Molly Noble Bull (11 page)

Honor probably wasn’t a true Christian, and she might never be. He put the calendar back on his desk and hurried out the door. Surely by now, Lucy would have gone home.

Mrs. Jordan sat in the buggy out front. But Lucy and
two other young, single women stood at the door—waiting for Jeth.

“Did you finish whatever it was you had to do?” Lucy asked.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” Jeth shifted from one leg to the other, wondering how to leave her company without being rude. “So, how are your reading lessons working out?”

“Miss McCall and I are just getting started—but we’re doing fine. And I’ve already learned a lot.”

“Good.” He paused, searching for something else to say. “And how is your sewing coming along? I’ve heard glowing reports about the dresses you make.”

“Really? Well, thank you very much. But lately, I’ve been getting behind. What I really need is a good seamstress to help me catch up with my sewing. But they are hard to find in a place like Hearten.”

On impulse, Jeth suggested Honor for the job. Then wished he hadn’t. He needed to talk to Honor as soon as possible.

Lucas had considered dropping the Bible in the nearest trash can, but thought again. Someone in Pine Falls was sure to buy it. He stuck the Bible in the inside pocket of the borrowed suit and hurried down the street toward his rented room above the store.

Ten minutes later, he tossed the suit and tie onto his bed with the rest of his belongings and changed into the clothes he’d worn when he left Ruby’s farm. They were dusty and wrinkled. The entire room reeked of spoiled food and dirty laundry. Lucas didn’t care.

Guilt flooded him every time he stopped to think about Ruby. The same thing happened when he thought of Harriet and Honor. Whiskey erased those unhappy memories.

Lucas got down on his hands and knees, peering under his bed. A cockroach crawled near his hand, but he took little notice. He pulled out two bottles of whiskey and put one beside the only chair in the room. Then he opened the other bottle and started drinking.

He gulped down half the bottle in one swallow. Then he wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand. Maybe he should sit down before drinking the rest.

Soiled clothes were draped all over the chair. Lucas threw them on the floor and sat down. As he lifted the bottle to his mouth again, he realized he felt dizzy. He was also sick to his stomach.

Honor slipped out the back door of the church to avoid seeing Jeth and Lucy together. Then she walked around the building to join Jeth’s mother in the buggy, which was parked in front.

Jeth usually drove the wagon into town, but they’d come to church in the black buggy. Apparently, the buggy was used on Sundays and special occasions.

Jeth’s mother sat in the front seat, talking to Dr. Harris, who stood beside the buggy. However, the doctor turned and headed for his covered wagon before Honor reached them. Honor took the wooden bench behind Jeth’s mother and settled herself to wait.

She gazed at the little white church with its painted wood siding, stained-glass windows and bell tower. Jeth
stood just below the front steps, talking to Lucy Jordan and two other young women.

Honor refused to watch them. Strong emotions she couldn’t name churned inside her, heating her cheeks.

“Jethro so loves to fellowship with the members of his congregation,” Mrs. Peters said. “But he should be along shortly.”

You mean he enjoys visiting with Lucy, Honor thought.

She’d hoped to get answers to her Bible questions. Now all she could think about was Lucy Jordan and her blue coat.

Why should Honor care if Jeth talked to Lucy or anybody else, for that matter? He had a perfect right to have a conversation with anyone he liked. After his mother returned from Pine Falls, Honor would be leaving Hearten. Still, seeing Jeth surrounded by young women upset her.

At the crunch of Jeth’s boots on the gravel path, Honor looked up. He nodded to Honor, then climbed into the buggy beside his mother.

Honor nodded back halfheartedly.

“I saw Willie Sharp and his mother in church this morning,” Mrs. Peters said to her son. “Did you?”

“Yes.” Jeth untied the reins. “But I didn’t get to talk to them.”

“Don’t be discouraged, son. There’s always next Sunday.”

“I know.” Turning around in his seat, Jeth smiled at Honor. “Mama and I have been meaning to pay you the wages you’ve earned so far, Miss McCall. And now seems like a good time.”

“Pay me?”

“Yes.” Pulling bills and a few coins from his pocket, he handed them to Honor. “You’ve been doing a good job, too.”

“Thank you.” Honor was about to put the bills in the new drawstring purse she’d made, when she remembered the coat Jeth had purchased for her. “And here’s a dollar back to pay on the coat. I’ll have more to give you later.”

“I like the way you do business.”

The warmth in his blue eyes excited her.

“But one whole dollar is a lot to pay,” he added. “You only made three. I’m willing to take less.”

“That’s very kind of you. But I want to pay one dollar toward my debt today.”

“All right.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Miss Jordan was impressed with the way you altered Mama’s clothes, Miss McCall, and she wants to offer you a job, if you’re interested.”

“What kind of job?”

“She not only sews clothes for people, she alters them, and she’s gotten behind. Miss Jordan said that if you would work for her at night doing alterations at the boardinghouse, she would pay you half the money she gets for each job.”

Half? If Honor was going to be doing the alterations, why wouldn’t she get all the money? Still, she supposed half was better than nothing, and she needed to increase her income if she hoped to save enough to pay her debt by Christmas.

“All right. Tell Miss Jordan I’ll be happy to accept.”

That night, Honor sat beside Jeth’s mother in the back row for the evening service. They huddled as close to the woodstove as they could get. Still, Honor felt cold and uncomfortable. Little wonder. It had started snowing soon after the morning service, and still the soft white flakes drifted down.

Honor prayed daily now. She also knew one of the hymns they sang in church by heart, and most of her questions about the Bible were being answered from reading the Scripture. Yet the true meaning of what Jeth called “salvation” escaped her. A common thief could never be worthy of eternal life, she was sure, no matter what Jeth said to the contrary.

Honor glanced at Jeth, standing behind the podium, and realized she hadn’t been paying attention. She sat up straighter. For the rest of the service, she planned to listen to every word Jeth spoke.

“A long time ago,” he said, “Christians greeted each other in a special way.” He smiled. “One would say, ‘Jesus is Lord.’ And the other would say, ‘He is Lord, indeed.’

“Many, if not most people know who Jesus is,” Jeth went on. “But you can know Jesus personally, and when you do, you will call Him Lord. Then, you won’t have to wonder if you’re saved. You’ll know—for sure.”

Of course, Jesus is the Lord. Everybody knows that, Honor thought, shaking her head. She assumed what Jeth had said was important, but had no idea what his sermon meant.

Honor tapped her fingers on her knees. Soon, the service would end, but not before Jeth gave an altar call.
She’d told Jeth’s mother she would step forward and join the church that night. Now, she regretted her promise.

She worshiped God and loved Him, and she was learning about Jesus from reading the Bible. But she couldn’t forgive Lucas or feel worthy enough to become a born-again believer. And she still felt guilty for stealing money from the church in Falling Rock. None of that was likely to change.

All at once, Timmy walked toward her from a bench near the front of the church. Beaming, the little boy stood in the aisle beside Honor’s pew. He looked adorable in his blue sailor suit, and his infectious grin melted her heart. She supposed he wanted her to make room for him. Honor inched over and Timmy sat down.

“I’m coming back to the boardinghouse, Miss McCall, so I can visit you again. Mama said I could.”

Honor pressed her forefinger to her lips in a shushing gesture. The fact that Timmy wanted to sit beside her in church touched her deeply, but she wouldn’t allow him to misbehave.

“Don’t talk during the service, Timmy,” Honor whispered. “We can talk later.”

The child nodded and looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

Mrs. Peters leaned toward her. “Are you going to join the church tonight?” she whispered. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

Honor leaned closer to Jeth’s mother and whispered in the older woman’s ear, “Mrs. Peters, now what did you say I was supposed to do?”

“Walk to the front of the church at the proper time and tell Jethro you want to join this church.”

“Just go forward?”

“Yes. You’ll do it tonight, won’t you?”

“Of course.” A lump in her throat made swallowing difficult. “I said I would and I will.”

Honor hated the thought of walking to the front of the church. Everyone would be watching her. What if she stumbled and fell? Or made some other mistake?

Why had she said she would do this? She glanced toward the entry door, wishing she could walk outside and wait in the buggy.

Jeth stood behind the podium, looking as handsome as ever. He’d said a lot of things about salvation and being born again. Now he was talking about joining the church. Apparently, salvation and joining the church were different, but Honor didn’t understand what that difference might be. Jeth continued talking, but Honor couldn’t focus on anything he was saying.

Mrs. Peters elbowed Honor in the ribs. “It’s time to go forward.”

Frowning doubtfully, Honor glanced at Jeth’s mother.

“Go on,” Regina Peters whispered. “It’s time.”

Honor rose from the pew. Stepping in front of Timmy, she stood in the aisle, hesitating a moment. As her aunt would have said, she needed time to gather her wits about her.

She felt everyone watching as she trudged toward the podium. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lucy Jordan and her mother sitting near the front of the chapel. Now was not the time to fall on her face.

H
onor crept down the center aisle of the church while the organist played “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Jeth waited behind the podium. He grinned as she moved toward him, but she felt too unsure and shaky to smile back.

She’d never liked being the center of attention. Stepping forward to join the church made her feel more like an actress on a very big stage than a maid working at a boardinghouse.

Jeth was framed on both sides by large, bronzed vases filled with evergreen branches and pinecones. Woodsy aromas floating out from the arrangements did little to calm her nerves.

Jeth’s commanding presence behind the podium made Honor think of a general about to send his troops to war. But she wasn’t a Christian soldier. Nor was she prepared for battle.

Still smiling, Jeth stepped down from the platform. “What is your desire tonight, Miss McCall?” He took her trembling hands in his and held them. “Salvation?”

Honor swallowed. “I just want to join this church.”

“I see.” He released her hands, looking slightly disappointed. “Well, why do you want to join?”

“Because I want to learn more about God.”

“Very well.” Jeth nodded. “I’ll introduce you to the congregation, then.”

Honor was never able to remember anything else that was said inside the church that evening. It all vanished in a swirl of embarrassment and a sense of failure. She hadn’t said what Jeth had wanted to hear.

Though she still didn’t fully understand what the word
salvation
meant, she should have requested it, then joined the church. That was the pattern in this congregation, and it was what Jeth wanted. It was probably what she wanted. But it was too late.

Walking to the buggy after the service, she was still in a daze. She remained distracted when Mrs. Peters stopped to introduce her to a stocky, middle-aged woman.

“This is Mrs. Belinda Grant,” Jeth’s mother said.

Honor saw dark salt-and-pepper hair, but she noticed little else, until she heard Mrs. Grant’s giggle. It caught Honor’s attention and made her almost want to giggle back.

Mrs. Peters gestured toward the jolly woman. “Mrs. Grant is a widow, who will be moving into the boardinghouse tomorrow, Miss McCall, to serve as your chaperone.”

Honor glanced at Regina Peters in surprise. “My what?”

“Your chaperone. Remember, I told you we needed one. It wouldn’t do for a single woman to live at the boardinghouse unchaperoned. I’ll be leaving for Pine Falls now.”

Slowly, Lucas opened his eyes and glanced around. He’d done it again—passed out on the floor.

The odors in the room of rotting fruit and dirty clothes, gagged him. He coughed, then held his nose to block the smells. Lucas staggered to his feet, then braced himself against the wall. He opened the window and poked out his head.

An icy breeze diminished slightly the nasty odors coming from in the room and chilled Lucas to his bones. Shivering, he breathed deeply in and out. The fresh air revived him a little.

When he felt strong enough, he gathered the spoiled food and other garbage and threw the entire mess out the window. He would need to wash his dirty clothes if he expected the room to become livable.

Gazing out the window again, he tried to ignore the smelly rubbish and trash on the street below. But he couldn’t overlook the hunger calling from his belly. He was unable to remember the last time he had had a real meal and he supposed that he should eat before reporting for work at the saloon.

The sky had turned to gold, and the sun sparkled above the mountains, indicating early morning. But hadn’t he arrived from church around noon?

Lucas shook his head. He must have slept all day and all night, missing work—again. Mr. Skipworth would not be pleased. In fact, unless Lucas came up with a good excuse for not showing his face at the saloon, he would be fired.

Lucas dressed and prepared for work. On his way out, he grabbed the borrowed suit and tie. As he tossed them over his arm, the Bible fell to the floor. He kicked it out of the way and raced outside. Downstairs, on the street in front of the store, he turned and went into a little shop for food. He bought a small loaf of bread and two sausages. Then he hurried down the street. As he moved along, he ate his meal and planned the lies he was going to tell his boss.

The saloon wasn’t open in the morning, but sometimes Mr. Skipworth left the door unlocked. If it was open now, Lucas could sneak in and do a few chores before his boss arrived. The effort might be enough to enable him to keep his job.

His brain seemed hazy and off course. Still, he should come up with another plan in case this one didn’t work.

Lucas could say he had to bury his other sister, Clara. Or perhaps a brother or an uncle might work better this time. For all Mr. Skipworth knew, he could have several brothers and uncles, five sisters or more.

His “my sister just died” excuse had worked once. Why not again?

Lucas went down the narrow alley behind the saloon. Cans and boxes heaped with garbage lined both sides. The sickening odor was strong.

He reached for the doorknob and jiggled it a little before giving it a turn. The door opened and he went right in.

The dishes must have been washed and put away before closing time the previous night, meaning he couldn’t do his job now. Still, clean glasses had to be put on the bar out front before the saloon opened for business. He would do that.

Lucas tossed the borrowed suit and tie on a barrel, got a big wooden tray from the cupboard near the hand pump and began putting glasses on it. The tray could easily hold twelve glasses, but Shorty, another man who worked at the saloon, had said to never put more than ten on at one time. Well, Shorty wasn’t here. Lucas placed two more on the tray. This would save him an extra trip to the front.

He lifted the tray. It seemed heavier than he had expected. How could two extra glasses make such a difference? He set the tray on a table by the stove.

Lucas removed one of the glasses, poured a shot of whiskey into it and gulped it down. The drink did him so much good that he decided to have another, and another. At last he sat down on the cold floor, leaned against the cupboard and drank directly from the bottle.

Some time later, the sound of people talking alerted him that he wasn’t alone. He straightened up and looked around. Little sunlight entered the darkened room’s one window, but anyone who came in would see him sitting there.

“I’ll get the oil for the lamps,” he heard Shorty say.

Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor, and they were getting louder. Lucas got to his feet and kicked the partly filled bottle under the cupboard. Gold liquid spilled out and sloshed on the floor. The odor of whiskey would be impossible to miss.

Shorty came into the room.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“I’d asked ya the same question,” Lucas said. “You never come in this early.”

“I’m helping the boss with a few things. And keep your voice down, will ya? He might hear.” Shorty sent Lucas a look of disgust. “You smell like whiskey. Why are you here?”

“I—I came in early to help out.”

“Came in early? You’ve got a lot of gall showing your face here at all, Scythe, after not coming in for work.”

“My, my sister died and—” Lucas struggled to form his lie.

“Your sister died the last time,” Shorty scoffed. “You better dream up a better story.”

“It was my other sister. And what’s so terrible about missing one night of work?”

“One night? Are you crazy? Today’s Tuesday. You haven’t showed up here since Friday.”

“It was my other sister what died. The funeral was yesterday.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out the back door and never come back. I don’t think you’ll want to know what the boss might do if he finds you here.”

“But he owes me money,” Lucas whined.

“Unless you’re wearing padded trousers, I would leave before he kicks you out,” Shorty advised.

“Shorty!” Mr. Skipworth called from the bar area of the saloon. “Hurry up with the oil and get in here. I need help.”

“I’ll be right there, boss!” Shorty glared at Lucas. “This is your last chance, Scythe. If I don’t go out right now, he’ll be back here to find out why. And I won’t be responsible for what might happen next.”

“But what about the money and—?” Lucas pointed to the wrinkled suit and tie, draped over the beer barrel. “And I need to return his clothes.”

“Leave ’em and go.” Shorty moved to the door. Opening it, he held the door wide for Lucas. “Don’t even think about the money. From the looks of that suit, you owe him some.”

Lucas staggered to the door and went out. When he turned around, Shorty slammed the door shut.

Lucas squinted at the morning sun. Only a few clouds overhead broke up a blue sky. He walked back down the alley, trying to formulate a plan as he went. If he sold the pearls, he might have enough to live on for a while, but sooner or later, he would have to find another job if he expected to continue living in Pine Falls and searching for Honor.

He turned right and went on. At the corner of the street, tables and chairs had been placed outside, in front of a small café. People in coats and hats sat drinking coffee and talking. Lucas thought it was much too cold to be at an outdoor restaurant, but apparently, the folks sitting there didn’t agree.

His gaze fell on a pretty young woman with dark hair seated alone at a table. She reminded him of his sister, Clara, but of course it couldn’t be her. Strange, he’d just been talking about Clara. The table next to hers was vacant. He took it. Lucas could use a cup of coffee.

The young woman turned and eyed him carefully. He knew he’d been peering at her and decided to apologize.

“Forgive me for staring, ma’am,” he began, “but you remind me of my sister. I ain’t seen her in a long time, and she’d be a lot older than you are by now.”

She nodded and looked down at her coffee.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anybody who might be interested in buying a pearl necklace, would ya?”

She glanced his way again. “I might. Have you got one to sell?”

“I sure do. And the pearls are real, too. Genuine. I also have a nice Bible for sale. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes.” She leaned toward him as if she expected him to hand the items to her.

“Well, I ain’t got them with me right now,” Lucas said. “But if you’ll tell me where you live, I’ll come by later and show you what I got.”

She shook her head. “That’s impossible. But if you would like to bring them here to our café, I work every afternoon between two and five.”

Lucas glanced at the red door of the restaurant. “You mean you own this café?”

“My husband and I do.” She rose from her chair. “If you will excuse me, I must go inside now and see how things are going. I would like to see the pearls and the Bible, though, if you decide to bring them by.”

“I’ll try to be here this afternoon.”

As she walked inside, he realized she was expecting a baby.

Lucas didn’t wait for coffee, but hurried back to his room to get the pearls. They were in a wooden box, tucked under a shirt in the chest of drawers.

He raced inside and pulled out the drawer. He’d forgotten that since he’d last opened it, he’d removed his last clean shirt. The box was there, but it was open—and the pearls were gone!

On Wednesday after an early lunch, Honor helped Jeth harness his horses to the buggy and load his mother’s bags in the back. Mrs. Peters would be catching the noon stage for Pine Falls.

Jeth’s mother settled into the seat up front with her son. She wore a new, navy wool traveling-dress, one that Miss Lucy Jordan had made, and a store-bought blue hat with a veil. Honor thought the woman looked lovely and smelled as sweet as roses.

“You look so nice in your new dress, ma’am,” Honor said, “so stylish, too.”

Jeth’s mother cocked her head. “Do you really think so?”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

Mrs. Peters smiled her thanks, then turned to her son. “We should go now, Jethro. I wouldn’t want to arrive too late and miss the stagecoach.”

Honor glanced at Jeth. He wore a new suit, dark brown with a matching vest. He’d said he needed a new suit to preach in, but Honor hadn’t known he’d already bought one.

Mrs. Belinda Grant sat with Honor in the back seat of the carriage. They had removed their white aprons for the trip to the depot, but they still wore their ordinary work clothes under their coats.

Dr. Harris was waiting for them at the depot—all slicked up in what also looked like new clothes. He wore a brown suit, tan boots and a tan hat. Looking more like a cowboy than a doctor, he was checking his pocket watch when the buggy stopped.

Jeth was tying the reins when the doctor rushed up and lifted Regina Peters from the buggy. He let her down slowly, looking into her eyes the entire time. Then the doctor kissed her on the forehead before setting her on her feet.

“You’re gonna write me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Honor heard him ask.

“Every day, my love,” Mrs. Peters said.

“I’m going to miss you,” the doctor said.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the stagecoach.

Honor glanced at Jeth. He didn’t appear to be as touched by their sweet goodbye as she’d been. Maybe he wasn’t affected at all. Then she noticed his tight jawline, and thought he looked downright aggravated. Did romantic overtures make him uncomfortable? Honor watched him hustle around to the back of the wagon, where he got his mother’s carpetbags and carried them toward the stagecoach.

Dr. Harris turned and met him halfway. “Let me help you with those.”

“That’s all right, Doctor. I’ve got ’em,” Jeth said curtly.

When his mother was loaded on the stagecoach and the carriage was on its way toward Pine Falls, Jeth shook the doctor’s hand. “Glad you came,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Honor knew Jeth liked and respected Dr. Harris. She couldn’t understand why he suddenly seemed so resentful toward the man his mother loved and planned to marry.

Jeth had told her that he’d never known his father. Was that the reason he was acting so coolly now? Could it be that he felt left out? Lonesome? Betrayed? His mother had someone now, but he no longer had anyone.