Molly Noble Bull

by The Winter Pearl

  Mr. Kline grinned. “My, no. What I meant to say was, would you do us the honor of visiting our church on Sunday morning?” Still smiling, he hesitated. “What do you say? It’s just down the street here, and I’m the pastor.”

  “You mean you’re a preacher?”

  “God willing, I am.”

  “Well, I don’t know about church. You see, I’ll probably have to work this Sunday.”

  “Then please come the first chance you get. We have services on Wednesday nights, too. But you’re welcome at First Bible Church. Anytime.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir.” Lucas swallowed again, wondering what to say next. Then he cleared his throat.

  A rounded little woman with yellow hair, bright blue eyes, and a wide smile came into the parlor. She carried a silver serving tray.

  “Here’s my wife now.” The minister got up from his chair and helped the woman set the heavy tray onto a small table near the center of the room. “Mrs. Kline, I would like to present our guest, Lucas Scythe.”

  “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Scythe,” she said.

  Lucas nodded, glancing back at the coffeepot and tray on the round table. “Likewise, I’m sure.”

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off the pot and the shiny metal tray. Wonder how much the silver in it is worth? he thought.

  Mrs. Kline poured coffee into two white cups, acting the perfect hostess. The silver coffeepot and tray glittered in a beam of sunlight coming from a window behind her.

  “Mr. Scythe is the one Ed Carter at the depot was telling us about,” Reverend Kline said to his wife. “He wants to talk to folks who were on that stage that was robbed.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Mrs. Kline walked across the room and handed Lucas a cup of steaming coffee.

  Lucas took the warm cup from her. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Sugar and cream, sir?”

  “No. I drink my coffee black.” He motioned toward the table where she had left the silver pot and matching tray. “That’s a mighty fine coffeepot and tray you’ve got there, ma’am, and it looks expensive. Is it made of genuine silver?”

  “Yes, it is. In fact, the inside of the pot is made of gold.” Her smile deepened. “It was a wedding gift and came all the way from London, England.”

  “That’s a gift you can be proud of,” Lucas said, “ain’t it.” He glanced back at the preacher. “I hear you know somebody what was on that stage from Falling Rock. The one that got robbed. Is that right?”

  The preacher nodded as his wife handed him a cup of coffee. “Two people on that stage have been attending our church, but I don’t know them very well yet. What would you like to know?”

  “I’m looking for my niece, Honor McCall.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Reverend Kline said.

  Lucas lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. The hot liquid warmed his mouth.

  “Honor is like a daughter to my wife and me. With Christmas coming and all, we’ve been hoping I can find her and bring her home before the holidays. I thought maybe if I talked to the ones who were on that stage, I might learn something that would help me find Honor.”

  “As I said, I don’t know the couple who were on that stage very well.”

  Couple. Lucas hadn’t known they were man and wife.

  “They haven’t been coming to our church long,” the preacher went on. “But I’ll be glad to talk to them and see if I can set up a meeting with you.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind giving me their address, I could stop by and talk to them myself. Save you the trouble.”

  The preacher shook his head. “Well, I don’t know about that, sir.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not normally the way things are done at our church.”

  The minister covered his initial reaction with a quick smile. Still, the flicker of distrust left its mark on Lucas, and he feared there might never be a meeting now.

  There was nothing Lucas hated more than church and preachers. However, his only hope of meeting the couple who had been on the stage might be to attend church services on Sunday. Since he wasn’t scheduled to go to work until five on Sunday afternoon, he really had no excuse.

  “Maybe I could attend morning services at your church on Sunday after all. Now, when did you say I should be there?”

  “Half past nine.”

  Jeth stopped the wagon in front of Lucy’s cottage. Honor thought he appeared to be in deep thought. Was he thinking about Lucy? Uncle Lucas? Or the kiss they had almost shared?

  The kiss.

  A whisper of softness rippled through her as Honor recalled that Jeth had leaned toward her, dissolving the space between them. His blue gaze had gentled, and his mouth had moved closer and closer. She couldn’t stop wondering what it might have been like if he’d taken her in his arms and held her. She blinked, holding back a sigh, as thoughts of actually kissing him touched every part of her.

  Was it wrong to have such thoughts? Dreams? Now that Aunt Harriet was gone, there was nobody for Honor to ask.

  What did it matter? With Lucas actively searching for her, she should probably leave Hearten by the end of the week.

  Chapter Nine

  While Honor taught her reading lesson, Jeth drove his team of horses to a spot across the street from the sheriff’s office. As he started to climb down from the wagon, he noticed a purse that Honor must have left on the wooden seat. Jeth decided to put it under the bench and out of sight.

  He reached for the purse, and suddenly noticed the scent of lilacs coming from the brown material. Tender visions of Honor McCall filled his mind.

  Her long auburn hair had been coiled into a bun at the nape of her slender neck that morning, and those big brown eyes of hers had never looked brighter or more appealing. And her pink lips…

  Jeth drew in his breath. It wasn’t proper to think about Honor’s mouth. Yet he’d been doing it for days and most nights.

  Jeth wanted to kiss her—to make her his wife. However, knowing what he knew about her spiritual walk, marriage was out of the question. Perhaps it would always be so. Yet he couldn’t stop worrying about her and hoping that one day soon, things would be different.

  He crossed the wet street to the sheriff’s office and opened the door. Sheriff Green was leaning back in his chair and appeared to be sleeping. The sheriff had once told Jeth that his grandfather was a Cheyenne chief. Certainly his dark, rugged complexion and blue-black hair confirmed it.

  As Jeth moved farther into the office, he bumped into a chair, knocking it against the wall. The chair hit the floor with a bang. The sheriff jumped and jerked his head around.

  “Well, Reverend. Good to see you in here again.” Sheriff Green glanced at the overturned chair. “Sit down if you can find a place, and stay awhile.”

  Jeth chuckled and hung his hat on the wall. Then, righting the chair, he settled onto it.

  The sheriff gestured toward a coffeepot, hanging from a hook over an open fireplace. “I’ve got coffee if you want some.”

  “Smells good, but I better not. I drink too much coffee.”

  The sheriff gave a short laugh. “Are you saying you’re a drinking man, Preacher?”

  “Maybe.” Jeth laughed. “But only if it’s the right kind of drinking.” He relaxed against the back of his chair. “So how’s your robbery investigation going?”

  “Oh, yes, the stage robbery.” The sheriff looked down at a sheet of paper on his desk. “Let me see. It says that the last time you were here, we talked about the robbery. And you said you thought the red horse that the Sharp kid rides around town is the same animal you saw during the robbery. Is that right?”

  “Exactly right.”

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair, rubbing his black mustache. “So what new information have you brought me this time?”

  “I rode by the Sharp place before coming here and saw something that might interest you.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “The Sharps have fixed up their place since I last s
aw it. The house has a new roof. A couple of rooms are being added to the original structure, and the fences are new, too. The Sharps look more prosperous than I remember. Do you know if the family inherited money lately?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’ll sure check. Still, I can’t make an arrest merely because they’re finally keeping their place from running down. Any rancher with brains in his head repairs his property.”

  Jeth frowned. “That’s true. But I still think they’re the outlaws. I know what I saw.”

  “I think they might be the robbers, too, Reverend. But you said the outlaws were wearing masks the day of the robbery, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I need proof of a crime before I can make an arrest. That’s the law.”

  “It’s against the law to rob stages and hit young women over the head with the butt of a gun. But that didn’t stop the robbers, did it.”

  “It’s my job to solve this case, and I will.” The sheriff glared at Jeth. Then, his face relaxed. “Not that you’d do something like this—being a preacher and all, but we can’t have our citizens going around taking the law into their own hands.”

  Jeth pulled out his silver pocket watch and checked the time. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. After a moment, he glanced back at the sheriff. Jeth respected Sheriff Green, but he knew—and the sheriff knew—the Sharps were guilty. Why didn’t the lawman go ahead and put them in jail before they robbed another stage? Or did something worse?

  Clenching his teeth, Jeth rose from his chair. The more he thought about the short arm of the law, the angrier he got. Someone needed to put a stop to these crimes, and apparently, nobody planned to do so.

  He snatched his hat from the hook on the wall and headed for the door. “I’ll see if I can find the proof you need, Sheriff. Somebody has to.”

  Jeth glanced back. The sheriff grinned and got up from his chair.

  “Thanks for stopping by.” Stretching long, skinny legs, Sheriff Green folded big hands around his wide leather belt and jerked up his trousers as though he expected them to slip down around his narrow hips. “Come back anytime.” He placed a hand at Jeth’s back and walked him to the door. “But remember, I need proof of a crime before I can make an arrest.”

  Yes, Jeth thought, holding in another burst of irritation. I believe you mentioned that.

  “And another thing,” the sheriff added. “I might be calling on you soon to serve as a special deputy.”

  “Special deputy?” Surprised by his comment, Jeth stopped and faced him. “You must be joking.”

  “I’ve never been more serious.”

  “Have you forgotten I’m the pastor of a church?”

  “No, I didn’t forget. But it’s hard to find honorable men to serve as deputies these days. And you’re about the most honorable around.”

  Special deputy? Jeth chuckled under his breath and turned toward the door. He could only imagine what his parishioners would say if he became a lawman—even for a short time. But if the sheriff wanted proof, Jeth would see he got it.

  As Jeth stepped down from the wooden walkway, the soles of his boots dug into the thick mud mixed with ice. He ambled across the street, again noticing the red horse tied in front of the general store.

  He wondered if the boy was riding the animal. It was possible that one of his older brothers came into town. Maybe Jeth would go over to the store and see what he could find out.

  As soon as he stepped inside, Jeth saw the boy looking dreamily at jars of candy. Jeth sidled up to him.

  The child looked up at him. He appeared to be clean enough in spite of the patches on his ragged clothes, and his black eyes snapped with a hint of intelligence. But the thick, sandy-colored hair that fell across his forehead needed cutting. Was the child’s mother too busy to use the soup bowl and trim the boy’s hair?

  “Like candy, boy?” Jeth asked.

  “Do I?” The child turned to Jeth and grinned up at him again. “Yes, sir, I sure do.”

  “I like candy, too, especially the red kind.”

  Jeth opened one of the canisters, and the scent of peppermint filled the air. He closed the glass jar and studied the boy.

  The child still watched him. “You’re that preacher, ain’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m Reverend Peters. Who are you?”

  “Willie Sharp.”

  Willie offered Jeth his hand. Jeth shook it and smiled. Without knowing anything about the child other than his firm handshake, Jeth liked him immediately.

  “Glad to know you, Willie.”

  “Same to you.” Willie hesitated. “I knew you was the preacher ’cause I seen you there.”

  “You visited our church?”

  “I did once. Mama came, too. But—But we don’t go to church no more.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I would love to visit with you if you ever decide to come back. God would also be happy to see you there.”

  “You sound like you know God—personal like.”

  “I do, son. I really do. The Lord’s my best friend.”

  “You’re joking, ain’t you?”

  “No, God is my friend. And He would like to be your friend, too.”

  “Me?” The boy looked at Jeth long and hard, shaking his head. “Naw, He wouldn’t want me.” Willie turned to go.

  “Yes, He would,” Jeth called after him. “And before you leave the store, I want to buy you some of that candy.”

  “Candy?” The boy whirled around and grinned. “Do you mean that? Really?”

  “Really. But remember, the candy’s not from me. It’s from God.”

  After the boy had mounted his horse and trotted out of town, Jeth thought about what the child had said. Maybe he would visit the Sharp Ranch soon and invite the folks to church. Not only would he be doing God’s work, he might stumble onto proof the sheriff needed.

  At four o’clock, Jeth and Honor started back to the boardinghouse. In the wagon, Honor’s anxiety grew as she reflected on what the outcome might be if Annie and Simon told Lucas where she was staying. Yes, she’d asked them not to tell anyone where she lived. But how could she be sure they would do as she requested?

  Annie and Simon could have already told Lucas what they knew before getting Honor’s letter. Uncle Lucas might be on his way to Hearten now.

  Though Honor hadn’t told anyone about Lucas, she’d been having bad dreams, and they all featured him. She shook her head, as if that simple act would erase the disturbing thoughts and nightmares from her mind, but it didn’t work. All her dreams were similar, and she couldn’t stop thinking about them, like the one she’d had on the previous night, in which Lucas had chased her again. In the dreams, he was always chasing her. She’d run and run, hoping to get away. Then she would turn, and there he’d be, about to grab her. She would wake then, often in a bed soaked with perspiration. Sometimes, she’d wake up screaming. When that happened, Mrs. Peters always came to her bedside and comforted her.

  Now Honor trembled. She shouldn’t stay in Hearten any longer; even a few more days could be dangerous. Perhaps if she moved somewhere else, her fears and bad dreams would stay behind and she would never be bothered by them again.

  She would tell Jeth and his mother she was leaving as soon as they got back to the boardinghouse.

  Jeth reached below the seat for a blanket and handed it to Honor. “You’re shaking. Wrap this around you.”

  “Thank you, Reverend.”

  A few minutes later, Honor stepped down from the wagon and stood on the back porch of the white, two-story house. Jeth opened the kitchen door.

  “You’re not shaking as much now,” he said. “Hope it means you’re warming up.”

  “Yes, it does.” She went inside. “And I have something important I need to say to you and your mother.” Glancing back, she added, “Can we sit in the kitchen and talk for a minute?”

  “Talk? Of course.” He gestured toward the table. “Why don’t you sit here while I look for my mother
?” Jeth disappeared through the connecting door that led to the big dining room. “Mama!”

  “Yes?”

  “We need you in the kitchen.”

  Honor sat down. A moment later, Jeth and his mother settled into chairs around the kitchen table.

  “Well,” Jeth said to Honor. “What was it you wanted to say?”

  She’d planned to tell them she was quitting. Now the time had arrived, and she couldn’t utter a sound.

  “While you’re thinking—” Mrs. Peters smiled “—I have some news of my own.”

  “Oh?” Honor’s gaze shifted from Jeth to his mother.

  “Dr. Harris and I are getting married after the first of the year.”

  “How nice.” Honor forced a pleasant expression. “I mean, congratulations, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Miss McCall.”

  “But she’s not giving up the boardinghouse after the wedding,” Jeth put in. “So at least we’ll have a roof over our heads a while longer.”

  Mrs. Peter glanced at her son and feigned a scolding look. “You’ll have a roof as long as you want one, Jethro. And you know it.” She turned to Honor. “I plan to keep running the boarding as long as I’m able to do it, and you’ll have a job here forever—if you want it.”

  “You’re very kind, ma’am, but—”

  “There’s something else.” Mrs. Peters pulled an envelope from the pocket of her white apron and laid it on the table. “Elmer brought the mail in earlier, and I got a letter from my niece, Margaret Starling. Margaret lives in Pine Falls and is my late sister’s only child. We’re very close. Why, I’m like her second mother now. She’s in the family way and expecting to deliver soon. The doctor said this could be a difficult birth, and she asked me to come to Pine Falls and stay with her until after the baby is born to cook for her husband and help take care of her other children. I’ve decided to go.”

  “I’m glad, Mama. You should go,” Jeth said.

  “Thank you, Jethro.” Mrs. Peters smiled at Honor. “I’m putting you in charge of everything here, Miss McCall.”