Preston’s gaze skimmed over the light blue shirt. The kid must’ve had it stuffed in a bag because it was wrinkled like nobody’s business. And he must’ve made the cookies that he had instructed him to make, because he had flour on the front of his shirt, and now that Preston took time to notice, the scent of baked sugar did linger nicely in the air.
“I see you got the cookies made. Thank you.” Preston reached out to brush flour off Rory’s front shirt pocket. The kid recoiled so violently that his chair tipped over backwards and slid for several feet across the floor.
“I’ll get it!” Rory’s voice was an octave higher than normal.
Preston blinked.
The kid gave him a look that was at once apologetic and exasperated. “Sorry.” He brushed the flour from the front of his shirt and his face was pinker than a fresh–sliced summer watermelon.
Something niggled at the back of Preston’s mind. Something that he should be able to put his finger on, but couldn’t. He shook the thought away and turned to look at the test the boy had been crying over.
The boy had been crying over… Had he ever known a boy to cry over a test before?
Slowly his gaze lifted from the paper to study Rory once more. The kid had his back to him and had bent over to retrieve his chair, his shirt stretched tight across his back as he leaned down and through the material of his shirt Preston could see the ridges of a lighter band of color right below his shoulder blades, like…
Preston’s heart set to beating faster than a woodpecker on an insect riddled tree.
Dear God please tell me it’s not so.
But as his gaze skimmed her once more, he knew. Her…
The lighter band of color was from a binding cloth used to hide her…womanly…ness.
Aurora turned from picking up her chair and froze.
The parson was gaping at her like she’d just grown a second head.
Panic slivered through her. She didn’t know what had given her away, but she had no doubt that she’d just been found out. Her legs went weak and she sank into the chair she’d just put upright. What was going to happen to her now?
He shoved away from the table and set to pacing the room with his hands clasped behind his neck. “No! No, no, no! This can’t be happening.” He stilled and pegged her with a glower. “Tell me it’s not so!”
Rory frowned. Swallowed. Couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his gaze. Maybe she was panicking for no reason? “Tell you what’s not so?”
His gaze drifted over her and then he fell to pacing once more. He mumbled to himself, ticking a few things off on his fingers, and then he froze. “Oh, I am every kind of a fool!” He nailed her with a look. “You’re her, aren’t you? The very girl I came to the camp to help!”
Rory swallowed, mouth so dry no words would form.
He continued his accusation. “That boy, the one who was beating you up when Kin and I rode into camp, he said you were new to these parts. But later, you seemed almighty set on keeping the neighbor lady from seeing your face. And then you were more than happy to help me prepare the body for burial. What other preteen boy would’ve done that for a stranger?” He anchored one heel as a pivot point and continued his pacing and self-recrimination. “Stupid blind fool, Clay!”
Aurora trembled. At least none of his anger had been directed her way. Yet.
He pulled in a gulp of air. Then another. And another. Finally, he exploded with, “How could you do this?!”
She flinched, half way expecting a blow, but it never came.
Parson Clay towered over her. His eyes glittered like the sparks of flame given off by flint. “I’m still waiting for an explanation that I can accept.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I wanted to tell you, especially after your sermon on Sunday, but then you said…” The words withered and dried up beneath his parching glare.
He resumed his trek across the floor. “I can’t believe— My congregation is going to—” He emitted a sound that could only be interpreted as a growl, propped the heels of both hands against the wall and leaned into stiff arms, head hanging.
Aurora swallowed and waited.
His next words seemed to be spoken to himself. “I could lose my ministry here in Wyldhaven. Not only that, something like this could follow me for the rest of my life!” The parson straightened suddenly and spun to face her. Anger still sparked in his eyes. “What? You wanted to tell me, but I said…what?”
Rory’s lower lip trembled. “That you wouldn’t tolerate deception.”
Another growl escaped, this one even more feral than the last. “So, the very thing I said I would not tolerate, you did?!”
She had no reply for that.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me”—his hand swept from her head to her feet and back again in a gesture that indicated he couldn’t quite come up with an appropriate way to voice her gender—“right from the start?”
Aurora’s tears started again, but this time they were born more from anger. “I’d already made the decision to flee. My mother made me promise to, if you must know. And you, quite frankly, seemed like a godsend in the face of that boy’s bullying. You certainly seemed less dangerous than John Hunt.”
The parson’s gaze sharpened on her. “John Hunt? What do you know about him?” His face paled and he stepped back. “Please tell me you’re not a…”
Aurora shook her head. “No. But my mother was—not of her own choice, mind you. And he ensured she owed him money, which he would have demanded from me in the form of…services after she died.” She hesitated, but there was a burning question she needed the answer to. “How did you know?”
The parson’s shoulders slumped, as though shedding away the last of his hope. “I’ve never known a boy your age in my life who voluntarily took a bath! And you didn’t want me touching your—” he swept a hand in the general direction of her shirt, his face turning red as a baneberry, and his accusatory glower, just as poisonous.
Preston stepped to the window and stared across the moonlit yard. Every curse word that he had ever banished from his vocabulary wanted to spill from his lips. He clenched his teeth. This could be the end of his ministry. He’d had a girl living at his house. A girl that he was not married to. A girl that Kin was not married to. A girl! Living with two bachelors! He released a groan. “And Mrs. Hines thought she had something to gossip about before!”
Rory gave a soft sob.
He turned to study her.
She swiped tears from her cheeks. Very womanly cheeks that tapered down to soft full lips. Combined with large green eyes framed by long dark lashes. He called himself every kind of fool. How had he not seen that she was a woman?
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I wanted to tell you. Especially after last Sunday’s sermon. It’s only… I don’t have anywhere to go. And I thought maybe I could make it through till spring.”
“How old are you?”
She studied her clasped fingers. “Seventeen.”
Seventeen. Practically a woman! Did that make this better? Or worse?
He couldn’t think for the shock still coursing through him. All he knew was that she couldn’t stay here with them for another moment. “Get your things.” He gestured to the bedroom.
Her eyes widened. “You’re going to put me out?”
“Yes, I’m going to put you out!” He noticed his voice had grown in volume and with it the fear on her face. He took a calming breath. “But not like you’re thinking. Just get your things please, and meet me outside.”
He started for the barn, but paused partway across the room. “Did Kin ever come home today?”
She shook her head.
Preston grunted. Perfect. Like he needed one more thing to worry about!
He turned for the door, grabbing up his coat on the way out. “Hurry up and get your things.”
Hunt was seated at his usual place at the bar when his man, Samuel McGuff, entered and sank onto the stool next to him. Hunt sipped his d
rink. “Well?”
Samuel raised a finger to the barkeep, then pointed at the whiskey. “He wasn’t gonna do it. He left the nitro at the base of a tree just outside of camp. He sat there for a while and I almost thought he’d changed his mind, but then…” He shrugged. “He tried to make a run for it. I had to shoot him.”
Hunt cursed. “Did you kill him? What did you do with him?”
The bar keeper slid a half full glass into the space in front of Samuel.
Samuel shook his head. He downed the contents of the glass in one gulp before he replied, “He’s not dead. I locked him in the stone storage shed out back. Figured I’d come in and see what you wanted to do. We leave him there and he’ll most likely be dead by morning.”
Hunt grunted. “Leave him. I don’t have time to deal with such complications. But now I need you to ride to town and take care of this for me.”
Samuel’s eyes widened a little, but Hunt knew the man wouldn’t let him down.
“You know where he left that vial of nitro?”
Samuel nodded.
“Good. The parson always leaves the church unlocked. All you need to do is put that nitro by the stove. But I got to thinking, you better hide it with something. Wouldn’t want to take the risk of it being found before it blows. Maybe strap it to the underside of a chair. It might take it a few extra minutes to get warm enough to blow.” He paused as a thought registered and he chuckled. “Unless someone decides to move the chair. Then it won’t take long at all.”
Samuel swallowed. “Right. Strap it to the underside of a chair near the fire.”
Hunt nodded, then reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “There will be a hefty bonus waiting for you when you get back. And I’ll even guarantee you a week with Adelle, free of charge.”
Samuel gave Hunt an appreciative smile. “You can count on me, boss.”
Hunt smiled and sipped his drink as he watched Samuel step out into the dark.
Now it was time to start planning how he was going to expand his empire once the law was extinguished from this part of the country.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It didn’t take Aurora more than a minute to gather her belongings into the bandana they had been wrapped in when she first left Ma’s shanty. She tied the four corners into a knot and tucked the bundle under one arm.
She paused in the main room and gave the place a scan. It was quite tidy for the home of two bachelors. Not that Kin could really be considered a bachelor yet. He was the same age as her, if she’d figured right. She realized that she was actually going to miss saying goodbye to him. It had been nice having a “big” brother while it lasted. She’d always been an only child, and now she recognized she’d liked the feeling of camaraderie that had existed between Kin and her.
She wasn’t certain where the parson was taking her, but it seemed likely that she might not get to see Kin again. She wished he was here to give her a hard time about this whole situation. He would have known how to lighten the mood, somehow.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Best she get out to the barn before the parson came looking for her.
Parson Clay was waiting for her by the barn. She had hoped that the few minutes of separation would soften his irritation, even if only by a margin, but if anything, the hardness of his jaw and the glitter in his eyes indicated that he was even more angry than before.
“Can you ride?” he gritted, hardly even looking at her.
She nodded. “Well enough to stay on.”
He dipped his chin and held out a hand to help her mount. Had the situation been less tense she might have chuckled, for he had tossed her into the saddle without ceremony several times since her arrival.
He led the way out of the barnyard, the horses’ hooves making barely a sound in the dirt of the roadbed. Sparse clouds scuttled across the sky, blocking the starlight here and there. The breeze that blew was gentle, but in her thin shirt it seemed to cut like icicles. Though it didn’t take them long to reach Liora’s, Aurora was shivering by the time they arrived.
Again, like the most gallant of gentlemen, the parson helped her dismount. He glanced down at her. “You’re cold. Why didn’t you wear a coat?”
She shrugged. “The one I’ve been wearing at your place belonged to Kin.”
His shoulders drooped wearily. “Yet another failure on my part.”
Aurora frowned. Her heart pinched. She hated that she’d made him feel like a failure. “I didn’t mean to—”
He held up a hand to cut off her apology. “I mean to say, I apologize. I should have noticed and offered you a coat.” He wrapped the reins of both horses around the porch railing. “Let’s get you inside.”
Footsteps sounded in the yard behind them, and they both turned to find Joe approaching from the lean-to. Curiosity furrowed his brow. “Good evening.”
Parson Clay nodded. “Joe.” He glanced up toward the house. “Something’s come up. Could I speak to Liora for a few minutes?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah sure.” He led the way up the steps. “We just finished dinner. She and Tess are likely in the kitchen.”
Joe knocked on the front door, and it was only a few moments before Aurora heard the latch sliding from its place. Liora peered out at them. “Parson! And Rory. Please come in.” She stepped out of the way, holding the door for them.
Joe tipped his hat. “Evening to you.” It was obvious that he was headed back to the lean-to.
But Parson Clay reached out a hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay. I might need your advice.”
Joe’s gaze bounced between Aurora and the parson. He nodded and followed them into the room.
“Rory’s a girl.”
Aurora studied her feet. Parson Clay didn’t beat around the bush.
Audible gasps from three people filled the room. Aurora couldn’t lift her gaze to any of them. She kicked at a knot in the pinewood floor.
“You Molly McClure’s girl!” Tess exclaimed. “How’d I not see it?”
It was only a moment before Aurora felt Liora’s arm slip around her shoulders. “Oh honey. I knew there was something I should’ve realized about you last Sunday but I couldn’t quite pin it down. How old are you?”
Aurora chewed her lip and clutched her bundle of clothes a little closer. “Seventeen.”
All eyes in the room fell on the parson. He was twisting the brim of his hat through agitated fingers.
Joe broke the silence with a chuckle. “Well, I’ll be.” He grinned at Liora. “Looks like you and I will be off the gossip train for at least a couple days.”
The parson darted a razor-sharp glare at Joe. A muscle in his jaw bulged. “Cut it out, Joe. What am I going to do?”
Joe turned serious. “Seems like tomorrow’s gathering might be providential. You’re going to announce what happened. Say you brought her to Liora’s the moment you found out the truth. Which I assume is true?”
The parson looked hurt. “Of course it’s true!” His gaze narrowed on Aurora. “I only found out the truth five minutes before we rode out to head this way.”
Liora’s arm about her shoulders tightened. “You poor dear. What distress has you disguised as a boy?”
Aurora wasn’t sure she could get the whole story out without bursting into tears. And drat if just the thought of tears hadn’t summoned them. She covered her eyes with one hand, biting on her lower lip in an attempt to ground herself in the moment. There was nothing to cry about right here and now.
But it had been a terrible month. She’d been strong when Mama passed. Strong when she’d helped the parson prepare her for burial. Strong as she’d walked away from her grave.
She swiped tears and sniffed, gritting her teeth and willing herself to get under control, but her voice was useless to her in this state.
The parson’s voice was soft when he spoke. “She said she was running from John Hunt.”
Aurora darted him a glance and was surprised to see genuine compassion in the green of his
eyes.
Liora hissed out a breath. “I might have known that snake, Hunt, would be part of this. Do you owe him money?”
Aurora shook her head and managed, “Pa’s violin…should have…covered what…Ma owed.”
Liora wrapped both arms around her now, and squeezed Aurora to her side. “You did right to run. And I’m so glad that God brought you here. Come with me and I’ll show you to your room. We’ll get you some proper clothes to wear. Then you can tell me your story.”
Aurora couldn’t deny that donning a dress once more would be some comfort. She tossed a glance over her shoulder just before Liora led her from the main room. Joe and the parson were in deep conversation, and the parson’s gaze hadn’t left her.
But at least it had softened a touch.
Kin awoke in a dark room on a cold floor. He started to sit up, but then fell back with a cry of pain. With his fingers he carefully assessed the throb in his side. His shirt and pants were stiff and hard with blood. He guessed that might be a good sign. At least the bleeding had stopped.
He’d been shot?
He scrunched his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. Yes. He’d been shot. Then knocked out. He’d come to off and on as Hunt’s man had hauled him back to town. Draped across the front of the man’s horse, as he had been, the pain both in his head and his side had been severe and unforgiving. Each time he’d tried to stay awake, but each time a jostle or lurch had sent him back to the ease of blackness.
But now there was something he must think on. It swirled at the back of his mind, a phantom that couldn’t quite be grasped. He tried to fight through the blur of his thoughts. Something he needed to do before morning.
Morning… That thought pierced him with awareness. There was a task he needed to complete before morning. He pressed a finger and thumb to his eyes, willing away the weariness from his long night of carousing and the agony from his injuries.
He needed to concentrate. What was it he needed to concentrate on?
Beauty from Ashes (Wyldhaven Book 3) Page 20
