* * *
By Wednesday morning, snow had stopped falling. Micah and Joel spent a good part of the afternoon shoveling snow from in front of the church and along the path to the reception hall. The three-year-old addition to the church was where Miss Sutton would hold her first rehearsal for the Christmas pageant. After being indoors all day Tuesday, Micah enjoyed being outside in the winter sunshine and appreciated the exercise. He also felt better about some of the problems plaguing him.
Monday evening, when Micah had found Joel reading his novel, he’d thought his secret was out. But Joel’s sneaky look merely indicated he’d found a way to amuse himself, since his sister wouldn’t let him out of her sight. All day Tuesday, he had insisted upon reading the book to Micah and Miss Sutton. After his initial alarm, Micah settled down to listen. Joel and Miss Sutton weren’t familiar with the area or the residents, so they probably didn’t recognize any of the settings or characters. To his relief, they did seem to enjoy the story.
Sometimes Micah laughed along with them. Other times he cringed, wishing he’d worded this or that passage differently, or made parts of the plot more realistic. What had he been thinking when he wrote some of those scenes? He also noticed some places where the editor had made a change or two, but he had no quarrel with that. Unsure of himself as a writer, he’d given the gentleman permission to correct any mistakes or inconsistencies as he saw fit. All the while Joel read, however, Micah had to remain detached so his friends wouldn’t suspect he was the author.
As he listened, however, one thing he couldn’t deny was his renewed enthusiasm for the story. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and he no longer felt the book was in the least bit frivolous. His characters worked hard, trusted in God and cared for their neighbors when adversity struck, just like the people of Esperanza. If readers could learn real-life lessons from the story, then Micah had done his job as surely as if he’d preached a sermon. After all, Jesus Christ had told stories in the form of parables in order to deliver important life lessons. Micah regarded that as permission to do the same.
He was further rewarded in that revelation on Tuesday night when Miss Sutton spoke of how interesting and helpful the book was because it informed her about the West. Now she felt more equipped to endure the hardships of this land, whatever the future brought. Nothing could have encouraged Micah more. He must look for time to finish his second novel, the one about Grace, so he could offer more of the same to interested readers.
“Whew!” Joel stuck his shovel in a snowbank and rested his arms on the handle. “It’s been far too long since I did any kind of work.” He inhaled a deep breath, then coughed. “Uh-oh. Just froze my lungs.” He laughed and coughed again.
“The altitude usually has an effect on newcomers, too.” Micah’s arms and legs also burned from the exertion. He hadn’t been able to exercise for a couple of weeks, and it was beginning to show, especially with eating the pastries Miss Sutton made every day. He didn’t dare turn down her offerings for fear of offending her. Maybe this was why so many pastors he knew had portly physiques.
At the end of their labors, she had a hearty soup and fresh-baked bread waiting for them. After eating the meal, Micah felt invigorated and eager for prayer meeting. Miss Sutton had a sparkle in her eyes, too, and spoke with enthusiasm about this evening’s rehearsal.
On the way over to the church after supper, she clutched a stack of papers upon which she had written parts for each child. “I hope I’ve done this right.”
“It will be perfect, I’m sure.” Micah never knew what to think of her. One minute, she wanted to move to Denver and go shopping. The next, she couldn’t wait to work with small town children and spoke as if their pageant would be as grand as any professional production.
Families began arriving long before the hour set for prayer meeting. They shepherded their eager children into the reception hall, where Micah greeted each one. Adam Starling brought four-year-old Jack and six-year-old Molly, both of whom bounced up and down with excitement as they greeted their friends. The warm smile on Adam’s face as he watched them was at odds with the perpetual anxiety in his eyes. He took a minute to chat with his schoolmates Georgia Eberly and Anna Means, then joined Micah by the door.
“How are your folks, Adam?” Micah asked as they walked toward the sanctuary.
He shrugged. “Pa’s the same.” He sighed, a sound of soul-weariness that made Micah’s heart ache for one so young. “Ma’s doing the best she can.”
They reached the church and entered through the double front doors, then removed their hats and coats and hung them in the cloakroom just inside the entrance.
“I know you’re a big help to them,” Micah said. “Is there anything the church can do? That I can do?”
Adam looked around and seemed relieved to see the empty sanctuary. “No, sir. The church already does so much for us.” He grinned. “Some folks give us jobs to do that they could easily do themselves.” He glanced down at Micah’s frock coat. “Although I’m sure Ma sews buttons on better than any bachelor.”
Micah chuckled. “I’m sure of it, too. Say, would you mind helping me put the hymnbooks out?”
As they worked silently for several minutes, Micah considered how he could turn this conversation toward the issue of the outlaws.
“I understand you had to retrieve some horses from over in Del Norte on Monday. Did you get back before the snow started falling?”
“No, sir.” While most people would simply set the hymnals down randomly, Adam carefully lined them up on each pew. Diligent as always in every job. “But I did come back yesterday morning before it got too bad.”
“That’s good to hear.” An uneasy feeling hit Micah’s stomach over what he was about to say, but he needed to press on. “Did you think about taking refuge at some ranch on the way, maybe an abandoned cabin near the river, in case the snowfall turned into a blizzard?”
Adam didn’t so much as blink. “No, sir. I’m not familiar with that area, so it probably wouldn’t have been wise to get off of the road. Wouldn’t want to get lost, especially not at this time of year.”
Relief knocked the wind from Micah’s lungs. When he could catch his breath, he said, “Good idea.” Now if only he could ask why Adam avoided Grace, maybe he could set this whole matter to rest.
As if summoned by his thoughts, she entered the sanctuary. Micah hadn’t seen her since Monday, and in spite of their disagreement, his heart lifted in that odd little way it did whenever he saw her. Adam gave her a furtive glance but continued his work, even when she paused by the pew where he was aligning the hymnbooks.
“Evening, Rev. Evening, Adam.” She kept her gaze on the boy.
Micah had a strong urge to intervene, but decided to let the situation play itself out. “Good evening, Grace.”
“How’re your folks, Adam?” Grace’s stare didn’t waver.
Even in the dim light of the lamp-lit sanctuary, Micah could see color rising up in Adam’s cheeks and a shy grin play across his lips as he spared Grace the briefest of glances. “Fine.” He swallowed hard. “Thank you.” Another swallow. “Ma’am.”
This was the same boy who not ten minutes ago had spoken so comfortably with Anna Means and Grace’s sister Georgia. A boy who easily chatted with people all over town as he did his many odd jobs. What had brought about the change in him? Was it Grace’s badge, as she insisted, causing him to feel guilty for colluding with the outlaws? Or was it something else?
She scowled at Adam and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Micah decided he would indeed intervene.
“Grace, I didn’t get over to Doc’s today to check on the sheriff. Do you know how he’s doing?” Instead of looking at her, he kept his eyes focused on Adam. Again, the boy didn’t give any hint of guilt, as he surely would if he’d helped the outlaws gun down Sheriff Lawson.
Other p
eople began to fill the sanctuary, so Grace stepped closer to Micah. “He was doing well enough this afternoon for us to move him back over to his house, but it wore him out real bad.” Her demeanor turned friendly and relaxed, the way she usually acted around Micah. He was glad she felt at ease with him, as he did with her. Losing her friendship would make him sad. More than sad.
“If he’s better tomorrow,” Grace continued, “he’d like to deputize several more men to ride out with me when the time comes. After prayer meeting, I’ll be speaking to the ones he’s asked for.”
Micah gave her a sober nod. “If we don’t have more snowfall in the next few days, we might be able to put an end to this whole mess.”
“Let’s pray it works out that way.”
“Indeed, we shall.” Micah’s heart lifted once again. In spite of the threats terrorizing their community, it appeared that Grace’s faith was growing. He couldn’t be more pleased.
Mrs. Foster came in and took her place at the organ and began to play, so Grace gave Micah a nod and moved across the sanctuary to join her parents in the first row.
Adam sidled up to Micah. “I heard what Miss Grace said.” He gazed in her direction, a half smile on his lips. “Do you think Sheriff Lawson would deputize me so I could ride along with the posse?”
Micah took a step back. “I don’t know.” He could hear the shock in his own voice. “Why would you want to do that?” Did he want to divert the posse away from the killers, or did he want to help catch them? Micah hated to be plagued by these constant doubts, but he wouldn’t be doing his duty if he didn’t question everything, everybody.
Adam shuffled his feet. “Well, this community has been awful good to me and my family, so I want to do my part.” He ran a hand over the back of the nearby pew. “Can I tell you a secret?” He glanced over his shoulder to where Rosamond and Garrick now sat. “I mean, may I tell you a secret?” He grinned. “Don’t want my English teacher to catch me using bad grammar.”
Still in a state of wonder, Micah chuckled. “Indeed you don’t. And, yes, you may tell me your secret.”
Adam cast another furtive glance in Grace’s direction. “I want to be a law officer, just like Deputy Grace.”
Hiding his shock, Micah studied the look in Adam’s eyes. What he saw there wasn’t admiration for the lady’s occupation, but for the lady herself. Oddly, it pleased and annoyed him at the same time. What on earth was the matter with him? One thing was certain. Adam Starling was not the one helping the outlaws. But after promising to keep the boy’s secret, how could Micah tell Grace that Adam was sweet on her and that shy boys often avoided the girls they admired for fear of saying something foolish? Even if he could tell her, with her aversion to being complimented, she’d never believe it.
Micah patted Adam on the shoulder. “That’s a fine ambition, son.” With a prayer meeting to conduct, he moved to the platform and needlessly adjusted his notes on the lectern while he collected himself. This revelation about Adam had complicated matters. The sooner they caught the outlaws, the better.
Chapter Ten
After the Rev’s final prayer of the evening, Grace sought out the men Sheriff Lawson had asked for. “If you can come with me now, the sheriff will deputize you. That way we’ll be ready to ride out at any time.”
With the Rev, who’d already been deputized, and six other men, Grace led the way to the Lawsons’ tidy little house on Randolph Street.
“Oh, Grace, I’m so glad to see you.” Wringing her hands, the usually calm Mrs. Lawson welcomed the large party into her parlor. “Abel’s been so grumpy because Doc won’t let him out of bed.” She waved toward the chairs and settee. “Gentlemen, please have a seat while I make sure he’s ready to see you.”
After Mrs. Lawson left the room, Grace looked around at the men, who spoke quietly amongst themselves. All except the Rev, who gazed at her, a half smile on his lips and—was that a twinkle in his eyes?
“What are you thinking, Rev?”
He shrugged. “Nothing much. Just that I have complete confidence in your leadership.”
A warm feeling surged through her heart. But while Nate and Rand Northam stated their agreement, Andy Ransom, whose whittling tools had been destroyed by the outlaws, scowled and stared down at his hands. Frank Stone and Homer Bean appeared indifferent. Rafael Trujillo leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Two men unwilling to follow her didn’t bode well for a posse’s success.
Maybe the Rev had noticed their attitudes toward her and that’s why he spoke out. She gave him a smile and a brief nod for declaring his confidence in her. While it should gall her to think she needed his support in order to do her job, with killers on the loose, she didn’t have the luxury of pampering her own ego. Besides, it felt good to know they were still friends after all.
“Abel will see you now.” Mrs. Lawson spoke from the hall doorway.
Grace and the men filed into the small bedroom and surrounded the four-poster bed where Sheriff Lawson sat propped up on pillows against the mahogany headboard.
“Evening, gentlemen.” He coughed and then gripped his chest where the bullet had struck. “Pardon me for not getting up, but Agnes has me so mollycoddled and henpecked, I doubt I’ll get out of this bed before spring.”
The men chuckled, and two of the married ones voiced their understanding and sympathy.
“Agnes,” the sheriff said, “pass out those spare badges I never thought I’d use in this peaceable town.” He waved a hand toward the tin stars on the bedside table. When each man had one in hand, he said, “Raise your right hand. Do you solemnly promise to uphold the laws of the State of Colorado, Rio Grande County and the incorporated town of Esperanza, Colorado?”
A chorus of “I do’s” filled the small room.
“Then by the authority vested in me by Rio Grande County and the people of Esperanza, I deputize you for the duration of the pursuit of the outlaws Dathan Hardison, Deke Smith and anybody else in their gang.” He ran out of steam on those last words and slumped back against the pillows. “Go get ’em, men.”
Grace knew he hadn’t meant to exclude her in his charge to the posse. From the first day he’d arrived in town, Sheriff Lawson had shown respect for her abilities. He probably didn’t even notice that some men in town dismissed her as a deputy, saying she was a woman out of her proper place. Too bad he’d chosen two of them to be on her posse.
* * *
“Nice weather for skating.”
On Saturday morning, Micah sat on a wooden bench beside Justice Gareau while thirty or more people skated around the brand-new frozen pond behind the hotel. Around the edges of the rink, hay bales offered soft landings for inexperienced skaters.
“And yet here you sit.” The easygoing bodyguard chuckled.
Micah laughed, too. “Well, we didn’t have many frozen ponds in Virginia, so I never learned this particular sport.”
“Same for me in Texas,” Justice said. “Anyway, I have to keep an eye on Mr. Means and Miss Anna.” He nodded toward the banker and then over to his sister, who was taking a turn around the rink with Sean O’Shea, the other bodyguard.
Although Joel and Miss Sutton also came from Virginia, they appeared to have learned to skate. They kept close to Nolan and Anna, laughing as though they’d known each other for years. Across the rink, Nate and Susanna Northam helped five-year-old Lizzie and three-year-old Natty move across the ice.
Grace glided past Micah and Justice, a smile on her pretty face and her glorious red hair streaming behind her like a banner as she skimmed smoothly over the ice. Pleased that she had taken his advice and come to the party rather than leading the posse into the snow-covered hills to chase Hardison, Micah enjoyed watching her nimble movements. Not only could she glide forward, she could also skate backward and perform turning leaps that would make a ballet da
ncer proud. Some of those leaps coincided with a similar lilting of Micah’s heart. At first his feelings confused him, but he attributed them to pastoral happiness for his good friend. A young lady should have this sort of fun more often, but many times Grace seemed determined only to be serious, only to concentrate on her work.
“Miss Grace is one fine-looking woman.” Justice gazed at her with much the same admiring expression as Micah had seen on Adam Starling’s face three nights ago. “Look at her go.”
Suddenly cross, Micah bit back a sharp retort. Although Adam’s admiration had annoyed him, Justice’s regard put him in an uncharacteristic bad temper, for which he could not account. Why did he suddenly feel so protective of Grace? Well, because a grown man’s admiration was far different from a callow youth’s, that was why. He had a responsibility to look out for his friend.
“Maybe I will try this skating business after all.” Justice stood. “Looks like good exercise.”
Micah didn’t need to think twice. “Good idea.” He joined Justice at the table where a hotel clerk handed out the skating blades.
The devices came in several lengths and attached to a person’s own boots by way of clamps. Micah found a pair that seemed the right fit for his leather shoes and sat on the bench to secure them according to the clerk’s instructions. That was the easy part. Standing on the blades on the frozen dirt and walking toward the ice was another matter altogether. Micah’s ankles wobbled, one wanting to turn in, the other wanting to turn out. Clearly he would not be able to maintain his pastoral dignity. After this experience, he might not even be able to stand in the pulpit tomorrow morning.
Justice wasn’t doing any better. He’d clamped his skates to his cowboy boots, which had a higher heel than Micah’s shoes. While making him taller, they didn’t help his balance.
In spite of their careful, wobbling steps as they walked the few paces to the rink, the moment they stepped on the ice, their feet slipped out from under them, their arms spun helplessly in the air and they promptly fell onto their backsides. For Micah, the pain wasn’t nearly as bad as the indignity of being spread-eagled for all to see. But when some of the male skaters began to guffaw and Justice joined in, Micah dismissed his foolish pride and laughed, too.
Cowgirl Under the Mistletoe Page 14