0764214101

by Tracie Peterson

  The doctor turned to her. “Go get Mr. Colton. I’ll keep everyone outside.”

  She nodded and hurried down the hallway. When she got to Jimmy’s room, the boy’s eyes were open and he was smiling at his pa. But Woody was fast asleep in the chair, his head leaned back against the wall. She went to Jimmy and kissed his forehead. “I need your father, and then I’ll be right back, all right?”

  The little boy nodded and closed his eyes.

  Lillian tapped Woody’s shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “Woody,” she half whispered. “Woody. Wake up!”

  Still nothing.

  So she got closer and ran her hand down his face and patted his cheek. “Woody.” Inches from him, she was startled when he opened his eyes. Those chocolate-brown eyes drew her in, and she wanted to sob in his arms. But now wasn’t the time. She had to be strong.

  “The sheriff is here.” She backed away and waited for him at the door.

  The soft look that had been in his eyes as he awakened slowly turned hard. “I’m afraid this isn’t going to be pretty, Lillian. I need you to watch over Jimmy and Mrs. Goodman for me until it’s all cleared up.”

  Having already heard the sheriff’s intentions, she nodded. “I’ll be by your side, Woody.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  He looked down at Jimmy. “I had been waiting for you to wake up.” He smiled. “You are one tough little guy. I know your throat is sore, but the doctor tells me that’s going to pass in a few days. Then we’ll get you home to Mr. Whiskers.” Jimmy reached out and squeezed Woody’s hand and returned his father’s smile.

  Woody’s joy faded, however, as he glanced at Lillian and then sighed. “Son, things are going to get kind of rough for a little while. Some of the people out there think I’m to blame for hurting your mama and Mrs. Goodman.”

  Jimmy’s face scrunched, and he shook his head and looked at Lillian as if for answers. She came to his side. “Someone hurt Mrs. Goodman, but she’s all right.” Tears came to the boy’s eyes and his lip quivered.

  Woody reached out and gently turned Jimmy’s face toward his. “Son, I need you to be strong and pray. Miss Lillian will take care of you and Mrs. Goodman until I can be back with you.” He leaned down and kissed the boy’s forehead. “I love you.”

  Jimmy nodded, but remained mute.

  Woody took Lillian’s elbow and led her toward the door.

  As they reached the front, Lillian knew he’d heard what people were saying out in the street. They walked out onto the porch together. The doctor closed the door behind them, giving Lillian a sad smile. She grabbed on to Woody’s arm.

  The sheriff came forward again. “You’re under arrest, Colton.”

  “And what are the charges?” This came from George Stickle. He and a group of Woody’s supporters came forward.

  She felt Woody’s arm flex under her fingers. But he remained calm, his face an emotionless mask.

  “Attempted murder and murder. What did you think?” The lawman spat on the ground.

  George shook his head. “We heard what happened, and we think you’re jumpin’ the gun here.”

  The crowd supporting Hobart moved closer.

  “Your men are here, Woody,” Lillian whispered to him.

  Woody spoke up. “What did my men have to say, sheriff? Didn’t you get their testimonies?”

  “I shore did, Colton. Two of them hadn’t seen you for hours, and while Sam’s story corroborates yours, it still doesn’t prove you didn’t beat Mrs. Goodman.” The sheriff smiled and pulled Miguel toward him. “But see, it’s Miguel’s testimony that really turned things around.”

  The sweet man who’d worked for Woody for years held his arms out and looked as if he wanted to cry. “I didn’t say anything against Mr. Colton, sheriff. He’s a good man.”

  The sheriff laughed. “Ah, but what you did say clinched it for me.”

  Lillian didn’t like this man. How could he be a man of the law and be so horrible? “What exactly did Miguel say?” She knew the worker would never tell a lie against his boss.

  “He told me that he saw Mr. Colton carry Mrs. Goodman out of the house, and her blood was on his hands.”

  The sheriff’s supporters went wild with questions and accusations and horrible words for Woody. Lillian gasped, shaking her head. “But he was carrying Mrs. Goodman. She was bleeding, so of course Woody had blood on his hands! Miguel was coming in answer to the bell. He didn’t just happen to see Woody sneaking off with Mrs. Goodman’s unconscious body. Why would Woody bother to ring the bell for help if he wanted Mrs. Goodman dead?” She’d heard the whole story from Woody the night before.

  “To cover his own tracks!” The sheriff hurled himself forward and grabbed Woody’s arms.

  As Woody’s arm was yanked from her grasp, Lillian watched his eyes. She didn’t know how, but somehow he was remaining calm. Even as the sheriff handcuffed him.

  She moved forward and put her hands on Woody’s chest. “I’ll be here for you, Woody. I know you didn’t do it. I know it! I’ll do everything I can. I’ll hire a lawyer. I’ll—”

  He cut off her words by kissing her forehead. His actions so stunned her that all Lillian could do was stare in wonder. “Take care of Jimmy and Mrs. Goodman. The men will take care of the farm. It’s time to leave this in the good Lord’s hands.”

  She nodded.

  He gave her a sad smile. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  “Always.” The tears streamed down her face, and she bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing. She wasn’t going to give this horrible crowd the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.

  Then the sheriff dragged Woody away from her, and most of the crowd followed. She had to get to the truth before this crazy town took matters into its own hands.

  Woody’s men came up to her, along with George and the others who supported Woody. Sam held out his hat. “We’re so sorry, Miss Lillian. We had no idea the sheriff was going to twist our words. We know Mr. Colton is innocent.”

  “Thank you, Sam.” She looked each man in the eye. “And all of you. Thank you.”

  “What can we do?” Miguel looked awful. “We have to do something.”

  She nodded. “First, we have to pray for the truth to be revealed. Second, we can’t let the olive crop fail. Not now. So the best thing you can do for Woody is to get that irrigation ditch finished and help the crop survive. You know far more about olives than I do.”

  Sam shook his head. “It won’t be easy. Mr. Colton does the work of ten men. With him gone and the time we’ve lost, I don’t even know if it’s possible to save the trees.”

  “But we must,” Lillian insisted.

  George Stickle nodded toward the other men. “Maybe we can think of something.”

  Sam nodded. “We’ll do our best!” He looked at the other men. “Water is the key. We should get right back to the farm.”

  A deputy came running back toward them and shouted at the men. “You fellas can’t go anywhere. The sheriff sent me back here to get ya. You’ll have to testify as soon as the judge gets here—and he’s on his way—so he doesn’t want ya goin’ anywhere.”

  Lillian’s shoulders fell. How would they be able to save the crop now? It was as if the sheriff was deliberately trying to ruin Woody. She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. Well, she wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Not to the man she loved.

  Loved?

  She watched Woody’s men as the deputy led them away. This sudden revelation kept her from further protest. She was in love with Woody. She’d never been in love before. When had this happened? How had it happened? Did Woody feel the same way? After all, he had kissed her forehead. For a moment the realization panicked her. She was in love with a man the town of Angels Camp planned to hang.

  Lillian shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.” She glanced heavenward. “I don’t know what to do.”

  George Stickle patted her shoulder. “Try not to worry, Miss Porter. We’ll
figure something out. There’re more folks here who believe in Woody than you’d think. We’ll just put our heads together and figure out something.”

  “He’s going to need a lawyer.” Lillian looked at George, tears blurring her vision.

  “I’ll take care of that.” Stan Van Dyke stepped forward. “My brother is a lawyer over in Modesto. I’ll go wire for him right now.”

  Lillian smiled in gratitude. “Thank you. Thanks to all of you, just for showing up and proving to Woody that somebody cares.”

  Woody sat on the hard cot in the cell and smiled. What had come over him? It was like an instant peace flooded him, and he knew exactly where it had come from.

  God.

  He’d finally given his burdens over to the Lord, and his heavenly Father made sure he knew that everything would be okay. It was an experience Woody never had before. Even with all the fear banging at the door to his heart, he knew he could trust God for the outcome. And even if that outcome meant he went home to be with the Lord, Woody was okay with that. Always before he’d worried about Jimmy’s well-being, but now with Lillian, he knew Jimmy would be just fine. She and Mrs. Goodman would see to it.

  If Mrs. Goodman survived. The thought of his housekeeper and friend dying caused his heart to ache, but even at that Woody knew God’s hand was upon them and he was at peace.

  He shook his head. It didn’t make any sense.

  But it didn’t have to make sense. Tomorrow he might be flat on his face in worry and doubt . . . today even. But right now he would rest in the Lord.

  Woody thought of his son and the love they shared. Earlier Jimmy had squeezed his hand and smiled. So much to be thankful for, and Woody wanted to focus on the good things.

  And then there was Lillian. From the moment she’d seen him drive up and jumped into his arms, Woody knew. He loved her. He knew she would never have the slightest doubt about him. Lillian would never believe him capable of hurting Mrs. Goodman, and she would fight for him and for his son. If anything happened to Woody, Lillian would take care of Jimmy and save the farm for him.

  Footsteps sounded down the hall. The skinny deputy looked at him. “You’ve got a visitor. That reverend you asked for wants to see ya.” He unlocked the door and let the minister in. “But I’m only allowed to give you fifteen minutes. That’s it.”

  Woody nodded and the deputy walked off.

  Pastor Seymour looked at him. “I know this is awful hard, Woody. Just so you know, I’m behind you, and there’s a lot of other folks who are, too.”

  “Thank you, pastor. But that’s not why I asked you to come down here.”

  “Certainly. Why don’t we pray?” The pastor removed his hat.

  Woody reached out and touched the minister’s hand. “While I definitely want to pray with you before you go, I need you to help me with something else.”

  “All right. What do you need?”

  “I need help with some documents. I need to dictate my will to you today and make sure that it will be legal . . . just in case . . .” He paused and let go a heavy breath. “In case I die.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The doctor checked Jimmy over, and Lillian watched from the corner of the room and tapped a finger to her chin. Two days had passed since they’d taken Woody away. They wouldn’t let her see him, and Mrs. Goodman hadn’t woken up yet. All of Woody’s men had been shut up in the hotel so that they couldn’t leave before giving their testimonies. That smelled a bit fishy to her, but no one asked her opinion.

  The doctor said something to Jimmy, and the boy’s giggled response resonated in Lillian’s heart.

  The older man came over to her and took hold of her elbow. “Miss Lillian, if I might have a word with you, please?”

  “Sure.” She pasted on a smile. “I’ll be right back, Jimmy.”

  The little boy nodded.

  The doctor led her outside the door and stopped. “Miss Porter, I’m afraid Jimmy won’t be able to leave the clinic as soon as I’d hoped.”

  She put a hand to her throat. “Why? Is he okay?”

  He patted her shoulder and walked with her down the hall. “It’s nothing to be too worried about, but I’m afraid he’s weak. You’d told me that he refused to eat or drink hardly anything since Sunday before he got sick. Well, since he didn’t have nourishment for those few days and he’s so little, his body is taking a while to recover.” He folded his hands behind his back. “I’m sure he will have a full recovery; it will just take a little longer. I’ve ordered some hearty meals for the child starting tomorrow—of course they will be soft, but more substantial than we would normally recommend—because he needs to build up his strength. But today he will have lots of broth and liquids.

  “I’m going to have food brought for you, as well. You don’t look any too good at this point, and I won’t have you collapsing on my watch.” He looked her up and down with a most serious expression. “Also, I am going to have a cot brought in. You’ll need somewhere to sleep while you’re in town. It’s not much, but I’m guessing it will be better than a chair.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  “My pleasure.” He took her hand. “I figure with you acting as my nurse, it’s the least I can do.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I am very sorry for all that you are having to go through right now. Rest assured I will be praying for you all.”

  The kind doctor released her to walk toward Mrs. Goodman’s room. Lillian pondered what to do next.

  The farm needed tending and there were no men to tend it. So far the sheriff hadn’t let Woody’s workers go, and to make matters worse, he declared Woody’s place the scene of a crime and forbid anyone to go out there. Mrs. Goodman hadn’t woken up, but she would need help as soon as she did. Jimmy couldn’t go home yet until he built up his strength, and Woody needed a lawyer and a miracle.

  Pacing the hall, Lillian prayed for divine guidance. She couldn’t be in all these places at once. So the question was, what did they need the most? She didn’t care about what the sheriff said regarding the house. She needed clothes and a few other things. Not only that, but she had to do what she could to save the trees.

  “But what can someone like me do?” she muttered, shaking her head. “Lord, I need help.”

  Mrs. Seymour came through the outside door at that moment and waved at Lillian in the hall. “I thought I’d come over and see what I could do to help you.”

  Lillian lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. Thank You, Lord.

  An hour later, Lillian slapped the reins on the horses’ rumps and got the wagon moving down the road at a quick pace. She’d heard that the sheriff had ridden out to check the theft of a pig on one of the nearby farms. If she got home quickly enough, she could dig on the trench for a couple of hours and make it back to town to try to visit Woody before she went back to be with Jimmy and Mrs. Goodman for the night. Mrs. Seymour had agreed to watch both patients for her for the rest of the day.

  As long as she had breath, Lillian would work herself to the bone to do all she could to save the farm and Woody. Mr. Van Dyke’s brother was due in at any time, so he would handle the legalities involved with Woody’s arrest. Soon he’d have Woody out of jail. At least she hoped he would.

  If Mrs. Goodman could just wake up, she would clear Woody’s name for sure, but there was no guarantee of that happening before the judge came. And they had an olive crop that would die without enough water.

  She didn’t bother to unhitch the horses when she made it to the house. It would be faster if she could get the wagon out to the site of the trench anyway. So she ran inside to change into something suitable to wear while digging. She’d never even held a shovel, but she could do this. Mrs. Goodman had taught her to make biscuits and pie, so surely she could learn how to handle digging a trench. After all, Woody needed her. Her family needed her.

  She found an old riding skirt she thought might work, but the problem was the skirt part. If only she could wear a pair of denims like the men.

 
Woody was much bigger than she, but with a good belt, Lillian felt certain she could make a pair of his pants work. She went upstairs, pausing at the sight of dried blood where Mrs. Goodman had no doubt fallen. She made a mental note to clean it up before leaving. But if she did that, then the sheriff would know she’d gone against his demand that no one set foot on the farm.

  “I’ll worry about that later.”

  Lillian made her way to Woody’s room and paused a moment at the unforgettable scent of his cologne. It was a simple room, but there were still the womanly touches that Rebecca Colton had no doubt applied. A man wouldn’t have concerned himself with putting hand-crocheted doilies on the nightstands. Not only that, but the draperies and quilt were decidedly feminine. On top of the dresser Lillian spied a photograph and drew closer to inspect. It was a wedding photo of a much younger and carefree Woody and a lovely light-haired woman.

  For a moment Lillian considered Rebecca Colton, waiting for some pang of jealousy to surface. There was none. The woman was beautiful, and from what Lillian knew, she had been a wonderful wife and mother. The love she held for her husband radiated from her face.

  “I love him, too,” Lillian whispered, touching her finger to Rebecca’s face. “I love your son, as well. I promise to do for them whatever I can.” Was Woody even ready to love again? She sighed and put the picture aside to go in search of trousers.

  Feeling much more comfortable and ready to work, Lillian jumped up into the wagon with ease. It amazed her what a difference clothing could make. She felt at least twenty pounds lighter. Now if she could just manage to get the wagon out to the pond.

  Last thing she knew, they were widening the trench at the pond to prepare it for enough flow to all the olive groves. The men had staked out the area to show the graduated width, and then Woody had told her that there were only a few more feeder trenches to dig.

  It required more maneuvering than time to reach the pond. The path wasn’t very wide, and the horses were rather agitated to be navigating through the brush. But once there, the clearing met with their approval. Thanks to the pond, there was some green vegetation to munch on and water to drink, and that seemed to assuage their anxiousness.