One More Chance (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 296)

by Kimberley Comeaux

  One More Chance

  Kimberley Comeaux

  Copyright

  © 1998 by Barbour Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  prologue

  East Texas, 1883

  It was Sunday morning and silence had fallen among the congregation of the First Church of Springton. Coupled with the stony silence was a morbid curiosity, the kind of curiosity that compels folks to gather at hangings and peep out their windows during gunfights.

  Of course, most of them knew what it was all about. When the good Reverend Parker had proclaimed his uncompromising revelation, right after his closing prayer, they’d all been expecting it.

  “There’s a sinner among us,” he’d said in a booming voice. He was bent over his large wooden pulpit when he’d said this, his hands gripping the sides until his knuckles shone white. His bushy gray eyebrows arched dramatically over cool blue eyes as he slowly scanned the audience. Though he was seventy-two, Reverend Parker could easily intimidate when he chose to. He had a severe appearance: he was tall and skinny with a shock of iron gray hair and skin that resembled untreated leather. But it was his way of looking at a person that could scare the sin right out of a man, whether he was in need of it or not.

  Adelaide Hayes sat in the next-to-the-last row beside Mattie Mae Higgins and Mattie’s husband, Charlie; Adelaide’s eyes narrowed at the preacher. Everyone knew that Reverend Parker and Mrs. Hayes had never seen eye to eye. It appeared to Adelaide that what the preacher was about to do would not build any bridges between them!

  Eighteen year old Rachel Branigan nervously twisted a plain white handkerchief in her trembling hands. The reverend’s accusing glare was trained on her and she had to force herself not to lower her eyes. He wanted her to break down in tears, to throw herself on his mercy and beg for forgiveness.

  But she had nothing to be sorry for. She knew she must remember that.

  “ ‘The wages of sin are death,’ ” Reverend Parker quoted, bringing his fist down with a bang. “And fornication, my brothers and sisters, is sin!”

  An automatic response of amens echoed about the church.

  Reverend Parker shifted his piercing eyes to the man who sat next to Rachel. “Brother Jebediah, bring your niece to stand before God and this congregation,” he ordered.

  Rachel felt five sweaty fingers close around her wrist. For a moment she fought his hold. Embarrassment and panic enveloped her like a tight glove. A part of her wanted to believe that none of this was real, that it was only a nightmare and soon she would wake up.

  But she was only kidding herself. It was worse than any nightmare she’d ever dreamed. Much worse.

  Abruptly she ceased her struggle, realizing that she was fighting a losing battle. Jebediah Pierce stood and jerked Rachel to her feet, then pushed her out into the aisle.

  The short walk to the front of the church seemed to take an eternity. Whispers and murmurs came from all directions. Eyes that held condemnation and scorn seemed to prick her skin like tiny needles as they focused on her.

  She wanted to run away and hide. She wanted to find a place where their eyes couldn’t see her and their words couldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t her fault this had happened. Why couldn’t they understand?

  Reverend Parker looked down at her from the high position behind his pulpit. Rachel lifted her chin and stared back at him.

  “Do you, Rachel Branigan, admit your sin, and do you seek forgiveness for your wicked ways?” he asked, his voice harsh and accusing.

  Rachel swallowed back the rage that rose within her at his words. “I’ve committed no sin,” she announced clearly. She was relieved there had been no quaver in her voice.

  A rumble sounded from the congregation at her statement. Reverend Parker pounded his hand on the pulpit. “Silence!” he ordered and was immediately obeyed. His gaze narrowed at Rachel’s stiff posture and defiant stare. He seemed taken aback by her denial of guilt.

  “Dare you stand there and lie? Are your sins not enormous already?” he charged.

  “No!” she shook her head helplessly. “I’m not lying!”

  “Then you deny, woman, that you are with child?”

  She lowered her gaze. Pain ripped through her chest. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids. “No,” she answered softly, “I don’t deny it.”

  The crowd erupted again. Addie Hayes gripped the pew in front of her, as if she were trying to prevent herself from leaping up and rushing to Rachel’s defense.

  Rachel forced herself to speak. “Do you think, Reverend, that I got into this condition all on my own?”

  “Of course not. Tell me the name of your partner in this sinful act!” he commanded.

  Rachel opened her mouth to speak but cried out in pain when Jebediah’s hold on her arm tightened.

  “Mind what you say, girl,” he hissed in her ear.

  Determined not to acquiesce to the man’s threats any longer, she jerked her arm from his grasp and shouted out before her uncle could stop her. “Milton Pierce!”

  The crowd seemed to gasp in unison. Three rows back, a tall lanky, young man leaped to his feet. He had blond, greased back hair and his normally pale, ruddy cheeks were now flaming red. He pointed his finger in the direction of his accuser and yelled, “That’s a lie straight from the pit of. . .”

  “Brother Milton!” the reverend interjected.

  Milton had the sense to lower his eyes, as if he were sorry for his outburst, though Rachel knew that he wasn’t. Milton didn’t care what people thought of him.

  “Come stand beside your father, Milton,” he was ordered.

  Rachel felt herself begin to tremble as Milton came near. It had been this way ever since she’d moved in with her uncle and his family three years ago, after her parents were killed. But she’d never dreamed Milton was capable of doing what he’d done to her. . .that he would rape her.

  “Brother Milton, are you the father of this unborn child?” Reverend Parker asked, his tone far less judgmental than when he had accused Rachel.

  Milton’s features held a pasted-on expression of innocence as he lied. “No, Reverend Parker, I’m not.”

  “That’s a lie!” Rachel cried out, despite her resolve to remain calm. “Please believe me!”

  “Quiet, woman!” Parker growled, then turned back to Milton.

  “Are you telling us that you did not lay with this woman?”

  “No, sirree, I did not!” Milton exclaimed with a look of indignation.

  The nightmare was getting worse. Rachel closed her eyes and fought to hold back an ocean of tears. “No. . .” she whispered hoarsely. She was ignored.

  “And I’ll tell you something else, too, Reverend. She tried to throw herself at me, but I refused!” Milton continued.

  “That’s not true!” she screamed, finally getting their attention. Blinded by desperation, she lunged past Jebediah for Milton. Her movement was thwarted when her uncle grabbed her arm and yanked her to her knees.

  She didn’t know if it was because her arm and knees hurt so badly or because her heart ached like nothing she’d ever felt before, maybe it was a combination of both, but her eyes filled with tears and she could no longer keep them from falling.r />
  With as much dignity as she could muster, she pulled herself up, wincing at the pain, and directed her gaze toward the reverend. “Reverend Parker, if. . .if you c–could please. . .please let me have my say,” she asked, her voice shaking.

  Reverend Parker appeared to be put off by this request, but to everyone’s surprise, he waved an impatient hand in her direction and told her to speak quickly.

  Sniffing back tears, she took a deep breath and began to recount what had happened on that horrible day.

  “Three months ago, Milton trapped me in the stables. He. . .he said that if I screamed, he’d hurt me, . . .bad. I–I tried to run away from him, but he threw me to the ground. He kept hitting me. Not. . .not on my face w–where you could see, but on my stomach. . .and my chest. And then. . .”—a sob caught in her throat and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to block the horrific image that played in her head—“he. . .attacked me. He made me. . .” She took a deep breath and looked pleadingly at the reverend. “Reverend Parker, Milton raped me.”

  Sounds of shock ran rampant through the congregation.

  For the first time since the church service had ended, Reverend Parker appeared doubtful. He looked at Milton, who was shaking his head as if he were shocked. “Is there any truth in this, Milton?”

  “Of course not, Reverend,” he vehemently denied. “I would never do that!”

  Jebediah interrupted at that moment. “Uh, Reverend, I have four ranch hands that will testify that each of them has been with this girl,” he lied. Rachel closed her eyes wearily. She knew he would pay the men to say this if he had to.

  Parker looked at Pierce with surprise. “Is that right?”

  Jebediah nodded. “That’s right, Reverend.”

  The whispers that passed among the people slowly quieted. Rachel found the reverend’s narrow gaze on her once again. She silently begged him to believe her.

  But either God wasn’t telling or the reverend wasn’t listening.

  “I ask you again, Rachel Branigan. Will you repent of your sins and right your wrongs with God?”

  Helplessness poured through her like cold rain. The lie Jebediah had just told the whole congregation had ruined her anyway. She could tell a lie or the truth—it no longer mattered. To this town, she was an outcast. Unworthy. A sinner.

  She looked back up to the reverend and took a deep, shaky breath. “No, I will not confess. I have nothing to confess.”

  Chaos erupted among the congregation. Shouts of hurting, judgmental words were hurled at Rachel. Her uncle merely gave her a look of disgust and walked to stand by his son. Milton had a pleased, smug look on his face. The reverend was a picture of righteous indignation.

  Rachel stood there, her shoulders slumped in defeat, her face white, and her eyes lowered in humiliation. Her heart was filled with hopelessness.

  Reverend Parker raised his hand and immediately the crowd quieted—waiting, anticipating.

  “Since you refuse to acknowledge the error of your sinful act, you are, therefore, cutting yourself off from God. And as long as you continue thus, you will not be welcome in this house of God!” he declared with finality.

  Tears continued to flow down Rachel’s cheeks in silence. Her whole world seemed to be closing in on her, suffocating her. She looked up and focused on the wooden cross positioned behind the preacher.

  One more chance, Lord, she prayed, just give me. . . one. . .more. . .chance.

  Then, without looking at anyone, Rachel turned and walked out of the building.

  ❧

  Santa Fe, New Mexico Territory

  The streets cleared immediately. Only two men were standing on the dusty street now. It was so quiet in the desert town, the men could hear each other’s breathing—one calm and even, the other fast and shallow. Even the piano from the saloon across the street had quieted.

  But there were eyes watching. Some curious. Some dangerous. Some downright deadly.

  But then again, they were playing a deadly game. A game that would produce only one winner.

  Snake Barnes stood across from the gunslinger, a bead of sweat meandering in a wet path from his forehead to the tip of his nose. Fear was plainly written on the smaller man’s face, his hand twitching nervously as it hung beside his holster.

  The gunslinger, C. J. Stone, knew something was up. He just didn’t know what. Stone was one of the most notorious gunslingers and bounty hunters in the West. Snake Barnes was just as famous—for his cowardliness.

  So why had Snake called him out? C. J. didn’t really want to shoot him. He had a bounty on the run and he knew he was close to capturing him. He didn’t have time to play “quick draw” with the likes of Barnes.

  But that nagging at his memory didn’t let up. What had he heard about Barnes recently? There was something important he should remember. . . .

  Snake drew his pistol. C. J. was faster. But neither gun ever fired a shot. The shots came from behind C. J. Three bullets hit him—one in the leg, one in his back, and the other grazed his head.

  He fell face down in the dirt.

  As the last shred of light and awareness played through his mind, C. J. recalled what he’d been trying to remember before. Barnes had joined the Jenkins gang. Jenkins had been trying to kill him for years, ever since C. J. killed his brother in a gunfight.

  Jenkins’s coarse laugh overhead proved it. “There’s more than one way to bring a man down,” he told C. J. in a sly, smooth voice.

  C. J. could no longer feel his pain. He was dying and he knew it. He wondered if there was a hell, because he had a pretty good idea he wouldn’t make it to heaven.

  One more chance, God, he prayed, for the first time in his life. Please give me. . .one more chance. . . .

  Then everything went dark.

  one

  Three Years Later

  Springton, Texas

  The lone church bell rang out, temporarily disrupting the quiet mourning of the townsfolk who had gathered at the cemetery. The midday sky was dark with angry clouds, but no rain fell. The gloom perfectly fit the mood of the moment.

  Reverend Parker was dead.

  Rachel stood at the large picture window of the general store that sat just off Main Street. Peering off into the distance, she watched as people started making their way back to their horses and carriages.

  She felt strangely numb; not sad, not elated, just numb. In the three years since that fated day, the good reverend had not spoken one word to her, as if to do so would somehow soil him. Nor had she ever returned to the white clapboard church at the end of the street.

  She wasn’t welcome.

  Rachel really didn’t know what she would have done during that hard time if it hadn’t been for Adelaide Hayes. The fifty-three-year-old widow had marched right out of the church behind Rachel and didn’t ask but demanded that Rachel go home with her. She had said she needed help at her store and that Rachel was just the right young woman for the job. She’d even provided her with a room next to Adelaide’s above the shop.

  In the three years that Rachel had lived and worked with her, they had never spoken of it, but both knew—without Addie Hayes, Rachel Branigan would have been without hope.

  At first, Rachel had been afraid that hiring her on would affect the store’s business, but it hadn’t. It was the only general store for miles and folks simply had no choice in the matter. It either was that or travel sixty miles north to Tyler.

  Most folks either ignored her completely or acknowledged her with tolerance. They’d never forgiven nor forgotten what had taken place three years earlier. Reverend Parker had never let them.

  Rachel sighed as she backed away from the window and glanced about the store. Life had been unkind to her, but God had given her the grace to endure it. God had also blessed her with the most precious gift she’d ever received.

  Her daughter, Caitlin.

  Rachel was quickly shaken from her musings when, from the back of the store, her old tomcat let out a loud screech. A hi
gh-pitched giggle immediately followed.

  Rachel smiled and called out, “Caitlin Branigan! Leave that poor cat alone, young lady!”

  She tried to look stern when her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter came running into the room, but failed miserably. Caitlin was just too cute and too charming to frown at for long.

  She looked up at her mother with beautiful, innocent eyes and said, “Pway wit’ cat, Mommy.”

  Rachel lifted Caitlin up into her arms so that they could see eye to eye. “Yes, darlin’, but the cat doesn’t like his tail pulled. That’s not playing nice, now is it?”

  Caitlin’s face took on a guilty look. “Not nice.”

  Rachel planted a kiss on her daughter’s cheek and put her back on the floor. “Don’t do it anymore, Caity, or you’ll not get any of your Aunt Addie’s chocolate cake for supper!”

  Caitlin’s eyes widened at her mother’s words. “I be good, Mommy,” she promised and ran back out of the room.

  Rachel watched her daughter’s silky black curls bouncing over her back and shoulders as she left her. A wave of melancholy washed over her as she thought about Caitlin and all she’d had to do without.

  Rachel knew she’d done the best she could with her, but the fact remained, every child needed a father as well as a mother. And to be truthful, every mother needed a husband to share the trials and burdens of parenthood. After three years, she was afraid that her dream would never be a reality. Not in this town. Not with her reputation.

  For a year she had been bitter toward men in general. The rape had left mental scars. And for that whole year, she’d let the wounds fester and eat her up inside. But with Addie’s help, she’d managed to let go of the bitterness. She no longer held every man she came across accountable for what happened to her. Little by little she came to realize that she did want a man in her life. A man who loved her and wanted to marry her. A man who would take Caitlin as his own. But did such a man exist? Rachel prayed that he did.

  Chiding herself for daydreaming, Rachel walked back to the storeroom to check on Caitlin. All was well. She was returning to the store when the front door swung open and Adelaide Hayes came breezing in. With a flick of her wrist her hat was off and swinging from a peg of the hat rack in the corner, where it had been tossed with practiced skill.