Molly Noble Bull

by The Winter Pearl

  Honor’s cheeks heated again because she hadn’t been paying attention. “Agreeable? With what?”

  “We were discussing when you would start the lessons.”

  “Oh, well. Whatever you both decide is fine with me.”

  “Thank you, Miss McCall,” Jeth continued, “for being so cooperative.”

  Would Jeth be driving Miss Jordan to the boardinghouse for the lessons? The trip would give him plenty of chances to spend time with the young seamstress—if he wanted to, of course.

  “Miss Jordan can’t leave her mother alone for long,” Jeth explained. “So I’ll drive you here to the cottage on Monday, Miss McCall. If the weather is bad, I’ll also pick you up afterward. Miss Jordan has been kind enough to allow us to have all our future lessons here on Mondays, as well. It’s quiet at the cottage and more private than it would be at the rooming house. If later you have other students, they will like it here, too, I’m sure. Is this arrangement all right with you?”

  “Of course.” Honor nodded. “It wouldn’t be right to leave Miss Jordan’s poor mother alone.”

  In the wagon on the drive back to the boardinghouse, Honor caught Jeth looking at her before he turned off the main road.

  “I would gladly pay a penny for your thoughts,” he said.

  “You would be wasting your money.” Honor tried to smile. “I have no thoughts. My mind is a blank.”

  What a lie. She’d been thinking about Jeth and Miss Lucy since she’d left the Jordan home, recalling how cozy they had looked together in the parlor.

  “Maybe I was thinking about the boardinghouse,” she said. “It looks very impressive even at this distance.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  The big, white, two-story house with its red-tile roof and reddish-brown shutters was imposing and picturesque, surrounded by trees, on gently rolling grounds covered by a thin layer of snow. Snow-capped mountains rose behind the house, and hills framed the structure on both sides. Beyond the barn, Honor saw cow pens, outbuildings and fields. A glassy lake directly across the road from the main entrance reminded her of a reflecting pool. A wooden gate guarded the private road that led to a circular drive in front of the house.

  Jeth got out to open the gate. Honor waited, shivering in the wagon. After he’d driven through and closed the gate, they wheeled slowly down the driveway.

  When they stopped in front of the house, Jeth helped her from the wagon.

  “The house is awe-inspiring,” she said, noting the heavy brass knockers on the double doors made of oak. “Was it always a boardinghouse?”

  “No, it wasn’t. The house was built for a British lord and his family, but they didn’t live in it long. When the family moved back to England, my grandfather bought the house and the land around it for a reasonable price.”

  “What an interesting heritage.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “We think so, too.”

  In the foyer, Jeth pulled a gift-wrapped package from under the maple desk and handed it to Honor. “Here, this is for you.”

  “But why?” Honor gazed at the pink bow on top. “It’s not my birthday, and Christmas is over a month away.”

  “This is something you need.” He smiled. “Please, go ahead and open it.”

  Honor took the package and tore back the paper. After the coat, she couldn’t imagine why Jeth was giving her another gift. She unfolded the white tissue paper in the box and saw a black Bible with a gold cross on the front.

  “Oh, it’s lovely.”

  Honor had wanted a Bible to use for the reading lessons and she had hoped to borrow one. But she had never expected one of her own.

  “I want to thank you for giving me this beautiful Bible, Reverend, but I can’t accept it—unless I can reimburse you for the cost.”

  “I agreed to let you pay me back for the coat because you insisted. But the Bible is an extra copy I’ve had for a long time. I promised the man who gave it to me that I would give it to a person who needed it. That’s you, Miss McCall.”

  She searched for a reasonable protest but couldn’t think of one. Honor glanced toward the pine stairway. This would be an excellent time to exit the room before the tears of joy came.

  That night, Honor took her Bible and sat in the chair by her bed. Pulling the oil lamp closer, she flipped to the first page. An inscription jumped out at her. Honor’s forehead wrinkled. Had Jeth written this?

  Honor gazed down at the page and noticed the same wide, free-flowing script she had found in the songbook back in Falling Rock—the one that held the dedication to somebody’s late wife. Carefully, Honor read what was handwritten in the Bible. To Miss Honor Rose McCall. Seek and you will find.

  Jeth! Clearly, he had written both inscriptions. Did he also know what she had done at the church in Falling Rock?

  On Monday morning, a damp and cold wind lashed the trees in front of the boardinghouse. Seated in the wagon, Honor pulled up her coat collar. Today, she would tutor Miss Lucy Jordan in reading for the first time. She was eager to get the chore behind her.

  Jeth took longer than usual hitching the leather harness to the team of brown horses. She wished he would hurry. At last, he climbed into the seat beside her.

  “Warm enough?” He snapped the reins.

  “I’m just fine.”

  “I should have gotten out the arched bracing and strung the canvas over the wagon long before now. I’ll need to do that before I drive you into town again. Covered wagons are warmer and would protect you from rain and snow.”

  Honor tried to smile. Would Jeth ever stop worrying about her?

  “You suggested that I begin my Bible reading with the Gospel of John,” she said. “I thought you’d want to know I plan to do that. But I’ve also been reading in the Old Testament, and I have a couple of questions….” Her words trailed off when she realized that Jeth didn’t appear to be listening.

  “I’ll be taking the long way this time.” Jeth looked down the road ahead. “I want to drive by a ranch I know before delivering you to Miss Lucy’s.”

  A slicing wind had pulled several soft curls from Honor’s tight bun. The locks tickled her skin, whipping about her face and around the edges of her print bonnet. She pushed back her hair, considering the questions flooding her mind.

  To Honor, the God of the Old Testament seemed harsh and nothing like Jesus. Yet at church on Sunday, Jeth had explained that the Bible was one book from Genesis to Revelation.

  “The Lord is the same yesterday, today and forever,” Jeth had said. “We cannot expect to completely understand God until we get to heaven and see Him face-to-face. We must accept on faith that everything in the Bible is good, right and completely true, and that the God of the Old Testament is also the God of the New Testament.”

  Honor was about to try again to ask her first question, when she remembered the letter from Simon and Annie. She should tell Jeth about it before discussing anything else. Still shivering, she pulled the envelope from the pocket of her new coat and leaned forward in the wooden seat.

  “Sure you’re warm enough?” Jeth asked.

  Honor nodded, hugging her shoulders.

  “Then why are you shaking?”

  She shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

  He lifted his head, and laughter boomed from deep within his chest. “If you change your mind, the blankets are still under the seat.” He glanced at Honor, lifting one eyebrow in question. “What’s that paper you’ve got there?”

  “This?” Honor held out the envelope so he could see it. “It’s—It’s a letter from the elderly couple who we met on the stagecoach.”

  “The Carrs?”

  “Yes. They said to thank you for writing them, and they wanted to know how I’m feeling.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to read it to me?”

  Read it to him? Honor cleared her throat. She’d hoped to avoid this, but couldn’t see a way out now.

  When she had finished reading, she waited—holding the letter tightly against her
heart. Jeth would probably have questions she wasn’t prepared to answer, though she doubted he would attempt to snatch the letter from her. At last she rested her hands on her lap, trying to relax.

  “Who do you think is looking for you?” Jeth asked. “Your uncle?”

  “There’s a good chance it’s him, all right.”

  “And what did you say his name was?”

  “Lucas Scythe.”

  “So, what are you planning to do?”

  Before she could answer, he looked off toward a red farmhouse. Honor followed his gaze. A big, two-story house stood on a rise, set back from the road. New rooms appeared to be under construction. Smaller buildings circled the compound, and fresh lumber revealed that the cattle pens and lines of wood fences were also new. Honor glanced at the sign above the main gate: Sharp Ranch.

  Jeth pulled the team to a stop in front of the sign.

  “Why are we stopping here?” Honor asked.

  “I hadn’t been by this way in a while, and wanted to have another look around.” He gazed at a plowed field across the road from the farmhouse. “That was the Sharp boy we saw in town the other day—the one on the sorrel horse.”

  “And you went across the street and talked to Sheriff Green. But you didn’t tell me why.”

  “I still can’t discuss it. But I hope I can tell you all about it very soon.”

  Honor resisted the urge to press the issue now.

  “I hate to repeat rumors,” he added, “but the Sharps are said to make liquor in a barn on their property.” Jeth swung his whip above the horses and made clucking sounds. “Apparently, they are selling it to folks, making them drunk with the mixtures.”

  He clucked again, and the animals jerked forward. The horses trotted down a road that was little more than a pair of bumpy ruts.

  Honor tried to push away her confused thoughts. Instead, she focused on the beauty of the hills and the snowy mountains in the distance.

  The road took a sharp turn to the left. A tree loomed close to the muddy road. Its sweeping branches arched above their heads. Suddenly, she noticed that one of the lower branches was obstructing her view.

  “Duck!” Jeth shouted, jerking back on the reins.

  Honor ducked. The branch barely grazed the top of her head. Jeth stopped the horses.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She heard genuine concern in his tone. “No, Reverend, I’m fine,” she assured him.

  Honor watched as Jeth tied up the reins.

  “I’m so sorry about the branch,” he said. “If you hadn’t ducked, you could have been seriously injured.” Jeth shook his head. “Frankly, I didn’t even see the thing until it was almost too late.” Leaning over, he brushed a few dried leaves from her hair and bonnet. “As I think I told you, I don’t take this road very often.” He appeared to be studying her lips. “Are you really all right?”

  “Yes.” She tried to smile. “Yes, I am.”

  He moved closer. Her eyes widened and her breath caught. Honor touched the bow tied under her chin, and felt her cheeks flaming. She was sure he planned to kiss her, and she’d never been kissed by a man before.

  His lips were inches away. “Are you saved, Miss McCall?” he asked.

  Her eyes had been half closed, but they snapped open at his question. “Am I what?”

  “Born again?”

  “I don’t think so. Should I be?”

  “Yes.” He backed away from her and settled into the seat on his side of the wagon.

  She studied him for a moment before speaking again. “Did I give the wrong answer?”

  “You told the truth, and that’s always good.”

  Nodding, Honor fumbled for the blanket under her seat, needing the distraction. At the same time, she tried to digest exactly what he’d said and what it meant. Unfolding the plaid, wool lap-covering, she spread it across her knees.

  She had wanted him to kiss her, and still did. Would it ever happen? In the meantime, she planned to learn what it meant to be saved and born again. Apparently these terms were important to Jeth. She also hoped for answers to her Bible questions and a solution to the mystery of the boy and the red horse.

  Jeth cleared his throat. “I think it’s time you contacted your uncle, Miss McCall. This Lucas Scythe. Let him know you’re all right. I’m sure Simon and Annie Carr would be glad to tell him for you.”

  “They probably would. But I’ve already written and asked them not to.”

  “Not to?” He stared at her, shaking his head. “Why would you do that?”

  “I told you. My uncle and I quarreled.”

  “Quarrels can and should be resolved. It’s called forgiveness.”

  Forgiveness? She should have known Jeth would preach to her sooner or later. Wasn’t that what ministers did?

  “I’m not ready to see my uncle right now. And you promised not to tell him where I am.” Honor studied Jeth searchingly. “You’re still willing to keep that promise, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  Jeth clucked the horses to attention, and the animals moved slowly down the road.

  Honor would need to tell Jeth the truth about her uncle eventually—or part of it, at least. But her past was still too painful to think about much less discuss.

  Lucas left his rented room over the grocery store and descended the stairway outside the building. He hesitated on the street and looked around. He’d been living in Pine Falls for three weeks, and this was his first day off since he had accepted work at Skip’s Saloon. Today, he planned to make some progress in finding his runaway niece. If he also had a little fun along the way, all the better.

  He pulled a handwritten map from the pocket of his jacket and studied it.

  “Turn to the right when you’re standing in front of that place where you live and facing the street,” the man at the depot had written. “Then go one block and turn right again.”

  Lucas put the map back in his pocket and started walking.

  Ed Carter, the depot manager, was a big man, several inches taller than Lucas. Carter had complained every time Lucas had walked in the door of the depot and he’d become especially disgruntled when Lucas had asked questions. Once Carter finally opened his mouth, his answers came out as more of a begrudging growl than words Lucas could understand.

  Just looking at the man, Lucas knew Carter hated him. For Lucas, the feeling was mutual. But he’d decided to keep those kinds of thoughts and feelings to himself until he’d gotten the information he wanted.

  Yesterday, Carter had leaned forward and reached across the counter. Lucas had thought the man intended to grab him by the collar and drag him over to his side to punch him. Lucas had fisted both hands, just in case. Then Carter had pulled back and slowly relaxed.

  “Day after day, you come in here, mister,” Carter had said, “asking me questions about that stagecoach robbery, wanting to know the names of those who were on that stage. Why?” Carter demanded. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “I done told ya. My niece, Honor McCall, is missing. My wife is worried about her and sent me to fetch Honor home. Bring her back with me if I can. As I said, we think she was on that stage what was robbed. That’s why I’m asking questions.”

  “And I’ve told you many times that I don’t know who was on that stage. But Gregory Kline might know someone who can answer your questions. I gave him your name, and he said he was willing to talk to you.” Carter handed Lucas the map. “Now, go talk to Kline in the morning at nine and don’t come back here. Ever! You’re bad for my business.”

  As Lucas left the depot, he’d felt a sense of satisfaction over the encounter with Ed Carter. At the same time, he was slightly surprised that he’d managed to hold in his anger.

  Lucas stepped up his pace. He was finally on his way to meet Mr. Gregory Kline to find out what he knew. Lucas hoped to learn what had happened to Honor. And he especially wanted to know what had become of his money.

  He hadn’t sold the Bible or the pearls y
et, but he had sold Lady to the man on the swaybacked horse back in Hearten. He hated to lose his mare, but in her condition, Lady was having a hard time carrying Lucas and his load. As a result of the sale, Lucas had enough to take the stagecoach to Pine Falls—with money left over.

  He turned right at the corner and went down a side street. Ed Carter said that Kline lived in the middle of the block in a little white house with black shutters.

  Gazing ahead, he saw a small cottage fitting the description. A white picket fence surrounded the house, and a man stood at the front gate. Lucas assumed he was Gregory Kline.

  The man smiled when Lucas grew closer. “Are you Lucas Scythe?” he asked.

  “I reckon I am.”

  “I’m Gregory Kline.” He opened the yard gate. “Please, come in. My wife and I were expecting you.”

  Lucas licked his lips. He needed a drink. Was Mr. Kline a drinking man? Lucas sure hoped so. However, he decided to wait a while before asking, get to know Mr. Kline first.

  The small living room was neat and clean, and a fire popped and snapped in the hearth.

  “Sit there by the fire and warm yourself.” Mr. Kline motioned toward an overstuffed brown chair with a wooden footstool in front of it. “Put your feet up if you’ve a mind to. We wouldn’t care at all. My wife will be in with a pot of hot coffee in a minute.”

  Lucas sat down and looked around the room. He hoped to see a whiskey bottle or something that would indicate he would soon be drinking alcohol. His eyes focused on a large Bible—open on a table near his chair.

  “I see you noticed our family Bible.”

  Lucas swallowed before trying to reply. “Yes, yes I did.”

  “If you haven’t found a church home yet, we would sure like to have you come and pay ours a visit.”

  “Church home?”

  On hearing the word church, Lucas felt his face and neck warm, and he stopped looking for whiskey. He wasn’t likely to find any here.

  “Do folks live right there in your church?” Lucas asked.