Saving Grace

by Carolyn Davidson

  “Well, I have the note and that bundle of weeds to show the judge, and that should be enough to make him aware of what’s gone on,” Charlie said.

  “Why don’t you come by the house at supper time, Sheriff?” Grace asked. “We’d enjoy having you share our meal with us. And Ethel always cooks plenty.”

  And so it was that the sheriff stayed for supper, eating Mrs. Anderson’s cooking and listening to her lighten the conversation with stories of her daughter and the children she’d visited for several days.

  It was dark before Charlie Wilson left, and he shook Simon’s hand, uttering a few words of warning as he stepped across the threshold, cautioning the younger man to be on the alert for trouble.

  “As if I’d let you out of my sight,” Simon told Grace, leading her down the hallway to their room.

  “Well, your housekeeper feels the same way. She’s very protective of us, Simon. We’re lucky to have her.”

  Simon opened the bedroom door and entered ahead of Grace, looking around quickly, opening the wardrobe and checking behind the screen before he shut the door.

  “I think the ladies are plotting against you, Grace,” he said with a grin.

  “What ladies? The ladies at church?” she asked, stunned by his words.

  “Yes, the ladies at church. I heard a rumor that they’re about to ask you to be in charge of the flowers for the altar every week, since we have the nicest flower garden in town.” His grin was wide as he faced her, pulling her to her feet and working at her buttons.

  “And that isn’t all there is to it. They seem to think you might like to be in charge of the women’s quilting for the orphanage in Wallen’s Creek, over in the next county. They’ve committed themselves to making a half dozen or so quilts a year and they want to be sure you have enough to do to keep you busy.”

  “As if keeping you happy isn’t enough for me to attend to,” she said, her chin lowering, allowing her to peer down at her waist as she watched his hands untying the tapes that held her petticoats up.

  “Oh, you’re doing a fine job of that,” he told her. “You haven’t heard me complain, have you?”

  She shot him a look over her shoulder. “I would hope not.”

  “You don’t have any worries there,” he said, beginning to work on her drawers, his fingers agile as he managed to lower them right behind the petticoats. And then he looked up over her shoulder, as if something had caught his eye, and his hands pushed her down on the bed, snatching up the sheet and drawing it over her shoulders.

  Grace cried out and watched in astonishment as he went to the window and bent to look outdoors. With a soft mumbled word she could not decipher, he locked the sash and then pulled the curtains closed over the glass panes, the fabric dense enough to protect their privacy.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling the quilt up to cover herself.

  “There was someone out there. I saw a shadow though the glass, but they disappeared before I could see who it was.”

  “More than one person?” she asked. “Maybe Ethel was out in the yard. She’s been feeding a stray cat sometimes at night.”

  “It wasn’t a woman,” Simon said firmly.

  He crossed the room to where she sat, the quilt half around her shoulders, her breasts exposed to his view. If anyone had seen her… He gritted his teeth, seeing a shiver take her in its grip, and then he sat beside her on the bed.

  “It’s all right, honey. Probably just one of the young boys in the neighborhood, playing a prank. Or maybe it was Ethel. We’ll have to ask her in the morning.” His arms circled her and he pulled her into his embrace, holding her until she wiggled against him.

  “Simon, you’re squeezing me half to death.” She pouted her protest against his chest and he laid her back against the pillow, confident that no prying eyes could see within the room now.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I just didn’t want anyone to be looking in our room and it upset me to see something move out there. Probably wasn’t anything at all.”

  And yet, she knew better, for Simon was not easily startled or upset. And now his actions when they’d entered their bedroom made more sense to her. He’d thought someone might have come into the house while they were gone. No one in town ever locked a door, but even as she thought those words, Simon went to their bedroom door and opened it.

  “I’m going to set the bolts on the front and back doors, just in case,” he said, his smile seeming taut to her eyes. And when he came back in the bedroom, just minutes later, he turned the latch on that door, too.

  Grace refused to ask questions, only held out her arms to him, seeming unaware of the picture she presented, there in his bed.

  But Simon was more than aware, his gaze captured by the beauty of blue eyes and dark hair against the pristine whiteness of his pillow. She was a prize, a woman above all others to his mind, and he vowed once more to protect her from all peril.

  Even as he lowered himself to her side, taking her in his arms, he felt a thread of fear slide down the length of his spine, the knowledge that all was not as it should be, and that his Grace might be in more danger than they’d thought.

  She kissed him, as if she were intent on focusing his attention on her, away from the locked doors and drawn curtains. And he could not turn aside, for her sweetness was like honey to his lips, her aroma that of clean woman, perhaps due to a faint scent of the soap she used. And yet, Grace had drawn him, from the first, with her unique being. She had what no other woman of his acquaintance had ever possessed—an aura of femininity that overwhelmed his senses.

  And at that thought, he inhaled the scent of rainwater from her hair, for she and Ethel both used the collected water from the barrel at the side of the house to wash their hair. Then as he allowed his face to lie in the bend of her throat, he caught the aroma of clean skin and a woman untouched by powder and paint, with only her own natural beauty to lure the eye.

  He held her close, his hands moving on her back, his body already prepared to love her, to take her with him into the world they shared here on this bed.

  And Grace was willing, for she responded to him, and he thought it was with an almost frantic need, her mouth opening against his skin, her hands clutching at him as if she feared he might disappear if she did not hold fast.

  He tried to halt her, to slow the pace she seemed determined to set, and could not. Not without drawing away from her, and that he would not do. And so, they came together in a flood of emotion, his skin hot and tight as she clung to him. He heard the beating of his heart, filling his chest and thrumming like a hammer pounding an anvil in the blacksmith’s shop. The shadows of the night swirled around them, and he welcomed the darkness, for it enclosed them totally, her skin smooth against his hands, her body rising to meet his.

  “Grace, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said tightly, fearful of her not being ready for his possession. But her arms drew him closer, her legs parted to hold him there where she was determined he should be, and he found himself filling her with his masculine need, recognized that she had not been caressed and prepared by him enough to find a satisfaction of her own. She would not allow him to halt the loving of her body, but clung to him with fierce ardor.

  He was lost in her arms, the recipient of a torrent of loving, a flood tide of her desire. And it seemed that Grace felt a woman’s need that tossed them adrift in a wild stream that could only be crossed by two people together.

  Simon held his woman close, for she had loved him well, this young girl, no longer virgin, but yet untried. A wife whose love for the man she held was enough to toss her headlong into a bliss such as she’d not known before this night, for she cried out the syllables of his name as if they were a plea for his kisses and the caresses he spread upon her tender flesh.

  Simon felt the strong pulsing of her feminine parts, knew she had found surcease for her searching. And then sought his own ease, whispering soft words against her cheek, his mouth opening against the soft ski
n of her throat, his heart beating as one with that of the woman he held.

  His wife. His love.

  The sheriff was in his office the next day as Simon stopped by to tell him of the figure outside the bedroom window. “You think it was a grown man?” Charlie asked, and Simon nodded his agreement.

  “I didn’t make a fuss over it, just made sure the window was locked and pulled the shade down. I didn’t want to upset Grace any more than I had to.”

  “The judge is due here, and I heard the train stop just a few minutes ago, so he well may be coming down the road any minute,” Charlie said, rising and going to the doorway to look outside. “Good morning,” he called out as the man they’d been expecting neared the jailhouse.

  Judge Hale spoke a greeting to Charlie and then turned to Simon. “You’re the preacher, aren’t you?” he asked.

  Simon nodded and then listened as Charlie let the magistrate know what had gone on over the past day or so. He brought forth the note from his desk, spoke of the sad-looking bundle of weeds Simon and Grace had found on their porch and then told of Simon’s late-night visitor at the parsonage.

  “When you add up the injuries to two women and the fella checking out the preacher’s house last night, I’d say you’ve got a peck of trouble, Sheriff. Have you had any more luck in finding the man we’re searching for, Charlie? I’d hoped you might have located him by now.”

  “Not yet. I took a deputy out again last evening and we rode around through the woods where there’s been a report of someone having a campfire lately, but we didn’t find anything. Some cold ashes, but nothing to make our search worthwhile.”

  “We need to increase your staff, find a couple more men to deputize until this scoundrel is found, Charlie. The women in this town aren’t safe as it stands right now. Especially not the young woman this preacher married. Sounds to me like you’ve got a madman loose.”

  Charlie Wilson’s brow was furrowed, his mouth drawn down as he listened to the judge’s words. “I couldn’t agree with you more, sir, but I’m stumped. And until someone sees the man or finds a trace of him somewhere, our hands are tied. Don’t think we’ve given up, only retrenched, for he will be found. And sooner rather than later.”

  “Well, I’d say this preacher of yours deserves better than that as an answer to the problem, Charlie. Surely you can post a man outside the parsonage, even if only during the night hours. I’ll send to St. Louis for a marshal if need be, but the woman… Her name is Grace…am I right?”

  At Simon’s nod of agreement, Judge Hale continued. “Your wife deserves the protection of the law, and even if that involves taking her into custody—”

  “Stop right there.” Simon’s voice was loud, and then he offered a shrug as if to apologize, backtracking a bit, as if he sensed he’d overstepped with his abrasive behavior. Yet, what less could the judge expect?

  So his words were firm, allowing no question from either of the gentlemen before him. “My wife stays with me, and if I have to sleep with a gun beside me, I’ll do it. But no one takes her anywhere, not without me following about a foot behind.”

  Judge Hale grinned. “Well, I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight, young man.” He looked pointedly at the jailhouse door then. “And where is your wife this morning?”

  Simon felt chagrined at the words, knowing he’d just put his foot in his mouth. “I left her with my housekeeper while I walked over to speak with Charlie. And I get the message, sir. I should have brought her with me.”

  “If only so I could meet the lady.”

  “Why don’t you take a walk with me right now and I’ll introduce you. I’ll guarantee there’s a piece of apple pie in it for you.”

  Judge Hale waved his hand, laughing. “I’ll get settled in at the hotel first, Reverend. And then you’ll see me heading your way. Just point out the place.”

  “Right next door to the church, down the road to your left when you leave here. A small white house with a green swing on the porch.”

  And even as he spoke Simon thought of Grace sitting at home awaiting his return, knew a moment of anxiety and took his leave. With a nod of his head, he strode from the office and headed down the road. Suddenly, seeing Grace was the most important thing in the world. And he walked quickly as he made haste to the parsonage.

  Chapter Eleven

  The front door slammed behind him as he entered the house, and he heard voices from the kitchen.

  “Simon, is that you?”

  “None other,” he called out. “And why wasn’t the door locked?” He strode into the kitchen and his eyes swept over the two women at the table. Grace smiled at him and rose to greet him, her hands clasping his, her face lifting for a kiss.

  Simon bent to her, his lips touching hers briefly, squeezing her fingers in his and whispering softly, his voice low as he uttered words meant only for her ears, and then spoke aloud the news they’d been awaiting.

  “We’ve got company coming,” Simon said, addressing both ladies. “Judge Henry Hale is in town and he’d like to meet my wife.”

  “Oh, Simon. I’m hardly fit to meet the man who picks up the trash in the road, let alone an important man like the judge.” Grace looked down at her dress, one hand smoothing the wrinkled fabric of the skirt as she spoke.

  Simon’s long fingers touched her chin and caught her attention. “You look just fine, Grace, just as a preacher’s wife should. You’re all covered, but for your bare feet,” he said with a chuckle, looking down at the pink toes that peeked from beneath her skirt.

  “I’ll get dressed in something nicer, and I’ll put my shoes on,” she said, turning to the doorway and making haste as she went up the stairs to their bedroom. Simon was right behind her and he thought of what he’d told the judge just minutes ago.

  Following Grace was no hardship, he’d decided. Certainly, keeping a close eye on her might claim a good bit of his time, but of that he’d never complain, for he could think of nothing more pleasurable than focusing his attention on his bride.

  She quickly slid from her housedress and chose another, a bit newer, from the wardrobe and pulled it over her head, buttoning it swiftly. In moments she was sitting on the edge of the bed and he knelt before her, reaching for her shoes and slipping them into place. Her laugh was sparkling, a far cry from the look of despair she’d worn late last night when she’d sat in this same spot.

  And Simon silently vowed to keep her laughter ever present, to lavish his care upon her so fully that she need never fret or stew again over the presence of evil in her life.

  It was an hour later and they sat together on the porch, the green swing in motion as Judge Hale entered their gate and sauntered to where they sat. He sat down heavily on the top step and wiped his brow with a white handkerchief drawn from his hip pocket.

  “Sure is a hot one today, Preacher. Not a single bit of breeze through my hotel-room window, and not much better out here.”

  “Would you like a chair to sit on, sir?” Simon asked, for two porch chairs sat against the wall.

  “No, this is just fine. I’m in the shade and that’s all that matters,” the judge said.

  “How about a nice glass of lemonade?” Grace asked, rising quickly from the swing.

  The man turned to give her his full attention. “I think I’d be more refreshed just looking at you, Mrs. Grafton.”

  He extended his hand and Grace took it between both of hers, greeting him with a smile of genuine welcome. “Simon told me you were coming by to visit for a bit. I’m sorry you were called to town for such a terrible reason, but nonetheless, I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”

  His eyes were admiring as he smiled up at Grace and she withdrew her hand from his to take her leave. “I’ll be right back with some lemonade for both of you,” she said, pulling open the screen door and entering the house.

  Simon heard her footsteps in the foyer, heard the faint brush of her slippers on the bare floor and then the sound of voices from the kitchen.
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br />   “She’s a lovely lady, sir,” Judge Hale said quietly. “Definitely worth any sacrifice you make to keep her safe. I’d be tempted to put her in a safe place and bolt all the doors until her tormentor is found.”

  “I’ve tried to make that safe place her home, Judge Hale. For the man we seek is not only her tormentor, but a brute who is capable of hateful actions. I fear we’ve seen his work demonstrated here in town over the past days, and our women live in fear. As to my wife, I have pledged myself to watch over her, even to the extent of carrying a sidearm and having one nearby in our bedroom at night. I brought a rifle to town with me when I arrived months ago, and it has accompanied me on my outings when I travel from home to call on my parishioners. But as far as my handgun is concerned, it won’t be far from my reach now, until this is cleared up.”

  “I can’t blame you. And I assure you here and now that should the culprit be killed during his capture, no man will ever be arrested for any part in his death.”

  “I sincerely hope it is not myself, sir. For I find it difficult to live with the idea of killing another human being. I put a shot in his shoulder the first time I saw him and grieved over my actions, even though I knew I had no choice and indeed would have been praised had he succumbed to the wound. Even my bishop told me I should bear no shame at my behavior that day, but my dedication to the God I serve has brought many an hour of doubt to my mind as to my qualifications.”

  “I think you need not doubt your faith, Preacher, but rather put your support behind any means used to find this man.”

  “That I will do,” Simon said, as he thought of the woman he’d married and the great peril he may have brought to her life—and his own—with that single action. For Kenny’s pursuit of Grace, his determination that she marry him, had made Simon aware that the man might well harbor hatred toward the man she’d chosen to marry.

  The screen door opened and he rose quickly as Grace backed from the doorway, holding a tray with three glasses on it, along with a pitcher of lemonade, two slices of apple pie and a small platter of cookies.