Jeth saw his mother’s cheeks turn a rosy pink as she came to the doctor’s side. Dr. Harris pulled a chair next to his own and draped his arm across the back. “Sit right here, Regina, where I can keep you close.”
She ducked her head shyly, then sat down and blushed some more.
Jeth’s grin grew and he felt excitement at what he thought would be good news. “Are you two getting married?”
“You betcha,” the doctor said.
“When?”
“Right after the first of the year.”
Jeth rose from his chair. “Congratulations.” He went around the table and hugged them both. “I couldn’t be happier.” He gave his mother an extra squeeze. “But why wait?”
The doctor grinned at Regina. “Your mama said she has some things she has to do first. Promises to keep.” Dr. Harris turned his smile on Jeth. “And we want you to perform the ceremony. Will you, son?”
Jeth nodded. “I would be honored. Welcome to the family, Doctor.”
“Welcome to my family, son.” The doctor patted Jeth on the back. “I guess you’ll really be my son soon, won’t you.”
“Yes, sir. I guess I will.”
Jeth was glad his mother had found love again after all these years, and he’d always liked Dr. Harris. But he couldn’t help wondering what would become of the boardinghouse after his mother married.
Should he start looking for a new place to live?
Chapter Six
Late-afternoon shadows darkened the cream-colored walls of Honor’s bedroom. She barely noticed. Turning on her side to examine Jeth’s face, she struggled to keep the heavy, brown and rose-colored patchwork quilt over her shoulders. The wood-burning stove wasn’t lit, but she felt warm and safe under the covers.
Again, Jeth sat in the chair by her bed. His dark, curly hair looked thick and shiny. Lights flickered in his blue eyes.
Honor owed Jeth and his mother a huge debt of gratitude for finding her on the road when they did. However, she still hoped to leave as soon as possible. Next time she wouldn’t write a letter revealing her plans. Nor did she intend to give any information about her past.
Jeth leaned forward as if he had something important to say. “Are you all right, Miss McCall?”
He placed his hand on her forehead as he’d done before, and she felt his rough fingers.
“You don’t have a fever, ma’am. I sure am glad.”
She thought he looked a little flustered as he removed his hand. Had touching her face embarrassed him?
“Mama said you haven’t been sleeping well—that before you really came to yourself, you tossed and turned a lot. Once she heard you scream like you’d just had a bad dream. As a pastor, I would like to help, if I can. Is something bothering you?”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” she lied. “But what happened on the stagecoach was frightening. The dreams are probably the result of that, don’t you think?”
“That’s possible, of course.”
He cocked his head, and she wondered if he truly believed her explanations. Or did he know her for the thief and liar she actually was?
“Would you like me to send a message to your uncle so he’ll know what happened to you?” he asked. “I think it might help.”
“My uncle?” Honor stiffened. “No! Don’t write him!”
She thought his steady gaze had a skeptical edge to it, and she immediately regretted her response. It had been too emotional, too strong. She should have spoken more calmly, given logical answers. Forcing a smile, Honor tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
“I would rather you not tell my uncle about the stage robbery or where I am,” she said softly, at last.
“Why not?”
She quickly searched her mind for an answer, a lie. “We quarreled and shouldn’t see each other for a while.”
“Very well.” Jeth frowned. “But you should know that I disagree with you. I think you should contact your uncle as soon as possible.” A skeptical expression remained on his face. “Nevertheless, I will honor your wishes.”
Her problems with her uncle went far beyond a mere quarrel. Still, it would be too embarrassing if churchgoing people like Jeth and his mother knew the real reasons she never wanted to see Lucas again. Not only would it hurt to admit that Lucas was an evil man, but also Honor didn’t want the Peters to know about her sins.
“Do you have any other relatives who I might contact?” Jeth placed his elbow on the arm of his chair and propped his chin in his hand. “Like a mother and a father?”
“My parents were missionaries living in Mexico when they died of a fever. I was too young to remember them. My two older brothers died when my parents did. My aunt and grandmother were the only relatives I had.”
He grew silent, but an expression that Honor identified as concern seemed to soften his eyes. Had her words affected him, perhaps more deeply than she could comprehend?
“It couldn’t have been easy growing up without parents.”
“No,” she said, “it wasn’t.”
His face looked tight and pinched, and he folded his hands loosely between his knees. “I never knew my father. He died soon after I was born. But at least I have a mother.”
“I had an aunt.” She looked away from Jeth. “Until now.”
In spite of a harsh life at the hands of her uncle, memories of her aunt’s humor and warmth filled her mind. She never knew how Aunt Harriet managed to rise above all her troubles, but she always did.
As more happy memories rose, Honor looked up at Jeth and smiled. “She told me things about my parents I’ll treasure forever.”
All at once, Honor had the desire to share some of those treasures with Jeth. “My aunt said my father called me his little Rose of Sharon, and sometimes Aunt Harriet did, too.”
Jeth had been gazing down at his black boots, but at her words he looked up into Honor’s eyes and smiled. “Rose of Sharon,” he repeated. “Why would they call you that?”
“My mother’s name was Sharon, and my middle name is Rose. For them, it might have seemed right to call me by that name.” She smiled. “The Rose of Sharon part could also have come about because one set of my grandparents was from Scotland. Rose sounds Celtic, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know, but you certainly have a Scottish look about you.”
Honor blinked. “Do I?”
He grinned. “With all that long auburn hair and those honey-brown eyes, I would say so. Rose of Sharon is the name of a flower that grows in Mama’s garden. But did you know the Rose of Sharon is also mentioned in the Bible?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“The term is found in the first verse of the second chapter of Song of Solomon.”
“I don’t know much about the Bible.”
He glanced down at his boots again. “I see.”
“But if it’s there, I guess that explains where the name came from.” She wondered if he was surprised to learn that she wasn’t a Bible scholar? Could it be that he was disturbed to realize she wasn’t a churchgoer, either? He should have guessed how things were at her home by what Lucas had said and done at the cemetery.
“As I said, my parents were missionaries,” she continued. “Aunt Harriet said the Good Book was very important to them.”
The young pastor seemed to have disappeared into another void of silence. Had she revealed more than she should?
At last, Jeth looked up again. He smiled, but to Honor his expression seemed counterfeit.
“Mama and I have been talking,” he said. “We would like to offer you employment.”
Employment? Honor was shocked. Who would want to hire her to do anything? She started to sit up, then remembered the importance of modesty and slipped under the covers once more. “Why me?” she asked.
“Mama needs someone to help around the rooming house here. And I need a helper to do odd jobs at the church.”
She lifted her head off the pillow, staring at him. “Just how odd are these jobs?”<
br />
He laughed. Leaning back in his chair, he appeared to relax—like he was enjoying himself. Then the humor slowly faded. A serious expression replaced the smile on his face. “Your duties at the church would mostly involve delivering food and messages.”
“And to whom would I be expected to deliver these things?”
“Members of our church.” Another brief smile surfaced. “The job could include cooking. You can cook, can’t you?”
“My, yes. I’ve done a lot of that.”
Jeth nodded. He slapped the wooden arm of his chair lightly, then he rose and went to the door. Honor thought he planned to leave, but he turned back and stood, as usual, with his hands behind his back and his legs spread.
“I know you can read and write,” he said. “You wrote us that note. But can you read well enough to teach someone else?”
“Of course.”
His face relaxed.
Feeling a blush rising, Honor focused on a brown square of the cotton quilt. “I might not be perfect, but I can read.”
“Sorry,” Jeth said. “I never intended to hurt your feelings or embarrass you. However, these days, some folks can’t read. I’d like you to help the adults in our congregation who want to learn, so they can read the Bible.”
“My late aunt was a schoolteacher before she married, and she made sure I learned to read and write. I also do figuring and numbers.”
His head cocked. “So, will you accept the job?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll need time to think about it.”
“Take all the time you want.” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. A small smile turned up the edges of his mouth, and a twinkle appeared in his eyes. “As long as I have your answer today, that is. Shall we say in one hour?”
Honor hesitated, considering his proposal. One hour? Was the man serious or teasing her? With Jeth, she never knew.
Before he left her room, Jeth told her more about the jobs. Honor gave him her decision. She would accept both positions…temporarily.
What other options did she have? Moreover, Jeth and his mother needed her, and they had been helpful and kind. She had to pay them back in some way.
Honor also set a task for herself: she would pay back the money she owed by Christmas. She wouldn’t make much, but with her room and board furnished, she should be able to save a little. She didn’t know if it would be enough to pay back her entire debt to the church by her deadline, as she so hoped, but she certainly planned to try.
The next afternoon, at a lake near Hearten, Lucas stopped to water his mare. He was thirsty himself, and his backside ached from the long hours of riding. Shifting in the saddle provided only some relief. Before dismounting, he leaned forward and pressed his hands on the saddle horn, taking most of his weight in his legs.
Cold and damp, Lucas got down from his horse. A wave of guilt swept over him, along with a thin sprinkle of frosty rain. Thinking about Harriet and all that had happened, his mind and heart were troubled, but he pushed away the memories. They demanded too much of him. Lucas didn’t need to change. He was fine the way he was.
Yet, he wished he’d never hit Honor and Harriet—or any woman, for that matter. Lucas always regretted his sins when he was sober, which was a good reason to have another drink. He pulled the flask from the inside pocket of his jacket.
He planned to pay a visit to the Sharp Ranch, hoping to find work. He chortled at the thought. If they needed someone to help them brew the alcohol they were so famous for, he was the man. Now, there was a job that he would like.
When he looked up again, he saw a skinny cowboy riding toward him on a swaybacked, bay gelding.
Lucas thought of the Bible and the necklace in his saddlebag. Maybe the cowboy would be willing to buy them. Lucas could probably get more money if he sold the pearls in Pine Falls, but if the cowboy bought the Bible, he’d have cash right away.
Every day, Dr. Harris paid a visit to Honor. A week after the stage robbery, he announced that she was well enough to do light housekeeping and to work at the church for a few hours a week.
Just getting out of bed was a chore for her. She couldn’t imagine what an entire day of work might be like.
Mrs. Peters had given Honor several dresses, and they all fit perfectly. Honor wouldn’t have to wear her late aunt’s tan wedding dress again until Sunday, when the family attended church. She put on a green, wool dress with a white cotton collar.
Honor had doubted that she was the right person for her new job since the day she accepted it. She worried still more as she combed her long hair and twisted it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Gazing at her reflection in the oval mirror with the maple frame, she concluded that she looked presentable.
After helping with breakfast in the big kitchen and dusting the upstairs bedrooms, Honor’s back hurt. Tendrils of her long red hair had pulled free of her bun and were falling in her eyes. Pushing them away with the back of her hand, she sighed deeply. If only a chair had been tied to her back so she could sit down and rest whenever she wanted.
Later, when Honor served the noon meal, Jeth didn’t join the other boarders in the big dining room. She wondered if perhaps he ate at the hotel in town. She hadn’t seen him at breakfast, either. Then she glanced out a window and saw him talking to his mother on the lawn outside.
In the kitchen after the middle-of-the-day dinner, Honor and Mrs. Peters, wearing long white aprons, stood in front of a tub of soapy water. While Jeth’s mother washed the pots, pans, plates, cups and silverware, Honor rinsed the items in a bucket of fresh water and dried them with a white cloth.
Mrs. Peters looked up from her dish-washing and glanced out a window. “Have you noticed how cold it’s getting outside? Look at the wind, blowing the branches of the trees. It could be snowing by nightfall.” She dried her hands on her apron. “Miss McCall, I’ve been meaning to tell you a little about the folks who live here. Now seems as good a time as any.”
“All right, ma’am.”
“Of course you already know my son, the minister. And since you dusted upstairs this morning, maybe you met Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Davis?”
“No, ma’am, I didn’t.”
“They probably went out for their morning stroll. They are sisters, you see, and very sweet. I know you’ll like them. Both are widows. And as I said, they live upstairs. I live upstairs, too. And besides your room, there are also two vacant rooms above the stairs and one available room downstairs. As you know, Jethro and Elmer live down here on the first floor. You probably haven’t met Elmer yet, but you will.
“Dr. Harris lives in town but eats most of his meals here,” Mrs. Peters explained. “Sometimes we have as few as four or five at mealtime. Counting you and I, that would make six or seven. Or we could have a dozen or more at every meal. You just never know. But there’s always plenty to do.”
Honor nodded. “I can see that.”
“Oh, and that reminds me. I need flour and a few other things from the store. Baker’s Grocery and Mercantile is just down the road. Jethro promised to drive into town to get what I need. And, Miss McCall, I want you to accompany Jethro today when he drives into town.”
Why did Mrs. Peters call her son Jethro when he preferred Jeth? And why did she think Honor needed an outing? Yes, she was tired, but regardless of her current physical condition, Honor was capable of finishing a day’s work without a long break.
“Besides, honey,” Mrs. Peters continued, “you look worn out.”
“I’m all right, ma’am, really I am.”
“Nonsense. You’ve worked hard today and deserve rest from your labors. Now, run along. Jethro will be leaving in a few minutes, and I expect you to go with him. You can wait for him in the parlor.”
Honor returned to her room to wash her face and comb her hair. Then she went downstairs and entered the parlor to wait for Jeth. It was the first time she’d visited that part of the boardinghouse, and she stood in the doorway for a moment to take in the large, well-decorated
room.
The parlor windows were edged with heavy, green drapes. Three overstuffed, gold chairs separated the sitting area from a pump organ. A bookcase lined the north wall, and a sturdy-looking desk with a lamp stood in one corner.
The snap and crackle of a fire burned in the fireplace, and there was a scent of smoke and pinecones in the air. Honor felt a sense of peace just looking at the red and yellow flames.
She settled onto the hunter-green settee and gazed at the organ. She wondered who played it. When she heard footfalls, she turned toward the sound. Jeth stood in the doorway. Honor smiled. He didn’t smile back.
“What’s wrong?” Honor stood. “Did I forget to pin back my hair or something?”
“It’s not your hair.” His jaw firmed, and his gaze shifted to the ceiling. When Jeth glanced back at Honor, a hint of anger gleamed in his eyes.
“What is it, then?” she asked.
“It’s your dress.”
“My dress?” Honor glanced down at the gathered skirt of her green outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s—” He glanced away again. “It was Selma’s, my late wife. She wore it on the day I asked her to marry me. She’d left some of her clothes here at the boardinghouse to be mended. That’s why some of her dresses weren’t burned in the fire.”
Honor stared at him. “Why wasn’t I told?” She continued to peer at him, waiting for him to say more, anything.
He stood before her and remained silent.
“I’m so sorry,” Honor said finally. “I—I didn’t know.” She spun around, heading toward the stairs. Before she could reach the first step, Jeth grabbed her arm.
“Whoa! Where are you going?”
“To my room—to change into something else.”
“No reason for that.” His grin looked forced, but at least he was smiling. “I told Mama to give Selma’s clothes to a person who needed them. It surprised me, that’s all, seeing you in the green dress. But I’ll get used to it.”
Molly Noble Bull Page 7
