0764214101

by Tracie Peterson

  Lillian hopped down and surveyed what needed to be done. She could do this. She could. She pulled on a pair of Woody’s work gloves. They, like the pants, were too large but would have to suffice. Grabbing a spade, she tried it out on the ground. It looked a lot easier when the men were doing it. The ground was hard and dry.

  Within minutes, sweat drenched her neck and back. Women’s corsets were not meant for this kind of work. But the thoughts of Woody in jail and Mrs. Goodman wounded and comatose pressed her forward. With each sharp thrust of the spade into the ground, she thought of the lies and gossip that had been spread. And as she pushed the tool through the crusty ground, she thought of how the truth would set things right. As she tossed the dirt behind her, she thought of how they could all start fresh.

  And what would that look like? Well, Lillian could hope. As soon as the revelation had hit her at the clinic, she couldn’t get the thought out of her mind. She did love Woody Colton.

  She loved everything about him. His stubbornness. His quiet strength. His loyalty. His love for studying the Word. Even his brusqueness, his moodiness, and his temper. Every part of him was endearing to her. Maybe that’s how God intended love to be. She didn’t even know how or when it happened. But now she couldn’t get his brown eyes out of her mind. The way he looked at her and made her feel important. The way he strode across the olive grove. The way he knelt in front of his son.

  The way he prayed.

  The way he’d held her in his arms as she cried.

  Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat and the dirt. She couldn’t imagine life without him. It was definitely love.

  Lord, we desperately need Your help. Woody needs to be released. Jimmy needs strength and healing. That poor boy has had more than his share of horrific moments. Mrs. Goodman needs healing and to come awake. And we need a miracle out here for the olives. Please don’t let Woody lose his crop. Could You please send some rain? Or at least some help to keep digging? Thank You, God.

  The shoveling was tedious and slow going. But she had lots to pray about and lots to think about. Her muscles would surely protest tomorrow, but if she kept going, she might be able to help save the crop. And that was worth every ache and pain.

  After an hour, she’d made it about a foot. Rather than get discouraged, she started singing hymns. And if she had to go through every one she could remember and then start over again, she would. Drenched from head to toe in her own sweat, her clothing started to chafe with each shovelful she threw, but she refused to quit.

  On the chorus to “Blessed Be the Name,” Lillian heard a voice join hers. It startled her so much that she flung the shovel along with the dirt. But off in the distance was the answer to one of her prayers.

  Harry.

  He was half running, half skipping down the hill to the pond. When he reached her, they finished the chorus together, and Lillian gave him a kiss on the cheek and hugged him close.

  “Harry, I’m so glad to see you.” She pulled away. “You are a godsend.”

  He ducked his head. “Aw, thank you, Miss Lillian. I’m glad to see you, too. Why are you out here digging, and why are you wearing men’s britches?”

  Laughter bubbled up out of her. She must be quite the sight. “I’ll tell you that in just a minute, but first tell me how you are—and where have you been? I was so worried about you that night when you ran off. Jimmy’s father didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

  He kept his head down. “I ran away because I thought he was mad at me. I would never ever, ever, ever hurt Jimmy. Ever. Never ever.” He shook his head. “But I’ve been coming back and watching. When you sang today, I wanted to come. So I did.”

  “I’m so glad you did!” Tears sprang to her eyes again.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Lillian?”

  “Jimmy got sick and had to have surgery, so I had to race him in to town to the doctor, and then someone attacked Mrs. Goodman at the house, and she’s really hurt. And they’ve arrested Woody for it. And now all of Woody’s workers are in town to testify, and if this trench doesn’t get dug, then we won’t be able to get the water to the trees, and we could lose the entire olive crop.” She sat down on the ground, exhausted.

  “Will Jimmy be okay? And Mrs. Goodman?”

  She nodded. “Jimmy is getting stronger all the time. The surgery went well. But Mrs. Goodman still hasn’t woken up, so we need to pray for her to wake up, okay?”

  “Why did they put Mr. Woody in jail?”

  “They think he hurt Mrs. Goodman, and they think he killed his wife.”

  “Oh. That’s bad.” Harry shook his head. “But he didn’t do it?”

  “No, Harry. Woody didn’t do it.”

  “I can dig, Miss Lillian. I can dig fast. Can I help?”

  “Do you understand what needs to be done?”

  “No, but you can show me, right?”

  She smiled and nodded. Tears threatened again. This big giant of a boy was so tenderhearted and sweet.

  He reached down and helped her up. “We can do this, Miss Lillian. We can. Let me help.”

  “All right.” She spent the next half hour showing Harry everything she understood for the project. Hopefully Woody would be free and the men could come back soon. The next time she looked up, she knew she needed to get back to town. “Harry, you sure you’re okay out here?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll keep digging. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not worried about the job, Harry. I know you’ll do well. But I am worried about you as a person. I want to make sure you are okay.” She reached up and brushed the hair off his forehead like she did Jimmy’s.

  He smiled down at her. “I’m good. I’m a hard worker.”

  “Yes, you are.” She climbed back up in the wagon. “I’ve got to get back to town to check on everyone. I’ll tell Jimmy I saw you and that you can’t wait to go fishing again.” She paused and wondered if she should warn Harry about the sheriff. “Harry, there’s one other thing. The sheriff said nobody was to be out here on the property. If anybody comes, you should probably hide. Can you do that?”

  He laughed. “I hide really good, Miss Lillian. Nobody can find me if I don’t want them to.”

  Lillian nodded. “I know it might seem like we’re breaking the law, and maybe we are, but this time the law is wrong.” A confused look crossed Harry’s face. “Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’ll explain it later.”

  He waved and smiled. “Okay. I’ll go work.”

  “Thank you, Harry.”

  She drove the wagon back to the house and got a fresh change of clothes. It wouldn’t do to go into town all filthy and dressed in men’s trousers. She paused again at the scene of Mrs. Goodman’s collapse and decided against cleaning it. If there was evidence, it could only help Woody—not hurt him. He didn’t do this terrible thing, but someone had, and they deserved to be caught.

  Lillian washed up and slipped into her clean clothes. While she was changing it dawned on her that she should pack a few things for Woody, Jimmy, and Mrs. Goodman. Then, as she was about to leave, a thought came that could only have been sent by the Lord for the care of one of His creatures. Mr. Whiskers needed someone to watch out for him. She found Mr. Whiskers in his box. He looked no worse for the wear, but Lillian knew he must be hungry and thirsty. She put a bit of water into a shallow bowl and then spied some leafy beet greens that Mrs. Goodman must have been working on before the attack.

  “This ought to hold you.” She left a few of the greens next to the water bowl.

  Even though it would take extra time, she went in search of Harry once more. Harry eagerly agreed to check up on the rabbit every day and to give him water and fresh lettuce from the garden. Lillian thanked him.

  “If you’re hungry, I know Mrs. Goodman wouldn’t mind if you looked around in the kitchen. I think the cookie jar is full, and I know there are other things in the cupboards.”

  Harry smiled and patted his stomach. “I get hungry a lot.”

 
Lillian nodded and returned his smile. “I’m sure you do.”

  With everything tended, Lillian hurried back to the house. In her mind she went over everything she could think of that might need attention. The garden needed water like everything else, but there simply wasn’t time. The only livestock were the horses, and they had been used for the wagons. Woody’s were still in town. She sighed. There was so much to remember. She looked back to the house as she climbed up into the wagon again. Something unsettled her, but she didn’t know what.

  Lord, we need Your protection. Thank You for sending Harry.

  As she drove back to town, she continued praying. There were too many difficulties in her life right now. Grandfather was sick and wouldn’t speak to her. Woody was in jail, and Jimmy and Mrs. Goodman were in their sickbeds. She couldn’t do this on her own.

  When she reached the doctor’s house, Mrs. Seymour came out to meet her. “Jimmy is getting a bit restless, but he’s gotten a lot of nourishment today, and the doctor is happy about that.”

  “What about Mrs. Goodman?”

  “No change. At least not yet. But we will keep praying.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Seymour.”

  “I’ll come back tomorrow.” The pastor’s wife smiled. “In the meanwhile, what do you plan to do about the team?”

  Lillian looked at the horses and shook her head. “I figured I’d have them stabled. I don’t even know where Woody’s team is.” She glanced around the street for some sign of them.

  Mrs. Seymour nodded. “Joseph took them home. I’ll have him come get your team, as well.”

  “Joseph?” She tried to remember who that might be.

  “My husband,” Mrs. Seymour replied. “I’ll send him to tend to your team. Just come to the parsonage if you need them.”

  “Thank you again.” Lillian shook her head, feeling the weariness of the day settle over her. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Lillian rushed in the door and went straight to Jimmy’s room. He sat up in bed looking at a book.

  “Look at you, young man. You look like you’re feeling better.” Lillian kissed his forehead.

  Jimmy nodded and grinned at her.

  “Do you like this book?”

  Another nod.

  “I hear you did very well this afternoon.” She sat on the bed and snuggled up beside him. “Guess what I did?”

  His brow lowered as though he were going to try to guess, but he just waited.

  “I used a shovel for the first time today and dug part of the irrigation trench. Whew! It was hard work.” She lifted her arm and flexed. “See? Don’t my muscles look bigger already?”

  Jimmy giggled.

  Oh, how she loved that sound.

  “Oh, and I checked on Mr. Whiskers. He’s doing very well. Harry has agreed to watch over him for you.”

  Jimmy nodded and smiled. Lillian could see this news met with his approval.

  “Well, while you keep looking at your book, I need to check on Mrs. Goodman and then go visit your pa, all right?”

  He nodded again, then reached over to the side table. Picking up a piece of paper, he thrust it at her.

  “You want me to bring this to him?”

  Another nod.

  “That I can do. Now you behave yourself and stay in bed. I’ll be back in just a little bit.”

  She closed his door and ran into the doctor in the hallway. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s quite all right. I was hoping to be able to speak with you.” The kindly man didn’t look at all happy.

  “What about?”

  “I’ve heard news that the judge will be here next week.”

  “Goodness. The wheels of justice move pretty quickly.”

  “Well, they certainly do when you are a close family friend of the sheriff.”

  All air whooshed out of her. “Oh.”

  “I wanted you to be aware. Mr. Colton’s lawyer stopped by earlier to get my assessment of Mrs. Goodman and asked if I would give my testimony, as well. Rest assured I will do everything in my power to help.”

  She wrung her hands together. “Is there any sign that she might awaken soon?”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “These things are difficult to predict. But I am hopeful.”

  “I am too.” Lillian made herself take a deep breath and worked to calm her thoughts. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Jimmy while I see Mrs. Goodman for myself? And then I need to take a few things to Mr. Colton.”

  “Certainly. I can spare a half hour or so until you return, unless I have an emergency that comes in.”

  “Thank you. I think I’ll go see Woody first and then come back to spend time with Mrs. Goodman. That way, I’ll be able to hear Jimmy if he needs me.”

  She raced out the door of the clinic to the wagon and found Pastor Seymour just about to climb up and take the reins.

  “Has there been any change?” He waited to mount the wagon.

  “Jimmy is much better, but Mrs. Goodman remains unconscious.” She reached into the back of the wagon for the things she’d brought. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I almost forgot about these things.” Tears pricked her eyes for the hundredth time that day, but she pasted on a smile. She couldn’t allow for it all to overwhelm her. No matter what.

  His expression grew quite serious. “I heard that the judge is coming in next week.”

  She nodded and bit the inside of her cheek. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d certainly bawl like a baby in front of the man. “The doctor just told me. They certainly are anxious to string Woody up.”

  “Well, I feel confident that God has other plans. Woody has good friends and, from what I hear, a good lawyer.”

  Lillian wanted more than anything to take courage in that. She met the older man’s gaze. “I hope—no, I pray that you’re right. I’ve come to care quite deeply for him—for all of them.”

  The pastor smiled. “I know you have. Now don’t let me keep you any longer. I have a feeling the best medicine for you will be to see Woody and know that he’s all right.”

  Lillian nodded and turned on her heel. Exhaustion stumbled her steps, but she marched her way to the jail anyway.

  She wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of seeing the man she loved.

  But to her disappointment, her determination couldn’t get her past the sheriff. Ornery man. He adamantly refused her admittance, telling her women weren’t allowed in the jail. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to give up.

  Every day, for five days, Lillian returned and demanded to be allowed to see Woody.

  On the sixth day, she went with an entourage of friends, including lawyer Van Dyke, who rattled off all sorts of legal jargon and threatened Sheriff Hobart with some kind of personal lawsuit.

  “Fine. I’ll let her in.” The sheriff voiced his displeasure. “But you haven’t heard the end of this. I’ll take it up with the judge tomorrow.”

  The lawyer patted Lillian on the back. “That’s quite all right, sheriff. We have a few things to take up with him, as well.”

  Hobart narrowed his eyes and waved at the gathering of people outside his jail. “Go on with you now. I’ll let her see her precious Mr. Colton.”

  The others dispersed while the lawyer gave Lillian some last bits of advice. He leaned close and whispered, “I’ll be just down the street at the hotel where Woody’s men are being held. That’s another matter that isn’t going to bode well for Sheriff Hobart. That’s illegal detainment, and he’ll answer for it.”

  Lillian nodded. She waited until Mr. Van Dyke was a few steps away before she turned to face Sheriff Hobart.

  “I’m ready to see Mr. Colton.”

  The sheriff opened the door to the jail, but the scowl never left his face. “That confounded city lawyer said I have to let you in, but I don’t have to let you stay very long.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Woody heard Lillian before he saw her. She was giving the sheriff a piece of
her mind—that was for certain—and it didn’t sound like she was backing down.

  He chuckled to himself. She was a lady, but she was a spitfire. Resilient. Stubborn. And he loved her. That realization had encouraged him throughout the day.

  “Colton!” the sheriff yelled down the hallway, none too happy it seemed. “You’ve got a visitor.” The rotund lawman stomped his way toward Woody’s cell, with Lillian behind him. “Your fancy lawyer said I have to let her see you, but I can’t let her in there, ’cause that ain’t appropriate, and I don’t trust you. You’ve got two minutes. That’s it.” The man stormed off.

  Lillian smiled at Woody and held out his Bible. “I brought this for you. Thought it might bring you comfort and help fill the time.”

  He reached through the bars and took the Bible and laid it on his bed. “Thank you.” He reached through the bars again and held out his hands.

  She took them in hers and winced. Woody looked down at her hands. There were open but dry wounds—from the looks of it, blisters that had popped. “What in the world have you been doing?”

  She blushed. “Ah . . . well . . . driving the wagon.” She lowered her voice. “I drove back to the farm, only don’t tell Sheriff Hobart.” Lillian shrugged. “Forgot my gloves.”

  He nodded and tried to be gentler as he kept hold of her. “There’s something I need to tell you, Lillian.”

  “I need to tell you something, too.”

  His heart did a little flip. “You go ahead. Ladies first.”

  “The judge is coming tomorrow, and he’s an old family friend of the sheriff. Mr. Van Dyke says that indeed all the evidence against you is circumstantial and not very good at that. Jimmy is doing much better, but he will have to stay in the clinic until his strength returns and he’s had enough nourishment. Mrs. Goodman still hasn’t awoken.” She bit her lip. “I think that’s it. Oh, wait! The sheriff still hasn’t allowed Sam and the men to go back to the farm. Mr. Van Dyke said he’s going to sue the sheriff and the town for false imprisonment and illegal detainment. There, I think that’s it.” She gave him a sad look and a sigh. “Okay, your turn.”