Truth strengthened Morality, and she leaned forward in the chair and spoke earnestly. “My miracle happened. It was real. I was blind, and through my uncle’s hands, the Lord healed me. I do believe that miracles happened during Reverend Harrison’s revival meetings. It is my thinking that he may have used the seeds to help free the faith of the congregation from demon doubts and disbelief.”
“What does that mean?”
Morality gave the prosecutor a hesitant smile. “I don’t quite know how to explain.” She paused, searching for the words that could convey the convictions of her heart. “Some of the people here today may have experienced a loosening of the tongue from alcohol. I think my uncle may have used the seeds to loosen the doubts that stand as a barrier to total faith. Faith not only moves mountains, it paves the way for miracles.”
“Oh.” The prosecutor appeared at a loss as to how next to proceed. He looked from Morality, to Judge Mills, to the Marston brothers, then back to Morality again. With a shrug, he asked, “Did your uncle have any enemies other than Burkett?”
“My husband was not his enemy. My husband was angry. He believed my uncle had gone too far in his disciplinary efforts. To answer your question, no, I do not know of any man who may have called himself my uncle’s enemy.”
A moment of silence followed, then Jess Tanner rose and said, “Based upon Mrs. Burkett s testimony and considering the exemplary reputation she enjoys, I’d like to move that the charges against my client be dismissed.”
Noise in the courtroom rose as the crowd discussed the motion. One woman’s voice rang out: “No!” Every head in the room turned to look as Henrietta Marston surged to her feet. “Burkett is a killer! You cannot allow him back on the streets. Our children will not be safe!”
A few others jumped to their feet and voiced their agreement with the congressman’s wife. Others called out in support of Zach and Morality. E.J. scowled and tugged his wife back into her seat, then whispered something in her ear.
Jess raised his voice. “Judge Mills, testimony here today has proven my client innocent of the charges levied against him. You have no choice but to dismiss the charges. Otherwise, no matter the outcome here today, I promise I’ll pursue the injustice to the highest court in the land.”
Judge Mills leaned back in his chair and rocked. He looked from the prosecutor, to the jury, then to the Marstons. “Well, under the circumstances, I reckon he’s right. I could get my tit in a wringer.”
“Wait a minute, Judge,” one of the jurors called. “We do get to keep our new shoes, don’t we?”
The judge nodded decisively, then pounded his gavel. “Case dismissed. Burkett, you’re a free man.”
Mr. Tanner slammed his fist against the table, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Zach rose slowly to his feet. His blue eyes burned intently as he stared at Morality and deliberately shook his head back and forth. “No, Judge,” he said, addressing Mills, but never breaking eye contact with her. “I’m not a free man. I’m a married man, bound by word and deed to the most wonderful woman on earth. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Even now, he lies. A sick sensation crept through Morality like a chilling fog. She remained in her seat as townspeople approached him, all smiles as they shook his hand and clapped him on the back. Twice she heard someone say they’d be around the office soon to buy stock in the Texas Southern. Repeatedly, Zach’s gaze flickered toward her, but Morality didn’t react. She’d gone numb—blessedly, divinely numb.
A proverb kept rolling through her mind. “Bread of falsehood is sweet to a man; But afterward his mouth shall be filled with gravel.” Morality attempted to swallow. Gravel was awfully dry.
The courtroom had for the most part emptied when her husband approached, his hand extended to help her from the chair. “Let’s go home and talk, all right, angel?”
“I’d rather not,” she said quietly.
He gave her a rueful smile. “Doesn’t surprise me. I’m not too sure I want to do it either, but you realize it has to be done.”
She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. Then, swallowing hard, she nodded and rose from the witness chair. Zach put a guiding hand against her back, and she shuddered at his touch. She’d sold her soul to a devil named Zach Burkett.
In her ear, he murmured, “I didn’t kill him, Morality. On my mother’s grave, I’m innocent.”
“I know.”
But his innocence didn’t excuse her sin. Morality gazed up at him with eyes that brimmed with tears. She loved him. Even after all of this, she loved him.
Even now, when she hated herself.
ON THE widow’s walk outside the cupola of Season’s House, high atop the tallest hill in Cottonwood Creek, a figure stood gazing out across the town toward the river-boats lined up along the bayou.
Burkett. Zach Burkett. A bastard who should never have been born. A bastard who should have died twenty years ago along with his slut of a mother. “That’s how I planned it.”
Footsteps thudded against cypress planks as the figure paced the confines of the walk. Flash glass colored to mark the seasons lined the trio of windows on each wall; orange for autumn, blue for winter, green for spring, and red for summer. The figure paused in front of summer’s windows, smiling at the slash of red cast across hands that had performed the devil’s work. “How appropriate.”
These hands would not rest. The menace had yet to be dealt with. Burkett was still alive and his railroad a threat. That was unacceptable.
The figure laid fingers against the blood-red window glass warm with heat from the sun. Devil’s work. How best to accomplish it? How best to deal with the bastard?
After inhaling a deep breath spiced with the aroma of ham baking in the kitchen out back, the figure expelled a sigh and said, “The girl.” Careful observation of the bastard’s face during his wife’s little performance had proven the depth of his feelings for the Miracle Girl.
The figure smiled evilly. Yes, the girl was the weapon. Wielding her promised great satisfaction.
MORALITY MANAGED to avoid being alone with Zach until well after supper. She’d jumped at Eulalie’s offer of help in gathering hers and Patrick’s belongings from Joshua Marston’s house. Because the Burkett cabin had sat unoccupied while Zach was in jail, the widow had suggested she accompany them home in order to help “spruce the place up.”
“I tidied up some when you were ill, dear, but it needs a thorough cleaning, and I hesitated to disturb you at the time,” she’d said.
The women had worked hard to bring the cabin up to Eulalie Peabody s standards. Morality insisted the widow stay for supper, so it was growing close to dark when Zach took the older woman back to town.
After sending Patrick to bed, Morality restlessly paced the cabin, doing anything to stay busy and avoid thinking about what had happened in court or what might happen upon Zach’s return. Finally, the cabin walls seemed to close in on her, and she decided to take a walk down toward the bayou.
She took a lantern with her, although she didn’t need it. The near full moon climbing in the sky cast a bright, silvery light across the flower-dotted fields. She was stooping to pick a buttercup when Zach’s reproachful voice sounded from behind her.
“Morality, it’s taken me a while to find you. I was beginning to think you’d run off.”
She straightened, but didn’t turn around. “I’d rather not talk tonight, Zach.”
“Fine.” He stepped closer, and a note of steel entered his voice. “You don’t have to talk, but you’re damn well going to listen. When I was in town I stopped and spoke with Jess. Friend that he is, he understands. Morality, we’ve called off the railroad scam.”
Shock stiffening Morality’s spine, she whirled around. “What!”
He bent and scooped a rock from the ground, then lobbed it in a high arc toward the bayou. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Me to give up my revenge on Cottonwood Creek?”
“Yes. But…” Morality didn’t know what to say. A
fierce wave of gladness swept through her, even as she questioned his honesty. The timing was terribly suspicious. “Why now? Why now, after years and years of planning, are you willing to give up your scheme on the eve of its fruition? Is this payment, Zach Burkett? For my lie? For your life?”
“Damn, woman. You don’t believe in making anything easy for a man, do you?” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and lifted his face toward the sky. “It’s not payment for anything. I wanted to do it, that’s all, and I figured out a way to make it work. We’ll bring the Texas Southern to town after all. All those people who bought stock—even the sons of bitches who manned my jury—will make a substantial return on their investment. Hell, this might end up actually saving the town.”
“What about Mr. Tanner’s father? And what about Joshua?”
With winter in his voice, he replied, “Don’t stretch it, angel. I’m meeting you halfway here, and you’ll have to be happy with that.”
Morality looked at him. “Who are you, Zach Burkett, and who have you made me? You stand there and tell me you are going to deliberately ruin your father—a man who has been extraordinarily kind to me, I might add—and I’m supposed to be happy about it? You know the worst part?” She lifted her hands in a gesture of futility. “I am. I am glad you’ve decided not to punish Cottonwood Creek, for whatever reason. I accept the fact of this animosity between you and Joshua Marston. And today…today I did something I’d sworn I’d never do. I still can’t believe it! Who have I become?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “And you? Do I know you at all?”
Moonlight glinted off his raven hair, and his eyes were like blue fire burning in the night. He stood tall and broad and strong—so handsome he made her ache. And she loved him. God help her, she loved him.
Filled with despair, she finished in a whisper. “They say Lucifer before the fall was the most beautiful of angels.”
The anguish in her voice plunged a knife of regret into Zach’s heart. “I didn’t want you to do it, Morality. I wish you hadn’t—it kills me to see you this way.”
“They were going to hang you.”
Zach racked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what to say to her. They wouldn’t have hanged him. He’d have figured some way out of that spot, tight as it had been, but he couldn’t very well tell her that. By the way, Morality, you didn’t have to sacrifice your self-respect.
Damn. Zach rubbed his hand across his brow.
In a small, world-weary voice, she said, “I couldn’t let them hang you.”
“Why?” he replied in a similar tone. “If you think I’m the devil incarnate, how come you tried to save me? You said you believed I was innocent. Have you changed your mind? Do you think I killed your uncle?”
She gave him a misty smile. “No.”
He waited for her to elaborate. She said nothing, simply twirled her wildflower between her fingers. Frustration clawed his chest and tightened the cords of his neck. “ ‘No’? Is that all you’re going to say?”
She shrugged and blew gently on the petals of the buttercup. “What else is there to say? I believe you are innocent of my uncle’s murder, but that doesn’t change things. That doesn’t make what I did right. I told a lie on the witness stand. I perjured myself. What does it matter why I did it?”
Zach’s hands fisted at his sides. He took a step toward her, glaring and wishing he could grab her and shake some sense into her. “Of all the damn, foolish, idiotic things I’ve ever heard. Of course it matters why!”
She lifted her head then, and the look in her eyes stopped him cold. Loathing, pointed, and sour. And self-directed. It dripped from her words as she said, “You’re wrong. I should have found another way to help. I could have. I know I could have if I’d only given it some thought. But I lied. I laid my hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. Instead I told a lie. There’s never a good reason for lying.”
Zach snorted. “They were going to lynch me, woman! Personally, I think that’s a damn good reason.”
She dropped her flower and began marching away from him. Zach watched her for a moment, then spat a curse, grabbed the lantern, and followed. “You don’t think my life’s worth one little lie?” he called in a belligerent tone.
Morality halted abruptly. “Your life is worth everything to me, Zach. Don’t you dare think otherwise. What I’m feeling now really has nothing to do with you. I betrayed myself today. All my life—since the day I figured out my mother was never coming back for me—I have never, not once, lied about anything.”
Her braid had fallen loose and she dragged a hand through her hair, shoving the escaped strands behind her ears. Lamplight and moonlight reflected the pain glistening in her eyes. Her voice trembled as she said, “I have preached against lying at revival meetings too numerous to mention. I’ve lectured on how little lies become big lies, how lies and deceptions lead to ruination.” She clutched a fist to her breast. “I’ve condemned others for their weakness, Zach Burkett. Can you not see how it makes me feel to know what I have done? I have no choice but to condemn myself!”
A hundred different arguments bombarded his brain. It was the one that churned in his gut that burst from his lips in his most sarcastic drawl. “Well, welcome down to earth with the rest of us sinners, Miracle Girl.”
She froze like a rabbit caught in a dark lantern. “I beg your pardon?”
“As right you should. Just who do you think you are, Morality? Jesus Christ in skirts?”
She gasped and her eyes went wide. “That’s blasphemy!”
“Maybe. But so is your holier-than-thou attitude.” He advanced on her, scowling. “Just because you’ve had a miracle, does that make you better than the rest of us? Is your soul more special than mine?”
“No, we’re all the same in God’s eyes!”
“That’s right. And what’s one of the main points you religious people like to preach? Forgiveness, right? ‘Though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.’ So what’s the problem, Morality? Are you too good to be forgiven?”
“No!” She screamed the word. Tears tumbled down her face. “Don’t you see? One must repent one’s sins to be forgiven. I don’t repent! I can’t repent! I’m glad I lied because it kept you alive, and I’d do it again if I had to. I should go to Judge Mills and confess to my lie. That’s what it would take for me to be forgiven. I’ll not do that! I won’t! So, I’m doomed, Zach. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”
“Aw, hell, angel.” He set down the lantern and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, weeping as though her world had ended. Which, in some ways, he guessed it had.
Zach stroked her back with a comforting touch, his heart breaking all the while for having caused her such pain. He pressed a kiss to her head. “Listen to me, Morality. I have something to say, and I want you to listen.”
He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length, and tilted up her chin. He stared deep into her eyes. “My only brush with real religion is what my mama taught me before she died. That’s where the handful of Bible quotes I know comes from. But the one thing I do remember, the one thing that has stuck with me over all these years, is that God pretty well stands for one thing.”
He wiped her tears from her cheeks and asked in a gentle voice, “Why did you lie for me, angel?”
She drew an audible, shaky breath. “They were going to kill you.”
“No.” Zach shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Why did you lie? The reason in your gut. In your heart. Boil it all down to one thing and tell me why you lied for me.”
He could feel her body tense and tremble. In a broken voice, she answered, “I lied because I love you.”
“That’s right, angel.” Warmth, sweet and healing, flowed through him. “You love me, and you were willing to betray your deepest, most sacred belief for me. Out of love.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he hushed her by resting his finger against her lips.
“Listen, Morality. I want you to he
ar this. I won’t claim to know all the religious rules, but it seems to me that doing something bad for the best of reasons—for love—can’t be unforgivable. ‘Cause I figure that as much as you love me, the Lord loves you a million times more. And I reckon that because of that love, He can forgive you just about anything.” He showed her a crooked half-smile. “Even something as bad as loving someone the likes of me.”
“You’re not bad, Zach,” she protested, censure in her eyes. “Not at all. You do bad things sometimes, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“There you go.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Turn that around on yourself, Morality Burkett. If it applies to me, it sure as hell applies to you.”
She was quiet for a long moment. The glow of the lantern’s flame danced across the fiery tendrils of her hair, and Zach stretched out a hand to touch its silky texture. What was she thinking in that mixed-up mind of hers? The woman had been fed religious propaganda since knee-skinning days; her uncle undoubtedly taught her whatever nonsense he could make up in order to keep her in hand.
Zach found the very real strength of her faith amazing. And a bit daunting, truth be told.
Finally, she said, “You really should watch your language, Mr. Burkett.”
A slow, tender smile stretched across his face and he pulled her into a hug. “Nah, you watch it close enough for both of us.”
As Morality wrapped her arms around his waist, he closed his eyes. He soaked in the sweet sensation of holding her again. He inhaled the alluring yet innocent scent of her. Lord, he’d missed having this woman in his arms.
Her head resting against his chest, Morality said softly, “When I was little, Reverend Uncle always told me I had bad blood. My mother didn’t love me because I was bad. He said my blindness was my punishment.”
Zach gritted his teeth, wishing he had killed that sorry son of a bitch. “Aw, angel, I don’t believe that for a minute.” He turned her around and pulled her against him, her back to his front. Holding her with one arm, he extended the other in an arc toward the sky and the earth before them. “Look, honey.”
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