Earl folded his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow. “You ain’t gonna leave me stranded.”
The deputy jerked his attention to Earl. “Whaddaya mean by that?”
“Sheriff Gray told you to take me wherever I needed to go. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Sure, but—”
“I need to go to Fairland, Kansas.”
The man backed up, hands in the air. “Now wait just a minute. Sheriff Gray didn’t give me permission to go leavin’ the state o’ Missouri. He told me to take you to your horse, an’ I’ve done it.”
“Did he say ‘take Boyd to his horse,’ or did he say ‘take Boyd where he needs to go’?”
“I already told you what he said, but he meant—”
“Seems to me you’re in trouble enough for lockin’ me up for a whole week without cause.”
“I did have cause!”
“How you gonna sleep nights, knowin’ you jailed an innocent man an’ then left him sittin’ with no means of movin’ on?”
“You can’t hardly claim to be innocent, Boyd. Not when you got a record.”
Earl grimaced, but he wasn’t going to back down. Not now. “Maybe I wasn’t innocent before I came to Independence, but I didn’t do nothin’ to deserve bein’ jailed this time. Your sheriff even said so. So I figure you owe me. You can pay the debt by cartin’ me to Fairland.”
Deputy Sprague set his feet widespread and glowered. “I ain’t cartin’ you to Fairland. Not unless Sheriff Gray looks me full in the face an’ says, ‘Deputy, take Boyd to Fairland,’ an’ I’m tellin’ you straight up, he ain’t gonna say that. So I figure you can stay here with your lame horse or you can ride back to Independence with me, maybe find a different horse.”
Much as he hated to admit it, Earl gained a little respect for the deputy. The man had more gumption than he’d suspected. He scuffed his toe in the dirt. “Sure don’t know how I’m gonna get myself another horse. All I got is a dollar an’ two bits in my pocket.”
Sprague scratched his chin. “Didn’t you tell me that feller you brought in had stole a wagon an’ horses from your cousin?”
Earl nodded. He still didn’t know where Theophil laid his hands on so much, but the bridge man came right out and admitted he’d taken those things from the man who had the Bible. Why would he say it if he hadn’t done it? “That’s why I’m needin’ to get Fairland. The fella said that’s where my cousin was headin’. I got his Bible in my bag, an’ I’m wantin’ to give it back to him.” That, and a whole lot more. “So you sure you won’t tote me there?”
Sprague huffed out a breath. “You are one stubborn cuss, I’ll give you that. For the last time, no, not unless Sheriff Gray tells me to. But let’s tie your horse to the back of the wagon. We’ll take it slow to Independence, then turn him over to the livery owner. He’s right good with horses, an’ he might be able to fix your animal’s hurt leg. If he can’t, he has horses for sale.” The deputy scratched his chin, his eyes narrowing the way Claight’s did when he got an idea. “Then again, there might be another way for you to get hold of a horse that ain’t lame.”
Earl frowned. “You ain’t suggestin’ I steal one, are you?” That’s what Claight would suggest.
The deputy laughed. “Now why would I do that? No, but I ain’t gonna tell what I’m thinkin’ until I know if I’m thinkin’ right.” His expression turned sheepish. “I’m kinda new at this deputyin’.”
Earl stifled a snort. Big surprise.
“Don’t wanna get your hopes too high.”
Earl couldn’t ever recall having high hopes. For anything. But he sure wasn’t going to walk to Fairland, and he couldn’t ride his horse. So he might as well return to Independence with the deputy and wait to see what plan the man had hatched. It’d cost him another day, and he inwardly growled at the delay. But if the Hookers’ prayers for him to find his cousin were worth anything, Theophil would still be in Fairland when he finally made it to the town.
Bonner Springs, Kansas
Bess
Bess held out her hand and admired the ring circling her fourth finger. Oil lamps hanging from the tin ceiling above the mercantile counter reflected off the trio of pearls set in a row across the gold band.
She sighed. “It’s beautiful, Philemon. But maybe I should get a plain band. It would be more serviceable. Or…” She turned her hand palm side up so she’d stop looking at the ring. “I could wear the band Sam gave me. That would be the most practical choice.”
Philemon rolled his eyes. “Will you, just this once, stop being so practical? And you don’t need to think about serviceability, either.” He captured her hand and turned it. Then he tapped the ring with his fingertip. “Is this the ring you want?”
She gazed at the ring again. She’d always loved pearls, proof that something precious could grow from that which was considered painful or difficult. She glanced at the array of rings remaining in the flat wooden case on the mercantile counter. All beautiful, many with larger stones or more elaborate settings. But something about the simplicity of the three creamy pearls nestled side by side, perfectly matched and each no bigger than the head of a dressmaker’s pin, tugged at her. “I do love it.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew his purse. “Then that’s the one we’ll get.”
Bess cringed as he counted out four dollars and twenty-five cents. And this after he’d already paid a dollar and twenty cents for a plain gold band for himself. Thank goodness the social committee ladies were taking care of the cake and wedding dinner. Rings were Philemon’s only expense. Even so, guilt tormented her as they left the mercantile with the two velvet-lined boxes safely inside her reticule.
On the boardwalk Philemon offered her his elbow. She took hold, and he smiled down at her as they ambled toward her wagon. “I’m glad we decided to come in by ourselves rather than driving over with Rufus yesterday. Was he able to find suitable rings?”
Bess nodded. “Yes. Did he show them to you?”
“No. He’s spent some time with Grace, but I haven’t talked to him since last Sunday.”
She sighed. “I’m not surprised. After visiting Grace at the post office every morning, he’s closed himself in his room until late afternoon, presumably to study. I confess, I’ve worried about him, but he assures me he’s fine.”
He patted her hand. “He’s dedicated to delivering a God-inspired message, a sign of a young, enthusiastic preacher.”
Bess sent him a quick smile. “You’re probably right. I’ll stop worrying. As for rings, he chose a simple one for himself—very much like your plain band. But for Grace he bought an oval emerald surrounded by diamond chips and set in solid gold. I’m certain she will be pleased even if she didn’t get to select it herself.” If the pearl ring in her reticule cost more than four dollars, Rufus must have spent close to half his monthly salary on Grace’s ring. Young people…so impractical. But Grace would love it.
Philemon chuckled. “With both Rufus and me making the drive to Bonner Springs and back, the horses have worked extra hard this week, but I don’t regret waiting and coming by ourselves. I like having time alone with you.”
The things this man said. He always managed to make her old heart swell. “I enjoy our time alone, too. I don’t imagine we’ll have a great deal of that when we reach the reservation.” She folded back her bonnet brim to better see his face. “Philemon, are you very sure you want to return to the ministry? I can always contact the mission board and withdraw our application. If you’d rather stay in Fairland with Grace and her new husband, I’ll understand, and as hard as it would be to leave you behind, I’ll serve alone. I’ve done it before.”
They reached the wagon, and he leaned against one of the wheels, taking hold of her hands. “Bess, I am not going to change my mind. Come Saturday you and I will be married, and as soon as we receive approval from the mission board, we will travel to whichever reservation needs us the most, and we will serve toget
her for as long as the Lord allows.” He angled his head, seeming to search her face. “Are you having second thoughts about marrying me?”
She shook her head so adamantly her bonnet’s ribbons slapped her cheeks. She tucked them back into place. “None whatsoever.”
“Even though I’m not a very good driver?” His eyes twinkled. On the way over he’d spent so much time gazing at her, the horses had led them into a stand of scrubby maple trees.
“You could drive the wagon into a creek, and I still wouldn’t choose someone else.” Gracious, how shameless she’d become. And with a former minister.
His fingers tightened on her hands. “I am counting the hours until Saturday morning.” The statement emerged on a husky note.
She swallowed a smile. Ah, so a former minister could be brazen, too. She tugged his timepiece from the little vest pocket. “Forty-four hours and…” She squinted at the Roman numerals. “Eleven minutes.”
His raucous laughter rang. He snagged her in an embrace right there on Bonner Springs’s Main Street, apparently oblivious to passersby gawking and pointing. “Bess Kirby, I love you.”
She lay her cheek against his jacket placket and sighed. So what if people stared? They didn’t know anyone in Bonner Springs anyway. “And I love you.”
He kissed the top of her bonnet, then set her aside. “We better get back. We have our wedding rehearsal this evening, remember?”
How could she forget? A girlish giggle escaped her throat. She released a second one when Philemon assisted her onto the wagon seat and let his hands linger on her waist a few seconds longer than necessary. Who knew she could experience such giddy emotions at this advanced age?
He settled next to her, released the brake, and gave the reins a flick. As they drove out of town, he smiled at her. And then winked. She laughed aloud, unable to squelch her joy. First she’d had the joy of Sam’s love, and now Philemon’s. Two such different men, yet both so good and kind and God honoring. What had she done to deserve the love of two wonderful men? Probably nothing, but the Lord had chosen to bless her anyway. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. Life could not possibly be sweeter.
Fairland, Kansas
Theo
Could things become any more complicated? Theo sat hunched forward in his favorite chair, elbows on his knees, staring into the little box at the emerald ring he would put on Grace’s finger in only two more days.
Beside him on the table, Reverend Cristler’s Bible lay open to the book of Numbers. A few lines from chapter thirty-two taunted him. He whispered them, the words scraping past his dry throat. “ ‘Ye have sinned against the LORD: and be sure your sin will find you out.’ ”
He shifted his attention to the ring again. The emerald glistened in the slivers of sunlight sneaking through the lace at the window. He rotated the box, making the circle of diamonds send out little sparks of white. He’d chosen the prettiest ring in the case. One with a band of eighteen-karat gold. With the largest center stone. And with the most accent diamonds. They were tiny, but there were sixteen in all. Sixteen! And it still wasn’t enough to make up for the lie his life had become.
He closed the box and set it on top of the Bible, then rose and paced the room. He loved Grace. That much was real. He anticipated minutes with her. When he left her, he felt empty inside, and he came to life again when he was with her once more. Somehow…she completed him. But did she complete Theophil Garrison or Rufus Dille? He no longer recognized where he ended and Rufus Dille began.
He dropped into the chair and buried his face in his hands. A low, long, agonized moan dragged from his soul. “Lord…Lord…I have sinned.”
A pain seared his chest. He knew what he had to do. He had to tell the truth. Only then would this constant stab of guilt go away. But how? How could he do it now? Reverend Cristler was leaving town, so if he admitted he wasn’t really a preacher, the church would be without a minister. Grace would feel like a fool. And if he told the truth, they’d tell him to go away. He wouldn’t be able to stay where he was safe, where he was respected by most of the people in town, where he had a chance to love and be loved.
“What do I do?” The anguished question rasped into the quiet room.
A tap at the door intruded.
He jerked upright. “Yes?”
“Rufus, it’s six fifteen.” Aunt Bess’s sweet voice carried from the other side of the door. “Do you want to eat something before we go over to the church to practice our wedding ceremony?”
The practice…He stifled another groan. He rose and scuffed to the door. Wearily, he turned the knob and stepped into the hallway.
Aunt Bess’s bright smile faded to a concerned frown the moment their gazes met. “Are you all right? I declare, you’re spending too much time indoors. You look as pale as bread dough.”
“I’m fine.” Another lie. Hadn’t he gotten good at telling falsehoods? “Just…nervous.” At least that was the truth.
Her expression softened, and she patted his arm. “Of course you are. Getting married is a big step. You’re bound to be a little nervous.”
He forced his stiff lips into what he hoped would pass for a smile. “Thanks for remindin’ me about supper. Didn’t think you’d do that—remind the boarders to eat.”
She looped arms with him and led him down the staircase. “You aren’t just a boarder, Rufus. You’re a young man about to embark on the greatest adventure of your life—matrimony. Small wonder you got lost in thought and forgot about eating.”
They rounded the corner to the dining room. Good smells—roast pork with potatoes and carrots, one of his favorite meals—greeted him, but he had no appetite. But if he didn’t eat, he’d worry Aunt Bess, so he sat and helped himself to his usual-sized portions. And he ate every bite even though he had to fight to swallow.
The men joshed with him, reminding him he was about to forfeit his freedom. The women fussed at the men, reminding them that being a husband and father was better than freedom. Eventually the men, even Belker Swain, admitted they’d hitch up again if they had the chance, and they all wished Theo and Grace well in their new life together.
Theo smiled and managed to laugh at the right times, but inwardly he cringed. These people were so open and honest with him, first teasing and then encouraging but always accepting. Did he want to spend the rest of his life deceiving them?
Aunt Bess stood and sent a tender smile in his direction. “Almost seven, Rufus. Time to go.”
Earl
He’d made it. The letters on the sign on the edge of town spelled “Fairland,” just as easy to read as copper-colored freckles on a little boy’s face.
Earl patted the horse’s neck. “Good job, fella.” What a strong, sturdy animal. The whole way from Independence to Fairland he’d not stopped being thankful for the turn of events that gave him possession—well, gave Theophil possession—of such a fine horse. But the sheriff himself had made the trade between the bridge-man’s horse and Earl’s old nag, claiming it was partial compensation for all that’d been took from Theophil. He’d had to wait two days for the state marshal to approve the swap, but it was worth the wait. This was one fine animal. And it had carried him right to Fairland.
Now to find Theophil.
He rode slowly up the town’s main street, searching both sides for signs of life. Of course, all was quiet. Evening already, seven fifteen according to the big clock on the bank’s limestone turret, so businesses were closed. Still, the evening sun gave off enough light for him to tell this was a town where folks took pride in what they owned. A nice place to settle. The kind of place where a homebody like Theophil would want to stay.
Hope that his path would soon cross his cousin’s made his chest tighten. “C’mon, boy, let’s find somebody we can ask about ol’ Theophil.”
The businesses were arranged around a grassy square, so Earl led the horse along each side of the square. On the southern side, lamps burned behind a large glass pane. He t
apped his heels, and the horse obediently trotted the remaining distance to the little clapboard building.
Red letters painted on the glass spelled out “Chubb’s Café.” He snickered. Claight would have fun pestering somebody with a name like Chubb. Earl drew the horse to a stop and slid down from the saddle. He looped the reins over the rough wood rail running the length of the building and stepped onto the boardwalk. He took a moment to slap the travel dust from his britches, then slung his rifle from its spot across his belly to his back. Finally he opened the door and entered the café.
His nostrils flared, taking in the smells. Too many to recognize, but all of them good. His stomach rumbled and he swallowed hard, tamping down the rush of hunger. Four booths lined each side of the café, and only three were taken—one on the right, two on the left. The people in all three booths paused in eating and looked at him, and for a moment he tensed, defensiveness automatically rising. But nothing more than curiosity showed on their faces. He blew out a slow breath, the tension easing.
A man unfolded himself from one of the booths on the left and strode across the creaky, wide-planked floor to Earl. “Howdy, stranger. Welcome to Fairland.”
Earl nodded. “Thanks.”
“I’m Hank Chubb.”
Earl looked the man up and down. He was as tall as Abe Lincoln and just as skinny. Yep, Claight would surely enjoy funning Hank Chubb. “Earl Boyd.”
“Nice to meetcha. You hungry?”
He was, but the little bit of money in his pocket wouldn’t go far. Not in a café. So he shook his head. “Saw your lights on an’ thought you might be able to help me. I’m huntin’ somebody. My cousin. His name’s Theophil Garrison. I heard he might be here in Fairland.”
The man rubbed his chin, frowning. “Hmm, I don’t recollect anybody by that name…” He turned and waved his arms. “Everybody, this fella’s lookin’ for a man named—” He shot a questioning look at Earl.
“Garrison. Theophil Garrison. He goes by Theo most times.”
Grace and the Preacher Page 30