0764214101

by Tracie Peterson

Lillian leaned back in her chair. She wanted to keep studying but knew her mind was tired, as well as her physical body.

  Mrs. Goodman stood and tucked her Bible under her arm. “I believe I’ll retire to my room and spend some time on verse five and ‘remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works . . .’” She wiped away a tear and sniffed. “Good night to you both.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Goodman.” Woody’s voice was soft and reflective.

  Lillian stood and hugged the woman who had become so dear to her. No words were necessary.

  Woody also stood as the older woman left. “These verses have done a lot to get me to thinking, as well. I think I will retire to the library.”

  “Woody, please wait. . . .” She’d been debating whether to refrain from telling him the truth of what she’d seen earlier, but she realized that Jimmy’s safety was far more important than her silly fears of being embarrassed. “I know this may sound silly, and you might think me overly cautious, but . . . well . . . I think I saw someone watching us today.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  There was a fire in the mine tonight. The glow of it bounced along the walls. That meant Darwin must be back. Harry ran up the hill to the entrance, singing, “Brother, Brother, Brother!”

  “Shut your trap, Harry.” Brother wasn’t in a very good mood. “This place is cold as ice. You should have had a fire going.” Darwin put another log on the fire, then pulled his coat up around his neck. He fumbled with the only two remaining brass buttons. “You know I don’t like the cold. Where’ve you been?”

  “Around.” Harry toed his boot into the dirt. He didn’t want to tell the truth.

  “You need to stop running around without me. You might get hurt.”

  “But you told me that nobody could see me with you.”

  “That’s right.” Darwin stepped real close to him and squinted. “That means you should stay here.”

  “Inside the mine? All day?” Harry shook his head. “No. No. No. I can’t do that. I can’t stay inside the mine all day.” He grabbed the sides of his head. “No. No. No! Don’t keep Harry in the dark mine. No. No. No.” He felt like he couldn’t breathe and started pulling on his hair. Tears burned his eyes and he couldn’t see. He stumbled backward to the entrance. “No. No. No!”

  Darwin tackled him and covered his mouth with a dirty hand. “Be quiet, you idiot!”

  Harry bit his brother and yelled, “I am not an idiot. I am not!” He kicked and punched and kicked some more.

  Darwin backed away, his eyes a fiery red. “Harry, it’s time for you to be quiet. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  Harry pulled his legs up to his chest and curled into a ball. Why was Brother being so mean? “Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me,” he chanted.

  A curse word echoed off the walls. “Oh, stop it. I’m not gonna hurt you. I need your help, remember?”

  Harry nodded and relaxed just a bit.

  “Just don’t go into town around people, got it?”

  “I won’t go, I promise. There was a mean man there and he pushed me into the ground.” Harry decided not to tell Darwin about his nice friends. After he helped Brother find his stuff, maybe Brother would go to Mexico by himself.

  “A mean man? Was he following you?”

  Another nod.

  “Was he watching you?”

  Again a vigorous nod.

  “When did you go to town, Harry?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It was a long time ago.” Harry didn’t know if Darwin believed him or not.

  “Doggonit, Harry. I bet he’s after our gold.” Darwin paced the front of the mine where they’d made camp. He pointed at Harry. “Do not go back into town for any reason.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Not ever.”

  “Okay.” Harry crossed his fingers behind his back. He wouldn’t ever tell Brother about his nice friends. They didn’t live in town, so it wasn’t a lie. “Okay. Okay.”

  “I think we need to speed up our plan a bit. . . .” His brother mumbled some more and came closer and patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. Let’s get you some food. And maybe you can remember where you moved my stuff.”

  Brother was being really nice again. Harry liked it when he was nice. It helped him feel good and safe. “Okay. I remember moving it.”

  “Good. Good.”

  But a lot of stuff was fuzzy in his mind. What would Darwin do if Harry couldn’t find it?

  A shudder shook him.

  He put a hand to his head. The sooner he remembered, maybe the sooner Darwin would leave and Harry could be with the nice people.

  Harry watched Darwin open a can of beans and set the can in the fire to warm. He thought again of Mrs. Rolleri’s ravioli and how nice she’d been to him. Mrs. Rolleri had a whole lot of children, but she was always so nice. She reminded him of Ma. Ma had always been nice. Smelled good, too. Harry missed that. Darwin never smelled good.

  Miss Lillian smelled good, but she smelled different than Ma. Ma smelled like flowers. She loved flowers, and she constantly grew them and taught Harry about them. The memory made him smile. Ma loved roses, and now Miss Lillian and Jimmy took care of the roses.

  Memories of his mother made Harry feel better. Ma never yelled at him or called him stupid. She was ever so happy when he remembered the names of her flowers. Miss Lillian was going to teach him to read, and he was going to teach her the names of the flowers. He smiled to himself. He liked it when he could help people.

  “What’s got you lookin’ all happy?” Darwin asked.

  Harry knew he couldn’t tell Darwin, so he shrugged. “Just like bein’ happy.”

  His brother looked at him for a minute, then pulled out a tin of crackers. “We won’t have to live like this for much longer, Harry. As soon as you can remember where you put the gold, I can get us a place where we can eat proper meals.”

  “At a table with real dishes. Like we had when Ma was here.”

  “I suppose,” Darwin replied. “Ma did set a nice table.”

  Harry nodded, pleased that Darwin didn’t seem quite as angry as he had been earlier. “I think about Ma a lot. She was good.”

  Darwin handed Harry some crackers. “She was good. She sure didn’t deserve what she got out of life.”

  “She was happy.” Harry ate one of the crackers and tried to remember his mother’s smile. “Do you remember her?”

  Darwin looked at him like he might start calling Harry names again, but after a minute or so he shrugged. “Hard not to remember Ma. She had a hard life. Pa and me . . . we were no good. Never were any good. Her kin weren’t any good, either. But Ma was a lady.” Darwin’s gaze went to the fire. “She never had much, but she did her best with what she had.”

  “She liked flowers.”

  Brother’s face looked sad. “Yes, she liked flowers.”

  “I like flowers, too.”

  Darwin checked the beans and pulled them off the fire. “Men don’t bother with flowers, Harry. That’s somethin’ only women do.” He drew a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t want you talkin’ about it anymore. Ma’s dead and gone. There’s no sense in talkin’ about the dead.”

  Harry frowned, confused by his brother’s words. “But she wasn’t always dead.”

  “That’s a stupid thing to say. Of course she wasn’t always dead.” Darwin began to eat his share of beans from the can.

  Harry knew that when his brother had eaten half, he’d give the can over to him to finish. It hurt to have Darwin tell him that what he said was stupid. The nice people didn’t mind when he talked, but Darwin and the other people . . . mean people . . . they always made him feel bad.

  “I like remembering Ma.” Harry looked at Darwin and then popped a cracker into his mouth.

  Later Darwin watched Harry as he slept. Sometimes he felt like his father had—that Harry should have died at birth. He’d almost died a couple of times when he was a baby, but Ma
caught on real fast that there were things Harry couldn’t do like other babies. She made sure he was safe and kept him at her side almost constantly.

  It was hard to admit, but Darwin wondered even now if it wouldn’t be better for Harry to die. There was no place for Harry in this world. He couldn’t work a decent job, and he certainly didn’t have a cunning mind to steal or cheat for his living. No woman would ever marry him, and no man would want him for a friend.

  Darwin had made Ma a promise to take care of Harry.

  The reminder flickered through his mind but was quickly followed up with another thought. If he ended Harry’s life—he would be taking care of Harry. No one would ever be able to hurt Harry again. Better still, if heaven was a real place like Ma thought, then Harry would get to be with her again. He’d be happy.

  The fire was dying out, so Darwin threw another log on. The damp chill of the mine seemed to seep into his bones. Harry never seemed to notice. He’d been so happy to get away from Uncle John that he never grumbled.

  Darwin shook his head. Harry wasn’t such a bad sort, but he was completely useless. There would never be anything Harry could do that would benefit Darwin, and that alone gave credence to his thoughts of murder.

  It wouldn’t really be murder, would it? It was more like putting a sick animal out of its misery. Or better yet, killing the runt of a litter because you knew it would never survive. Harry would never survive without him, so it was more like a mercy that Darwin would end his life and set him free from the pain of this world. A world that would never accept Harry as he was.

  Sliding into his bedroll, Darwin couldn’t shake the thought from his mind. Always before, he’d thought of paying someone to take Harry off his hands, but in truth this would be the better way. He would get Harry to figure out where he’d put the gold, and then he’d see to it that Harry had an easy death—something without fear or pain. After all, Harry was his brother.

  The heat of August was upon them and things were drying out. Too much. They hadn’t had any significant rain since April, just a sporadic shower here and there, but never enough to make a difference. Woody lifted his Stetson to look at the grove. They’d been hand-watering, but it was a tedious job on top of everything else. Especially since Lillian’s announcement a week ago. He’d tried to remain calm and assure her that everything was fine. Encouraged her that she’d done the right thing in telling him, but there was nothing to worry about.

  But there was a reason to worry. His wife had been murdered and they still didn’t know who did it or why. And Lillian had seen someone.

  He’d had his men check the entire farm, taking precious time away from their duties. The men were thorough and just as concerned as Woody, but all they found was one suspicious boot print and a cigar butt near the main road. Nothing else. But nothing else was really needed. Woody didn’t smoke cigars, and his workers couldn’t afford them. Someone had been there, just as Lillian had suspected, and they needed to be careful. That someone could be the same man who killed Rebecca.

  Woody tried not to appear worried about the matter. He didn’t want to get Mrs. Goodman and Lillian worked up when none of them could be sure that the observer was definite trouble. Most of all, he didn’t want to scare Jimmy. The boy had endured far more than he should ever have had to, and Woody was now convinced it was fear that kept Jimmy mute.

  He spoke to his crew and was glad when one of the men brought up the idea of posting a guard. At first Woody had his men taking turns to be on watch twenty-four hours a day, but with the drought so fierce, he needed every man to help haul water. And even with their help, things were starting to look bad.

  Lord, we need rain. And we need protection. I’m trying not to fear, but I do feel caution. Lillian was correct, someone has been watching the place. I feel it. The men feel it. We know that You are the real Protector. Please give me the strength to do what needs to be done and to face whatever comes.

  His open communication with the Lord was coming with greater ease now. And the burden of grief that had weighed down his chest for all this time was at least lifting. Well, maybe changing was a better term. The sadness over losing Rebecca had somehow transformed into a determination to find her killer. Woody owed her that much, especially given that no one else seemed compelled to learn the truth. No, everyone else believed he was the killer, and they didn’t care about the truth or the pain they’d caused.

  At least Lillian believed him.

  Thoughts of his son’s nanny brought warmth to his middle. Her green eyes were so expressive. Her smile so pleasant—her nature so kind. For the first time since losing Rebecca, Woody actually found himself longing for a companion. Always before, grief and guilt had kept him from even considering such things, but Lillian brought new life to him and to Jimmy. Especially Jimmy. Earlier she had asked Woody if he had a photograph of Jimmy’s mother that he could give his son. She expressed how precious her locket photos of her parents were and how Jimmy needed something that he could hold close to remind him of his mother. Woody marveled at her insight and genuine concern for Jimmy. She didn’t approach her position there as just a job but firmly positioned herself as part of the family. Her enthusiasm for life had begun to chip away at the wall Woody had put in place, and her gentle kindness was healing their wounds.

  Lillian’s intellect was also amazing. It especially came to light when they were studying the Scriptures together. He enjoyed hearing her thoughts on the passages they read. There was a smart brain in that pretty head. He smiled. Lillian was quite pretty, and he found himself thinking about her more and more. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember clearly just how bad things had been before she’d come. What did that mean?

  He shook his head. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. She worked for him, and that was that. But something deep inside Woody protested that thought most adamantly.

  “Mr. Colton!” Sam, his crew boss, bolted through the trees. “There’s a problem by the brining barn.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “One of the horses stepped in a hole and went down. I think he’s all right, but I’m gonna watch that leg for signs of swelling. But the fact is, that hole wasn’t there before today. We got to looking around and there were quite a few holes, and they’re not made by animals. At least no animal I know of.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “’Cause someone’s been digging big holes and covering them back up. At least most of them were filled back in. Animal ain’t gonna do that.”

  “Not a four-legged one.” Woody met the other man’s worried face. “But what about a two-legged varmint?”

  Woody went with Sam and together they searched for holes and filled them back in as they went. There were at least a dozen. It was a wonder none of the horses had broken legs. But there was no rhyme or reason for it. Why would someone be digging holes on his property? And then filling them back in. Why go to all the trouble?

  A brief memory crossed his mind. There had been unexplained digging on his property another time. When was that? It seemed quite a long time ago—maybe right before or after they built the new house. But hadn’t that turned out to be raccoons or badgers? He shook his head, wishing he could remember.

  “Mr. Colton!”

  Great. What now? He and Sam both looked up to find Miguel, another of the workers.

  “What is it?”

  The man looked at Sam and then back at Woody. “I’m sorry, sir. I looked around like Sam told me—to make sure nothing else was out of place, but . . .” His man looked down at the ground. “Two barrels of olive oil were destroyed.”

  “What?!” That was one hundred gallons. And a big chunk of income. He shook his head as he and Sam followed Miguel to the mess. Absolutely nothing could be done. Someone had taken an axe to the barrels. But why only these two, he had no idea. He noted the marks from the tops of the barrels. They were identical, so that meant they were from the same row—row H—but nothing else jumped out at him. He
stood with his hands on his hips for several minutes. What a waste.

  “We’ll clean it up, Mr. Colton,” Miguel assured. “But I wanted you to see that there are footprints, and they don’t match any of us.”

  Woody knelt down where the tracks were clearly visible. “No, this fella has really big feet.” He frowned. Hadn’t Lillian said that Harry fella was a big guy?

  “So someone is sneaking around with the intention of causing damage to the place—and possibly to the people living here.” Woody rose and shook his head. “I had hoped we were done with things like this, but it looks like I was wrong.”

  “You want one of us to ride for the sheriff?”

  Woody gave a bitter laugh. “Hobart won’t care. He’ll just think I did it.”

  Sam was clearly upset. “Well, don’t worry. Me and the boys will take turns keepin’ an eye out.”

  “I appreciate that, but you all need your sleep, too. We have way too much work to do to see that big order filled for the folks in Fresno.”

  “We can figure it out—take shifts.” Sam’s expression was one of determination. “I’m sure sorry, Mr. Colton.”

  Woody nodded. He looked at the sky. He’d already missed suppertime. What a day.

  As he trekked back to the house, his frustration and worry set in again with a vengeance. Exhaustion washed over him, slowing his step. He needed food and a good night’s rest. Tomorrow would be another day, and things were bound to make more sense after he got some sleep.

  Lillian sat at the dinner table with Jimmy on her lap. She was reading to him from the book of Genesis. About Noah. For a moment, his heart nearly stopped. For a moment he saw Rebecca. She had often held Jimmy and read to him. Not just the Bible, either, but all sorts of wonderful stories. He let go a heavy breath. Was it wrong of him to have these memories, but also think with great fondness toward Lillian? Lillian was filling the empty place left by Jimmy’s mother. He needed that. Woody needed it, too.

  “And so you see, when God tells us to do something, Jimmy,” Lillian explained, “we need to obey and get the job done. Otherwise we might find ourselves in a flood of other problems.” She closed the Bible and hugged him close.