“Lillian . . .” He wasn’t as good at spilling information out. How could he tell her? “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I need to tell you—”
“Time’s up!” the sheriff bellowed.
Woody grabbed on to her hands tighter. Blasted Hobart.
Footsteps headed toward them.
No time to say all he’d planned. Instead, he blurted, “Lillian, I love you.”
Her eyes rounded and she gasped.
The sheriff grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the cell and headed her down the hall. Poor woman. A glazed, shocked look covered her face. Woody sure messed that up.
But not more than a dozen steps down the hall, Lillian pulled away from her captor and raced back to Woody’s cell. The sheriff huffed and marched after her. “Now, look here—”
But she was quick. Lillian leaned in toward the bars and smiled—mere inches from his face. “I love you, too.” She turned on her heel and dashed back toward the stunned sheriff. “Thank you for your generous amount of time, Sheriff Hobart. I’ll be certain to let everyone know about your gracious treatment.” With an impish grin, she walked out the door.
Woody couldn’t help but smile. Goodness, that woman did things to his heart.
As soon as the sun broke through the cave entrance, Darwin was ready to set out. He’d laid low long enough—nearly a week. The day before, he’d been determined to get some information on Colton and his housekeeper. Lucky for him, he’d managed to meet up with a group of miners who were headed to Angels Camp for supplies. He slipped in with them, heard all the gossip, then slipped out again. No one the wiser.
Colton was in jail, and his housekeeper and son were in the hospital. Better still, he’d learned that the sheriff wouldn’t let any of Colton’s men return to the farm. In fact, he wouldn’t let anyone go to the farm. He wished he’d known sooner. He could have spent the last few days retrieving the rest of his gold. But there was no use moaning about it now. Fact was, nobody was looking for him, and nobody would be able to interfere with his task.
Life couldn’t go better. It was almost as if he’d planned it this way.
He dragged Harry out of bed. “Come on. We’ve got to go get the rest of my gold today. And you need to show me where it is.”
Harry’s wide almond eyes seemed to light up as he nodded. He hurried to dress. “And then you’re going to Mexico?”
Darwin stopped in his steps. “How’d you know that?”
“I heard you talking to yourself the other night.”
This couldn’t be good. If Harry thought Darwin was leaving him, he might not help find the gold. “I’m gonna take care of you first, Harry. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll make sure you don’t have a thing to worry about.” He patted his brother’s shoulder, hoping that would seem brotherly.
Harry came around and hugged him. “I know. I know. I know. You talked about that, too.” He danced around the mine’s entrance. “Let’s go get your gold. Then I can work.” Darwin frowned, having no idea what the big oaf meant, but one thing was for certain. He’d have to refrain from talking to himself anymore.
Harry sang stupid songs all the way to the Colton place and every so often called out the name of random flowers. It annoyed Darwin, but he couldn’t say anything. Ma had said Harry was special, but to Darwin he was just a dim-witted nuisance. Only one more day of this. One. More. Day. He could handle a day.
When they reached the house, Harry kept walking toward the olive groves and then to the barns. “I had to keep reburying it ’cause I didn’t want no one to find it.”
After a couple hours of digging, they’d pulled up three more bags. Harry was sure that he’d also carried a couple out to the Yosemite area, but they were small, and Darwin decided they weren’t worth the trouble. Harry annoyed him too much.
That left two. The largest ones.
“Where’s the rest, Harry?”
“Follow me. I’ll show ya. I remembered real good.”
They trekked back toward the house. The heat of the day was upon them at this point, and Darwin was sweating under the weight of the bags. One. More. Day. Then he’d be free to go on his way.
Harry stopped at the well.
“Why’d you stop?” Darwin looked around him.
“I put the big bags here.”
“Where?” He looked around.
“There.” The big galoot pointed straight down the well.
“You did what?!” Darwin dropped the sacks.
“I put ’em down the well.” He toed the ground and tucked his hands behind him. “I told you that, ’member.”
“No, I don’t remember!” Darwin lost all patience and hit Harry with his hat. Down the well. Not by it.
Harry flinched but only shook his head. “Was that bad?”
Darwin threw his hat on the ground and let go a stream of curses. “How are we supposed to get them out?”
“I dunno.” His brother wouldn’t look at him now.
“Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do, Harry! I can’t climb down there, and you definitely can’t climb down there. There’s no way to get my stinkin’ gold!” He lunged for his brother and shook him by the shoulders. “We are not leaving without that gold, you understand me?” He shook him even harder. “So you better figure out how we’re going to get it! And you better figure it out fast.”
He picked up his hat, then stormed off toward the house. Who cared if the kid was scared of him now? He’d told him where the gold was—he just couldn’t get to it.
Darwin’s temper needed something to hit. When he climbed the porch, he picked up a rocking chair and smashed one of the front windows. That felt good. The Colton fellow didn’t deserve to have this property. Smash. Smash. Smash.
Once the front windows were all broken, he threw down the chair and stood on the porch, catching his breath. This land belonged to his family. Colton might’ve built this nice house, but that didn’t matter. His mother had planted the gardens and flowers, and his father had . . . well, his father had been good for nothing but robbing others of their wealth. Still, this had been their home, and it wasn’t right that the bank could just up and take it. Darwin had half a mind to burn it to the ground. He smiled. Maybe that was the answer. He’d get Harry in the house, knock him unconscious, and then set the whole place on fire. That would take care of two birds with one stone. But first, there was the not-so-small task of getting his gold out of the well. Especially since he’d have to go without the other bags. Stupid Harry. How could he take it off the property? He’d never remember where he hid it.
Darwin eyed the well again. That gold was his. And he intended to get it.
No matter what it took.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They needed a miracle. A really big one. Lillian walked into Mrs. Goodman’s room. “Hello, my friend.” She sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed the older woman’s hand. “The judge just met with the sheriff, Woody, Mr. Van Dyke, and the witnesses and decided that there is enough to move Woody’s case to trial. I can’t believe this is happening.” She took in a shaky breath.
“We’ve all been praying and crying out to the Lord. But we need you, Mrs. Goodman. We need you to wake up.” Lillian squeezed the woman’s hand a bit harder and pulled it to her chest. “We need you back in our lives. We need you well. We need you to bake cookies, and sing silly songs with us, and call us all ‘dearie.’” Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks. The doctor had seen signs that the older woman was coming out of her coma, but to Lillian she looked the same.
“Please, Mrs. Goodman. Please, please wake up. You’re the only one who can clear Woody.” The sobs overtook her then. “I love him. And I know you do, too.”
After a good cry, she touched her friend’s face. “You’ve got a bit more color today. Oh, how I long to see your smile again.” Lillian laid the woman’s hand back down by her side. “Jimmy is doing better. The doctor hopes he’ll be able to go home tomorrow. But I don’t know what we’ll b
e going home to. Oh, this is such a mess.”
Rubbing her head with one hand, Lillian placed the other on her hip. The judge’s ruling today wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear, but she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. Still, Woody would get a fair trial. At least, she prayed it would be a fair trial. Mr. Van Dyke said that if they couldn’t get twelve impartial men together for the jury, he would move to have the venue changed, and that meant they’d take Woody to another town.
The one good thing that had happened today was that the judge allowed Woody’s men to go back to the farm. He warned them not to go anywhere else because he would need their testimony for the trial. But at least they could tend to the olive trees. If there were any trees left to be tended.
She’d tried to explain to them what she’d gotten done and how Harry was probably still out there helping, but warned them he would probably run away if he saw them. Lillian begged them not to chase the young man or yell at him. The men assured her they would do everything in their power to save the crop.
But had she done enough? Why did it feel like her world was crashing around her?
Closing her eyes, she clung to the tiny thread of hope she had left. Woody loved her. God hadn’t brought them this far to abandon them. Whatever came, she would stand by his side.
Turning back to the bed, she watched Mrs. Goodman. The poor woman had been through so much.
A moan escaped the older woman’s lips.
Lillian dashed back to the bed. “Mrs. Goodman? Mrs. Goodman? Can you hear me?”
Another moan. This time longer and louder.
Where was the bell? She looked all over and then ran back to Jimmy’s room and started ringing the bell as she ran. “Doctor!”
As she ran back in her friend’s room, she saw Mrs. Goodman’s eyelids flutter. She was waking up! Praise God!
The doctor bolted into the room and rushed to his patient’s side. “It’s okay. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Go ahead. Open your eyes if you can.”
Lillian stood back and watched. “Please, Mrs. Goodman, wake up. Please.”
“Lil . . .” Her eyelids fluttered again.
“Yes, I’m here. I’m here. Talk to me.” Lillian grabbed the woman’s hand.
The doctor pulled out an instrument and listened to his patient’s heart. “She’s got a nice strong rhythm. I think she’s going to fully wake up. Keep talking to her.”
Mrs. Goodman’s eyes popped open. “Ouch, dearie. You don’t have to squeeze my hand so hard!”
Tears raced down her cheeks as Lillian laughed out loud. “You’re awake!”
“Well, of course I’m awake. I’m talkin’ to ya, aren’t I?” She tried to lift her head.
“Whoa.” The doctor held his hand up. “Not so fast. You have a lot of injuries and several broken bones.”
“Is that why I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of cows?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to say.” The doctor looked at Mrs. Goodman’s eyes. “They look clear. Can you see me all right?”
She nodded.
Lillian interrupted. “Do you remember what happened?”
Mrs. Goodman closed her eyes. “Remember what?”
Lillian paced the hall. Mrs. Goodman had been awake for two days, and she couldn’t remember the attack. But bits and pieces were coming back to her, so they all prayed for a full restoration of her memory—even as difficult as it was.
The judge wanted to start the trial immediately, but Mr. Van Dyke managed to get a stay in order that Mrs. Goodman might recover enough to give testimony. Van Dyke knew the law, and the judge agreed to the delay. Mr. Van Dyke also told her that the judge seemed to be a fair man, not as prejudiced as they’d feared. For that, Lillian was quite grateful.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” The doctor came from Mrs. Goodman’s room. “Come here and join us.”
Lillian followed. “Please tell me she remembers more.” She’d gone to sleep the night before praying in desperation that God might clear away the confusion in Mrs. Goodman’s mind. Each day she knew a little more, but the doctor insisted she not push herself, and while Lillian agreed, she feared for Woody. Now, after being busy with Jimmy all morning and waiting for the doctor to finish his exam of Mrs. Goodman, Lillian was desperate to know the news.
“Now, don’t rush her,” the doctor commanded.
Mrs. Goodman scrunched up her face and then frowned. “Nobody’s rushing me. Lillian, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’ve slept.” Lillian came to the older woman’s side. “I’m just desperate for you to remember what happened at the farm and who did this.”
“Well, I can remember enough. The doctor said the town is blaming Woody. I can’t believe it. Just let me go to the judge and set things straight.”
“So you know who did this?” Lillian wanted to shout for joy. “Oh, dear Mrs. Goodman, please tell me his name.”
“I don’t have a name, dearie, but it wasn’t Woody. Of course, you know that.”
“Can you identify him?”
“I sure can. I’ll never forget that evil face. Had eyes like the devil himself.”
Lillian almost asked how the older woman knew what the devil’s eyes looked like but decided against it. What was important was that they get Woody set free. “I’m going to fetch the lawyer. Oh, and the sheriff . . . and the judge. Goodness, I’ll make the entire town come.”
Lillian had all three men there in record time. Word spread quickly that Mrs. Goodman was giving an account of her attack, causing others to gather outside the doctor’s place. Lillian could hear people talking outside the open windows and prayed the truth would be known once and for all.
“So you’re certain, Mrs. Goodman, that your employer, Mr. Colton, was not the one who attacked you?” the judge asked in a gentle voice.
“I’m quite sure. Not only that, but you need to know something that fella said when he was hitting me.”
Everyone in the room waited for what she was about to say. Lillian all but held her breath.
“Go ahead, Mrs. Goodman,” the judge encouraged.
“He said he was going to kill me . . . just like he had Rebecca Colton.”
Lillian thought she might faint. She leaned back against the wall. The truth. The truth of what had happened to Woody’s wife was finally out.
“Are you sure he said that?” Sheriff Hobart asked, skepticism written all over his face. “Did he say why? What’s his motive?”
“Of course I’m sure. We’ve only been telling you it wasn’t Woody since it happened, but you had to get your nose set in one direction, and that left a killer out running around to strike again.” Mrs. Goodman’s response showed her mind was nearly restored to her original snappiness. “I caught the man sneaking out of the attic with a big bag in his hand.”
The judge stared the sheriff down.
Lillian looked back and forth between the two men. Was this enough to set Woody free? It had to be. She chewed her lip and waited.
“Well . . . I guess . . . I was wrong.” Sheriff Hobart gave a sheepish shrug. “I didn’t mean to accuse an innocent man, but you have to admit it didn’t look good.”
“Neither has it looked good for you and most of this town to condemn Woody,” Mrs. Goodman replied. “But I suppose we have to allow for ignorance and stupidity.”
Lillian wanted to cheer. In fact, she couldn’t suppress a giggle accompanied by tears of joy. She wanted to dance and sing and praise God all at once, and had the room not been full of people, she just might have done exactly that.
After hearing Mrs. Goodman’s description and full account of what had happened, the judge admonished the sheriff to release Woody immediately. “And, Hobart,” the judge added with a shake of his finger, “you’d do well to get out there and find this killer.”
The sheriff nodded. “Yes, judge. I will. I’m going right now.”
Lillian leaned down and gently kissed Mrs. Goodman’s forehea
d. “You have saved the day, dearie.”
The older woman smiled. “No, God did that. He just used a battered old woman to see it done.”
Wiping a tear from her eye, Lillian smiled. “That He did, and for that I’m so very grateful. I know Woody and Jimmy will be, as well.”
The doctor entered with Jimmy in his arms. “I was thinking, you could use another visitor to this celebration.” He set the boy down on Mrs. Goodman’s bed. “Now, neither one of you needs to get very excited, but I think this calls for a little lenience. Jimmy, you mustn’t jostle Mrs. Goodman around, because she has several broken bones. But I think from the smile on her face that just having you nearby is going to hurry her healing along.”
Jimmy smiled but looked hesitant as he reached out for Mrs. Goodman’s hand. Lillian placed her hand over Jimmy’s. “We’ve got more good news, Jimmy. Your pa is going to be with us shortly. Mrs. Goodman was able to tell the sheriff that he didn’t hurt her. Mrs. Goodman saw the man who hurt her. He’s the same man who killed your mama, and now the sheriff will be able to hunt him down.”
Instead of the smile she expected, Jimmy frowned. Lillian couldn’t begin to understand all that the boy had gone through, but she wanted him to be happy. “Now, don’t you worry. Mrs. Goodman is going to be just fine, and your pa will be, too. The most important thing is that God has let the truth be known, and He’s brought Mrs. Goodman back to us.”
A commotion in the hallway drew their attention to the door as Woody burst into the room. The look on his face was one of pure elation. “Mrs. Goodman!”
Jimmy jumped off the bed and wrapped himself around his father. Woody lifted the boy in the air and hugged him close for a moment. Then he reached out and motioned Lillian to join them. Without hesitation Lillian stepped into his arms. It was the one place she truly felt she belonged.
“Where’s my hug, young man?” Mrs. Goodman teased.
He laughed and handed Jimmy to Lillian before he stepped closer to the bed. He leaned over his dear housekeeper to kiss her cheek. “I think this will have to suffice for right now. You’ve got too many bruises and broken bones.”
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