Lipstick and Lead Series: The Complete Box Set With a Bonus Book

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Opening the door, he saw Margaret, Sarah Wright, and Beatrice Smith, but Hannah was nowhere in sight. These women were the nosiest busybodies in his congregation, and he knew what this unplanned visit meant. They were checking on him and making certain Margaret was doing her job as chaperone.

  “Ladies,” he said, strolling into the house. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  Oh, he knew with confidence they were confirming that Hannah was sleeping in her room and Margaret was keeping a close eye on the two of them. They wanted to make certain there was no hanky-panky going on in the preacher’s house.

  “Reverend, we just wanted to be assured you were settled in, and you have everything you need,” Sarah said with a grin like she was offering him her daughter on a platter. He was surprised the young lady wasn’t here today.

  “I brought you a pie,” Beatrice said, smiling at him. “I thought you might be hungry after your terrible ordeal.”

  Sarah leaned in close, her voice low. “Reverend, we’re worried about that woman staying here in the house with you. She’s putting you in danger.”

  “She saved my life. I owe everything to her,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice, wanting Hannah to hear he was defending her, standing up to these meddlers. “Margaret is here, and with the women in the congregations help, we’re going to show Hannah how good Christian women can help her.”

  Let them think about that for a moment. Sometimes it was necessary to lead people kicking and screaming by their nose in order for them to realize they were being unjust.

  Margaret smiled at the women. “In fact, ladies, I’m hosting a tea for everyone to get to know Hannah. Can you attend tomorrow at three?”

  “Margaret,” Beatrice said in a disapproving tone. “She’s a whore. You don’t expect us to mingle with her?”

  “Oh, ladies,” Jackson said. “Don’t you remember the story in the Bible of the woman at the well? The one where Jesus said you who have not sinned throw the first stone? Welcome to the well.”

  “Yes, but, Reverend,” Sarah objected. “Good women do not associate with her kind.”

  The memory of him turning Hannah away when she’d asked for his help slapped him hard as he now recognized the desperation that had shone from her beautiful emerald eyes. Like so many others, he should have assisted her when she’d asked him.

  “And maybe if good women like yourselves would have helped her when she was sold into slavery, then she wouldn’t have been thrust into that life. You knew her mother.”

  “But…she’s unclean,” Beatrice whispered, shuddering.

  “I shared the bed with her last night,” Margaret said. “She didn’t smell.”

  Both women gasped.

  “In fact, she took a bath early this morning while Jackson was gone,” Margaret said.

  The image of Hannah, naked and dripping wet, almost had Jackson choking. He swallowed hard and pushed the thought away, wondering where Hannah was hiding.

  The two ladies stared at Margaret like she’d lost her mind. “I just don’t think I can come to the tea,” Beatrice said. “I have small children at home, and I don’t want them associating with her type.”

  “Yet, you’re okay living here in town with a vigilante sheriff and a madam who owns most of the town.” Jackson stopped and gazed at Beatrice. “Oh wait, I remember your husband’s brother Rodney Smith is wanted by the law. That’s why you live here. Well, I’m sure he’s a fine influence on your children.”

  Jackson knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but right now, he just couldn’t seem to stop himself. The woman was being ridiculous not to accept Hannah, but to think her brother-in-law was all right. Couldn’t she see how outlandish her statement was.

  Beatrice’s eyes widened, and she picked up her reticule. “Sarah, I need to be getting home.”

  Shaking her head, Sarah sighed and glanced between Margaret and Jackson. “You know, Reverend, I always thought my daughter Priscilla would have been a good match for you, but I don’t want her in a house where a soiled dove lives.”

  There was never any chance he would have considered the young woman. Though the girl was pretty, her personality would never have been conducive to actually caring and looking after the people in his church. His wife would have to be strong yet compassionate.

  “Priscilla is a lovely young woman, but if she can’t accept me helping people whose lives have been less fortunate, then she would never have made a good preacher's wife,” Jackson said, knowing he’d never been attracted to Priscilla, not like Hannah.

  The thought stunned him for a moment.

  What would a normal everyday life be like with Hannah? One where they weren’t chasing or running after bad men? One with children and family surrounding them? The thought surprised him.

  “Ladies, I’m going to invite you to tea, and I hope you’ll attend, but come with an open heart ready to accept and get to know Hannah. She needs our love and support as she tries to overcome the past. She had to decide whether or not she wanted to live. It’s a choice I hope your daughters never have to face,” Margaret said with a smile.

  She opened the door, clearly telling them it was time to go. The women looked at Jackson then at Margaret as they swept out the portal and hurried down the street.

  Margaret dusted her hands off. “And that’s what we’re up against, Reverend.”

  With a shrug of his shoulders, he laughed. “They could be more daunting than the sheriff and the madam. But we’re going to win this war or die trying.”

  Later that evening, Hannah sat reading a book he’d never seen on his shelves before. He sank down on the sofa beside her and opened his book where he’d left off when his world had been normal, not the crazy life he was currently living.

  She glanced over at him. “You’re reading.”

  “Yes,” he said and continued on like she hadn’t interrupted him.

  “It’s not the Bible,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

  “No,” he responded, knowing she was intrigued. “I read that every morning to begin the day.”

  “Oh,” she said, going back to her book.

  Every little bit, she would glance over at him, trying to see the title. Finally, she sighed. “What are you reading?”

  “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by some guy named Mark Twain,” he said. “It’s really good.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” she said and stared at him a few more minutes. “My daddy was one of the smartest men I ever knew, but he didn’t read books.”

  He smiled at her, noticing her blondish-red hair was pulled back away from her face, leaving her looking open and vulnerable. “I’ve loved books since I was a kid. Lately, I’ve also been reading these new dime novels by I.M. Lyon.”

  She glanced at the book he held in his hand. “You’re unlike most men.”

  From the time he was a young boy, life had changed him, shaped him differently from most men, and he was glad.

  Drawing his brows together, he acted shocked. “Who me? Just because I like a sense of harmony, not hatred, and don’t go around killing people? That’s unusual for a man?”

  She shook her head. “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t like to feel pain. And when I see someone else hurting, I feel empathy. Some people would think I’m a sissy, but I’m not.” He’d seen enough carnage and men wounded in the war to know bloodshed was not the answer. Even here in Hide Town, people getting killed or injured would not alter the status quo. The attitudes of the townsfolk could only bring about change. But first, Hannah and Jackson had to help them realize life could be different in this renegade town.

  Hannah smiled. “You’re not a sissy. You saved Melissa. You took a beating.”

  “I don’t believe in killing or hurting or maiming people. But if my back is against the wall, I will do whatever it takes to protect the people I care about,” he said softly, wanting her to understand he would take care of her. He knew Hannah was strong and resilient
, but beneath that hardened exterior was a soft woman lurking, who was vulnerable to pain. That woman, he wanted to protect and heal.

  Licking her lips, she stared at him like she was trying to understand him. “Do you think anyone likes to kill or wound people?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, remembering what he’d seen in war. The remembered smells of the dead and injured overwhelmed him, and suddenly, he was thrust back into that nightmare.

  Fear rose up inside him, gripping him, holding him hostage. The blood, the mangled limbs of the injured, and a little boy thrust into the horrors of a war he hadn’t really understood. The screams of men in unbearable pain still haunted him at night.

  Bile rose in his throat, almost choking him with the memories. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, pushing the emotions back, but it seemed once the gate was opened, the recollections seemed to flood his mind.

  Grown men had gone around stabbing battle survivors with their bayonets, their eyes filled with hate, filled with rage. The sight had sickened Jackson. Killing someone who was just lingering in pain seemed somewhat merciful; whereas, finishing off the men who had a chance at living was sadistic, yet glorious to many soldiers. Maybe Jackson didn’t understand or maybe he’d been too young. At the age of ten, war was something that had sounded grand, until he got into battle.

  Glancing over at Hannah, he wanted to grab her and hold on, scared of being sucked back into the past.

  Her brows drew together in a frown. “Are you all right?”

  Forcing a fixed smile on his lips, he sighed. “I’m fine. Probably indigestion from that great dinner Margaret fixed tonight.”

  “It was good.” She gazed at him, her eyes wide filled with concern. “I heard you today talking to those women,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Telling them, they weren’t good Christian women?”

  Her full lips turned up in a mischevious grin. “No, for standing up for me. It made me feel nice.”

  Warmth spread through him like the rays of the sun on a cold winter day. She’d heard him talking to the catty women, defending her, trying to help them realize she was just like them, except for the terrible ordeal she’d endured. He knew it would take time, but he wanted Hannah to be accepted into his flock, no questions asked. “Everything I said was true. You deserve happiness just like everyone else.”

  She closed her eyes.

  He reached across the sofa and took her hand. Soft, warm, and delicate, he brought it to his mouth and kissed the center of her palm, letting his tongue glide over her skin, sending a delicious shiver through him. She tasted of lilacs and honey.

  He lifted his eyes and gazed into her green ones. “Margaret thinks I should court you.”

  Part of him was curious to see her reaction. Did she realize this sexual cat and mouse game they were playing was dangerous and rift with emotions that could harm one or both of them? Did she have any feelings toward him or were they just working on a common cause?

  She jerked her hand back. “What?”

  “Margaret wants me to ask you to marry me.”

  Hannah’s eyes filled with sadness. “I’m hardly what you need. You heard those women. I’m sure many in your congregation feel the same.”

  “But what about you, Hannah? How do you feel about me?”

  “That’s not a fair question to ask. You’re the first man who’s been nice to me in a long time. I care about you, but I’m not the woman who would be best for you.”

  Jackson felt torn as well. He didn’t know what kind of woman he needed. But he did recognize he was enchanted by and even thought he could be falling in love with Hannah. Was he only attracted to her because she needed his help?

  Stretching his hand across the sofa, he found hers once again. “You know what I tell the young couples who come to me and want me to marry them?”

  “No,” she said, watching as he pulled her hand back across the fabric.

  “I tell them not to let anyone or anything come between the two of them. Not family, children, work, or distance. Once they are joined together as husband and wife as one, always live with the thought of your loved one’s happiness.”

  He could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

  “Margaret is sweet to me, but I’m hardly the type of woman who would be the kind of helper you require. Plus…” she said softly, “all the other men.”

  Maybe he was crazy, but she’d had no choice. The other men didn’t bother him. “If someone loves you, that won’t matter.”

  “But it matters to me,” she said.

  “Hannah, if a man loves you, that won’t matter,” he repeated. “He will love you for the kind soul you have. He will love you because he needs you to make his life complete.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible for me,” she said.

  Maybe she wasn’t quite ready to hear she could have a decent life once this was over, but he hoped in time she would realize she deserved a second chance.

  He shrugged. “Whoever I marry, we will be as one. Nothing and no one will come between us. I won’t let it.”

  “You’ve got high expectations, Jackson. And tell Margaret I’m not the girl for you. You saw how those women reacted. Priscilla would be the perfect woman for you.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughed at the thought of that beautiful mousy girl. He wanted a woman—a lady who knew life was hard and was not ensconced in a dream world.

  “Why? Because she’s a wimpy version of her mother? Oh no. Whoever I marry should be strong as they’re going to have to put up with a lot from the women in whatever congregation I have. The reason I’ve never married is I’ve never fallen in love with anyone I thought could handle the constant criticism, pouting, and whining of the other church ladies.”

  Hannah turned her body toward him and stared, while he continued holding her hand. “Why do you do this? Why did you become a preacher?”

  He sighed and thought back to how lost he’d been. How from the time he’d returned from the Civil War at the young age of eleven, he’d been known as a coward. Growing up he’d had to fight his way from one scrape to the next to prove his manhood. Those days had been long and hard, and one day he’d almost killed a man in a fight.

  An old man had led him to the church and told him to put his emotions to good use. He’d fallen in love with the Word and never looked back. “Let’s just say God’s Word led me out of the darkness.”

  She laughed. “Well, His Word certainly forgot to give me a candle to show me the way.”

  He chuckled at her comment. “What was your life like before Elliott married your mother?” He wondered if she’d ever known happy times.

  She’d mentioned her father, but what about her mother? The woman had made a terrible choice in marrying Elliott, but what about prior to her second marriage?

  Hannah squeezed his hand. “I have only good memories of the days before my father died. We were a happy family, and I never would have believed you if you’d said this would happen to us. Never in a million years would I have imagined my papa dying and my mother remarrying. My parents used to chase each other around the dining room table, and my mother always let my father catch her. They were happy.”

  Her childhood had been happier than his, and he was glad. How wonderful to grow up with pleasant recollections of your family. He had very few memories of his entire family together. They’d all died when he was young.

  She glanced out the window, and he watched as she swallowed hard. “But then Papa was thrown from a wild horse he was trying to break, and he broke his neck. He died before Mother and I found him. I would shoot that animal if I saw him again.”

  Ranching was dangerous work that often killed men in their prime. Jackson thought about his own father who’d left for the Civil War and never returned. He’d been seven at the time. Three years later, Jackson had joined all the boys heading off to war, not understanding the futility of what they were doing. It’d been the South’s last attempt at
winning.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What about your family?”

  “My father and brothers were all killed in the war, and my mother wasted away. She’d lost everyone but me. I’m the only survivor.”

  And that had come at a cost to his soul, to know everyone in his family had died for a way of life he’d never experienced. No fancy plantation, or fields of cotton, or hundreds of slaves. How could a man approve and fight for a lifestyle that enslaved human beings and call himself a child of God?

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s why I want my own family, my own children. And I will not be leaving them to go off to war for the rich man. I want to be around to help my boys learn and grow to be great young men.”

  “What if you have daughters?”

  The thought of a family of his own with little ones, both boys and girls, was so appealing his heart swelled at the thought. It had been so many years since he’d had a family. Right now, he had no one but his church. And it wasn’t the same.

  “Then I’ll be here to protect them and watch them grow into beautiful young women with an overprotective father,” he said, gazing at her full lips, thinking he would love to taste them again.

  Gently, he skimmed his thumb across the top of her hand, and she turned her emerald eyes on his caress.

  “Someday, you’ll make a great father and husband.”

  He nodded. “I want to.” When he found the right woman, he would honor and cherish her all the days of their life together. Even in bad times, she would be the one he turned to. Maybe it was just a dream, but he hoped not. He’d already lost so much; he wanted a family of his own.

  “Your wife will be very lucky,” she said, her voice sounding breathy.

  With a tug, he pulled her over to his side of the couch, unable to resist her any longer. His hands gripped her head, and he stared into her eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you make me want to forget all my vows to remain celibate and carry you off to the bedroom and make love to you. I want to take my time ravishing your body, showing you how it can be between two people who care about each other.” He sighed. “But I won’t. But by golly, I will kiss you.”