“Of course not.”
“So she freely allowed you liberties?”
“I didn’t defile her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you are saying that all inappropriate contact between the two of you was consensual? That Miss Lovelace’s claims of innocence are not accurate?”
Bailey swallowed hard. He’d sworn on a Bible, he who lived in a parsonage and opened up the meetinghouse twice a week. Did Molly understand, or would she think he was exacting his revenge? Too fast. Everything was happening too fast.
“It wasn’t her fault. I take full responsibility.”
“Seems to be a pattern of hers, doesn’t it? She’s never at fault?”
“You are leading the witness,” Judge Rice warned. “Caution.”
“Mr. Garner, if Miss Lovelace had as spotless of a reputation as she claims, she must have been humiliated by your confession before the church.”
Bailey nodded. There was one response he could be proud of.
“Is it fair to assume that your relationship was not resumed? That she never again allowed you liberties?”
How did they know? Was it a lucky guess? Molly’s cheeks flamed red, her eyes lowered. He wished she’d look at him. Wished she’d glare—or swear—or anything besides sit resigned as he bludgeoned her reputation.
Sheriff Colton coughed and raised an eyebrow. If Colton weren’t there, Bailey would be tempted to fib on a stack of Bibles, but the man had caught them red-handed. He had to tell the truth or he’d be arrested for perjury.
His voice sounded weak, foreign to his own ears. “There was one incident.”
He was lost. There was no redemption for him. Not only had he done his best to compromise her, but now he was exposing his near success to her enemies. Hell couldn’t produce hot enough flames for him.
“One incident, you say. I won’t ask for the lurid details, but are we to assume the . . . ahem . . . activity was more than a friendly gesture?”
Bailey sat mute.
“And when did this rendezvous occur? You weren’t courting after you exposed her for her wayward behavior, but it must’ve been before she left town with Mr. Pierrepont.” He leaned forward to peer at Bailey. “She enjoyed your company and then waited how long before skipping town with my client?”
Bailey crossed his arms. His jaw jutted out.
“Mr. Collins”—Judge Rice rubbed his forehead with a weary hand as he spoke to the district attorney—“do you wish to consult with your client, or should we continue?”
The District Attorney shuffled through papers. “I’m not sure how to proceed.”
“Let’s allow the witness to answer the question,” Pierrepont’s lawyer continued. “Perhaps the lady was innocently besotted with you. It took her a month, perhaps, before she elected to become the companion of another man?”
Why didn’t Mr. Collins stop them? Bailey looked to the judge’s bench, but there was no help coming from that direction.
“Not a full month, then? I will have your answer, Mr. Garner. Exactly how long did it take Miss Lovelace to turn her affections from you to my client?”
Since God hadn’t graciously struck him mute, he’d have to answer the question.
“She left with him the next day—make that two days later.”
Bailey had to clasp his fists together to keep from reaching over the banister, grabbing the lawyer by his fancy knotted cravat, and stuffing it into his satisfied mouth. He rambled on, but Bailey didn’t catch all the words. Unfaithful, gold digger, cuckolding his client with other men—all charges brought against the solemn woman in the simple blue gown.
Mechanically Bailey rose as instructed and walked past her. Mr. Collins had finally voiced his opinion. There would be no trial. Bailey had ruined Molly’s case, and Edward Pierrepont would walk out of Caldwell County not guilty. The married man who had bedded his sweetheart would go free.
All the guilt rested on Bailey.
24
The road between Lockhart and Prairie Lea had never seemed so long. No matter. Molly probably wouldn’t be making this trip much in the months ahead. She was moving home.
From the back bench, she watched Bailey as he pretended that driving the surrey took his undivided attention. Ignoring her father was a skill she should’ve acquired years ago. Maybe then she wouldn’t find it so difficult to keep from answering his questions. Thomas Lovelace wanted to know every word of Bailey’s testimony, and Molly would do her best to ensure that he never did.
“I’d think the plaintiff’s father would have some rights, but Judge Rice refused to tell me what was said.” He bounced on the front bench of the surrey, forcing Bailey to steady the horse.
“I wondered what kept you so long.” Adele was seated on the back bench next to Molly, but didn’t seem too pleased about it. “Molly and I went to the boardinghouse right after the trial, packed her trunks, and still had to wait a half hour on you.”
“I was giving Rice a piece of my mind, and I had some words for that snake, Edward Pierrepont, too,” Thomas said.
Her mother’s head snapped up. “They let you talk to him?”
“He requested a meeting, the fool. Believe me, I made him sorry he’d ever heard the name Lovelace.” Her father mopped his brow with an already damp handkerchief. “What he did to us . . . Molly lost her job because of him. That requires financial compensation.”
“But I understand the judge’s decision.” Her mother tucked an iron-gray curl into her bonnet. “You can’t have an adulteress working for the law.”
Bailey turned as if to speak and then faced forward again. So now he was silent? Too bad he hadn’t gone mute in the courtroom—and what had her father said?
“Did you say compensation?” she asked.
Her father grunted. “It’s hard to acquire a settlement without any leverage. I’m not sure how you destroyed your case, but I recouped what I could. One of my better negotiations, I believe.”
The thought of taking anything from Edward Pierrepont made her ill. “I don’t want his tainted money. You tell him we won’t accept it.”
“We’ve already accepted it. Hopefully the taint will be washed away by the interest it accrues in the bank,” Thomas said.
Time might clean the money, but it wouldn’t clean her. Molly had been shocked to hear herself characterized as an immoral woman. She had never considered herself lax in that department. She hadn’t so much as kissed Edward before their wedding—or whatever that ruse was. As for Bailey, well, he was Bailey. That didn’t mean she’d act so wanton with anyone else.
And how could she blame Bailey for the fiasco when everything he’d said was true? As soon as she heard each question, she knew what his answer would be. Had to be. He was too honest. Even if Sheriff Colton hadn’t been present, Bailey wouldn’t tell a falsehood, especially not for her.
Molly dropped her chin. Her gloves concealed a familiar lump on her ring finger. At the first opportunity she’d remove the shackle. Before, the ring had protected her reputation. Now it was pointless.
“This is why they shouldn’t let women go under oath,” her father said. “Their emotion, their sentimentality, is too easily manipulated. That lawyer had you cowed into submission from the very first question. Makes me wonder if you were as innocent as you claim.”
“If I felt any guilt in my dealings with Mr. Pierrepont, I wouldn’t have had him arrested. There’s nothing else to be done, Father. The sooner it’s forgotten the better.”
“No one is going to forget.” Adele lifted her chin and sniffed. “You were married, and now you’re not. If he was in the wrong, where’s the punishment for him? And how are we supposed to introduce you now? If you’re not Mrs. Pierrepont, who are you?”
“I’m Molly Lovelace. That’s always been my name.”
And always would be.
“And exactly how are you going to occupy yourself, Molly Lovelace?” her father asked. “If Judge Rice doesn’t want you at the courthouse, I’m
sure as shooting not allowing you to flounce around the mill.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “Perhaps I could make visits with Mother. There are women in Prairie Lea that need help, whether their husbands are incarcerated or they were affected by crime. I don’t know anyone in jail now that Anne is free, but there’s Mrs. Nimenko. Her husband was murdered. If I could do something for her—”
“I prefer visiting old maids and other unfortunates,” Adele said. “Or perhaps you could be an example to some young impressionable girl on the verge of making a similar mistake.”
Did Bailey groan? No one else seemed to notice.
“I’d prefer to keep my calls to less personal subjects,” Molly said. “If I can get them to come to church, then—”
“You don’t plan on attending church, do you?” Her father turned horrified eyes on her.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Don’t you think it’s hypocritical after running off with a married man?”
Molly’s face burned hot, but her words burned hotter. “Isn’t church the place for people like me? People who’ve ruined this life and have nothing to live for but the promise of the next? Would you keep even that comfort from your daughter?”
“Small comfort it’ll be,” he retorted. “You’re mistaken if you think you’ll be welcomed.”
“How dare you!” Molly kept her voice low, even though town was behind them. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve never given Edward Pierrepont the time of day. I would have married . . .”
Only then did they remember their silent driver. The wheels creaked as they came down the last rise before they reached the home on the river. Thomas Lovelace’s heavy breathing could be heard above the distant roar of the water falling over the dam.
“I don’t know that I should go to church in my condition,” he said. “My heart might not be able to withstand it. Perhaps on Sunday I’ll feel better. Perhaps not.”
“Thomas, what will I tell Reverend Stoker? He’ll want to know why you aren’t there,” her mother said.
“You won’t have to tell him anything.” He rubbed his chest. “You’ll stay home with me if I’m under the weather. At least one woman in my family knows how to be a good wife.”
Molly was crushed. What had happened to his deathbed resolve to treat her better? The compliments he’d heaped on her had been meaningless, just another maneuver for Thomas Lovelace to get what he wanted.
“I have a suggestion.” Their driver finally found his voice. “You’ve been looking for a guard to watch the mill at night. I’ll move into the watchman’s quarters if you’ll allow Molly to stay at the parsonage.”
Molly sat upright. “Turn the buggy around. We’ve barely passed it.”
“Do control yourself,” her mother said. “It’s a ridiculous suggestion. You can’t live in town by yourself.”
“What about Mrs. Cantrell?” Molly asked. “She lives by herself. And Louise? She lived by herself on the farm before she married Mr. Bradford.”
Her father’s mouth swished from side to side. Bailey lifted the reins. “If the answer’s no, I understand. I’ll be more comfortable in the parsonage, I guess.”
“Wait.” Thomas grabbed the lines with a meaty hand. “Let’s not be hasty. Molly’s a grown woman. Why can’t she live alone?”
Molly turned hopeful eyes to her mother. “You’d be more comfortable with me out of the house. I know my presence distresses you.”
“But where would we get the funds to furnish it? I haven’t been inside in ages, but I don’t think the décor is suitable.”
“I won’t change a thing. The house is in town, so I’ll have neighbors, and it’s right by the church. There will be plenty of people coming and going to check up on me.”
“What will you eat?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not exactly a cook.”
Molly’s spirits soared. Were they really considering it? “But I can learn. I taught myself accounting. I learned shorthand with a little assistance. How hard can cooking be? Of course, I’d probably need to eat with you at first, but not for long. I can learn how to do it myself.”
She was on the edge of the bench, eyes darting desperately from her father to her mother as they weighed the relief of having her out of their hair against the potential scandal the move might make. In the end, getting rid of her must have seemed the greater good.
“We could use a night watchman. If we’re robbed, we’ll lose more than fuel for a second hearth.” Her father looked at Bailey. “But what will Reverend Stoker say?”
“Stoker I’ll have to handle.”
“Do you think she’ll be at church, Ma?” Susannah called from the wagon bed as they turned into town.
Bailey rubbed his forehead and frowned at his little sister. “Don’t stick your nose in the beehive. You’ll get stung.”
Since starting his job at the mill, Bailey always made it home to the ranch on Saturday evening and returned to town the next morning for church. This was the first Sunday since he’d moved into the watchman’s quarters, the first Sunday since the trial forced Molly to return home, and he was glad for his family’s company.
What would Stoker think about the parsonage’s new resident? He would soon find out. It hadn’t taken long to move Bailey’s scant belongings out of the furnished cabin. He’d stuffed a saddlebag full of clothing and they’d swapped out the bedding that Mrs. Lovelace had brought up from the house, but in the confusion he’d taken Molly’s pillow and left her his.
Big mistake. How could he get any sleep with her lilac scent reminding him of the best times of his life . . . and the worst?
And why was Molly protecting him? If she decided to tell her parents that he’d caused the case to be thrown out, he’d be looking for another job.
Not that he minded coming back to the ranch for a few days. The sheep’s wool coats needed to be sheared soon, and the roundups were progressing as planned. With the cattle being rounded up for their journey north, there was plenty to do at the homeplace, but that wasn’t his calling. Despite everything—despite Thomas’s brusque manner, Molly’s marriage, and now his accusations against her—Bailey was certain he was where God wanted him, but he wasn’t sure he could endure it. He wasn’t sure how to be the man he wanted to be while still dealing with the pathetic man he was.
Heaven knew how much he wanted to tell Reverend Stoker and his father about the hearing, but once again he couldn’t clear his conscience without dirtying Molly’s. Seemed like his mother saw right through his vague generalities, though. So Molly wasn’t married? Pierrepont had charges against him, but he was free to leave? Didn’t take Mary Garner long to smell trouble, and Bailey didn’t need her stern warning. He’d done enough damage already.
“Poor Adele and Thomas,” his mother fussed as he helped her down from the wagon. “I wonder how they’re holding up. Reckon we’re about to find out.”
The churchyard did seem subdued, now that she mentioned it. Were the Lovelaces already inside, or had Thomas kept Molly away?
His cousin Eliza greeted them first. With a hug for his mother and a sympathetic look tossed his way, she whispered, “Did you hear about Molly?”
Mary Garner shooed her little girls inside and gathered her shawl about her. “What are people saying?”
Eliza bent over Bailey’s short mother. “That he had a wife already. Molly and he were never married.”
“But Mr. Mohle saw him in Luling leaving town. Isn’t bigamy against the law?” Mary asked.
Eliza shrugged. “No one’s talking.”
Oh, yes they were. Everyone was.
Bailey’s father joined the discussion. “We mustn’t judge. Molly did what she thought was best to help her family.”
“She did,” Eliza conceded. “And even if she acted rashly, she surely didn’t expect Mr. Pierrepont to be married.”
Mary tucked her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “And whatever we do or say, we’ve got to consider
Thomas and Adele. They’re surely plumb overwhelmed.” She cast a significant look at Bailey and took his arm, as well. “What’s done is done. We’ll pray she doesn’t get caught up in any more scandals.”
Yes, his mother would pray fervently.
Before he could sit with his family, Mayor Sellers pulled him aside.
“You were there at the courthouse, I hear. Were you able to have your say?”
Bailey looked over his shoulder, relieved that no one was close enough to overhear. “It didn’t go as I’d planned.”
He started to turn, but Mayor Sellers caught him by the arm again and leaned in close, the scent of spicy tobacco seeping from his lips. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get your hands dirty. Not a nice boy like you.”
Bailey twisted his arm away. “The music’s started. Excuse me.”
“Wait a second,” Sellers said. “You haven’t heard my news. Reverend Stoker isn’t coming. He twisted his knee stepping off his porch and can’t ride the circuit. He sent word for you to conduct the service.”
“Me?” Bailey stumbled backward a step. “I’m no preacher. I can’t do it.”
“He warned me that you’d say that, but you can ask for testimonies, favorite verses, that sort of thing. The congregation will fill the time for you.”
“No.” Bailey was adamant. Here was one decision he would not regret. “I will not get up in front of these people as if I’m some sort of spiritual authority.”
“Simmer down, there. I didn’t expect you to be so uncomfortable. I can ask Weston to fill in, I suppose.”
Bailey nodded his consent. Crossing the threshold, he felt as if he’d rolled in a cow pie. If Weston, his cousin, was holding a baptism service, he’d be the first candidate. Anything to wash the sludgy feel of unearned praise away.
As he entered the church, he saw that the pew normally occupied by the Lovelaces stood vacant, proof that Mr. Lovelace had gotten his way—again. Bailey took a seat next to his brothers and let his little sister Ida climb onto his lap. Mr. Mohle led the music while Mrs. Mohle, looking frailer than usual, pounded out the tune on the upright piano.
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