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“Well, at least maybe a new judge would want to see all the evidence and know all the facts instead of just the ones he wants to know.” Woody lifted the reins and signaled the horses to move forward.

As soon as they were away from the town, Lillian started crying. “I’m so sorry for losing my temper. I’ve never been so mad. What is wrong with those people?” She pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sad situation. “It’s called a sin nature. Thanks for standing up for me back there. Nobody’s ever done it . . . quite so . . . firmly.” He looked at her and grinned. “I really appreciate it.”

She obviously didn’t find it as funny as he did, because she scowled and took out her fan again. She wiped her eyes with one hand and fanned with the other. It was several minutes before she spoke again. “It was wrong of me to yell at them.”

He grinned. He didn’t mind having her on his side. “Hey, I’ve seen you with your dander up. Maybe not to that extent. All the same, I’m glad it wasn’t directed at me.”

“I’m ashamed that I could have such an outburst. Sometimes I think that I’ve just held things inside me for all my life. I guess I’m feeling it’s time to let it go.”

He gave her a sidelong glance and his grin widened. “Just as long as it’s not aimed at me, I think I can handle it.”

She finally relaxed a little at his comment. “Those people
were so ugly. There was hatred in their eyes. I’d heard some of them raise their protests when I first came to town, but at least they were somewhat civil.” Lillian let out a long sigh. “So this is what it’s been like for you all this time?”

He nodded.

“How can you stand it?”

“I don’t. I’ve avoided those people at all costs.”

There went the fan again. Whipping back and forth faster than a jackrabbit across the field. “Well, I think it’s time to face those people head on.”

“What do you think we just did, Lillian?”

“I know, I know. But the problem is, they know that they’ve got you cornered. And since you don’t go into town often, that just fuels their fire.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way. And he wasn’t sure he liked where she was headed.

“Since I’m being blunt anyway, I think I’ll just give you my opinion.” She paused and turned to him. “I think you’ve been hiding and grumbling too long, and it’s time to show the people of Angels Camp the real Woody Colton.”

It irritated him just a bit that she thought he’d been hiding and grumbling. Even if it was true. “They had the opportunity to see the real me. All those years before Rebecca died. Some of those men were ones I counted as good friends. They knew me—knew what I stood for—and they turned on me anyway.”

“Yes, they did, but at least some of them have turned back. If they can see the error of their ways, then others can, too. With the good Lord’s strength, we can do this, Woody.” She closed the fan and grabbed his forearm with both of her hands. “You saw all those men who joined Mr. Stickle in defense of you. There’s bound to be more, especially once those twelve start
working on the others. Now that they’ve made a stand, they won’t be quite so afraid to voice their opinions.”

He thought about that for a moment. He’d almost forgotten that people had come to stand up for him. He’d had good friends, and they’d tried to help him through his loss, but Woody had made it almost impossible. He’d pushed them away—all of them. It had been easier all these months to hide. And blame it all on the fact that they hated him and gossiped about him.

“I think you should join me in church on Sunday.”

“Whoa, that’s taking it a bit fast, don’t you think? Did you see how many people hated my being there today? Even the sheriff doesn’t believe in me.”

“Well, we’ll just have to change their minds then, won’t we?” Her smile lit up the whole valley.

His heart skipped a beat. At least that’s what it felt like. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush on the teacher. If Lillian knew he was thinking once again of how attractive she was and how much he had come to enjoy her company, she might climb down from the wagon and walk home. He drew in a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves before he finally replied, “I’ll think about it.”

That night after supper, Lillian graced them with her piano playing. Jimmy sat beside Woody the entire time, watching his nanny’s every move. Woody remembered the way Rebecca would play for them sometimes. Jimmy always seemed fixated on the music. With these thoughts in mind, Woody remembered Lillian’s request for Jimmy.

“He needs a picture of his mother—something he can
keep with him,”
she had told him.
“He saw
my locket, and I told him how special it was
to me to have pictures of my mother and father.”

Woody got up and went to the small desk in the sitting room. Lillian began to play another song, this one Woody recognized as from the
Pirates of Penzance
. He and Rebecca had attended the comical opera in San Francisco years ago. They had laughed and laughed at the Major-General song that Lillian now played.

He couldn’t help but hum along as he opened the desk drawer and rummaged to the very back. There he pulled out a small tintype photo of his wife. She looked rather impish, despite the photographer having told her not to smile or move. Woody grinned. Rebecca had been just as stubborn as Lillian.

Mrs. Goodman sat tapping her toes to the beat of the music while Jimmy bounced up and down when Woody returned. He took his place once again beside Jimmy and handed him the tintype.

“Miss Lillian said you’d like a picture of your mother. I thought you could have this one.”

Jimmy stopped bouncing and took the tintype in hand. He looked at it for several moments, then hugged it close and smiled up at Woody. The moment belonged just to them. Mrs. Goodman still tapped and Lillian still played, but just for those few precious seconds, Woody and Jimmy were connected in a way that had been absent since Rebecca’s death.

Jimmy got up on his knees and kissed Woody’s cheek. After that he wrapped his arms tight around Woody’s neck. Woody put his arm around the boy and held him close. It was the first time since losing Rebecca that Woody felt everything would be all right.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

S
aturday morning, Lillian stood at the pond with Jimmy, fishing pole in hand. They hadn’t seen Harry in over a week—well, since Woody had scared him off—and it worried her. She knew the young man was probably afraid and pretty fragile. He needed to be loved just like everyone else. Sometimes she felt certain someone was watching them and hoped if so, it was Harry. She wanted him to know that he could come back to them—that things were better now.

But with the men furiously digging the trench from the pond all the way to the olive grove, she knew Harry was probably afraid to come back.

Jimmy looked up at her, that same question in his eyes.

“We’ll see him soon. I’m sure of it. Don’t worry. I think Harry can take care of himself.” She walked to the tree and tied another ribbon-laced package. They’d taken to drawing pictures for Harry since she’d found out he couldn’t read, and they’d fold them up with goodies and tie them to the tree. Each time the pictures had been taken, so Lillian hoped and prayed that meant Harry was coming to get them.

She looked down at her little charge again. Jimmy had become much more than her student or ward. She loved him as if he were her own. This family had woven itself into her heart without her even realizing what happened. She kissed the top of his head. “Let’s head back to the house. We’ve got lots of baking to do today, and we need to get ready for church tomorrow.”

He held her hand as they made the long walk back to the house. She often hummed or sang to him as they walked, but today her thoughts kept returning to a letter from Indiana. Stanton told her that her grandfather still refused to hear about her notes home. And to make matters worse, he was sick. Stanton promised to be honest with her, but she felt that maybe he was holding back a little. If her grandfather hadn’t left his bed in a couple weeks, that meant he was
very
sick.

Lillian pondered the silence around her. Sweet little Jimmy still refused to speak. And he might not ever. Grandfather refused to acknowledge her or respond. Would they ever get beyond the silence?

The next morning, armed with cookies for the pastor and his family and a picnic lunch, the entire Colton family headed into town for church. Woody, Jimmy, Mrs. Goodman, and Lillian. She’d insisted that Mrs. Goodman sit up on the seat with Woody while she and Jimmy made themselves a comfortable couch out of blankets and cushions in the bed of the wagon.

The thought of all of them attending church together had kept her up most of the night. And now her stomach was all aflutter.
Please, Lord
. She didn’t know what else to pray. But God knew.

A poke to her shoulder brought her awake, and she realized
they had reached the church. Jimmy stared at her. Apparently she’d fallen asleep in the wagon. Fiddlesticks. She reached up to adjust her straw bonnet. Hopefully her hair wasn’t a mess. But at least it was better falling asleep here rather than during the sermon. That would be embarrassing. She’d have to make sure to get enough sleep before church from now on.

Woody helped her down from the wagon and she saw the hesitation in his eyes. This couldn’t be easy for him. Especially after the other day. But at least they were here.

The church was pretty quiet as they entered and took seats in the back. Pastor Seymour got up and led them in a song, but Lillian couldn’t focus on the hymn. She felt the stares of people and hated how it made her feel. How she longed to keep Woody and Jimmy from feeling any more hurt and pain.

The minister launched into his sermon on James, chapter four, and Lillian tried so hard to stay attentive. But the lack of sleep the night before kept haunting her. And then she’d get distracted by every little movement and hope it wasn’t someone coming to say something ugly to her family. Yes, she had to admit it. They were just as much her family as those back in Indiana. And she would protect them just like she would family.

Toward the end of the service, the reverend asked them all to look again at verse seventeen of chapter four. She looked down at her Bible and read the words along with him, “Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.”

Pastor Seymour closed his Bible and looked down at the congregation. “If you know to do good and not harm and you don’t do it, you are in sin. You are just as guilty as . . .” He paused and looked around the room before adding, “. . . a murderer.”

He waited another few moments before continuing in a
gentle, fatherly manner. “Sin is sin. There aren’t little sins and big sins. There are sins that are more acceptable than others and still other sins that bear greater consequences in the world. But God can’t abide it in any form.” Despite the gentleness of his tone, he fixed them with the stern expression of a father reprimanding his children.

Lillian noted a great many people bowed their heads as if the intensity of the pastor’s gaze was too much to bear. Good. Let them feel guilty for how they’d acted. Let them be the ones to be uncomfortable instead of Woody. She didn’t suppose those were the thoughts of a good Christian woman, but she was angry. Angry that people could be so cruel. Angry that it had gone so long unchecked. Perhaps with Woody absent from their lives, people figured they could just hide their ugliness and pretend they were in the right. Well, there was no pretending that now.

Pastor Seymour finally smiled. “We’re blessed, though, because Jesus said He’d pay the price for our sins. Isn’t that a wonder? He didn’t do anything wrong, but people condemned Him. He didn’t do anything wrong, but He willingly took on our sins and died. Better still, He rose again and lives.

“Folks, I know it’s easy to be caught up in sin. Especially lies. Satan works it in such a way that it seems logical to accept lies as truth. But you need to remember something as you point your finger to accuse one another. Satan . . . is the accuser of the brethren. I think you need to ask yourself exactly who you’re siding with. Who stands to benefit? Let’s pray.”

Outside the church, several men approached the Colton wagon, and Lillian braced herself for the worst. Jimmy tightened his hold on her hand and leaned closer to hide his face against her sleeve.

A man Lillian heard the pastor call Stan Van Dyke spoke first. “Colton, we need to apologize to you. We believed the worst, when we all knew what kind of man you were. We’d witnessed it firsthand, and yet we took hearsay and rumors above it.” The man who led the group held out his hand. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Me too.” Another held out his hand.

Lillian walked Jimmy a few paces away to allow the men some time. Woody needed this. God alone knew how much pain these men had heaped upon Woody in the past, but now it was time for them to apply a soothing salve and let the healing begin.

Mrs. Goodman walked toward her. “Two ladies just apologized to me, Lillian. Two! Can you believe it? Apparently the good minister’s sermons have been convicting the people.”

Lillian let go of Jimmy to hug her friend. “That’s wonderful news. Truly.”

“I hear that you made quite an impression on the town, as well. Standin’ up as you did for your boss.” The older woman nudged her.

Lillian looked back to where Woody conversed with the men. “He’s a good man. People just needed to be reminded of that. Why is it that we allow fear to overrule everything else?”

“I don’t know, dearie, but it sure is sad.” Mrs. Goodman shook her head. “I can’t say that I ever thought I’d see the day when people would be apologizing for their words and for listening to the gossip. You’ve been a healing balm to this town. All we needed was for a stranger to come in and clean up the mess everyone else felt was perfectly acceptable.”

Lillian shook her head. “All they needed was to take their eyes off Woody and his situation and put them back on Jesus.”