor was saying.

“Are you saved, young lady?” the doctor asked pointedly.

His question startled her—maybe because Jeth had asked her that same question several times. “I think I’m saved.”

But was she?

“Don’t wait too long to find out for sure,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “And before I go, are you all right, Miss McCall?” He studied her carefully. “You seem a little preoccupied.”

“I’m all right,” she said. “Anything else?”

“Just keep him nice and warm. I noticed the woodstove in his room could use a log or two.”

“I’ll see to it right away.” She felt the blood drain from her face at the thought of being alone with Lucas.

“Then I guess I’ll see you after the blessed event over at the Millers’.”

Honor watched the elderly gentleman remove his coat and hat from the hall tree, put them on, and wrap a blue wool scarf around his neck. When he’d gone, she went out the back door.

Belinda still stood at the washtub. Honor could ask Belinda to bring in the logs and check on Lucas, but she might wonder why Honor chose not do it, and that would require an explanation. Honor would do the jobs quickly and that would be the end of it. Later, she would just walk
away as she’d done on the day she left Falling Rock. Goodbyes were too difficult, too painful.

“I need to gather wood,” Honor said to Belinda. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Don’t hurry. As I said, I can finish here.”

At the woodshed, Honor gathered all the small logs her arms could hold. Then she swept back through the house. At the door to her uncle’s room, she hesitated before going inside.

Lucas still slept, one arm across his chest, the other at his side. Honor had kept on her coat and bonnet since she planned to go right back outside to gather more wood for the upstairs bedrooms.

Bending over, she opened the little iron door of the stove with a wooden stick, then dropped a log on the hot coals. A small fire ignited, and the second log caused a quick blaze. She closed the door. Warming her hands for a moment, Honor glanced back at Lucas.

His eyelashes fluttered a few times. Then his eyes opened.

Honor’s heart raced.

Lucas blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Is that you, Harriet?” He hesitated, peering up at her. “Why, it’s you, Honor, ain’t it? How long have I been sleeping?”

Honor’s hands at her sides became fists. “A while.”

Her jaw tightened, looking down at him, she saw that his blue eyes looked clear instead of bloodshot. Could all the alcohol have worked its way out of his body? Was Lucas actually sober? If so, it was the first time in years.

Honor started for the door, eager to leave.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Don’t go!”

She heard distress in his tone and she glanced back. He smiled weakly, looking frail and helpless. Pity welled inside her, seeing her uncle so vulnerable. It almost made being in the same room with him tolerable.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but failed to utter a sound. Rubbing his throat, he motioned for her to come closer. Against her better judgment, Honor crossed to his bed.

“Is there something you need, Uncle?”

“W-water.”

Honor poured water from the pitcher into a glass. Then she lifted his head so he could drink. He sent her a helpless smile instead of his usual mocking one. She put the glass back on the table by his bed with shaky hands.

She had thought merely touching the back of his head would send her running for cover. But compassion was the only emotion she experienced.

“Go get—Go get—”

“Go get what, Uncle?”

“Harriet’s Bible.”

Honor was flabbergasted. Lucas wanted a Bible? Could it be that he really had changed?

“Did you say ‘Bible,’ Uncle?”

“Yes, hurry.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Honor raced through the kitchen to the porch. Belinda still stood at the washtub.

“Back already?” Belinda said. “I’m almost finished here.”

“Would you mind handing me that Bible, please? The wounded man wants it.”

“I knew he was a Christian. Here.” Belinda handed Honor the Bible. “By the way, while you were gone, Mrs. Peters came down. She took the buggy into town. The couple upstairs wanted a few things. She said to tell you that she would be right back to help.”

Honor hurried back to her uncle’s room and gave him the Bible. His hands shook when he opened it. A letter was folded inside. He gave it to Honor. “This is for you.”

Honor put the letter in her pocket, planning to throw it away later. There was nothing Lucas could say or give her that was worth hearing or reading.

Lucas cleared his throat. “I’m…I’m a changed man, missy. And I forgive you for stealing the money what Harriet hid from me.”

“Money? Aunt Harriet never had any hidden money. There was no money. Is there something else you need, Uncle?”

He grabbed her hand and held it like he was a drowning man, about to go underwater for the last time.

Honor froze. All her old memories of Lucas returned in an outpouring of angry thoughts and feelings.

His touch hadn’t bothered her earlier. Now it disgusted her. She shook, more from rage than fear. Shaking her hand free, she raced from the room, down the entry hall, and out the front door of the boardinghouse.

“Where are you going?” Belinda called from behind her.

Honor didn’t reply or look back. She just kept running, with no destination in mind. Being any place was better than being in the same house with Uncle Lucas.

A
t dusk, Jeth crouched behind a big rock, his six-shooter cocked and ready. The sheriff had deputized him, and a silver badge was pinned to the front of his jacket. The deputies had arrived in the wilderness area ten miles west of Hearten in late afternoon and had secured their horses and extra mounts in the brush behind the cabin. Now Jeth waited for further instructions.

It had all happened so fast. One minute he was the pastor of a church, the next he was also a special deputy. A gust of anger shook him. Nothing could keep Jeth from doing his part in bringing to justice the crooks who had knocked Honor unconscious and tried to harm his mother.

But that didn’t make the job any easier. He wasn’t even a very good shot.

Earlier, the snow had melted into a white slush. Now the weather grew colder by the minute. Despite the frosty air, Jeth wiped moisture from his forehead with the back of his free hand.

The mountains had disappeared behind a bank of low-lying clouds, and a feeling of foreboding had come over him. Images of Honor unconscious on the road with a gash on her head still haunted him. When those same outlaws had robbed the stage coming from Pine Falls, with his mother on board, he had known he had to act.

Now, gritting his teeth, Jeth tightened his grip on his gun.

He should have tried harder to defend Honor during the stage robbery. He’d just stood there with his hands up. Jeth would never make another mistake like that one.

The sheriff had needed an extra deputy and he’d only been able to find a few men. So Jeth had answered the call, too. But was he doing God’s will?

He thought of the story of King David in the Bible. David had been a man of the sword. When he was a boy, he killed a giant with nothing but a rock and his slingshot. Jeth had never thought of himself as a warrior like King David, but somebody had to bring the outlaws to justice. As long as they were out there, Honor, his mother and others could be harmed, not to mention Uncle Lawrence—the man Honor called Lucas Scythe.

Jeth squinted at the log house at the bottom of the hill. The Sharp Gang were holed up there. Sheriff Green stood behind a tree to Jeth’s right. Several other men huddled in the bushes behind them.

The sheriff raised his right arm. Bob Grayson, one of the other deputies, moved into the open. Jeth tensed, ready to provide cover for him.

A crash like glass shattering came from the cabin. Had an outlaw hit a window with the butt of his gun for a better shot?

A rifle blasted.

Jeth fired back, and a
ping
sounded when his bullet hit an old piece of rusty farm equipment in front of the cabin.

Grayson crept behind the cabin and out of sight. The sheriff held up two fingers, giving the second signal. Two more deputies came out from behind Jeth and veered toward the other side of the cabin.

For several minutes, a volley of gunfire exploded. A man cried out, but it was impossible for Jeth to tell who had been hit.

Grayson threw a torch onto the shingled roof. A fire started, and the other two deputies lit their oil-soaked sticks and tossed them on the roof. Another blaze ignited. The cabin was quickly covered in flames.

Under the cover of the smoke, Jeth and the sheriff crept closer to the cabin. Jeth coughed and pulling up the red bandana from around his neck to cover his mouth.

“Come out with your hands up!” the sheriff demanded.

The outlaws tumbled onto the frozen ground, coughing, sputtering and holding their bellies. The sheriff’s men surrounded them.

“I said drop your guns!” the sheriff shouted.

Nearby, in the thick cloud of smoke, Jeth saw the outline of a man pointing a gun at the sheriff. Jeth kicked high, and the gun sailed from the outlaw’s hand. Jeth socked the man in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Then he grabbed the unconscious man’s hands and tied them. “Got one!” he called.

“Me, too,” Grayson exclaimed.

“Well, boys, I guess we got ’em all,” the sheriff shouted back. “Let’s take these outlaws in and put them behind bars.”

It was after midnight by the time Jeth got back to Hearten—cold, bone-tired and hungry. He didn’t argue when Sheriff Green invited him to spend the night in his spare bedroom.

When Jeth finally hit the bed, all that had happened that day played in his mind, calling up uneasy feelings of guilt and remorse. The frontier was a dangerous place, and Christian men were expected to defend women and children, but did that include Jeth? He was a man of the cloth, not a man with a gun.

He’d planned to ask Honor to be his wife. But that morning seemed like a long time ago, so much had happened since then.

Jeth couldn’t stop thinking about the man he’d knocked in the jaw. He also recalled the helpless look he’d seen in the eyes of one of the other wounded outlaws, a young man who Jeth had helped carry up the stairs to Dr. Harris’s office. The fellow reminded Jeth of Willie Sharp—he must be one of the boy’s older brothers.

Nobody knew who had shot the outlaw. It could have been Jeth. Thankfully, the man would recover, but if Jeth had been the shooter, was he worthy to continue as a pastor? Still, he knew that if Honor was in danger, he would defend her, always.

His thoughts drifted. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. His mother was home from Pine Falls. Yet with all that had
happened, he hadn’t found time to visit with her and learn what had happened while she was away.

As a result of the gun fight, Jeth must decide whether to keep on the course he’d believed the Lord had given him or take a new direction in life. He prayed long and hard into the night.

By dawn, he had his answer.

The stagecoach from Pine Falls had parked across the street from the hotel in front of the general store. Honor watched from the shadows, clutching her ticket. She’d spent the night hidden in the cellar under the general store. During the night, her body shook—as much from a fear of rats as from the cold. Weeping always caused her to tremble, too, and she’d cried off and on until morning.

It wouldn’t be easy, leaving Jeth, but it had to be.

A woman who Honor recognized from the church entered the general store, holding her little girl’s hand. Honor moved behind a wall of the hotel to keep from being seen.

I’ll never see Hearten or the people who live here again, she thought, swallowing hard. Goodbye, Jeth. I love you—and I always will.

When she thought nobody was looking, Honor got on the stage, her ticket in her hand. A few minutes later, the horses started off. The wheels rolled, slowly at first, and her heart churned with every turn, with every bump on the rocky road.

By now, Jeth and his mother would know she wasn’t coming back. Would Jeth be sorry? Would he come and look for her? She was going far away, where he would never be able to find her. She wanted to look back, one
more time, but Honor forced herself to gaze down at her hands folded in her lap.

The elderly gentleman seated beside her turned to speak. “Are you from Hearten, ma’am?”

Honor hesitated. “No, I’m just passing through.”

“The ticket agent said there would be an hour stop in Falling Rock,” the man went on. “And if the weather allows it, we’ll be traveling on toward Cold Springs.”

“And if the weather
is
bad?”

“We’ll be spending the night in Falling Rock. In fact, the stage might not leave again until the day after Christmas. Ma’am, do you have family in Falling Rock?”

She hesitated. “I used to. Not anymore.”

“Well, I hear there’s a nice hotel in town. I planned to stay in the hotel myself, if we don’t go on.”

“Thank you for the information, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Honor glanced down at her clothes. She wore her brown coat over her faded blue wool dress. It was the same outfit she’d worn to gather wood on the previous day, and she needed a bath. Honor didn’t care, nor did she care where the stagecoach took her. All she wanted was to be as far from Lucas and all of her memories as possible.

When Jeth arrived at the boardinghouse, Belinda Grant waited in the kitchen. She looked distraught and began to cry as soon as she saw him.

“What’s wrong?” Jeth asked. “Has Uncle Lawrence taken a turn for the worst?”

“He’s doing much better. It’s…it’s Miss Honor.”

“Honor!” Jeth’s voice had cracked with emotion, mak
ing his feelings for the young woman all too clear. “What’s wrong with her?” He felt his eyes widen. “Is she sick?”

“She’s—” Belinda wept into her white handkerchief. “She’s gone.”

Jeth frowned. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“She just ran out the door yesterday afternoon.”

“Yesterday afternoon,” he exclaimed. “Are you saying she left here and hasn’t come back?”

Belinda nodded. “We—” She wiped her eyes with the linen handkerchief. “Oh, Reverend, we haven’t heard a thing from her since. Your mother and I have been worried sick about her.”

Jeth yanked his hat from the kitchen table where he’d tossed it. “Where
is
Mama?”

“Upstairs. Mrs. Carr has a bad case of the blues today. Your mother sent Elmer out looking for Honor right after she ran away, but nobody’s been able to find her.”

He headed for the front of the house. “I’ll find her!” Jeth set his hat on his head and kept moving. “She probably picked up her ticket and took the stage. I’ll look there first.”

“Wait!” Belinda called after him. “The noon stage had already pulled out by the time Miss Honor left here.”

“I meant the noon stage today,” he shouted back.

I’ll bet that’s just what she did, he thought as he reached the front door of the boardinghouse. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Tell Mama I went after Honor.”

As he turned the doorknob, Jeth saw a brown drawstring purse out of the corner of his eye. He paused. The purse was on the desk by the front door, and it was Honor’s.

She’ll need this now, he thought, and grabbed the purse.

Jeth raced outside to the place where he’d hitched his horse. His jaw firmed.

I’ll bring her back, if I have to drag her.

Honor stood with the other passengers in front of a combination livery and blacksmith shop in Falling Rock, waiting to hear what Mr. Kraken would say.

“It’s too cold to send the stage out again today.” Mr. Kraken had made his decision. “And with the holidays coming and all, the stage won’t be leaving again until the day after Christmas.”

Honor walked from the depot toward the church. Christmas trees, burning candles and other cheery, holiday decorations appeared in the doors and windows along the way. On the rock porch in front of the church, Honor paused for a moment, remembering the last time she’d been here. Then, shivering, she opened the heavy, double doors and slipped inside.

A lit cast-iron stove stood to the left of the altar. Honor chose a pew next to it and warmed her hands.

Her gaze traveled to a Christmas tree to her far right. It looked about ten feet high. A shiny star at the top reflected the light coming from the stove and from the windows on both sides of the chapel. Gaily wrapped presents surrounded the tree.

She’d run away without the money that she’d saved, and now she had nothing to give Jesus to celebrate his birthday. Nor could she pay back the money she’d stolen, which caused a deep sorrow to spread deep in her heart.

Honor wiped away tears that had gathered at the edges of her eyes. Two Scripture verses came to mind: “Present your bodies a living sacrifice,” and “Forgive others their trespasses and God will also forgive your sins.”

Why had these Bible verses come to her at this particular time?

Jeth had assured her that God spoke to His people in many ways. Could this be one of them? And if so, what did it mean?

Honor bowed her head.

“I cannot know all that the scriptures mean, O Lord,”
she prayed.
“But I guess You want me to give my body as a living sacrifice. If that’s what You want, I’m willing. But I’m not so sure about forgiveness. How can I forgive Lucas?”

She’d hoped her prayer would destroy the dismal feelings deep inside her—that a rush of happiness would flow from her heart, but it didn’t happen. Blinking back tears, she wondered: Did the Lord expect her to forgive Lucas no matter what he had done? Honor shook her head.

“I can’t forgive yet, Lord. But I’ll give You my body as a living sacrifice.”

Honor found a pen and sheets of paper in the foyer. Seated at a writing desk nearby, she wrote the Lord a letter, promising to do what she could and thanking Him for loving her. Although she knew how to pray now, a letter still seemed right. When she finished, she dropped her letter in an empty collection plate exactly like the one from which she had taken the money.

Alone in the cold and drafty church, Honor prayed for
a long time. She didn’t know where she should go now, and sought God’s help.

After Lucas had come into her life, Honor had withdrawn deeper and deeper into a shell, a private place where she’d been safe, but imprisoned. However, God’s love had freed her from it and opened the doors of her heart. Honor knew that now, whatever happened, she would be all right. She no longer had to live in lonely isolation.

At sunset, she glanced out a church window just as a man rode up on horseback. As he dismounted, her heart jumped for joy. It was Jeth.

Why had he come? And what could she possibly say to him? Would he scold her for running away again? Or demand that she tell him about her uncle? She had no choice but to reveal the truth now. It wouldn’t be right for Honor, a Christian, to lie to him, especially in a church on Christmas Eve.

His boots tapped the brick floor when he entered the sanctuary. Honor stood and faced him.

He strode down the middle aisle, eyes on Honor. “I knew I’d find you here.”

She looked down at her high-buttoned shoes. How could she say what had to be said without crying?

He handed her the purse with the money in it. “Thought you might be needing this.”

“Yes.” Eyes lowered, Honor took the purse from him. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t come just to bring the purse.”