Joline's Redemption (10 page)

He needed to leave. “Um … well … I just wanted to say good day.” He tipped his hat and stalked away, wishing he'd never approached the woman.

Halfway back to his house it hit him—she'd never said her name. Had that been an oversight or on purpose? Was she always so secretive? He turned, looking back toward the schoolhouse, but could no longer see the buggy. He shook his head, wishing he hadn't made an idiot of himself.

Although he didn't have Mark's charm, he'd never had a problem getting women to talk to him, and the fact that this one wouldn't made him more determined to discover who she was. If it turned out she was married, so be it.

He kicked a rock, sending it skittering down the street. He'd never married because he hadn't found a woman who intrigued him enough to make him want to pursue her—at least he hadn't until he noticed the quiet blond sneaking around his store.

There was something about her that drew him. But he had no idea why—or what he was going to do about it.

Glen Haven, Texas

Jack Jensen closed the church doors, relieved he'd made it through another Sunday service. Preaching to a different group of people each week as he had as a circuit rider was much easier than preaching to the same folks every Sunday. In Glen Haven, he felt like everyone was watching him each day, just waiting for him to make a mistake.

His belly grumbled as he walked down the street toward Comstock's General Store. Some folks objected to Abel opening up on Sunday, but Jack thought it was a nice thing to do. Some people who came to town for church also needed supplies, and it saved them a trip if they could shop after church.

Since Abel was only open about an hour, he should be ready to close up shop and eat Sunday dinner. Dining with his parishioners was one perk he didn't mind. As he reached the door to the store, Jack heard a scuffling sound and a squeal. He rushed inside and halted. A stranger held a knife to Mrs. Parnell's throat. Jack held up one hand, mentally searching for a peaceful way to disarm the man. “I'm one of the local ministers. Glen Haven is a peaceful town, and we don't want any trouble.”

“I don't want to hurt nobody, but my kids gotta eat.”

Jack studied the knife held against Mrs. Parnell's throat. “Take whatever food you need, and I'll pay for it. Just let the woman go.”

Mrs. Parnell whimpered and shook so badly Jack feared she might cut herself by moving too much. Behind the man with the knife, the store owner, Abel Comstock, had slipped from behind the counter and held his rifle trained on the stranger. Jack shook his head.

He tried to calm the frightened woman with his gaze, beseeching her to hold still. “Mrs. Parnell has five children, and they need their ma. Like I said, I'm the parson of the small church down the street, and my word is good. Let her go, and we'll see you get some food.”

“You promise, Parson? My little'uns ain't had nothin' to eat in more'n two days. I can't stand their cryin' no more.”

“I promise, and you can trust my word. Let the woman go.”

The man stared at Jack for a long moment then lowered the knife. Mrs. Parnell cried out and rushed to Jack's side, wrapping her arms around him and weeping on his chest. He patted her shoulder. “I know you've had a fright, ma'am. Why don't you go outside and sit on the bench while I help this man and his children?”

“Pastor Jack, I was so—”

“I know.” He patted her arm. “We'll talk later.” He gently set her aside and gave her a nudge toward the door. He wanted her out of the way should the stranger get desperate again.

But when he looked back, the stranger had sheathed his knife and looked defeated. Jack eyed the store owner and indicated with a shake of his head that the man should put the rifle away. Mr. Comstock backed quietly into the storeroom and then reappeared without his weapon.

Jack smiled. “So, what's your name, sir?”

“Ralph Beatty.”

“Nice to meet you. Folks call me Pastor Jack.” He held out his hand, relieved to have the confrontation over with no one getting hurt.

Mr. Comstock slid back behind his counter. “What can I get for you, Mr. Beatty?”

As if nothing had happened, Mr. Beatty moseyed around the store. “I don't cotton to takin' handouts, but my boys is starvin'. Ain't got no choice. I reckon I should get a five-pound bag of flour for starts. My biscuits ain't too bad.”

Jack glanced at Abel, glad the man had backed down and seemed ready to help. Abel plucked a bag from under the counter and started filling it with flour.

Mr. Beatty set several cans of beans on the counter then went back and stared at the sections of smoked meat hanging near the window. “A hunk of ham would be nice. I've gone hunting for several days and ain't had no luck.”

Abel set the flour bag on the counter with a thud then strode over and took down a smoked ham shoulder and cut off a sizable chunk. He wrapped it in brown paper, tied it, and then rehung the meat.

Mr. Beatty stood in front of the coffee, eyeing it, then shook his head and walked away.

“How many children do you have, sir?”

“Just two boys. One's ten and the other is four. Had a couple of pretty daughters, but they and their ma died of yella fever last year. Them was sad days. Me and the boys left Louisiana after that to get a fresh start in Texas, but we've fallen on hard times.”

“You're not the only one. I have others in my church who are struggling.” But none of them had resorted to violence. Jack pursed his lips. The man's children needed food, but it bothered him to reward Mr. Beatty's misguided actions. Still … he wasn't the judge. That was up to God. “Abel, will you wrap up a half dozen peppermint sticks for the boys?”

“Yes, sir. I can do that.”

Mr. Beatty paused in front of a pair of overalls then moved back to the canned goods and pulled several more cans into his arms, including a tub of lard, then set them on the counter. “I reckon that'll get us by for a while.”

Jack's pockets weren't too deep, but he wouldn't have any trouble paying for the small amount of supplies Mr. Beatty had selected. He pushed away from the counter and walked down the coffee aisle and selected a pound of Arbuckle, some cornmeal on the off chance the man caught some fish, and a pound of bacon that Abel had wrapped previously, and added them to the pile.

Mr. Beatty's eyes watered, and he smiled for the first time that day. “That's mighty generous of you, Parson.”

Jack shrugged. He'd been hungry plenty of times in those early years, when he first left his family, and no one but the good Lord knew what he'd done to survive.

Abel totaled up the supplies and quoted a surprisingly low cost. Jack looked at him and lifted one eyebrow. Abel's neck reddened, and he shrugged. “I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to offer a discount, all things considered.”

Jack nodded his thanks and paid for the items. “You got somethin' to carry all this in?”

Mr. Beatty glanced down and shook his head.

“I've got some burlap bags that should work.” Abel went to his storeroom and returned with one; then he filled it three-quarters full and tied it off, leaving enough up top for a handle. “That should work.”

Jack walked toward the door with Mr. Beatty. “If you need anything, you can check with me or one of the other churches in town.”

“I reckon it's best I move on. I feel awful bad for scarin' that woman. If my wife was still alive, I shudder to think what she'd've said to me.”

“Everyone faces troubles now and then, but it's how we deal with it that matters. God loves you, and He can help if you call on Him.”

“I reckon I gave up on Him after losing so much I care about.”

They stepped outside together, and Jack froze at the same time as Mr. Beatty. A group of more than a dozen men, including Zeb Parnell, faced them with rifles drawn. Glen Haven was too small to boast its own lawman, so the men of the town dealt out justice when needed. Jack stepped in front of Mr. Beatty. “What's goin' on here?”

Brody Johnson, owner of one of the town's two saloons, stepped forward. “We don't allow men to pull knives on our women. Step aside, Parson.”

“Look, no one got hurt. I realize Mrs. Parnell was badly frightened, but I don't believe Mr. Beatty had any intent to harm her. He's got two boys and they haven't eaten for days.” He noticed sympathetic glances from the women, but the men's faces remained hard.

“Most all of us got young'uns, but we don't go knifing women. That man needs to be locked up until we can get a judge to come to town.”

Mr. Beatty paled and backed up. “I cain't. My boys are waitin' for me down by the creek. Who'll take care of them?”

Jack held up his hands. Half of these folks just wanted to feel powerful. They didn't really care about what had happened to Mrs. Parnell or that she'd been set free with no injuries. “Think about this. It's the Lord's day. No one got hurt. I bought Mr. Beatty some food for his children, so why not let him go?”

“Can't do that, Parson. Next thing you know, every man in town will be bullyin' women.”

That was a fine comment coming from a saloon owner who also had an upstairs area for ladies of the night. He couldn't imagine any worse treatment of females than that.

Someone shoved Jack in the back, and he stumbled forward. His forehead collided with the porch post. Pain shot through his head and neck. He struggled to focus as he pushed up.

“No!” Mr. Beatty screeched.

A shot rang out. Jack jerked, watching in horror as Mr. Beatty clutched his chest. He dropped the bag of food as a crimson circle spread across his faded shirt. Beatty's stunned gaze connected with Jack's.

Though his head pounded, Jack struggled to rise. Giving up, he crawled to the man's side.

“My boys.”

Jack swallowed. He was the last person who should be responsible for young'uns—not after he'd run away from caring for his younger sisters years ago. But he was a different person now.

Mr. Beatty's grip on his arm lessened. “Please … find my young'uns.”

He nodded. “I'll find them and make sure they are cared for.”

“Good …” Mr. Beatty's eyes closed and his hand fell to his side.

Jack sat back, numb at the senseless killing.

“Looks like the pastor needs the doc,” someone shouted.

A doctor couldn't fix the aching pain in Jack's heart. The two Beatty boys were now orphans—and he'd promised to take care of them.

How could he tell them their pa was dead?

J
o was halfway home before her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. Mark's brother had specifically sought her out after church, but why? He barely talked to her. At least one good thing—she hadn't revealed her name to him.

Jamie fussed and gnawed on the fringe of a shawl Lara had loaned her. He was ready to eat, but she'd been so nervous about going to church, she'd forgotten to put a biscuit in her bag. She jiggled him. “We'll be home soon, little man.”

Michael, who sat next to Sarah in the backseat of the buggy, stood and leaned over the front seat. “That's what Ma calls me sometimes.”

Jo smiled at him. “That's right. I'd forgotten about that.”

“Sit down, son.” Gabe peered over his shoulder at the boy then at Jo. “So, what did Baron want?”

“You saw that?”

He nodded, watching the trail up ahead as the horse trotted toward home.

“I don't really know. He introduced himself, then stammered ‘nice sermon' and then ‘good day' and rushed off.”

“You must have shocked him when you told him your name.”

“Um … I never quite got to that part.”

His gaze shot toward her again.

She lifted a hand. “Ask Sarah, if you don't believe me. She heard the whole stunted conversation.”

Gabe didn't look over his shoulder and seemed to take her word.

“You can't avoid him forever, you know. Sooner or later he'll find out.”

“I suppose you'll tell him?”

He shook his head. “It's not my place. You need to be the one to reveal that information.”

“But I don't want to.” She hated how she sounded like a spoiled six-year-old.

“I know, but the man has a right to get to know his kin.”

“Why? Just because he opened the store again and just happens to be in Guthrie at the same time as Jamie and me?”

Gabe seemed to mull over her valid point. “I'll admit the timing is a bit uncanny. The store has been closed the whole time you were gone, until two weeks ago. It's almost as if God brought you and Baron back at the same time.”

“God had nothing to do with my return.”

“Don't be so certain, Jo. God's ways are mysterious and far above what we can understand.”

Nothing she could say would convince Gabe she was right. He might have been a gambler at one time, but he'd obviously changed. God might have brought Gabe into her sister's life, but when had He ever done anything for her?