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Time to forgive him for his doubts about Woody, as well. God knew he had enough doubts for them both.

The butcher’s daughter entered the store and greeted Mr. Clark. But as she turned, Woody recognized the horror on her face when she spotted him. She spun on her heel and walked right out the door.

Herman turned then and marched toward him. “You’ve cost me enough customers today, Colton.” The shopkeeper looked over his shoulder to where his wife had disappeared,
then stepped closer and poked Woody in the chest with his finger. “Now, get out!”

“Get out!”
Was that Grandfather? What was he doing here in California?

A soft touch on her shoulder woke Lillian from a deep sleep. “What? Where am I?”

“In the general store in Angels, Lillian.” Carla Clark helped her to sit up. “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it? And it’s not over. Mr. Colton has come to fetch ya. So we best get you freshened up.” The robust woman bustled around the tiny cot and brought her a washcloth and basin of water.

As Lillian washed her face, the events of the afternoon after her arrival came rushing back. After Mrs. Clark—who insisted she be called Carla—shooed away the “gossiping herd,” she had taken Lillian to a room in the back and sat her down. The woman had been kind and honest with her about the horrible death of Rebecca Colton. She never painted Mr. Colton as a saint, but did share her own memories of the man they’d known several years. It wasn’t until the mysterious and awful death of Rebecca that people had anything against Woodward Colton. And even though Judge Morgan had declared him innocent of any wrongdoing, once the rumors started, there didn’t seem to be a way to extinguish them. They spread like wildfire.

There was even some talk after Judge Morgan passed away to retry Mr. Colton. But Carla said she would do everything in her power to fight the gossip. As she shared about her own loss and sorrow—all caused by her own gossiping tongue—she’d even shed a few tears.

The cool cloth on Lillian’s face and neck helped to refresh
her, but there was so much to consider. It was a disturbing situation. After hearing Carla’s passionate words, Lillian knew she trusted the older woman. Especially after she scolded men, women, and children for spreading the hearsay. Anyone willing to stand up to bullies was all right in her book.

But then there was the little nagging in the back of her mind. What if Mr. Colton truly was a dangerous man? And he had just fooled the entire community all those years? It did seem that he only had one advocate she knew of in the entire town: Mrs. Clark. Was
she
blinded by her own need of redemption from the sin of a malicious tongue?

“Lillian?”

“Hmm?” She rinsed out the rag one more time and ran it over her face.

“Are you all right, dear?” Carla reached out for Lillian’s hand.

“Oh yes. I’m so sorry. I’m just exhausted from the trip.”

The sweet lady walked around Lillian, straightening her clothes and dusting them off a bit more. “You’re a bit wrinkled, but I don’t think we can do much about that. We need to get you out there, because it will be quite a drive to the Colton farm. I’m sure little Jimmy will want to meet you tonight before he heads off to bed. Here’s your lovely hat.” She eyed the fetching piece that so perfectly matched Lillian’s suit. “We need to get you a sunbonnet. Once you’re out on the farm, you’ll need one. Oh, and probably a different one for traveling back and forth. I’m guessin’ you traveled mostly in enclosed carriages.” She smiled at Lillian. “Pardon me for sayin’, but you look to come from wealth. I don’t figure you have any sunbonnets.”

“You’re correct in your assumption, Carla. I would appreciate your help. I had some very lovely walking-out bonnets, but failed to bring any of them with me. I did, however, bring
a straw riding bonnet, so perhaps that will suffice for now.” Lillian pinned her hat into place, then tucked her reticule into her traveling bag so she wouldn’t have to bother with it on the ride to the Colton place.

“There.” Lillian picked up the bag and smiled. “I’m ready.” She followed Carla out of the small storeroom into the main area.

A large man sat in the seat she had occupied earlier in the day. As she approached, he stood—goodness, he was tall—and removed his hat to greet her. “I must apologize, Miss Porter, for being so late. My wagon had trouble, and I had to do the repairs on the road. I had hoped to arrive in town before you.”

She examined his deep brown eyes. He seemed sincere in his apology and didn’t look like a murderer. Not that she’d ever met one. “It’s quite all right. Thank you for coming.” His dark brown hair touched his collar in the back but wasn’t untamed. And even though he wasn’t spotless, she imagined that if she had to fix a wagon in the middle of the road, she wouldn’t be clean, either.

He nodded to her. “I hate to rush, but we do have quite a bit of a drive. I’m sure Mrs. Goodman will have something for us to eat when we get home.” He bowed a bit to her. Hesitant and humble, despite his imposing size. The poor man. What had these people done to him? And after he’d lost so much.

“Woody, it’s good to see ya again so soon. You need to come back more often. Especially now that Miss Porter’s here.” Carla walked forward, patted the man’s arm, and tucked a creamy package of cloth into Lillian’s bag.

“Good to see you, too, Carla. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“Like I said before, they’re good people. Just give ’em time.” She turned to Lillian. “Now, if you need anything, you let me know, all right?”

For some odd reason, tears sprang to Lillian’s eyes. She thought
her world had turned upside down when Grandfather said he never wanted to see her again. Well, the events of the past few hours had done quite a bit of emotional upheaval, as well. Add that to her tired state and she was quite a mess. “I will. Thank you so much for all your help today, Mrs. Clar—oh, sorry, Carla.”

“You’re most welcome.” The soft, plump woman reached out and hugged Lillian. Not one of those simpering ninny hugs where they barely touched and pretended to kiss each other’s cheek. No, this woman knew how to hug. She squeezed and made sure the recipient knew she meant it.

Lillian could use a hug like that every day. She hugged her new friend back and then followed Mr. Colton out the door.

She watched as several people along the street stopped and stared. No matter. She straightened her shoulders and stood proudly beside the wagon as Mr. Colton loaded her things. It wouldn’t do any good for her to doubt her new employer. She’d followed the good Lord and her dreams here, and this was the only option she had. Going home was out of the question.

One thing was certain, Woodward Colton was a large man. He stood almost a foot above her, and she wasn’t short for a woman. His broad shoulders accentuated his height, and the way his muscles bulged against his shirt as he lifted the trunks left no doubt he was strong. For a moment, she could imagine how the rumors had taken root. His size could be a bit intimidating. But he didn’t seem at all like a killer. At least from what she knew of him so far. And from what Carla had told her.

“Are you ready, Miss Porter?” He stood in front of her with his hat in his hand.

She blinked several times. How long had she been staring? “Why, yes, of course.”

He climbed into the wagon and reached down for her.

“Um . . .” Lifting her skirt, she realized she hadn’t been watching
how
he’d climbed into the wagon. Heat crept up her cheeks. “Is there a step?”

His deep chuckle was warm. “I do apologize. I’m guessing you’ve never ridden in a farm wagon before?”

She shook her head and tried not to laugh at herself. “I’ve only ridden in carriages, and there’s always a little step.”

“Well, let’s remedy that.” He hopped down from the wagon and pulled an empty wooden crate from the back. “Mrs. Goodman uses this.” He turned it upside down. “You can step on this, then the hub, and then the top of the wheel. You have to keep moving once you start. Otherwise, you could find yourself in trouble if the horses move. After a time, you won’t need the crate and can just step up on the hub.”

Lillian eyed the situation with a bit of skepticism. This was her new life, and she’d best learn quick. Woody went to hold the horses while Lillian worked up her courage. The traveling suit was difficult to maneuver in and quite heavy, but nevertheless she was determined. Lillian drew a deep breath, whispered a prayer, and then followed Woody’s directions.

Reaching the driver’s boot, she turned and beamed a smile at Woody. “I did it!”

He chuckled and released the horses’ harness. “That you did.” He retrieved the crate, and once he’d reloaded it in the back, he hopped up to the wagon seat as if it were no big feat. “I promise it’ll get easier.”

Lillian relaxed and drew a long, deep breath. It had been more of a hike to climb up into the wagon than she was used to, but she’d made it on the first try. Which brought a flood of relief. Her imagination had conjured up unladylike images of her sprawled in the street. As she settled onto the hard wagon
seat, she thought about all the luxuries she’d taken for granted growing up in an affluent family. In fact, everyone she knew—even at church—was from the same walk of life. How many times had she missed a need because she’d been surrounded by people who lacked for nothing? When Grandmother was still alive, she’d been involved in multiple charities, but Lillian had never been allowed to attend any of the meetings or go to any of the places they served. Instead, she was to remain at home, deep in her studies with a variety of tutors.

The horses moved forward, and Mr. Colton cleared his voice. “I am very sorry I was late today. The reach broke . . . uh, that’s the piece that connects the front and rear axles. I had the part to repair it, but it’s time-consuming. I hope it wasn’t a terrible inconvenience for you.”

The wagon seat was narrow, but she tried to keep a few inches between them. Chancing a look at her employer, she pasted on a smile and tried not to think about the gossip. “The Clarks were very gracious to me. It wasn’t a problem at all.”

His jaw twitched a little. “I’m glad to hear it. But I do hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course.” The intensity of his gaze made her want to cry. What had gotten into her?

“Look . . .” A long sigh accentuated his words. “I know you must have heard some awful things in town.”

Lillian looked away to her right. What could she say? His close proximity made her nervous, and she reminded herself that a judge had cleared him.

“You’ve just met me, and I can well imagine what you think of me, especially if you heard the rumors.”

She bit her lip and turned toward him again. Searching his eyes for the truth.

He held her gaze for several moments, then looked ahead again. “Rebecca and I came here to farm. Olives and possibly other fruit. But after a few short years, our olive grove became very prosperous, and it was all we could do to keep up with the orders for table olives and olive oil. We were busy, but we were happy.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for his next words. “My wife was murdered, and I don’t know who did it or why. She was the most incredible woman I’d ever known.” He clamped his mouth shut and his jaw clenched.

Lillian watched him for several moments, hoping he would continue. He didn’t have to tell her what happened, but he’d been honest with her anyway. Baring his soul to a stranger. She admired him for that, but she was completely uncertain what she should say.
“I’m so sorry for your loss”
didn’t seem the least bit useful at a time like this.

“I can’t say it’s been easy. The grief just about ate me up. And I got pretty angry at God. Especially when the townspeople turned against me.” Another sigh. “I’m sure you’ve heard that they blame me—think I did it. Thankfully, Judge Morgan didn’t listen to rumors. I wasn’t even home when it happened. I didn’t kill my wife, Miss Porter.” Kind eyes, deep and brown, stared back at her. This man couldn’t be a killer. Wounded, yes. Grieving, yes. But not a killer.

All she could do was nod. What if her judgment was wrong? How often had she actually been around people?

“I’ve got to look forward. I’ve got a boy who needs me and needs to heal, and a farm to look after.” He looked down at her. “I’m very thankful you answered my advertisement. I had several applicants, but you were the only one who seemed qualified.”

Qualified? Her? She’d never even been a nanny. “Thank you. I sincerely want to help, but I don’t know how qualified I am.”

“You’re the only one I felt peaceful about. Thus, you’re the only one I responded to.”

His words penetrated a deep place in her heart. The need to be wanted. To be a vital part of a family. But as she took a moment to gather her thoughts, weariness took over. It had all been a bit too much. And as much as she wanted to like this man beside her, she couldn’t forget the words of all the townspeople.

Then her throat constricted with conviction. Carla’s passionate pleas about the dangers of gossip came back to Lillian. If all the folks in town had allowed their opinions to be shaped by hearsay, they were wrong. And that made Lillian wrong for listening to them.
Oh, Lord, help me to trust, and help me to discern the truth.