CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After a trip up to Stockton, Darwin was even more convinced that his trick had worked. They declared the body of Saul Longstreet to be Darwin Longstreet, buried him in a pitiful grave behind the jail, and said they’d send someone to notify the next of kin.
That should give him a few weeks—maybe even a month or two—to help Harry remember where he hid the bags, go get them, and hightail it outta town before Uncle John got suspicious.
He rubbed his hands together by his campfire. If he could find a home for his simpleminded brother, he’d pay to make sure the dumb boy was taken care of—and fulfill his promise to Ma. Then he’d be free to do whatever he wanted. Mexico still had a nice ring to it. Once Uncle John figured out Saul wasn’t coming back, he might suspect what Darwin had done. Hopefully he’d just think that Darwin had killed Saul and then someone else had killed Darwin. It seemed reasonable to him. After all, the body was long buried by now. Even if Uncle John realized what Darwin had done, he wouldn’t be able to find him in Mexico. Not even the law could come get him in another country. At least he didn’t think so. Things were looking up. And he wouldn’t lose this time. Not ever again.
Once he got back, he’d watch Pa’s old place on a regular basis. He had to figure out when he could search, and he’d have to make sure that Colton kid didn’t see him. On the other hand, he might be as blind as everyone else to Darwin’s true identity. It might be possible Darwin could just waltz in there on some pretense—maybe ask for a job. He’d heard that Colton often hired workers to help with the olives. If Darwin could get himself hired, it might allow him to look around in his free time. Still, there was Harry to consider, and also the risk that the Colton brat would recognize him. He could ruin everything for sure.
But then Darwin remembered his threat. The kid was scared. And he wasn’t talking. All of Angels Camp knew the kid hadn’t spoken since his ma died.
He sneered. He’d only figured to scare the boy into saying nothing about the death of his mother. Darwin hadn’t imagined it possible for a child to stop speaking altogether. Harry sure never shut up. Of course, Harry was too stupid to know if he should be afraid. Jimmy Colton had no trouble realizing the dangers that saying too much could bring. Still, if the boy needed a little encouragement to keep his mouth shut, Darwin could supply it in spades.
That gold was calling his name.
Lillian finished setting the table in the dining room and pulled out her Bible and the letter she’d tucked in it from Stanton. Mrs. Goodman had given it to her earlier, but she wanted to read it in private, hoping there would be something from her grandfather inside, but dreading the words all at the same time. Perhaps after their evening Bible study, she would share with them all if it was good news.
Since Jimmy was occupied practicing his piano lesson, Lillian decided to slip away to her room to read the letter. Surely she had a few minutes to herself, and she couldn’t wait any longer. As she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, she breathed a prayer.
The envelope held six pages neatly penned in Stanton’s elegant script. But nothing from Grandfather.
With a sigh, she sat on her bed. At least she had news from home. Grandfather was probably just being his ornery, stubborn self. And she’d resigned herself to being cut off for good.
But she wouldn’t let that discourage her. She had this letter here and now and it acted like a balm to her wounded heart. It didn’t take long to read through the missive, and after sharing all the news regarding the staff, Stanton finally mentioned her grandfather.
I’m sad to report that your grandfather refuses to read your letters, but I fear his health is not good. He won’t admit to it, but his summer cold last week has caused him to decline. I’m praying he will come to his senses soon enough. Rest assured, we are all praying for him to reconcile with you. Maybe the good Lord above has afflicted him to get his attention. You asked me to be honest with you, and I am dedicated to it, Miss Lillian. Please be in prayer for your grandfather. We greatly anticipate your next collection of letters.
All will be well, as our Lord is in control. We greet you with love and prayers,
Stanton
Folding the letter, Lillian prayed for Adam Fletcher. She loved the old man so dearly. Only God could get ahold of him now and do a mighty work in him. She sighed. There had been a time when her grandfather faithfully sought God’s guidance. How could the loss of a spouse cause a man to so completely put God aside? An image of Woody came to mind. Even though Woody was much kinder and gentler than Grandfather, the same grief and anguish was in his eyes. Apparently such things were not unusual. Mrs. Goodman had told her that Woody had been faithful to attend church and read his Bible before his wife was killed. Did Grandfather and Woody blame God for their losses? Was their diminished faith a sort of punishment they were meting out to the Almighty? Or was it to punish themselves for not having been able to save their loved ones from death?
Losing Grandmother had only caused Lillian to grow closer to God. She’d had no one else to turn to. Her grandmother was gone, and in so many ways, she’d also lost her grandfather.
“And now he’s lost me, as well.” She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud. The thought caused Lillian a sense of guilt. Here she was all caught up in her misery, but even though it came at his own hand in some ways, Grandfather also suffered loss.
“And he pushed God away.”
She shook her head. He truly was all alone. It was a terrible thing to ponder. What an utterly hopeless feeling to have no one to turn to.
A knock at the door drew Lillian’s attention upward, and she tucked the letters in her pocket. “Come in.”
Jimmy burst into the room, beaming a smile. He hurried over to her and grabbed Lillian’s hand.
“Is it time for dinner?”
He nodded. Lillian smiled and got to her feet. “Then we should be on our way.” She let the boy escort her down the hall, thinking all the while how much he’d changed since her arrival. It was nothing short of a miracle, and she felt certain he would talk again.
As they entered the dining room, Woody looked on with a smile. “There’s my boy.”
Jimmy ran around the table to him and leapt into his father’s arms. It was so good to see him filling out and smiling. Watching father and son brought another twinge to her heart. Even though she had been loved as a child, the absence of parents still grieved her. But this wasn’t about her—she was here for Jimmy. Lillian shot a quick prayer heavenward for complete healing for the boy. Whatever horror had kept him from talking, God had already conquered.
To Lillian’s surprise, Woody whispered something to Jimmy and the boy nodded enthusiastically. She cocked her head to one side. “Are we keeping secrets?”
Jimmy beamed her a smile while Woody laughed. “I simply told him, Miss Nosey, that you were like a beautiful ray of sunshine. And he agreed.”
Lillian felt her face grow hot and her heart flutter. Woody was, after all, a very handsome man, and she wasn’t used to being paid such sincere compliments by men. At least she hoped it was a sincere compliment.
“I suppose,” she said, going to her place at the table, “that sometimes it’s best to not know everything.”
Woody laughed and set his boy down, and they all took their places at the table and bowed their heads. His voice resonated in the wood-paneled room. “Father, we come before You again, grateful. Thank You for all that You have provided. Thank You for sending Your Son as a sacrifice for us. And thank You for this food. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”
Mrs. Goodman passed the platters of fried chicken and roasted potatoes.
“So what have you all been up to today?” Woody directed the question to Jimmy.
The boy just smiled at his father and took a bite of chicken.
Lillian laughed. “We had a visit from Harry today.”
“Did you, now?” Woody’s brow furrowed a bit. “How did it go?”
“He brought ribbon
s for Miss Lillian that match her eyes,” Mrs. Goodman chattered, “and a sugar stick and whistle for our little man here, and . . . he brought some of Olivia Rolleri’s ravioli.” She mmmmed to herself. “Such a generous young man.”
Woody’s brows rose. “Do tell.”
Lillian jumped in, having recovered from her embarrassment. “Yes, he said that he wanted to bring presents for his nice friends. Isn’t that just the sweetest?” She knew Woody didn’t know Harry yet, but hoped he wouldn’t have a problem with the young man. While she felt she knew Woody fairly well, she wasn’t sure what he thought about those who were slow like Harry.
Jimmy nodded and pulled half a sugar stick covered in fuzz out of his pocket.
Woody chuckled. “Looks like it picked up a little lint there.”
Mrs. Goodman reached across the table. “Here, let me wash that off for you.” She took the candy to the kitchen.
Woody cleared his throat. “So I’m sorry I stayed out in the groves all afternoon and missed the ravioli.” He looked at his plate. “Mrs. Rolleri does indeed make the best.”
Was that irritation in his voice? Jealousy? Lillian couldn’t decipher it. “I apologize we didn’t save you any.” She laid her fork down and looked straight at his head, willing him to look at her. “Should we have fetched you? We didn’t know exactly where you’d be working, but perhaps we should have tried to find you. It honestly didn’t dawn on me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.” He stood and laid his napkin on the table. As he walked to his son’s chair, he reached down and tousled the boy’s hair. “Perhaps a bit cautious about things since Rebecca, and it just concerned me.” He gave her a look over Jimmy’s head.
Ah, that was it. He didn’t wish to discuss it in front of the boy. She’d wait until after dinner when Jimmy was in bed. Woody and Mrs. Goodman and little Jimmy had become very dear to her. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized just how much. It caused her pain to even think of offending her boss.
He nodded and sat back down as Mrs. Goodman returned with the candy stick, clean and shiny. As they finished their meal, Woody asked his son yes or no questions, and Mrs. Goodman piped in with her jovial comments about the day.
“Sam brought the mail from town,” Mrs. Goodman said. “I put it on your desk in the library after I sorted through it to give Lillian her letter.”
“You’ve had a letter from home?” Woody questioned.
Lillian stiffened. She hadn’t exactly been open and forthright with Woody about her grandfather. She felt it was a matter that was best left unspoken. “From a friend.” It wasn’t really a lie.
Woody picked up a piece of chicken. “It’s good to have friends.” His voice betrayed a sadness that Lillian quickly understood. Mrs. Goodman had told her how most of the Coltons’ friends had deserted Woody and Jimmy after the murder.
“There were also some newspapers,” Mrs. Goodman continued. “I happened to take a look at a copy of The Morning Call out of San Francisco. Seems there were some bad storms back east of us—cyclones. Caused the death of some folks.”
“Where?” Lillian tried to keep the worry from her voice. “Not Indiana.”
“No, seems like it was Minnesota and North Dakota. Sure glad we don’t have storms like that here. Although the rain would be a relief.”
Lillian nodded and picked up her water glass. “Cyclones are fearful things. I’ve gone through more than my share of storms. The winds are fiercer than you can imagine—even if you’re not hit directly.” She shuddered. “We had a portion of our roof ripped right off the house one year. I thought the entire house might collapse around us.” She happened to notice Jimmy’s eyes had gone wide. “You are very blessed not to have to worry about such things out here.” She smiled and the boy seemed to relax.
“There’s been flooding in Colorado,” Mrs. Goodman added. “Easy to see where all our rain has gone. Oh, and the paper mentioned that a wanted man who used to live in this area was finally found. Darwin Longstreet. I’m not sure exactly where he lived or who his people were. It just said the Angels Camp area.”
Woody seemed momentarily perplexed. “Longstreet? That name sounds familiar. What was he wanted for?”
“I don’t recall that it said,” Mrs. Goodman answered. “I suppose you can read the article for yourself when you have time.” She got to her feet. “But for now, I believe it’s time for dessert.”
Jimmy pushed his empty plate back and nodded with great enthusiasm. Lillian laughed. It was certain that Jimmy was excited about the prospects. When Mrs. Goodman returned with a tray of individual desserts, Jimmy clapped his hands.
“He loves your blackberry shortcake,” Woody said. He looked to Lillian. “You’re in for a real treat. Mrs. Goodman makes some of the finest blackberry preserves and sauces. She even makes a syrup for pancakes.”
“They look delicious.” Lillian took the portion Mrs. Goodman offered her. Thick dollops of whipped cream topped the berries and cake. She waited until everyone had theirs and Mrs. Goodman had reclaimed her seat before digging in. The flavors were most incredible.
Lillian hated to stop eating long enough to praise the dish, but she could see that Mrs. Goodman was waiting for her reaction. “This is so good. I don’t know when I’ve ever had anything so amazing.”
“I told you so,” Woody said with a forkful midway to his mouth. “I’d bet anything if she’d enter these in the county fair, she’d win all of the blue ribbons.”
“Oh, go on with you, now,” Mrs. Goodman countered. “You’re prejudiced.”
Lillian sat back and enjoyed the easy banter. What a difference a few weeks had made. Gone was the cloud of grief that had resided over each one in the household. God had been so faithful. Leading her to a family that needed her. Giving her the wings to soar.
“Perhaps you can teach me.” Lillian threw the older woman a grin. “I know I have the tendency to burn things and well, apparently, I’m given to mixing up sugar for salt, but I’d love to try.”
Mrs. Goodman chuckled. “Yes, it would be vital to know your sugar from your salt, but I think you could manage it. You’re truly doing quite well in the kitchen.”
Lillian laughed. “Now, if I could also master cutting out a pattern.” She looked at Woody, seeing his confused expression. “Mrs. Goodman was teaching me about cutting material for a new shirt by taking apart an older shirt to use as a pattern. I’m afraid I somehow managed to make a mess of things.”
Again the older woman laughed. “Now, dearie, I told you these things take time. I’ve been sewing since I was a wee girl.”
“Yes, but I imagine that even when you were a wee girl, you never cut out three sleeves for the same shirt.”
Woody laughed and Jimmy snickered while Lillian could only shrug. “If we happen upon a three-armed man, the shirt would work nicely.”
Woody stopped laughing. “Since I’m the only man in the house, I presume it was my shirt you were making.”
For a moment Lillian thought he might be offended. Perhaps he didn’t like the idea of anyone but Mrs. Goodman sewing his clothes. But just as quickly as the anxious thoughts came, Lillian was relieved to hear him continue.
“In that case—just put the third sleeve aside for later. I’m sure to tear up one or both of the other sleeves in time. This way we’ll just have a spare.”
“There, you see,” Mrs. Goodman said, nodding, “it’s just as I suggested.”
They refocused on the food at hand, and Lillian felt a sense of ease that she’d not known before coming to this house. No one seemed to mind overmuch that she lacked a variety of skills that most young ladies would have been taught. It was a sense of family. Of belonging.
With dessert devoured, Mrs. Goodman began to clear dishes, and Jimmy hopped up to help.
Woody leaned his elbows on the table and drank his coffee. “Are you ready to study more of Revelation tonight?”
Lillian’s heart jumped at the intense look in his eyes.
This man had much more depth than she ever imagined. She loved their discussions in the evening because she’d often get a glimpse of a different side of him. And she really liked that man. Not that Woody wasn’t a good man to begin with, but he was so guarded. Probably because he’d been hurt, he’d lost his wife, and people had turned on him.
“Lillian?”
She jumped. She’d done it again. Lost in her own thoughts. “I’m sorry, yes. I’m really looking forward to it. Shall I go get our Bibles?”
“I’ve got mine right here. You go fetch yours and Mrs. Goodman’s, and I’ll tuck in Jimmy for the night.” He touched her shoulder as he walked past.
For a moment, she could still feel the warmth of his hand there. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Of course, she’d never had the attention of any young man. Once Grandmother died, her grandfather kept her pretty much secluded, except for church, and no young man dared to approach the old grouch to ask about calling. Lillian’s desire to live her life and make her mark somewhere had always included the dream of a family, but she’d never been one to fantasize about love. Maybe because she’d never had the chance. Amazing how one little touch could awaken her senses to it.
After nearly two hours of study and discussion, Lillian stretched and yawned. The clock down the hall chimed the hour as the pendulum kept time. How different Woody was from Reverend Owens. She’d had such respect for the good shepherd of her church at home until she’d gone to him with her questions. He’d patted her arm and treated her like a child. “Why don’t you let the men handle the heavy thinking passages. It’s much too burdensome for the weaker gender. . . .”
But not Woody. He’d answered every question he could, but only if he could back it up with Scripture.
0764214101 Page 13
