Molly Noble Bull (2 page)

Sitting up, Honor rubbed the palms of her hands across the oak pew and felt the strong yet rough texture of the wood. Her aunt had taken her to church every Sunday—until Lucas put a stop to it.

Harriet Scythe had been a churchgoing woman and a member of the choir, too. Lucas must have known how leaving the church would injure her, but then, hurting others appeared to give him a great deal of pleasure.

Her aunt had once told Honor that the folks at church had thought Lucas was a decent man before they married. Honor had wondered if he’d only pretended to be good and kind. Maybe he’d thought Aunt Harriet had money, since she’d inherited the cabin and the family farm. In any case, he’d managed to fritter away what little she once had, drinking and gambling at the saloon in town.

Aunt Harriet had never complained about anything. But her bruised arms and swollen, red eyes had told Honor all she needed to know.

As Honor sat in the church, remembering, her eyes grew heavy. She yawned, and stretched out again on the pew. Despite herself, a few minutes later, she was asleep.

A sound woke her just before daylight. She jerked, finding herself half on, half off the pew. Pulling herself back onto the wooden bench again, she stiffened and became still. She held her breath.

Had someone entered? Was it Lucas? Honor coiled into a tight ball. The church was silent once more. A few minutes later, she slept again.

Something brushed her face. Honor was instantly awake. She sat up, looking around. A soft
thump
sounded,
and she turned in time to see a white cat disappearing behind a stairway leading to the choir loft. Honor sighed in relief. It wasn’t Lucas.

Aunt Harriet would say she should pray if she hoped to survive this terrible ordeal. But if there really was a God, He seemed far away to Honor. She was on her own in getting out of this trouble. Since she would not go back to the cabin,
not ever,
and she couldn’t remain in Falling Rock, Colorado, Honor had to get away. Yet where would she go? And who would take her in?

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but before they could fall, Honor sniffed. There didn’t appear to be a safe place in the world where she could rest her head, but she refused to cry. She had to think.

She needed a job, but employment choices for a young woman were few. She didn’t have enough skills to become a schoolteacher, and she wouldn’t become a saloon girl. So what did that leave? Nothing that she could think of.

A bookshelf, attached to the back of the pew in front of her, held two hymnals, one new and one old and worn. Honor took the new songbook in both her hands. The brown cover smelled fresh. She opened to the first page. In the pale light of early morning, she squinted at the dedication.

Honor ran her fingers down the smooth, white page, studying the inscription. Were there really men in the world who could love a woman the way this nameless
husband seemed to have loved his wife? Men were good at pretending. Lucas had taught her that. She put the hymnal back on the shelf and turned to gaze out the windows.

The morning sun still hid beyond the horizon, but the eastern sky was bright. A golden light edged the hills at the end of the street and it glinted on a collection plate in the center of a table directly under a window.

Would there be money in that plate?

Of course not. What pastor worth his salt would leave money in an unlocked church? That would be like opening the door to every outlaw for miles around. Still, what if money
was
left there? And what if she took some?

Honor hated to even consider the thought. Her aunt would have said that such musings were sinful. Yet Honor remembered her aunt also telling her that the collection money went to pay for the pastor’s keep and to help the poor and needy. Well, who needed money more than Honor?

The right thing to do would be to wait until the preacher came in for the day and ask him for financial help. But if she waited, she could miss the early morning stage out of town.

Biting her lip, she deliberated. Thieves deserved to go to hell. Sinful thoughts came from the devil. Lucas never allowed Aunt Harriet to pray openly or study the Good Book, but she’d managed to teach Honor the Ten Commandments. And Honor knew stealing was a sin.

But what if she vowed to pay back all the money someday? Considering recent events, surely God would understand.

On the chance that money waited in that silver plate, Honor crept to the window. Even at a distance, she could see several coins and a number of bills. Her throat tightened. Her fingers shook as she reached her hands forward and scooped up all of the money they could hold. As she turned back to the wooden bench, she heard someone coming.

Trembling, she slipped into the nearest pew and stretched out to hide. The faint
tap, tap
of footsteps on the brick floor drifted up from the entry of the church. Honor dared not move.

A
man and woman whispered to each other as they moved down the aisle of the church. Honor held her breath. Now what? The squeak of old wood told her that they had selected a pew not far behind her. The scent of lilacs filled the air.

“Annie,” Honor heard the man say. “I know your poor old bones are tired, because mine are, too. But, honey, do you really think it’s all right for us to sit in here ’til the stage leaves? Why, we ain’t even members of this church.”

“A church is God’s house, Simon, no matter where it is,” the woman answered. “Besides, I reckon if you put something in the plate—under that there winder—it should take care of everything.”

Honor froze. If the man named Simon came over to the window to put money in the plate, he might be able to see her crouched on the pew. Slowly, not making a sound, she inched along the pew, out of the light coming in from the window and into the shadows.

“Well, Simon. Are you gonna put something in or ain’t you?”

Simon groaned. “Oh, all right. I’ll put in a coin or two if that will satisfy you.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“So now I’m ‘dear,’ huh?”

Another squeak of the wooden bench indicated that the man had left the pew and was headed for the window. Honor shut her eyes. A minute later, the bench creaked again. She didn’t feel safe, but at least she hadn’t been discovered yet.

For the next hour, Honor learned more about Annie and Simon than she cared to know. Their conversation held no interest for her, but it assured her that they were harmless. The elderly couple planned to visit their daughter in Pine Falls. Honor wondered if she had enough money to travel that far. She still hadn’t counted her loot.

Loot? Why, I’m nothing more than a common thief, she thought.

A lump lodged in her throat when she contemplated what she’d become. Not in her worst nightmare had she ever envisioned that she would stoop so low.

Simon’s offering in the silver plate couldn’t possibly add up to the amount of money Honor had taken. A feeling of shame swept over her. She wanted to tell God she was sorry for what she’d done, but she didn’t know how. The only prayer that Honor knew was one Harriet had taught her before they stopped going to church, and years had passed since she’d recited that one.

But she remembered how it began.
Our Father, who art in Heaven.

The sun had risen over the horizon now and was beaming through the east window. Inching back along the pew, closer to the light, Honor reached for a hymnal. When Lucas wasn’t around, sometimes her aunt had enjoyed singing hymns as she did her daily chores. She said that church music gave her strength.

Strength. Honor could use some of that.

Flipping through the songbook, she didn’t find any of the hymns her aunt had once sung, but she noticed some blank sheets of paper near the back of the book, titled “Note Pages.”

She considered using one of the sheets to compose a note, a letter to members of the church. And what better place to write it than the back of a hymnal? She reached for the pencil that was in a slot on the bookshelf, and began to write.

Honor placed the songbook back on the shelf. She was wondering if there was a way for her to count her money without making a sound, when the bell in the tower suddenly pealed six times. Honor flinched each time. Somebody had to be pulling the rope to ring that bell, but she hadn’t heard a sound above her all night long. Yet, someone other than Annie and Simon was nearby. The minister? If he came down and saw her in the church or the churchyard, might he stop her from leaving?

The bench behind her squeaked, cutting off her racing thoughts. Honor didn’t move a muscle.

“Wake up, Simon,” Annie said. “It’s time to go.”

“What? Oh. Well, I wasn’t asleep no-how.”

“You were, too.”

“No, I was just resting my eyes,” Simon insisted.

“You can rest your eyes when we get on the stage.” There was fond exasperation in the woman’s voice. “Get up now, Simon. We have to get out of here. It’s six o’clock. The stage leaves at six-thirty, and we still have to buy our tickets.”

The bench creaked several times. Then Honor heard the
tap, tap
of their shoes as they moved back up the aisle. When the heavy front door of the church closed, Honor cautiously sat up and began to quietly count her money.

She had ten dollars and fifty-one cents, more than she had dreamed of finding. She could go to Pine Falls, for sure. That much money might take her all the way to Denver.

She’d almost reached the entry of the church when she saw the shape of a man in the shadows to the left of the door. Though she couldn’t actually see him, she felt him—and there was something in the air between them, a kind of regret. Was it coming from him? Or was it her distress?

Guilt engulfed her. Did he know what she’d done? Would the man try to stop her to recover the money? She hesitated by the door, waiting to see what he might do. But he never said a word.

“I’m sorry,” Honor whispered.

Without saying more, she raced out the door and down the path toward the livery stable where stagecoach tickets were sold. Once the stage pulled out, she would never have to see Lucas or Falling Rock, Colorado, again.

Honor waited in the carriage with Annie and Simon for the fourth passenger to arrive. The silver-haired couple looked older than she had expected, and she learned that their last name was Carr. Honor couldn’t help liking them, but she wished they weren’t so talkative.

The red velvet interior of the carriage looked new, and, although the back of the seat was wooden, the bench was padded.

Honor had heard that within a year, the railroad would be coming to Falling Rock. Tracks were being laid
throughout the state, and stagecoaches could soon become outdated. A stagecoach had brought Honor to Colorado after her parents died, but she was too young to have a clear memory of that journey.

Now, fidgeting with the small velvet bow at the neck of her dress, she waited for the fourth passenger. She wished she had a hat with a net veil like Annie Carr’s little black one. Honor also admired the string of pearls around the older woman’s neck.

Aunt Harriet had had a pearl necklace that she’d inherited from Honor’s grandmother, but one day it vanished. Lucas was behind the disappearance, of course.

Proper ladies wore pearls and store-bought hats, not homemade print bonnets like Honor’s. But there wasn’t much cause for Honor to worry about becoming a lady now.

The driver had explained that the fourth passenger would be delayed as a result of unforeseen circumstances. Honor hoped whoever it was would hurry and be done so they could leave. Lucas could come looking for her at any moment.

When she heard a
click
at the door, she looked up expectantly, and then recoiled.
Lucas!
Trembling, she pressed back and covered her mouth with her hand to keep from shrieking.

In the next moment, she saw that it was the minister who’d prayed at her aunt’s grave, standing outside the carriage in his gray suit. He looked so much like a younger version of Lucas that for an instant, she’d thought he
was
her aunt’s husband.

Standing in the street, with one hand on the door handle, the handsome young man smiled warmly at the passengers in the carriage. “Sorry to have kept you nice folks waiting. Jeth Peters,” he said, leaning through the door, offering Simon Carr his hand, which the older gentleman took in a friendly shake. Jeth identified himself as the pastor of a church over in Hearten.

When Simon finished introducing his wife, Annie, Jeth turned his gaze on Honor for the first time. His smile fell away. “I want to express my sympathy once again for the loss of your aunt,” he said.

Annie and Simon glanced at each other, then at Honor. She recognized the expression of sympathy in their eyes.

“Reckon we’re sorry, too, miss,” Simon said.

Honor’s heart squeezed. “Thank you.” She ducked her head, trying not to look at Jeth.

Was he the man from the church who’d hid in the darkness? Had her sin been discovered? Did he know what she’d done? When Honor glanced up, finally meeting his sky-blue eyes, the warmth in them suggested he wasn’t concealing thoughts about her. But who could be sure?

Jeth climbed into the carriage and took a seat beside Honor. “I don’t believe you told me your name at the burial yesterday. May I know it now?”

“My name is Honor. Honor Rose McCall.”

“Honor.” He smiled. “I like that.”

Why had she told him her real name? She could have lied. Now it would be easier for Lucas to find her.

“Honor is a good character trait to have,” he went on, “and one we should all live by. Are you on your way to Pine Falls?”

“Yes,” Honor said a little too sharply, and pressed her lips together.

Jeth turned his gaze to the Carrs. “And where are you folks headed?”

“We’re going to Pine Falls, too,” Annie said, “and we’ll be gone for quite a spell. We’ll be home by Christmas, though.” She turned to her husband. “Won’t we, Simon?”

“We sure better.”

Annie Carr looked back to Jeth. “Did I hear you say you were a preacher?”

A grin started in Jeth’s blue eyes. “That’s right.”

Annie’s wrinkled lips turned up at the edges in reply. “Reckon you could answer some questions about the Bible?”

“Watch out, Preacher,” Simon put in. “My Annie is a longwinded woman when it comes to Scripture.”

Jeth chuckled under his breath as Annie Carr began asking her questions. Honor glanced out the window on her side of the coach.

A quaint little log cabin with a peaked roof stood on a hill. It reminded Honor of the clock her grandmother had sent to Aunt Harriet for a wedding gift. Grandma McCall was dead now, but when she sent the present, she wrote that she’d bought it from an Amish wood-carver during a visit to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

Painted statues of a little man and woman inside the clock had captivated Honor as a child. She’d spent hours in front of the clock, sitting cross-legged on the floor,
waiting for the toylike couple to come out of their little house to check the weather.

Sometimes, the statues stayed out on their front porch for a while. At other times, they went right back inside and shut the door.

Honor was like that, too.

She’d been a happy, winsome child who loved playing in the sunshine—until Lucas came into her life. After that, she went inside herself and only came out occasionally to see if things had changed. Nothing ever did.

An image of Honor and Lucas sharing a house together as man and wife flashed through her brain. Her heart constricted.

Lucas couldn’t force her to marry him, but if he found her, he would whip her. Could she survive another of his beatings?

Aside from fearing him, she was disturbed and disgusted by the thought of seeing Lucas again. She knew she would always feel that way.

The stagecoach rocked, bumping Honor against the door. Holding herself stiffly on the bench, she gazed out the window again. They would be driving south from Falling Rock through what the ticket agent had called “rugged country.” There was to be a stop in Hearten, then on to Pine Falls. Some of the trees were leafless. Others were alive with all the fall colors—red, orange, yellow, gold and shades of rusty brown.

The ticket agent had explained that traveling through the hills would not be easy. The roads were rocky and there were numerous low-water crossings. Nevertheless, Honor loved the beauty that surrounded her.

“God gave us a good world to live in, didn’t He, Miss McCall?”

It was Jeth Peters who spoke, and Honor turned to face him, nodding a quick reply. She hadn’t realized the minister was sitting there watching her. She wondered how long he’d been doing so.

“I noticed you looking out at the scenery,” he continued, “and I figured you must enjoy the magnificence of nature as much as I do.”

“Yes.” Glancing away again, she squeezed her hands together tightly. She didn’t care to talk. She hoped he’d take the hint.

“White-topped mountains are peaceful looking,” he said. “Aren’t they?”

She turned back again, nodded, and then looked away once more.

“It’s real peaceful over in Hearten, too, where I live,” he went on. “The stage will be stopping there before going on to Pine Falls. Hope you have time to look around before you have to get back on the stagecoach. Have you taken this route before, ma’am?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then let me prepare you.”

When he leaned a bit closer, she flinched and pressed her shoulder against the side of the carriage. A hint of puzzlement crossed his face, but then his expression became sober.

“The first creek will be easy to cross,” he explained. “But some of the rivers ahead are deeper. The currents will be swifter.”

“Are you trying to scare me, Preacher?” she asked.

“Not at all.” He chuckled, and a twinkle gleamed in his eyes. “Still, a person should know what to expect.”

They crossed the first creek easily, just as Jeth had predicted. The banks held only a trickle of water. What he’d said about the rivers worried her, though, because she’d heard that a stagecoach could be swept away by the rapids in an instant.

Annie and Simon Carr had fallen asleep. Simon snored; the echo of it filled the carriage.

Jeth laughed softly, sharing his amusement with Honor. She smiled back, giving herself permission to relax. The stress she’d felt since Aunt Harriet died slowly began to melt.