Molly Noble Bull

by The Winter Pearl

  “As you thought, we don’t keep that kind of medicine in the house. But the doctor will give you plenty of good medicine when he gets here.”

  The minister turned toward the doorway as Mrs. Kline swept into the room, carrying a wooden tray. Lucas had never seen a smile as bright and warm as hers. For an instant, he almost forgot about how much he needed alcohol.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Scythe,” Mrs. Kline said. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake. We’ve been praying for you.”

  “Praying for me?”

  “Of course. And I’ve brought your supper and a big glass of water.”

  Lucas’s mouth felt dry, but not for water. Why didn’t these people understand that?

  “The doctor said he wants you to drink a lot of water.” She put the tray on the table by his bed and handed him the glass. “Here. It’s good for what ails ya.”

  He was thirsty. Lucas reached out and took the glass from her. Lifting it to his lips, he drank.

  “Don’t drink too much at one time,” Mrs. Kline warned. “The doctor said to drink a little, put down the glass, wait a minute or two, and drink again. He wants you to empty the entire glass. And if it stays down, you can have your supper.”

  Lucas wanted more of the water, but he put down the glass as she had requested. He couldn’t figure out why they were treating him with such kindness. Didn’t they know he was the thief who had stolen the silver coffeepot and tray?

  On Tuesday morning, Jeth arrived at Baker’s Grocery and Mercantile soon after it opened for business. When he walked inside, a tinkle sounded directly above his head. Looking up, he saw a bell nailed above the door, just like those used in big-city stores back East.

  Well, what do you know? Mr. Baker is going modern, he thought.

  Smelling the brine from the pickle barrel mixed with the fresh scent of baked goods, Jeth tossed his hat on a hook near the front door. Drifting toward the back of the store, he gazed at the items on display.

  Mrs. Withers, in a dark gray hat, stood in front of the counter while Mr. Baker tallied her bill. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeth saw Mrs. Baker talking to Miss Sally Bennett. According to Belinda Grant, the forty-year-old Miss Bennett was the biggest gossip in Hearten.

  Jeth turned his back on the women and looked at the sign above the storekeeper’s head: Ring Sale—All This Month.

  Rings. Just this morning Jeth had pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and found the small, purple-velvet box that he’d forgotten was there. It had been pushed to the back of the drawer, under a neatly folded stack of long underwear. When he’d opened it again, after all these months, a wave of grief had overwhelmed him. It was the first time he’d looked at Selma’s engagement ring since she died.

  The diamond had also belonged to his mother. But would it be right for Honor? Knowing it had once been Selma’s, Honor could refuse to wear it. Jeth had put the box back in the drawer, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  Mr. Baker put Mrs. Withers’s purchases in a burlap sack. “All right, ma’am, that will be fifty-nine cents.”

  The stout widow wore dark, plain-looking clothes, but Jeth had always admired the liveliness in her pale, gray eyes, as well as her dedication to the Lord.

  “Can you put this on my bill, Mr. Baker?” she asked. “Money will be hard to come by until I sell the calves I’ve been raising.”

  “Of course. I’ll be glad to.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.” Mrs Withers reached for the burlap sack.

  “Would you like me to carry your sack out to the wagon for you?” the storekeeper asked.

  “No, I can manage on my own. It’s not heavy.” She shook her head. “But thank you for asking. And I hope you and the missus have a nice day.” She turned to Jeth and smiled. “And you, too, Reverend.”

  “Same to you, Mrs. Withers, and I hope to see you in church on Sunday.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

  When Mrs. Withers left the store, Mr. Baker turned to Jeth. “So what can I do for you today, Pastor?”

  “I would like to look at those rings you have on sale,” Jeth whispered.

  “Rings?” Mr. Baker said aloud. “What kind of rings are you looking for?”

  Jeth put his forefinger to his mouth. “Engagement rings. But please don’t say anything about it. I haven’t even asked the young lady yet.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  The storekeeper pulled a box from under the counter and placed it on top. Jeth heard muted giggles coming from behind him. He expected Mrs. Baker and her friend to sidle up beside him and start asking questions, but they kept their distance.

  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.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At 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 ser
vices 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.”