“I guess it was easy to judge you wrong when everybody else was,” the deputy told him. “Don’t make it right, though, and I’m heartily ashamed.”
Woody thanked him and headed out for the clinic. It felt so good to be free of suspicion—at least by most of the population. He entered the clinic and immediately heard Lillian’s laughter from Mrs. Goodman’s room. It drew him like a moth to the flame. As he opened the door, he heard Mrs. Goodman laughing, as well. It helped him to push aside his worries.
“Oh, dearie, don’t make me laugh anymore. It hurts these ol’ broken ribs of mine.” But the woman kept laughing anyway.
Jimmy sat on the end of the older woman’s bed and bounced.
Lillian reached for his son. “You better stop your bouncing, too, young man. We want Mrs. Goodman to be able to come home as soon as possible, don’t we?” She looked down at him but then caught Woody’s eye. “Woody! You’re back.” She set Jimmy on the floor, and they both scurried over.
With his son’s arms wrapped around his legs and Lillian’s arms around his shoulders, Woody couldn’t think of a better ending to a day. He kissed Lillian with all the energy he could muster. They were married. The weight of the thought thudded all the way down to his toes and then lifted him back up again.
Lillian pulled back with another blush. “And you look like you could fall asleep standing there.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I asked for Pastor Seymour to find another cot, and he did, so there’s one in Jimmy’s room for you to sleep on tonight. It looks like you need to head there right now.” She pushed him to the door but stopped a moment and threw over her shoulder, “Mrs. Goodman, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let me fetch Woody’s plate for him and get these two to bed.”
“That’s fine with me, dearie.” His housekeeper lifted a hand in a wave. “Good to see you, Woody. Get some rest, and we’ll catch up in the morning.”
He winked at her and allowed Lillian to keep pushing him out the door. “Good night, Mrs. Goodman.”
Lillian fussed and hovered until Jimmy was ensconced in covers and pillows on the bed and Woody had a plate of steaming food in front of him. “The doctor said that Jimmy could go home as soon as we wished. Mrs. Goodman still needs time to heal, but she’s doing very well.” She plumped another pillow for the cot. Woody couldn’t help but watch her.
“Not much of a honeymoon, eh?” He grinned as she blushed. He picked up his fork and speared a chunk of potato. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you. Once this is all settled and Mrs. Goodman is back in one piece, I’ll take you away for a proper wedding trip.”
Lillian said nothing, but the way she worried her bottom lip made Woody wonder if she regretted having married him so quickly. He didn’t like to think she’d changed her mind—after all, it was a bit late for that.
“You know,” Lillian finally spoke, “I don’t really need a wedding trip. However, I might have some ideas for one if you insist.” She looked like she might say something more, then turned back to check on Jimmy. “He’s already asleep.”
The warm food hit the spot and stopped the gnawing in his stomach. “I asked the sheriff to stop by.”
She looked at him oddly. “Is something wrong?” She sat on the cot across from his chair.
He glanced at Jimmy and lowered his voice just in case. “Well, there was some ransacking done to the house. Windows broken and such. I found floorboards in the attic torn up. That must’ve happened the day Mrs. Goodman found the intruder.” Woody finished his plate. “But the windows hadn’t been broken when I found her, so someone’s been back.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. “Goodness. Is it safe to return home?”
He loved hearing the word home out of her mouth. “That’s what I want to talk to the sheriff about. I’d like him to see the torn-up floorboards, too. Maybe there’s some kind of clue. Maybe there are tracks he can follow.”
“I’m sure the sheriff will be able to help. Especially now that he knows the truth about you.” She reached forward and touched his knee.
It was true. Now that Sheriff Hobart wasn’t blaming Woody anymore, he would truly look for the killer, wouldn’t he?
“I’m sure the sheriff will figure all this out real soon, and we’ll get it all behind us.” Lillian’s touch on his leg seemed almost electrified. Woody realized just how much he longed to hold her. He pushed aside his growing desire and smiled. “Hey, guess what? We had a miracle out on the farm.”
Lillian stood and came up beside him. “Really? A miracle?”
“Yep, I went back today to work on the irrigation ditch, and it was already flowing. Not just the main line, either. There were lines off of the main and out into the groves. The men didn’t finish it and don’t know who did. But we were able to water all the trees today. All of them! I think, in fact, the trees are going to be fine—the crop, too.”
Lillian lowered her head, then glanced up at him through her long lashes.
He leaned forward. “So is there something you’d like to tell me?”
She fiddled with her handkerchief.
“Maybe about how you got those blisters on your hands?”
She looked up at him. “I did drive without my gloves . . . so don’t go thinking that I lied to you. I just left out the part about learning how to use a shovel.” She straightened her spine and raised her eyebrows as if she dared him to scold her.
Woody laughed and shook his head.
“I went there with the intention to do anything I could to help, especially since the sheriff wouldn’t let your men leave town. I was worried. So I went against his command that no one set foot on the property. I was determined to see that ditch dug. But after donning a pair of your trousers and trying to figure out a shovel for the first time in my life, I found out that an hour’s worth of my sweat made little more than a few inches of progress.” She laughed along with him. “You should’ve seen it. I was a mess.”
He grinned, imagining her dressed in his trousers. “I would have liked to have seen that.”
His comment brought a flush to Lillian’s cheeks. She hurried on. “But the real miracle came in the form of our friend, Harry. That young man dug like there was a cyclone after him. He was the one who finished it. I’m certain of it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jimmy tugged at the loose thread on the bottom of his shirt. The sheriff had been with them for over an hour already. The bad man was still alive. He’d hurt Mrs. Goodman. Almost killed her—just like Mama.
But now, he and Mrs. Goodman had both seen him, and it didn’t matter that the sheriff had a name to call the man. What mattered was the man was still able to hurt the people Jimmy loved.
Miss Lillian sat on the edge of Mrs. Goodman’s bed with Jimmy in her lap. She stroked his hair as the sheriff talked.
“We’re pretty certain that the man we’re after is indeed Darwin Longstreet. I got to looking through all of Woody’s notes on the evidence, and then checked out some old records and realized that Longstreet’s family once lived on your property.”
Papa shook his head. “Longstreet. It’s all beginning to fit together. Mrs. Goodman had mentioned reading about his death several weeks ago, and I knew the name sounded familiar. Could be the bank manager mentioned it when we bought the place.”
“Yeah, it belonged to Longstreet’s father, a no-good bum. He died and left a widow and two sons, one of which was Longstreet.”
Papa looked upset, and that made Jimmy more than a little afraid. “So you’re saying Longstreet’s actually alive and my farm had once been his father’s?”
The sheriff nodded. “Apparently Longstreet staged it all. They thought the body was his—but too many things weren’t adding up. When John and David—Darwin’s uncle and other cousin—showed up to report David’s brother Saul missing, the authorities did some more digging. The dead man turned out to be Saul and not Darwin Longstreet. That’s why I was gone all day yesterday. I went up to Stockton. Found out everything I
needed to know. Darwin is dark-haired, wiry, and mean. Apparently he didn’t get along with any of his kin and hated the fact that you now own the land that he believes should be his. They’re pretty sure he had killed more than once before. He was convicted once of murder already and escaped from jail. And his kin were pretty sure he’d killed not only his cousin Saul but his kid brother, too.”
Miss Lillian gasped. “That’s awful.”
The sheriff nodded. “Beat his cousin beyond recognition so the law would figure it was him. Sorry to be so blunt, Miss Porter.”
“She’s Mrs. Colton now,” Papa told the man, and Jimmy couldn’t help but tighten his hold on his new mother’s arm. He was so afraid that the bad man would come and take her away like he had his other mother.
“Congratulations,” the sheriff offered. “Anyway, you all need to be aware of the danger. It was always rumored that Longstreet had hidden a large amount of gold on the farm, but apparently no one could ever find anything and figured it was just a rumor. Now, however, with all that’s happened, I’m of a mind that there is something there that Longstreet is after. Probably what he was after when he killed your wife.”
Jimmy buried his face. He knew the bad man wanted treasure. That’s what he’d asked for when Jimmy had surprised him.
“My guess is that he still hasn’t found what he wanted or he wouldn’t have tore up your house. If we could come up with a plan to trap him . . .”
“What if he already got it all? And that’s why he hurt Mrs. Goodman. She said he hit her with a sack of rocks or what felt like that. It was probably the gold he was looking for.” Miss Lillian hugged him tighter. Even though Jimmy felt safe in her arms, his heart still beat faster knowing the bad man was still alive.
“I don’t think he would have bothered to show back up and trash the house if he had what he wanted. Seems to me those are the actions of a frustrated and angry man.” The sheriff looked stern.
Jimmy tuned out the adults. If the sheriff knew who the bad man was, then maybe they’d catch him soon. Maybe he could tell his papa what he knew.
But no. If the bad man was that close, he’d know. Just like he’d known where Jimmy was that day on the hill. Before he got sick.
He’d kill everyone before the sheriff could catch him. He’d already hurt Mrs. Goodman, and Jimmy couldn’t bear it if he hurt his pa or Miss Lillian . . . Mama. What if he thought Jimmy had talked? He’d come after them all for sure.
Jimmy turned into Lillian’s arms and closed his eyes tight. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Darwin Longstreet’s face out of his mind. Taunting him.
Lillian turned in the wagon and waved at the doctor and Pastor Seymour and his wife. A niggle of fear resided in her gut, but she tried her best to squelch it. Fear wasn’t from the Lord.
But there was a killer on the loose. He’d killed Rebecca Colton. Had done something horrible to little Jimmy. Killed who knows how many others, including his own kin, and had hurt Mrs. Goodman.
He had to be stopped.
Woody and the sheriff had argued all morning about the choices they had. It was finally agreed upon that Mrs. Goodman was still too fragile to be moved and would remain in the clinic. The rest of them would return to the house, letting it be known in town that they were back in residence. The sheriff and his deputies would work with Woody and his men to lay a trap for Darwin Longstreet. The sheriff felt certain that Longstreet would show up again once he felt that it was safe enough to do so. If Woody and his family acted like everything was back to normal and word got around that everyone was certain Longstreet was long gone, the brute might just feel safe enough to reshow his face. And when he did—they’d be ready. But Lillian wasn’t at all sure that was the right answer, and neither was Woody.
As they pulled out of Angels Camp, Lillian turned to look at Woody and then to the little boy sandwiched between them. Please, God, let this be the right answer. Those two had stolen her heart, and she couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to either of them. What must they have felt to lose Rebecca? What must they feel now—with her murder brought back to the forefront of everyone’s mind and her murderer on the loose?
A shiver raced up her spine. She wanted to cry.
Lillian couldn’t help but notice that Woody watched the surrounding area with an eagle eye. He’d been serious and quiet ever since they’d met with the sheriff. Was this the way their life would be until Longstreet was caught? What if he was never caught? She steadied her nerves. She needed to be strong for Jimmy. It was clear that the boy was still afraid. Maybe more so since hearing the sheriff’s conversation.
“Looks like it may rain, and I hope it will.” Woody looked at the accumulating clouds overhead. “I just hope it will hold off until we get home. But even if it’s pouring when we reach the house, I want you two to wait until I have the men go through it and make sure no one is inside.” Woody’s words were hushed and stern. Long gone were the traces of a man in love. Maybe it really had been too good to be true. How could Woody truly love her when he was still obviously in love with his first wife? He couldn’t let Rebecca go. As soon as the sheriff had discussed the details with them, Woody had focused in on one thing—justice for his wife.
“Did you hear me? Wait until we’ve checked to make sure it’s safe.”
Lillian nodded but said nothing. They’d already discussed all of this, and she figured he was just reiterating due to anxiety.
When the house finally did come into view, Lillian couldn’t help noticing the boarded-up windows. Woody had told her about it, but seeing it brought tears to her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and gave Jimmy a smile.
“It’s good to be home.” She squeezed his shoulders, but he didn’t acknowledge her in any way.
Her heart clenched. Maybe she’d come to call this home too soon. Gotten too attached. The Colton men would never love her the way they had Rebecca. Doubts poured through her mind. What had she done? Had she made everything worse? Why had Woody even asked her to be his wife?
Sam and the others appeared and did as Woody asked. While they searched through the house, Woody stood guard with the rifle he’d bought in town. Once Sam reappeared at the front door, Lillian climbed down from the wagon and reached up for Jimmy. He didn’t move for a moment, but just stared at the house.
“They’ve checked it all out, Jimmy, and it’s safe.” She hoped her voice sounded more convincing than she felt.
“I still think you should have stayed in town.” Woody shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”
Lillian threw him a look. “I’m sure it will be all right. Come on, Jimmy. I need your help to make something for us to eat.” Finally he stood and moved to where she could help him down.
Woody came alongside them. “I want you to stay inside and lock the door. I’m going to help Sam check the immediate area, and then I’ll come join you.”
Lillian nodded and ushered Jimmy into the house. The torment in Woody’s eyes made her want to cry. All her selfish thoughts tumbled back in—how could she even think about herself at a time like this? God had brought her here. She’d agreed to marry Woody because she loved him. She loved his son. So she would do the very best she could to help them both, for the rest of her life.
A rumble of thunder drew her attention back to the sky. It appeared a storm was working its way toward them. “I think we should go and check on Mr. Whiskers. You know I asked Harry to watch over him, but I don’t know if he’s had a chance these last couple of days given the situation.”
Jimmy took off at a run for the kitchen, and Lillian followed close behind, praying that the little rabbit was still alive. Mr. Whiskers proved to be just fine. Jimmy picked him up and held him close while Lillian began to search the cupboards for something she might prepare. Much of the food items they’d had prior to Mrs. Goodman’s attack were gone. She smiled. No doubt Harry had helped himself as she’d suggested, but there was no sign of him otherwise. A horrible thought crossed her
mind. What if this Longstreet fellow had hurt him? After all, the sheriff had said the man killed his cousin and brother. She shuddered. All she could do was pray for Harry’s protection.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The rain poured down on Harry as he watched Jimmy’s pa from the trees. He and his men moved around the farm grounds. They acted like they were looking for something, but he didn’t know what it was.
As Harry turned his head, the bruises on his neck and face hurt. Darwin had gotten mad at him and hit him, even though he showed his brother where the bags were. Harry didn’t understand. Why was his brother so mean?
It scared him.
It also scared him that he’d overheard Darwin say that he wanted Colton and the kid dead.
Colton was Jimmy’s pa. So that must mean the kid was Jimmy. Harry couldn’t let Darwin hurt them. But he didn’t know how to stop it.
“Aren’t you Harry?”
Harry startled. He hadn’t been paying attention and somehow Mr. Colton managed to sneak up on him. Brother told him not to talk to anyone or be seen by anyone. But Harry knew it was too late to run away. Besides, Miss Lillian said that Mr. Colton was a really nice man.
Slowly standing up with the rain dripping from his hat, Harry looked behind him. Darwin hadn’t followed him this time, so maybe he didn’t know where Harry had gone.
“I’m Harry.” He looked at the man, then lowered his head just a bit. “You’re Mr. Colton. Jimmy’s pa.”
The man smiled, but it was almost a sad smile. “Yes.” He stuck out his hand. “I wanted to shake your hand, Harry. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
Harry looked at his raggedy boots. He’d never thought of one of his feet being wrong.
“I know that night you were just trying to get Jimmy to come back home, but I frightened you, and I’m sorry. I’m grateful that you helped Jimmy that night.”
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