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“I’d be happy to. I have a list started in the kitchen.” Mrs. Goodman scurried off and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

A smile split Miss Porter’s lips. “I’d love to go. Thank you for thinking of me. In fact, I have a stack of letters I’ve been wanting to post.” She bent down to Jimmy, who was all smiles. “I want you to finish your piano practice and then work real hard on your letters and numbers this afternoon, all right?”

His son nodded.

Woody winked at him over Lillian’s head.

Mrs. Goodman returned with the list and handed it to Lillian. “Why don’t you look it over real quick and make sure you understand my scrawl.” The older woman laughed.

“Looks good to me.” Lillian patted her hair. “Let me run to my room, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Woody nodded and watched her race down the hallway. “I’ll go get the wagon.”

The drive to town started off quiet. But it could’ve just been the heat. Woody felt the sweat dripping off of him, and he could see Lillian fanning herself out of the corner of his eye. He had lots on his mind to keep him occupied, but for some reason, the female next to him kept distracting him.

He felt her shift in her seat.

As she turned to face him a little more, he felt part of a breeze from her fan. The wagon wheel hit a rut, causing Lillian to bounce against him, and he reached out to steady her. “Sorry about that.”

She laid a hand on his arm to straighten herself and fanned even faster. “Goodness, this heat is quite oppressive today, isn’t it?”

As the warmth from her hand seared his arm, he couldn’t agree more. “Yep. We’re in a drought, and it’s had me more than a little bit concerned.”

She whipped around to face him again. “Oh, goodness, I hadn’t even thought about how this might truly affect the crop. I mean, I knew you were hand-watering and all, but . . . oh, Woody, I’m so sorry I hadn’t asked about that. Jimmy and I can come and help. We’ve been watering the flowers and vegetable gardens.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve had your hands full, as well, and I haven’t wanted anyone to worry. But that’s the reason we’re headed into town today. The men and I came up with a plan. We’re going to dig an irrigation ditch from the pond to the olive trees.”

“Goodness! That’s a long ways. Will it save the crop?”

“I surely hope so. I have a big order to fill, and it will mean the difference between us getting through to next year or . . .” He let the words go unsaid. “We’re a bunch of hard workers,
so I’m hopeful we can get it done. We can always dam up the irrigation ditch if we don’t need it, and then have it to use the next time the rains fail to come.”

“It’s a blessing your pond is fed by the spring then, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It was one of the reasons I bought this place.”

“Who lived there prior to you?”

Woody shrugged. “I never knew. The bank owned the property, and that’s who I bought it from. I’d heard there was a family who lived there until the death of the mother. Seems they headed out after that, and the bank took possession. I had an inheritance and the cash to buy it outright.”

“How nice for you, but sad for the other family.” Lillian shook her head. “I suppose it was the mother who planted all those lovely flower beds. Mrs. Goodman told me they were here when she came to work for you all those years ago.”

“Yes. I think the flower beds convinced Rebecca to live there, too.”

“I have to admit I’m anxious to see what it all looks like come spring. Mrs. Goodman told me there were a great many flowers that only bloomed in March and April. She said it gets prettier every year, and last spring it was an absolute riot of color.”

Had it been? Woody didn’t recall. He had been so lost in grief that he’d barely remembered to tend to the trees.

Lillian continued. “I’m especially amazed at the roses. There are a great many varieties. We had roses back in Indiana, and I’m more or less familiar with them. I wasn’t allowed to tend them myself, but I was often in the company of those who did and asked a great many questions.”

Woody laughed. “I’ll just bet you did.”

“Well, if you don’t ask, you won’t learn.”

“So what other questions are you burning to ask?”

Lillian cocked her head to one side. “Well, let me think. I did notice that the pond was lower this time of year. Will that affect your plan for the irrigation ditch?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. There’s still a lot of water there, and it is fed by the spring. I’ve never known it to get much lower than it is. But we will keep an eye on things.”

As he laid out the whole plan to her, excitement built in his gut. They could do this. The good Lord had given him the men and the strength to do it. This life wouldn’t be without hardship, but he could carry on in faith.

They approached town, and Woody steeled himself. Even if Pastor Seymour had given a sermon on gossip that had reached into the hearts of everyone there, the wagging tongues wouldn’t have stopped in just a matter of days. It would take a long time to get rid of well over a year’s worth of rumors and lies.

This time, he headed to Stickle Bros. mercantile. He parked the wagon in front and helped Lillian down. “Look, I know what you said about the sermon, but I wouldn’t be too hopeful that folks have changed their thinking.” He nodded toward the store. “I remember you said I hadn’t paid you.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I apologize for that. I plan to get you some money from the bank, but in the meanwhile you can pick out anything you need in the store and I’ll pay for it.”

She smiled. “I only said that to get back at you. I wasn’t feeling too kind at that moment.”

“Maybe not, but you were right. I hadn’t been very considerate of your needs.” He offered Lillian his arm and tried not to act like a giddy schoolboy when she took it.

George Stickle greeted him at the door. “Woody. Good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

“Sure has, George. And I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry, too, Woody. For that and a lot of other things.” The two men exchanged a glance. Woody wasn’t sure what to say.

“Ah . . . I’m in need of some sharp spades. I need to dig a long irrigation ditch.” He remembered Lillian beside him. “George, I’m sorry, this is Miss Porter.”

George held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Porter. I’d . . . uh . . . heard talk about you, and I believe I saw you in church on Sunday with little Jimmy.”

“You are correct.” Lillian smiled at him and then turned to Woody and touched his arm. “I’m going to see to Mrs. Goodman’s needs for the house.” She walked away and Woody couldn’t help but watch her.

George smiled at him. “She’s a pretty little thing.”

Woody felt his face grow hotter than it had been in the sun. He nodded. “She’s been real good with my son.” He couldn’t bring himself to look George in the eye for fear he’d see that Woody’s interest in Lillian was for more than Jimmy’s sake.

George didn’t seem at all concerned. “Let’s go see about those shovels.”

The next hour passed in a blur as Woody worked with George on his list of tools and supplies. Seeing the time was close to noon, Woody took off his kerchief and wiped his face.

“If you don’t mind, just stack the stuff up for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes, but I need to get to the bank before they close for the lunch hour.”

“It’s not a problem, Woody. You might even want to escort Miss Porter to lunch.”

Woody hadn’t thought that Lillian might be hungry. He frowned, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be accepted in any of the little cafes. At least not without a scene.

“Maybe I’ll just pick up a few things from you before we leave.” He could see Lillian at the far end of the store looking through some bolts of cloth. “If she wonders where I’ve gone, just let her know I had bank business, would you?”

“Sure thing, Woody.” George smiled. “Take your time. I’ll see that Miss Porter finds everything she needs.”

Woody made his way to the bank in quick, long strides. He didn’t look left or right but simply focused on the brick building ahead of him. He was glad to see that the bank was empty when he entered. The teller was curt but conducted business in a civil manner. After watching the man count out his money, Woody stuffed it in his pocket and headed back to finish loading his wagon.

Passing by one of the stores that specialized in women’s gewgaws, Woody notice a light blue parasol. He wondered if Lillian had thought to bring any with her from Indiana. She must not have, or surely she would have brought one for their drive to town. He thought about buying it for her, but the lady clerks inside would probably want nothing to do with him.

Maybe he’d mention it to Lillian before they left town. So far things had gone pretty smooth, but just as he approached the wagon, Woody saw that once again word must’ve gotten out that he was in town, because a small crowd had formed. George was loading the wagon with the feed that Woody had ordered for the horses, while Lillian was apparently still shopping. Woody followed George into the store and picked up one of the grain sacks while his friend got the other. Then Woody led the way out to the wagon.

No one had said anything to his face yet, but he could hear the insults and the crude remarks. Louder and louder. People wanted to make sure he knew what they thought of him. Woody
just wanted to do whatever it took to get his supplies and get out of town without incident.

George leaned toward him, the sack balanced on his shoulder. “It’s hard to keep turning the other cheek, isn’t it? I don’t see how you do it.” As he dropped his heavy load into the back of the wagon, George shook his head.

Woody wanted to tell him that he was biting his tongue until it nearly bled, but what good would that do? They only had one more load to carry. He went back inside the store and got Lillian as she finished up. She would unfortunately hear it all as they left, but it couldn’t be helped.

Woody took the packages from Lillian, not even daring to look at her. If she wondered about his brusque manner, she’d know soon enough what was wrong. He put the packages in back with the other purchases, then helped her up to the wagon seat. But instead of sitting down, she just stood there. So Woody went around to the other side and climbed up. He took the reins, hoping that would signal her. Was she in shock? What was going on?

“You plannin’ on killin’ her like you done killed your wife, Colton?” One voice rose above the others.

He thought of a hundred different heated retorts he could throw out, but Woody held his tongue.

George Stickle stepped up to the porch in front of his store and crossed his arms. “Go home. All of ya.”

“You gonna stand up for this man, Stickle? Are ya? What if we stopped buying supplies from you because you’re friends with a murderer?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!” The crowd was rowdy today.

The wagon shook with quite a force as Lillian stomped her
feet. “I’ve had just about enough. You should all be ashamed of yourselves!” Her voice resonated well beyond the crowd and even caused people down the street to stop and stare.

Where the power had come from, he had no idea, but Woody was shocked at the force of her voice.

“Why, I saw you”—she pointed—“and you”—she pointed again—“and you, and you, and you”—she didn’t spare anyone her gaze or her finger—“and you, and you in church on Sunday morning. Did you not hear a word of what the preacher said? How dare you malign this man and bear false witness against him when you don’t know the truth! You’re a bunch of judging gossips, and I’m ashamed for you. I’m ashamed that you call yourselves Christians.”

The crowd quieted, but many looked on with arms crossed and deep frowns.

“How many of you have even bothered to ask how little Jimmy is doing? Well? How many have asked how Mr. Colton is doing? Can you imagine how devastating it would be to come home and find your wife murdered? No. You can’t. Because you’d rather believe the worst and spread rumors because they make you feel better about yourself. Well, I’m here to tell you right now that I’ve had enough of this garbage. If Jesus himself were here, I’m afraid He’d have to call you a bunch of hypocrites.”

She sat down on the bench seat of the wagon and huffed. Woody found it impossible to move. He’d never heard anyone defend him with such passion.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then several men went and joined George on the porch. And then a few more. Within moments, there were twelve gathered on the porch, and one moved forward. Woody had known this man quite well at one time.
“We’ll stand alongside you, Woody. And I’m sad that it has taken us this long to do it. We’re sick of the gossip in this town tearing folks apart.” His words were like balm on a wound.

The rest of the people on the ground erupted in heated debate with those on the porch. How had this happened? What had gotten into people?

Sin. That’s what. And they were all guilty of it.

Woody lowered his head. He didn’t know how they could ever overcome the ugliness.

Lillian stood again, and Woody’s head shot up. Her face was a deep shade of crimson. “Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile! Psalm thirty-four, thirteen. Were any of you there the day that Rebecca Colton was murdered?”

The crowd silenced once again.

“Did any of you witness her death?”

No response.

“Then I suggest you keep your mouths shut.”

“And why should we listen to you, missy? You weren’t there, either. We’ve heard from plenty of people what this man is capable of.” The voices erupted again.

Woody touched Lillian’s elbow. Rage radiated off of her in waves. He couldn’t do anything to make this better.

“Settle down!” Sheriff Hobart arrived on his horse and looked down at the people.

But they just kept arguing and squabbling. The cries of “retrial” were heard several times.

“I said, settle down!” the sheriff hollered louder. “And if you don’t settle down, I’m gonna haul all of ya down to the jail and lock you up.”

The crowd quieted again.

“Now,” the sheriff continued, “get out of the middle of the
street and go about your business afore I lose my temper.” He rode his horse closer to Woody and leaned in. “That means it’s time for you to leave, Colton. I’ve had just about enough of you causing trouble in this town.” His eyes narrowed. “And as soon as the new judge comes through, I just might sit down with him and have a chat about retrying you.”