Woody laughed. “I’ll just bet you did.”
“Well, if you don’t ask, you won’t learn.”
“So what other questions are you burning to ask?”
Lillian cocked her head to one side. “Well, let me think. I did notice that the pond was lower this time of year. Will that affect your plan for the irrigation ditch?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. There’s still a lot of water there, and it is fed by the spring. I’ve never known it to get much lower than it is. But we will keep an eye on things.”
As he laid out the whole plan to her, excitement built in his gut. They could do this. The good Lord had given him the men and the strength to do it. This life wouldn’t be without hardship, but he could carry on in faith.
They approached town, and Woody steeled himself. Even if Pastor Seymour had given a sermon on gossip that had reached into the hearts of everyone there, the wagging tongues wouldn’t have stopped in just a matter of days. It would take a long time to get rid of well over a year’s worth of rumors and lies.
This time, he headed to Stickle Bros. mercantile. He parked the wagon in front and helped Lillian down. “Look, I know what you said about the sermon, but I wouldn’t be too hopeful that folks have changed their thinking.” He nodded toward the store. “I remember you said I hadn’t paid you.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I apologize for that. I plan to get you some money from the bank, but in the meanwhile you can pick out anything you need in the store and I’ll pay for it.”
She smiled. “I only said that to get back at you. I wasn’t feeling too kind at that moment.”
“Maybe not, but you were right. I hadn’t been very considerate of your needs.” He offered Lillian his arm and tried not to act like a giddy schoolboy when she took it.
George Stickle greeted him at the door. “Woody. Good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“Sure has, George. And I’m sorry for that.”
“I’m sorry, too, Woody. For that and a lot of other things.” The two men exchanged a glance. Woody wasn’t sure what to say.
“Ah . . . I’m in need of some sharp spades. I need to dig a long irrigation ditch.” He remembered Lillian beside him. “George, I’m sorry, this is Miss Porter.”
George held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Porter. I’d . . . uh . . . heard talk about you, and I believe I saw you in church on Sunday with little Jimmy.”
“You are correct.” Lillian smiled at him and then turned to Woody and touched his arm. “I’m going to see to Mrs. Goodman’s needs for the house.” She walked away and Woody couldn’t help but watch her.
George smiled at him. “She’s a pretty little thing.”
Woody felt his face grow hotter than it had been in the sun. He nodded. “She’s been real good with my son.” He couldn’t bring himself to look George in the eye for fear he’d see that Woody’s interest in Lillian was for more than Jimmy’s sake.
George didn’t seem at all concerned. “Let’s go see about those shovels.”
The next hour passed in a blur as Woody worked with George on his list of tools and supplies. Seeing the time was close to noon, Woody took off his kerchief and wiped his face.
“If you don’t mind, just stack the stuff up for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes, but I need to get to the bank before they close for the lunch hour.”
“It’s not a problem, Woody. You might even want to escort Miss Porter to lunch.”
Woody hadn’t thought that Lillian might be hungry. He frowned, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be accepted in any of the little cafes. At least not without a scene.
“Maybe I’ll just pick up a few things from you before we leave.” He could see Lillian at the far end of the store looking through some bolts of cloth. “If she wonders where I’ve gone, just let her know I had bank business, would you?”
“Sure thing, Woody.” George smiled. “Take your time. I’ll see that Miss Porter finds everything she needs.”
Woody made his way to the bank in quick, long strides. He didn’t look left or right but simply focused on the brick building ahead of him. He was glad to see that the bank was empty when he entered. The teller was curt but conducted business in a civil manner. After watching the man count out his money, Woody stuffed it in his pocket and headed back to finish loading his wagon.
Passing by one of the stores that specialized in women’s gewgaws, Woody notice a light blue parasol. He wondered if Lillian had thought to bring any with her from Indiana. She must not have, or surely she would have brought one for their drive to town. He thought about buying it for her, but the lady clerks inside would probably want nothing to do with him.
Maybe he’d mention it to Lillian before they left town. So far things had gone pretty smooth, but just as he approached the wagon, Woody saw that once again word must’ve gotten out that he was in town, because a small crowd had formed. George was loading the wagon with the feed that Woody had ordered for the horses, while Lillian was apparently still shopping. Woody followed George into the store and picked up one of the grain sacks while his friend got the other. Then Woody led the way out to the wagon.
No one had said anything to his face yet, but he could hear the insults and the crude remarks. Louder and louder. People wanted to make sure he knew what they thought of him. Woody just wanted to do whatever it took to get his supplies and get out of town without incident.
George leaned toward him, the sack balanced on his shoulder. “It’s hard to keep turning the other cheek, isn’t it? I don’t see how you do it.” As he dropped his heavy load into the back of the wagon, George shook his head.
Woody wanted to tell him that he was biting his tongue until it nearly bled, but what good would that do? They only had one more load to carry. He went back inside the store and got Lillian as she finished up. She would unfortunately hear it all as they left, but it couldn’t be helped.
Woody took the packages from Lillian, not even daring to look at her. If she wondered about his brusque manner, she’d know soon enough what was wrong. He put the packages in back with the other purchases, then helped her up to the wagon seat. But instead of sitting down, she just stood there. So Woody went around to the other side and climbed up. He took the reins, hoping that would signal her. Was she in shock? What was going on?
“You plannin’ on killin’ her like you done killed your wife, Colton?” One voice rose above the others.
He thought of a hundred different heated retorts he could throw out, but Woody held his tongue.
George Stickle stepped up to the porch in front of his store and crossed his arms. “Go home. All of ya.”
“You gonna stand up for this man, Stickle? Are ya? What if we stopped buying supplies from you because you’re friends with a murderer?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah!” The crowd was rowdy today.
The wagon shook with quite a force as Lillian stomped her feet. “I’ve had just about enough. You should all be ashamed of yourselves!” Her voice resonated well beyond the crowd and even caused people down the street to stop and stare.
Where the power had come from, he had no idea, but Woody was shocked at the force of her voice.
“Why, I saw you”—she pointed—“and you”—she pointed again—“and you, and you, and you”—she didn’t spare anyone her gaze or her finger—“and you, and you in church on Sunday morning. Did you not hear a word of what the preacher said? How dare you malign this man and bear false witness against him when you don’t know the truth! You’re a bunch of judging gossips, and I’m ashamed for you. I’m ashamed that you call yourselves Christians.”
The crowd quieted, but many looked on with arms crossed and deep frowns.
“How many of you have even bothered to ask how little Jimmy is doing? Well? How many have asked how Mr. Colton is doing? Can you imagine how devastating it would be to come home and find your wife murdered? No. You can’t. Because you’d rather believe the worst and spread rumors because they m
ake you feel better about yourself. Well, I’m here to tell you right now that I’ve had enough of this garbage. If Jesus himself were here, I’m afraid He’d have to call you a bunch of hypocrites.”
She sat down on the bench seat of the wagon and huffed. Woody found it impossible to move. He’d never heard anyone defend him with such passion.
Silence reigned for a moment. Then several men went and joined George on the porch. And then a few more. Within moments, there were twelve gathered on the porch, and one moved forward. Woody had known this man quite well at one time. “We’ll stand alongside you, Woody. And I’m sad that it has taken us this long to do it. We’re sick of the gossip in this town tearing folks apart.” His words were like balm on a wound.
The rest of the people on the ground erupted in heated debate with those on the porch. How had this happened? What had gotten into people?
Sin. That’s what. And they were all guilty of it.
Woody lowered his head. He didn’t know how they could ever overcome the ugliness.
Lillian stood again, and Woody’s head shot up. Her face was a deep shade of crimson. “Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile! Psalm thirty-four, thirteen. Were any of you there the day that Rebecca Colton was murdered?”
The crowd silenced once again.
“Did any of you witness her death?”
No response.
“Then I suggest you keep your mouths shut.”
“And why should we listen to you, missy? You weren’t there, either. We’ve heard from plenty of people what this man is capable of.” The voices erupted again.
Woody touched Lillian’s elbow. Rage radiated off of her in waves. He couldn’t do anything to make this better.
“Settle down!” Sheriff Hobart arrived on his horse and looked down at the people.
But they just kept arguing and squabbling. The cries of “retrial” were heard several times.
“I said, settle down!” the sheriff hollered louder. “And if you don’t settle down, I’m gonna haul all of ya down to the jail and lock you up.”
The crowd quieted again.
“Now,” the sheriff continued, “get out of the middle of the street and go about your business afore I lose my temper.” He rode his horse closer to Woody and leaned in. “That means it’s time for you to leave, Colton. I’ve had just about enough of you causing trouble in this town.” His eyes narrowed. “And as soon as the new judge comes through, I just might sit down with him and have a chat about retrying you.”
“Well, at least maybe a new judge would want to see all the evidence and know all the facts instead of just the ones he wants to know.” Woody lifted the reins and signaled the horses to move forward.
As soon as they were away from the town, Lillian started crying. “I’m so sorry for losing my temper. I’ve never been so mad. What is wrong with those people?” She pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the sad situation. “It’s called a sin nature. Thanks for standing up for me back there. Nobody’s ever done it . . . quite so . . . firmly.” He looked at her and grinned. “I really appreciate it.”
She obviously didn’t find it as funny as he did, because she scowled and took out her fan again. She wiped her eyes with one hand and fanned with the other. It was several minutes before she spoke again. “It was wrong of me to yell at them.”
He grinned. He didn’t mind having her on his side. “Hey, I’ve seen you with your dander up. Maybe not to that extent. All the same, I’m glad it wasn’t directed at me.”
“I’m ashamed that I could have such an outburst. Sometimes I think that I’ve just held things inside me for all my life. I guess I’m feeling it’s time to let it go.”
He gave her a sidelong glance and his grin widened. “Just as long as it’s not aimed at me, I think I can handle it.”
She finally relaxed a little at his comment. “Those people were so ugly. There was hatred in their eyes. I’d heard some of them raise their protests when I first came to town, but at least they were somewhat civil.” Lillian let out a long sigh. “So this is what it’s been like for you all this time?”
He nodded.
“How can you stand it?”
“I don’t. I’ve avoided those people at all costs.”
There went the fan again. Whipping back and forth faster than a jackrabbit across the field. “Well, I think it’s time to face those people head on.”
“What do you think we just did, Lillian?”
“I know, I know. But the problem is, they know that they’ve got you cornered. And since you don’t go into town often, that just fuels their fire.”
He hadn’t thought of it that way. And he wasn’t sure he liked where she was headed.
“Since I’m being blunt anyway, I think I’ll just give you my opinion.” She paused and turned to him. “I think you’ve been hiding and grumbling too long, and it’s time to show the people of Angels Camp the real Woody Colton.”
It irritated him just a bit that she thought he’d been hiding and grumbling. Even if it was true. “They had the opportunity to see the real me. All those years before Rebecca died. Some of those men were ones I counted as good friends. They knew me—knew what I stood for—and they turned on me anyway.”
“Yes, they did, but at least some of them have turned back. If they can see the error of their ways, then others can, too. With the good Lord’s strength, we can do this, Woody.” She closed the fan and grabbed his forearm with both of her hands. “You saw all those men who joined Mr. Stickle in defense of you. There’s bound to be more, especially once those twelve start working on the others. Now that they’ve made a stand, they won’t be quite so afraid to voice their opinions.”
He thought about that for a moment. He’d almost forgotten that people had come to stand up for him. He’d had good friends, and they’d tried to help him through his loss, but Woody had made it almost impossible. He’d pushed them away—all of them. It had been easier all these months to hide. And blame it all on the fact that they hated him and gossiped about him.
“I think you should join me in church on Sunday.”
“Whoa, that’s taking it a bit fast, don’t you think? Did you see how many people hated my being there today? Even the sheriff doesn’t believe in me.”
“Well, we’ll just have to change their minds then, won’t we?” Her smile lit up the whole valley.
His heart skipped a beat. At least that’s what it felt like. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush on the teacher. If Lillian knew he was thinking once again of how attractive she was and how much he had come to enjoy her company, she might climb down from the wagon and walk home. He drew in a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves before he finally replied, “I’ll think about it.”
That night after supper, Lillian graced them with her piano playing. Jimmy sat beside Woody the entire time, watching his nanny’s every move. Woody remembered the way Rebecca would play for them sometimes. Jimmy always seemed fixated on the music. With these thoughts in mind, Woody remembered Lillian’s request for Jimmy.
“He needs a picture of his mother—something he can keep with him,” she had told him. “He saw my locket, and I told him how special it was to me to have pictures of my mother and father.”
Woody got up and went to the small desk in the sitting room. Lillian began to play another song, this one Woody recognized as from the Pirates of Penzance. He and Rebecca had attended the comical opera in San Francisco years ago. They had laughed and laughed at the Major-General song that Lillian now played.
He couldn’t help but hum along as he opened the desk drawer and rummaged to the very back. There he pulled out a small tintype photo of his wife. She looked rather impish, despite the photographer having told her not to smile or move. Woody grinned. Rebecca had been just as stubborn as Lillian.
Mrs. Goodman sat tapping her toes to the beat of the music while Jimmy bounced up and down when Woody returned.
He took his place once again beside Jimmy and handed him the tintype.
“Miss Lillian said you’d like a picture of your mother. I thought you could have this one.”
Jimmy stopped bouncing and took the tintype in hand. He looked at it for several moments, then hugged it close and smiled up at Woody. The moment belonged just to them. Mrs. Goodman still tapped and Lillian still played, but just for those few precious seconds, Woody and Jimmy were connected in a way that had been absent since Rebecca’s death.
Jimmy got up on his knees and kissed Woody’s cheek. After that he wrapped his arms tight around Woody’s neck. Woody put his arm around the boy and held him close. It was the first time since losing Rebecca that Woody felt everything would be all right.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday morning, Lillian stood at the pond with Jimmy, fishing pole in hand. They hadn’t seen Harry in over a week—well, since Woody had scared him off—and it worried her. She knew the young man was probably afraid and pretty fragile. He needed to be loved just like everyone else. Sometimes she felt certain someone was watching them and hoped if so, it was Harry. She wanted him to know that he could come back to them—that things were better now.
But with the men furiously digging the trench from the pond all the way to the olive grove, she knew Harry was probably afraid to come back.
Jimmy looked up at her, that same question in his eyes.
“We’ll see him soon. I’m sure of it. Don’t worry. I think Harry can take care of himself.” She walked to the tree and tied another ribbon-laced package. They’d taken to drawing pictures for Harry since she’d found out he couldn’t read, and they’d fold them up with goodies and tie them to the tree. Each time the pictures had been taken, so Lillian hoped and prayed that meant Harry was coming to get them.
She looked down at her little charge again. Jimmy had become much more than her student or ward. She loved him as if he were her own. This family had woven itself into her heart without her even realizing what happened. She kissed the top of his head. “Let’s head back to the house. We’ve got lots of baking to do today, and we need to get ready for church tomorrow.”
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