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Jeth’s mother chattered away as Honor ate her soup, talking about herself and her son. Honor learned Mrs. Peters was a widow and owned the only boardinghouse in Hearten, Colorado. Honor also discovered that Jeth rented a room there. In addition to being a pastor, he farmed the six acres behind the rooming house and was the handyman for all house repairs.
Now Honor understood why his hands were rough.
“My son is a widower,” Mrs. Peters said suddenly, simply.
Honor met her gaze. “I didn’t know.”
Honor hoped to hear more details, but instead of continuing to speak, Regina Peters gestured for Honor to lean forward. Then she reached for the pillow behind Honor’s back.
“Jethro lost his wife in a terrible fire that burned down the parsonage,” Mrs. Peters said as she fluffed the pillow. “My son hasn’t fully recovered from the pain of it yet.”
Honor looked into the older woman’s eyes again. “How terrible.”
“Yes, it was.” Mrs. Peters placed the pillow behind Honor’s head and put gentle pressure on her shoulder, encouraging her to relax. Then she pulled the covers up to Honor’s neck, tucking her in as if she were a small child.
“Jethro was visiting his former in-laws, Reverend and Mrs. Andrew Fields, in Falling Rock, when the grave diggers told him about your aunt’s death, Miss McCall. Ordinarily, Reverend Fields would have been the one to visit the gravesite, but he’s been a little under the weather the last week or two. So Jethro went in his place.”
“I don’t know Reverend Fields, but I’m sorry he’s sick,” Honor said. “And I hope he’s feeling better now?”
“Yes, let’s pray so.”
After Mrs. Peters left the room, Honor started thinking about Jeth again. Was he the man who had stood in the vestibule of the church on the morning she stole the money? Did Jeth know she was a thief? If so, why had he played innocent and acted nobly? There must be a reason.
She needed to leave Hearten as soon as possible. She couldn’t go on being a burden to these good people much longer.
It was Honor’s plan to move to Pine Falls. She had a lot of money to pay back. But first, she needed to find a job.
From the edge of the bed, she glanced out the open window. Jeth and his mother were in front of the boardinghouse, sitting in a wagon. A moment later, the team of brown horses started down the dirt driveway, Jeth at the reins.
A gust of wind rattled some papers on the table at the foot of the bed, sending them spinning. The vase of flowers stopped them from whirling to the floor. Honor crawled to the end of the bed, gathered the papers, stacked them, and placed a book on top, to keep them from scattering again. She was turning away when her eye fell on the title at the top of the first page: “Sermon for Sunday.”
Had the sermon been left deliberately? Was Reverend Peters hoping to convert her? More likely, it was an oversight. Still, she wondered….
Honor glanced toward the bedroom door. If she was going to leave now, this might be her best opportunity to get away without being noticed.
Swinging her legs around, she rose out of bed. When her feet touched the soft rag rug, she felt as if the carpet had grown wings and was about to fly away. To keep from falling, she grabbed the bedpost and waited for the wave of dizziness to disappear.
Several moments later, the flying carpet became a rug again, and she reached for her tan dress. Pulling the garment from the hook on the wall, she saw that it had been cleaned, freshly ironed, and smelled faintly of rosewater. She buried her nose in the sweet scent, grateful for Mrs. Peters’s kindness. Honor’s shoes, bonnet and shawl were on a shelf by her dress—and those items, too, had all been cleaned.
Honor still felt slightly woozy. Jeth had said Dr. Harris wanted her to stay in bed for a week. For a moment she was tempted to follow medical advice and climb back under the covers. But no, if she planned to make her escape, she had to do it now.
Jeth and his mother were indeed generous to have done so much for her. Aunt Harriet had always valued giving thanks, and Honor couldn’t leave town without writing a thank-you letter.
After quickly buttoning up her dress and gathering her bonnet and shawl, Honor went downstairs. In the entry hall, she noticed dark wood paneling. A small maple desk stood against one wall, and writing materials lay on the desktop. Honor sat down to write.
Dear Reverend and Mrs. Peters,
You have been more than kind to me, and I appreciate all you have done. But it is time for me to leave now. I hope to have left on the noon stage by the time you get back.
Yours truly,
Honor McCall
The minute she stepped out the door and onto the wide, front porch, a rush of cold wind whipped around the corner of the big, old house and slapped her in the face. The air smelled like rain. For a moment, she doubted her strength, and her resolve weakened. Perhaps she should have stayed in bed.
Another norther must have blown in while she was recuperating in the bedroom upstairs, and she wasn’t dressed warmly enough. She longed for her old woolen cape, but she’d left that back at the cabin with Lucas. Still, she was determined to leave now.
Honor stepped into the wind, head lowered. The ends of her long hair flew below the print bonnet. Draping her shawl over her bonnet and around her shoulders, she continued up the road on shaky legs. Since she never reached her destination, Jeth had said that Honor’s ticket was being held until she could pick it up. All Honor knew was she’d never been to Hearten before and had no idea where to find the ticket office.
Wagon tracks went to the right. She turned to the left as droplets of frozen rain hit her cheeks. Honor took a dozen steps, then slipped and fell. Quivering from the dampness and cold, she tried to rise and slipped again. Her head began to spin. The next moment, a blanket of darkness shrouded her.
Lucas rode toward Pine Falls, in search of Honor. He’d found a little food in the root cellar on the farm and had wrapped it in a potato sack to bring along. He was taking a route that avoided Falling Rock—too many debts waited for him there. His plan was to make a stop in Hearten, pick up a couple of bottles of whiskey, and move on.
There were no saloons in Hearten. The whole countryside was dry, though he’d heard of several ranchers who brewed spirits on the side. Maybe he could find one of them.
His mind seemed clearer now, and he’d been thinking about the minister from Hearten, who had been at the cemetery. The preacher had reminded him of somebody. Try as he might, Lucas couldn’t think who.
When he was a child, his mother had read to him from the Good Book. Since the preacher carried a Bible, maybe that was what stirred his recollections. All he knew for certain was that seeing the reverend had caused him to recall events he would rather not remember.
His mare, Lady, moved into a soft trot. A frosty breeze whipped Lucas’s ears. He pulled up the collar of his brown jacket. He had never thought he would miss Harriet. But he did. With a jolt, he realized he missed his mama and his childhood home, as well.
Lucas had ridden a horse named Old Smokey to school every day when he was a boy. He could almost see his mama standing at the kitchen door, waving goodbye to him and his big sisters as they sat astride the big gelding. Back then, Lucas was known as Lawrence Smith, but it had been years since anybody had called him by his real name.
His mama had wanted him to become a Christian and get a good education, but he’d fulfilled neither of those goals. Maybe he would have if he’d stayed at home instead of running away when he was barely fifteen.
Both his parents had been churchgoers, but his father was a hypocrite. Every time Pappy got drunk, he’d beat Lucas severely. Mama never said a word about the old man’s drinking, but she scolded Lucas when she found him behind the barn one day, sipping spirits with his friends.
As soon as he was big enough, Lucas had joined a cattle drive. He’d admired the strength he’d seen in his first trail boss, Adam Scythe. He wanted to be just like him. Before signing with the outfit for the next drive, he’d changed his name to Lucas Scythe. Like Lucas’s father, the trail boss had been a hard drinker, and Lucas had thought drinking would make him a man. In the end, he had become more of a drunk than Pappy.
Mama would have been disappointed if she’d known how her only son turned out. That was why Lucas never went back to Cold Springs for a visit. No point in making Mama feel worse by showing her what her son had become. Lucas swallowed an ache in his throat. Word had reached him that his parents died years ago, but he’d never checked out the rumor.
Patches of ground were visible under the melting snow. From a distance, the earth had a reddish color—like Honor’s hair.
Missy. At the thought of her, Lucas’s face hardened. When he found that girl, he’d teach her a lesson. She deserved a few knocks for taking his money and heading out of town. Then he would marry her. Why, she was young enough to have babies. He’d always wanted a family, but Harriet couldn’t have children.
Lucas slowed Lady, then pulled her to a stop. He wanted to think. Miss Ruby Jones lived on the far side of Falling Rock. If he looped around, he could ride out to her farm without being seen. Maybe he would pay her a visit before riding on to Hearten.
He never saw Ruby much after Harriet got sick and not at all toward the end, but Lucas intended to visit her now. Would she agree to see him? After all this time, she could have found someone new. He looked forward to being with her again, especially since Ruby always kept plenty of whiskey in the cabinet in her parlor, but if she turned him away, so be it.
When Honor opened her eyes, Jeth Peters was sitting in a chair near her bed, watching her.
“So, you’re awake.” He smiled.
Remembering her fall in the snow, she glanced under the covers and saw that Mrs. Peters must have removed her wet clothes and helped her into a flannel nightgown. Relieved and grateful, Honor pulled the quilt around her neck again.
“Now,” Jeth said. “Would you mind telling me what you were doing walking around in a freezing rain without so much as a coat on?”
“First, sir, you tell me why you left one of your sermons in my room.” She motioned toward the papers on the table. “Did you think I needed to be preached to or something?”
“I didn’t know I left my sermon in here. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.” He reached for the stack of papers. “I came in once to check on you earlier and I must have left my sermon notes then.” His forehead creased. “And, Miss McCall, will you please stay put for a while? I’d like to rest up for a few days before I have to rescue you again.”
Chapter Five
Jeth sat in the chair beside Honor’s bed, entertaining her with amusing stories about Timmy, a mischievous little boy in his congregation.
Honor was chuckling softly, when a tall gentleman with white hair and wearing spectacles suddenly appeared in the doorway. The little black bag he carried identified him as a doctor.
Jeth stood and crossed the room. “Dr. Harris. Thank you so much for stopping by, sir.”
The men shook hands, then Jeth smiled and gestured toward Honor. “Miss Honor McCall, I would like to present Dr. Alvin Harris. He’s the one who examined you after the robbery and bandaged your head.”
Honor nodded. “I’m glad to meet you, Doctor. Thank you for all your help yesterday—or whenever the robbery took place.”
“I’m glad to meet you, too, Miss McCall. And the stage robbery was yesterday. Though somehow it seems longer ago than that, doesn’t it? How are you feeling?”
“Much better than when I first woke up, thank you.”
“I hope you’ll get better and better, young lady.”
Jeth stood beside Dr. Harris. Honor thought he’d looked uncomfortable from the instant the doctor had come into the room. Nervous and slightly flustered, like a guilty child.
Jeth motioned toward the chair. “Please, Doctor, won’t you sit down. I should go downstairs anyway and tell Mama you’re here.”
“I know he’s here.” Mrs. Peters stood in the doorway. “But do go down and wait for us in the parlor, Jethro. I know Dr. Harris will want to give you a report on Miss McCall’s health as soon as he’s had time to examine her.”
“Yes.” Jeth walked to the door. “That’s just what I’ll do.”
The snow had vanished. Though a cool wind whistled down from the mountains, the day was clear and sunny. But even if it had been cold and icy, the valley would have reminded Lucas of springtime as he rode into the pasture in front of Ruby Jones’s farmhouse. Everything about her had that effect on him.
How many times had Ruby insisted there was something almost magical about her farm? Especially her house, with its white shutters and all the fancy gingerbread trim around the eaves. In the next breath, she would talk about how unhappy she was. How tired of being “the other woman” in Lucas’s life. Her moods moved back and forth faster than a lady’s fan on a hot summer night.
He had stopped seeing Ruby after it became clear that Harriet was dying, and she’d said she understood. But did she still care? Or had she found someone new? With Ruby, it was hard to tell what she was thinking, and they hadn’t been together in almost two months.
He never knew whether Ruby was going to kiss him or hit him over the head with a frying pan. Raising his collar against the chill, Lucas wondered what she would be like this time.
“Reckon I’ll find out soon enough,” he thought.
A white picket fence circled what Lucas called her dollhouse. Since he was here the last time, she’d painted her home butter yellow. A man would go insane in an over-decorated house like hers. Lucas unsaddled Lady, tied her to a tall pine out front, and gave her some water from the nearby well.
As he started up the stepping stones leading to Ruby’s front porch, the door flew open. Ruby burst out onto the porch, arms outstretched, and waited for him. Her laughter, like music, floated toward him. Ruby had never lost her sense of grace or her ability to pull in the sun with one of her smiles.
“Oh, Lucas. I’m so glad you stopped by. I haven’t seen you in ages and ages.”
Since he didn’t see a frying pan in her hand, he moved forward.
Ruby had been a dance-hall girl until she’d inherited the farm from a great-aunt. Though almost forty, she looked younger. Dressed younger, too. Ruby was one of those women who refused to grow old—always trying to turn fall into early springtime. She almost got away with it.
She probably expected Lucas to marry her now that Harriet was gone. They’d been keeping company for almost ten years. But marriage to Ruby wasn’t in his plans.
Yet already, the sweet scent of her floral perfume drew him closer and closer. Around her, he always felt like a hooked trout on a short line.
Ruby’s smile evaporated, and she sent him a sorrowful look. “I regretted hearing about Harriet’s death. You have my deepest sympathy, Lucas.”
“Thank you.”
Just as suddenly, her grin reappeared. “But, as they say, life must go on.” She grabbed his hand. Pulling him forward, she opened the door. “Hurry now. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I need a drink first.”
“Later.”
Lucas stopped as soon as he walked into the house, and then he coughed. An overpowering odor of perfume choked him. The air reeked. His eyes watered. He wished for a handkerchief.
The parlor had been rearranged since the last time he had seen it. New yellow chintz curtains hung on all the windows. Orange and yellow paper flowers in white vases were everywhere. He took a moment to absorb it all.
“Like it?” she asked.
“Maybe. Now, about that drink—”
“Please, Lucas.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what you really think. It’s important.”
Breaking free of her grasp, he surveyed the rest of the room. “Where’s that there chair I always sit in?”
“Over there.” She pointed to an overstuffed chair near the fireplace.
“It used to be blue.”
“Now it’s yellow.”
“I can see that.” He looked around again. “Where’s the cabinet that you keep the liquor in?”
“I’ve rearranged a little. I’ll explain more in a minute. We should discuss a few things first.”
Here it comes, he thought.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked.
He looked down at his dusty clothes, then at the yellow chair. “I ain’t sitting in no chair like that. I might get it all dirty.”
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable if you washed up before supper. The kettle has enough hot water left to warm the tub, and the clothes you left last time you were here are clean and ready for you to put on.”
“I reckon I’d be more comfortable if you gave me a drink.” He looked around again. “Now, where did you say that cabinet was? I don’t mind helping myself, if you’ll point the way.”
“I said I’d explain later. I’m going to get the kettle. There’s already a big bucket of cold water upstairs. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
She floated from the room on the balls of slender feet like the dancer she’d always been.
Lucas moved across the room to the china closet and opened it. He saw only white dishes.
