by Renee Ryan
Amelia fiddled with one of the buttons at the neck of her dress.
Was this the woman Beau had once wanted to marry? The woman who had turned him down?
Beau shifted to look at the stern-looking gentleman and offered his hand. “Jim, that is, Reverend Smith, I understand congratulations are in order.”
“Amelia and I were married two months ago.” There was a flash of derision in Reverend Smith’s eyes as he pumped Beau’s hand. Behind the contempt was a challenge, as if he were saying, Ha, the better man won after all.
“I bet you could build a mighty large snowman in that bedroom,” Mavis whispered through her teeth.
Hannah shushed her.
Taking notice, Amelia’s gaze shifted to Hannah. Her eyes turned flat and her nose went up. “And who is this?” she asked.
Beau boldly took Hannah’s hand and gently drew her forward to join him. “This is Miss Hannah Southerland. She is a dear friend of my family’s.” Still holding her hand, he gave Hannah a smile that spread warmth all the way through her. “And of mine.”
Amelia didn’t seem impressed. In fact, her eyes bulged and then narrowed. “A family friend, you say?”
“Yes,” Beau said, with a flick of iron in his tone. “She tours with the same acting company as my brother.”
“I see.”
Hannah had a strong urge to slap the smirk off Amelia’s face. But she held back. She had experienced this sort of petty reaction before, especially once her profession was revealed. She wasn’t here to start an argument. And after the turmoil of the past week, she just wanted to forget about herself and focus on praising the Lord.
Obviously finished with Hannah, Amelia’s eyes searched the rest of their group. The moment her gaze landed on Mavis, she gasped, blinked hard and then whispered to her husband in a furious manner.
Hannah’s heart dropped to her toes when she heard the words “prostitute” and “how dare he bring that person here.”
Mouth thin, Reverend Smith stuck out his chest. “Reverend O’Toole,” he said in a haughty tone that carried halfway down the block. “You cannot bring that woman in here.” He pointed directly at Mavis.
Hannah tugged her hand free of Beau’s and rushed to Mavis, shifting her slightly behind her. “Mavis is a remarkable woman and I’m honored to call her friend,” she said.
Amelia lifted her chin higher still. “I know for a fact that woman worked in the brothel at Laramie. I did charity work there once. One doesn’t forget a woman like that.”
Reverend Smith clicked his tongue in disapproval. “That makes her a—”
“Don’t say another word, Jim,” Beau warned. There was a quick flash of rage on his face, and almost as quickly it was banked.
His control was impressive.
Just then, a bell tolled the top of the hour. People continued to rush past them as they made their way inside the building. Most looked at their unhappy little group, but none stopped to speak to them.
“Service is starting. We must get inside, Amelia,” Reverend Smith said, pivoting on his heel.
Amelia followed suit.
“Not so fast,” Beau said. “You would deny us access into the Lord’s house on a mere impression from years ago?”
Reverend Smith spun back around. His unsmiling face looked harsh under the bright morning sun. “That woman is a sinner, O’Toole. And thus is not welcome in my church.”
“Your church? Jesus came to call sinners into His church, Jim, not the righteous,” Beau said, his eyes hard. Clearly, he wasn’t bothering to hide his anger from them now.
Reverend Smith’s gaze was just as unrelenting. “You know we have a covenant. Sinners who have failed to repent publicly are not allowed inside our church. It’s how we protect our congregation from evil.”
Hannah actually saw the pulse jump in Beau’s throat. “How do you know she hasn’t repented?” he asked.
“I…know.”
“You can see into another’s heart?” Beau asked, stepping in front of both Mavis and Hannah and easing them behind him. “And here I thought only God could do that.”
Amelia snorted. “We all know what she is. Just look at her. It’s obvious she’s a harlot.”
Beau lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. “She is a child of God.”
Hannah had never seen Beau so angry. She reached out and touched his forearm. “I think it’s time we left.”
Beau’s gaze still burned, but he covered her hand with his and leaned slightly toward her.
Wide-eyed, Amelia blinked at Hannah’s hand on Beau’s arm, clearly shocked at the public intimacy.
Hannah quickly dropped her hand. The woman could easily spew poison over the innocent gesture. Beau deserved better. “I don’t much care for your brand of Christianity,” Hannah blurted out.
“Nor I,” Beau agreed.
Amelia gurgled in indignation.
“You cannot bring that woman in my church,” the pastor boomed. His face a study in scorn.
At the unconcealed insult, Logan joined in Mavis’s defense. “I don’t care if you are a minister. Nobody talks to Miss Tierney like that. Nobody.”
He pushed all three of their party aside and stood toe-to-toe with the pastor, prepared to do bodily harm to the man.
Beau nudged Logan back. “Let me handle this, Deputy.” He looked at Hannah. “Take Mavis back to the hotel. I’ll rejoin you in the lobby and escort you to the depot before our train leaves.”
Nodding, Hannah pulled gently on Mavis’s arm. Mavis turned to look at her then. Devastation wavered in the other woman’s eyes.
Hannah blinked back tears of her own. “Let’s go, sweetie,” she said.
Mavis shook her head. “We leave together.” She twined her other arm with Logan’s. “Isn’t that right, boy?”
“That’s right, Miss Tierney.”
“You may call me old woman, if you like.”
Logan leaned over and kissed Mavis on the cheek. “I’d be honored.”
Amelia snorted at the show of affection between the two.
Beau’s eyes narrowed coldly. “I don’t know how you both got so hard of heart. You’ve read the same Bible as I have. If we are to follow Christ’s example, that means we should bring up a person’s past only so that we may point to the future with love, not condemnation.”
Tossing his shoulders back, Reverend Smith glared. “You dare lecture me?”
Beau sighed, and although his eyes still blazed with anger he lowered his voice. “You’re right. It’s not my place.” He turned on his heel and looked at the rest of their group. “Let’s go.”
Hannah, still linked with Mavis, waited for Beau to pass them and then lead their group down the street. He walked at a clipped, angry pace. Compelled, she released Mavis’s arm and trotted to catch up with him.
“I only have one thing to say to you,” she said.
He looked at her. Fury, anger and sadness shimmered in his gaze. She had a sudden urge to hug away his pain.
Instead, she said, “Amelia didn’t deserve you.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened with an emotion she couldn’t quite define. “Thank you,” he said.
And with those two simple words, her future turned a little clearer.
Beau wasn’t a man who liked being wrong. It went against his nature. Yet, he had been wrong on so many points.
Tyler, of all people, had been right.
For years, Beau had thought he’d wanted what Jim and Amelia had. But he’d forgotten about the Rocky Mountain Association’s required covenant for all its member churches. The covenant stated that known sinners were not allowed inside the building without having publicly confessed their sins in front of the congregation the week before.
Although the covenant was designed to prevent its members from living in unapologetic sin, it also made it impossible for a pastor to shepherd those in his flock still questioning their salvation. Certainly, none of the people Beau had ministered to in the
last five years would be allowed to enter his church in Greeley.
He would not be allowed to minister to women like Jane Goodwin on their deathbed, for fear their sin would rub off on others. There were so many other restrictions, as well.
Too many.
Tyler had claimed that Beau would die a slow death in a church like Jim’s.
Tyler had been spot-on with his assessment.
But Beau didn’t want to keep traveling forever. There had to be a way to reconcile his dream of a stable church home with his unique calling to the lost.
There is, Beau. Look deeper in your heart. The answer is there.
Still confused, Beau shook his head. He knew God guided his life. Nothing happened to him by chance. Perhaps this upcoming journey to Reverend Southerland’s home would reveal the answers he sought. Perhaps this bump in the road had been part of God’s plan all along. Perhaps Beau needed to listen to God more, and talk less.
On more matters than starting his own church.
As he sat on a bench outside the train station, Beau watched Hannah’s gentle treatment of Mavis. The older woman was still sad and hurt over Amelia’s abominable treatment of her. No wonder. Amelia had claimed to see inside Mavis’s heart.
Beau had done the same with Hannah.
The dangerous combination of impulse, pride and temper had colored his initial judgment of her. He was no better than the very people he criticized.
“Don’t let that nasty young woman get to you,” Hannah said, her soft voice cutting across his thoughts. “She was wrong to say those things about you.”
“She spoke the truth.” Mavis’s eyes filled with tears of shame. The kind of shame the enemy used to keep God’s children separated from Him. “I am a former prostitute with sins a mile long that can never be taken back.”
Beau moved closer, prepared to boldly speak of God’s love, but Hannah continued. “No, Mavis. Your sins are in the past. You’re a godly woman now.”
A lone tear rolled down Mavis’s cheek.
Hannah gripped one of the older woman’s hands.
“What I did is the worst sin of them all,” Mavis said.
Beau had heard a similar argument from Jane. No longer able to keep silent, he said, “There’s no hierarchy of sin in God’s eyes. Sin is sin. But God can and does forgive all. You just have to ask for His forgiveness.”
Beau took Mavis’s other hand and nodded for Hannah to continue.
She gave him a grateful smile. “You are a beautiful, kindhearted woman, my friend. The children of Charity House love you. And we all know children are excellent judges of character.”
Mavis gave them both a watery smile. “Don’t forget small animals. I have a way with them small animals, too.”
Hannah laughed. “There you go.”
“You’re a good girl, Hannah Southerland.”
“Yes,” Beau agreed. “Yes, she is.”
He shared a look with Hannah before he released Mavis’s hand and the two women hugged. He couldn’t believe he’d once considered Amelia his ideal image of a wife, while he’d considered this beautiful, softhearted actress inappropriate in all ways.
Forgive me, Lord.
Boot heels clicked in rapid succession along the platform. “Sorry I’m late. I got detained at the jail.” Logan deposited the last of the luggage on the platform. “I’ve received an urgent telegraph from Marshal Scott. I have to pick up a prisoner in Laramie and escort him back to Denver for trial. I’ve already hired a horse for my journey.”
The way Logan refused to make eye contact with him alerted Beau that trouble brewed.
Taking Logan by the arm, he led the young deputy out of earshot of the women. “Did you truly get a telegraph from Marshal Scott?”
Clearly offended, Logan glared at him. But instead of responding, he yanked a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket and shoved it under Beau’s nose.
“That’s not what I meant.” Beau lowered the man’s hand by applying pressure to his wrist. “Are you using this as an excuse to go back to that church and defend Mavis before you head out of town?”
Logan made a noncommittal grunt that could have meant either yes or no.
Beau pressed for an answer. “I want a firm response out of you.”
Logan’s gaze darted all around, bounced off Mavis then back to the platform. “Maybe.”
“Don’t do it, Logan. Violence won’t solve anything.”
“It couldn’t hurt to try.”
Beau blew out a slow breath. “You know that’s not true. You’re not thinking rationally. Now, give me your word you won’t do something stupid. Stupid, as in defending Mavis’s honor with a fist to Reverend Smith’s face.”
“And here I thought that oily pastor needed a little rearranging of those pretty, girlish features.”
“I’m picking up the sarcasm.”
“Gee, truly?”
Beau felt a line of annoyance carve its way into his forehead. “I want your word you’re finished with Smith.”
Logan scowled. “You’re as relentless as Marc Dupree. Especially when you know a well-placed right hook would give you just as much satisfaction as it would me.”
Beau looked away, just for a moment, so Logan wouldn’t see his amusement and consider it silent agreement. “I won’t condone violence.”
“Fine.” Logan gave him a frustrated sigh. “I won’t go back to the church before I head out of town.”
“And?”
“And.” Logan grinned in a wolfish, arrogant pull of lips over teeth. “I won’t hit the pastor so hard in his nose it’ll mess up his pretty face forever.”
Beau rubbed a hand down his face. “Can I trust you’re a man of your word?”
Logan snorted at him. “I said I wouldn’t go back, and I won’t. But, you gotta admit, it’s certainly a tempting idea—”
“Logan.”
Logan held up his hand. “You have my word.”
Beau finally allowed the smile tugging at his lips free rein. “That’s enough for me.”
“Can I go tell Mavis and Miss Southerland goodbye now, or do you need to yell at me some more?”
Beau waved him off with a flick of his wrist. “Go on. Say your farewells.”
Logan swung around, stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “For the record, you handled that pastor and his wife real well. You’re a far better man than I am.”
Beau had his doubts. Serious doubts. After all, now that Logan had given him the idea, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t head back to the church himself and—how did the lawman put it?—rearrange Reverend Smith’s pretty face.
Apparently, Beau needed to work on a few of his anger issues. But at the moment, he had other matters on his mind. Matters concerning his future.
Tyler had planted a seed. So had Marc Dupree.
Jim and Amelia, unbeknownst to them, had watered them both.
Now, with the Lord’s help, Beau needed to figure out the particulars.
Chapter Eighteen
The train ride to Colorado Springs had gone far too quickly, Hannah thought as she stood on the platform of the train depot just outside town. Five years. Five full years had passed since she’d left home. Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
She had changed.
The early-morning air slapped her in the nose and stung her throat. Pike’s Peak, purple in color under the soft dawn light, rose high above the land, lifting its mighty face past the clouds as if to say I’m larger than the earth can handle.
The welcoming smell of fresh pine filled her nostrils.
She had returned.
But was she home?
Time would tell.
One thing was certain: Hannah had matured in the last five years. She was twenty-six years old, a fully grown woman with a large amount of money saved. Would it make a difference? Would she be strong enough to face her father as the confident woman she’d become? Or would she fall back into old patterns and turn into t
he surly, arrogant, young girl with a boulder-size chip on her shoulder?
Reviewing the past with an adult perspective, she now understood her father’s disapproval of her. She’d been a willful child. Hard to handle. But, in her defense, she’d been missing her mother. And with her father choosing to favor Rachel, Hannah had felt abandoned.
Well, she was here now. Prepared to the reveal the truth and ask for her father’s forgiveness.
The rest would be up to him.
Glancing around, she wondered why he wasn’t at the depot. She’d sent a telegraph ahead to warn him of her impending arrival. That small courtesy had been Beau’s suggestion, one Hannah had initially fought. She’d relented because she’d known he’d been right.
As usual.
She looked over at him standing next to Mavis, who was guarding their baggage as though she expected some miscreant to steal their valuables. Hannah could only smile at the silly, adorable picture the old woman made sitting perched on top of the pile of bags. Laced up in Hannah’s fancy boots, Mavis’s feet dangled near the ground without quite reaching the wooden platform.
Hannah’s heart clenched. Mavis was a grown woman, nearing the end of her life, with a childlike joy for living. Hannah loved the old dear as if she’d been her own grandmother.
Beau shifted his stance, drawing Hannah’s attention back to him. She worried for him, more than she probably should. He’d been quiet on the journey from Wyoming to Colorado. Was he mourning the loss of Amelia?
Why did that thought steal her breath?
He turned slightly to consider the mountains. She took the opportunity to study him. She cataloged his handsome features, one by one, starting with the aristocratic sweep of his nose that was so much like his mother’s. And the strong jawline that came straight from his father and proclaimed his O’Toole heritage.
Her heart stumbled at the sight of all that masculine strength of character. For a brief moment she couldn’t gulp in enough air. She couldn’t think. It was just a moment, but her world tilted, her head grew light and she knew. Oh, she knew.
She loved him.
She loved Beauregard O’Toole.
But instead of bringing fear, she felt an inner peace she’d never known before. And then a soft voice whispered from deep within her. Everything will work for the best for both of you, together.
