Regina Jennings

by Love in the Balance

  The sun was rising on what promised to be a clear spring morning. Had someone wanted to track Bailey and Molly as they meandered in the meadow behind the church, the dewy grass held an easy trail. But anyone looking for excitement was still at the parsonage, talking over the dramatic events.

  “I forgot the ledgers. Are you going back for them?” Molly asked.

  “You’re already thinking about the money?” He rolled his eyes. “That man—a murderer, remember?—held a gun to you. I gave Russell my sympathy and forgiveness, but seeing his son manhandle you nearly made me rescind my offer. I don’t know how you can take it so lightly.”

  “I was worried at the time, but everything is set aright now. No more danger lurks, the money is recovered, Father’s health will be preserved—everything we wished for has happened.”

  “Not everything,” he protested. “Aren’t you curious about how I knew you were in danger? It was because you’d never told me that you loved me before. So either you lied to send me a signal, or it was the truth and you had to tell me because your life was in danger.” He took her arm and turned her toward him. “Which was it, Molly? Will you tell me that you love me when you don’t have a gun to your head?”

  “Bailey”—Molly pulled away as gently as she could—“I’m leaving, moving to Austin.”

  “Austin? Why now, when everything is falling into place?” He blinked. “Did Nick find you a job?”

  She couldn’t tell him about her conversation with Reverend Stoker, not if it would hurt the relationship between the two men. She shook her head. “Another friend.”

  He drew in a quick breath. She must have surprised him, but this time it wasn’t pleasant.

  “I’ve tried to atone for what I put you through. I understand if you don’t trust me—”

  “That’s not it,” she said.

  “Then don’t leave, not without an understanding between us. Last time we parted we had no pledge, nothing to hold on to. If there’s the slightest possibility that we have a future, tell me now, so I have something to hope for.”

  Molly wrapped her arms around herself. She’d dreamt that someday their union could be blessed, but Stoker was right. Bailey was better off without her. Remembering that was the only way she could force the cold words from her lips.

  “I know my mind. It won’t change. I need to get away from . . . from everyone.” Could he hear the blood coursing through her veins and crying out that she was a liar? Could he see the effort it took to disguise her love?

  “If that’s the honest truth, I’ll go.” His eyes never left hers, and when she refused to answer, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I wish there was something I could do, could say, to persuade you.”

  Was she truly determined to release him? Molly knew the loneliness of going without his companionship. She’d suffered it once already, and putting miles between them wouldn’t lessen her love. But if she’d been willing to marry Edward for her family, what wouldn’t she sacrifice for Bailey?

  And yet, he wasn’t gone. He stood before her—broad shoulders that had shared her burdens even after she’d betrayed him, hands that had worked on her family’s property to avert disaster, and a heart that turned to God and desired to do right, seeking Him even after failure. He was everything she wanted in a partner, but she couldn’t have him.

  “At least we can say good-bye this time.” Had she meant to voice that thought aloud? Molly definitely hadn’t counted on his reading her mind, but with her eyes straying to his lips, he could hardly miss her meaning.

  One eyebrow rose. “If by a good-bye you mean a kiss, I think I can oblige—but only under certain conditions. We can’t let this get out of hand.”

  Molly’s face burned. The branches above them trembled in the early breeze. For all her brave talk, Molly had feared that she wouldn’t see another morning. After surviving her ordeal, what kind of a risk was this? “It’ll be all right.”

  “But we already know how quickly our . . . um . . . enthusiasm can—”

  “Forget it.” Molly threw her hands in the air. “It was just a kiss, but if you’re going to carry on so . . .”

  She spun on her heel, fully anticipating the warm hand that grasped her arm.

  “It’s never been just a kiss for me.” Bailey tossed his hat on the fencepost and then took her hands. “This is what you want? I have permission?”

  Molly stood tall and tried to calm her brittle nerves, determined to show him that she wasn’t easily led astray. A quick survey of the meadow told her they were unobserved, so she nodded. She’d kissed Bailey before, so why did she feel like a maiden being led to the edge of a volcano? Why was this time different?

  Her heart fluttered as he laid her back into the crook of his arm and bent toward her.

  “No, wait,” he said. “I might want you on this side.”

  Oh, he was a scoundrel. “Bailey Garner, what is wrong with you? Since when have you grown so particular with your kissing?” She was nearly woozy, and it hadn’t even commenced.

  “Since I know I’ll have to remember this one for the rest of my life.” He switched her to his other side, lifted her hair, and let it fall across his arm. He smiled down at her, so maddeningly close. “That’s better.”

  Molly disagreed. The anticipation unnerved her, and when their lips finally touched, the dam broke, warmth rushing through her with a startling thrill. He filled her thoughts until there was only him. It’d always been only him, understanding and appreciating her. He moved across her mouth so slowly that she barely noticed his bristly stubble—didn’t mind it, anyway—but he’d better hurry before she lost her resolve to do what was best for both of them.

  Oh, fiddlesticks. Too late. She was his and always would be.

  Molly wrapped her arm around his neck.

  “No.” He took her hand in his and held it against his chest. “You wanted a good-bye. Under the circumstances, I can’t give you anything more.”

  He wasn’t the boy she’d toyed with. He was the man who had her heart, and he was giving it back.

  With one last kiss, so sweet that she wanted to cry, he released her. “I wish you the best, Molly, and I’m sure that’s what you’re going to find.”

  His cheeks were ruddy, but he stood his ground. Steady.

  So this was how it would end? Molly wobbled to a walnut tree. “You’re taking the books to Father now?” Her voice sounded as thin as a kitten’s cry.

  “I’ll swing by the parsonage and get them. What are your plans?”

  Molly leaned her face against the tree trunk. “I’ll wait at Mrs. Weems’s until the sheriff clears out, then I suppose I’ll prepare my things. That position in Austin might come available at any time.”

  He took his hat off the fencepost and settled it on his head.

  “If I don’t see you before you leave, take care of yourself.”

  She nodded. She’d have to, for no one else would care for her.

  ———

  So she wasn’t ready. Bailey could understand. Molly was a smart woman, and a smart woman wouldn’t snatch him up at the first opportunity—not after the asinine way he’d been carrying on. The gravel crunched under his boots as he hurried from the parsonage to the Lovelaces’ house. He’d be a sight more upset if it weren’t for the good-bye. He smiled. That wasn’t a good-bye—more like a y’all come back.

  Bailey inhaled deeply at the memory, but the familiar shame didn’t make an appearance. He’d demonstrated his feelings for Molly with respect and restraint. God knew how much it took for him to tear away, but his clean conscience was worth it.

  As for her going to Austin, he didn’t like it, but he understood her desire to get away. He’d travel to Austin if he had to, but visits would be more convenient if she was located closer.

  Before Bailey reached the Lovelaces’ house, he could hear the saw screeching down at the mill. He heard the mule drivers geeing and hawing at their teams, and, as always, he could hear the rumble of the water crashing o
ver the impressive wheel.

  Russell wouldn’t be in the office this morning. Bailey hoped that Sheriff Colton would have mercy on him and allow him to bury his son before serving his time. His crimes were serious and could’ve led to more deaths had Michael escaped, but once his son’s guilt couldn’t be denied any longer, he had repented and persuaded Michael to do the same.

  Lola let him in before he could knock twice. He found Thomas in the parlor pulling his socks on.

  “Is it true? Did Russell confess to robbing me?”

  “Yes, sir, and we recovered the money, too. Sheriff Colton said if we can show where it was stolen, they’ll return it.”

  Thomas frowned. “His testimony will have to be enough, because we can’t prove it. It doesn’t show up in the accounts.”

  Bailey sat next to him and handed him the ledgers. “Yes it does.”

  He had to hand it to Thomas Lovelace. The man didn’t need a lengthy explanation. He flipped through the books, mentally tallying the amount skimmed while Bailey wondered how Molly would tame her abundant hair with all her ribbons missing.

  “Then we’ve been running in the black all this time.” Thomas crashed his beefy hands together. “We did turn a profit this month.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And with the river up and the sales you’re bringing in, we’re set to clear record amounts.”

  “We were already, but the skimming hid it from us.”

  Thomas eyed him with a new appreciation. “I had my reservations when you offered to help, but I was wrong. Tell you what I’m going to do. When Colton hands over my money, you’re going to get a nice chunk of it in appreciation for a job well done.”

  Now he was talking, but Bailey couldn’t accept any more undue praise. “It wasn’t me, sir. It was Molly.”

  Thomas laughed. “What did Molly have to do with it?”

  “She’s the one who put the two accounts together. I left the books with her last night, and she found his theft. See the hair ribbons? She should get the reward.”

  “That child? I can’t go to the store without some busybody reporting on her doings. First she’s having dinner with the Tillerton girl, and then she’s harboring a fugitive. I’m glad she listened to Stoker and decided to move to Austin. I can’t blame him for not wanting her at the parsonage.”

  “He talked to Molly?” Bailey frowned. Hadn’t he been with the posse all evening? “Is that why she’s leaving for Austin?”

  “It’s for the best. You obviously weren’t comfortable with her here, and you’ve proven your worth at the mill. If you weren’t my eyes and ears, I’d have to sell out.”

  Bailey didn’t need any breakfast. He was going to swallow enough words to fill him up. “Forget Molly.” If only it were that easy. “Is your offer of a reward still good?”

  Thomas grinned. “That’s my boy. Way to keep your eye on the prize. How about we hunt that sheriff down? Maybe he’ll have my . . . er . . . our money in hand.”

  To Do List:

  Pack bags. Done

  Clean parsonage. Done

  Move to Austin.

  A full day had passed, and Molly hadn’t heard from anyone. Not Reverend Stoker. Not Bailey. Not her father. Her patience had worn thin. Clearly Stoker didn’t want her to stay at the parsonage, but she wasn’t going to drag her trunk to the crossroads and strap it behind the next buggy that appeared. With so much happening, she thought she would’ve heard some news by now. Her father could’ve at least stopped by to thank her. His health didn’t keep him from piddling around town.

  Molly drummed her fingers against the table. Nothing to do. No one to see. She’d made visits yesterday, but with her current social connections, it didn’t take very long. The tiny cabin had been scrubbed and the dishes washed, and only the aroma of the weak coffee remained. All her worldly goods were assembled, waiting for a wagon to roll up and cart her away.

  Austin. She clenched her hands together in a silent prayer. Would her lot be any better there? Would she meet the same characters with different faces? Faux friend Carrie, critical Mr. Travis . . . and the men? Molly groaned. What if she caught the eye of an eligible suitor? At what point during introductions should she disclose that she’d eloped with a married man?

  The only man she wanted already knew.

  Bailey had said his farewell—her pulse raced at the memory—performed his farewell was more accurate. No doubt when they encountered each other again, he’d wear the same distant expression he wore when meeting her publicly. No one would guess the reverend’s perfect assistant harbored feelings for her. She wouldn’t expose him. Not when he’d tried his best to forget her.

  What was he doing now? Had he already told her father about the theft? After her ordeal it seemed like someone should check on her. Bailey had probably gone to Lockhart to retrieve the money, but she couldn’t believe no one had been by to keep her abreast of the day’s events.

  Molly reached for her hat. Sitting around the cabin wouldn’t satisfy her curiosity. Maybe the shop owner, Deacon Bradford, could fill her in on the town news.

  Usually shopping cheered Molly. The smell of fresh merchandise invigorated her, but Deacon Bradford’s store had the opposite effect. After the variety of Lockhart’s emporiums, Prairie Lea’s only store reminded Molly of all she’d left behind.

  “Mr. Bradford, if I might trouble you—”

  “’Bout time you made a visit. I bought a whole bolt of gingham I thought you’d like.”

  Molly coughed to cover her distress. Gingham! “How considerate of you. I’m not here make a purchase, but I wondered if you’d heard any news from my father or the sheriff recently.”

  “Your father? Ask him yourself. He’s at the checkerboard on the west porch.”

  Molly barely remembered to thank him before clutching her skirts and whirling around. Her father was in town? He’d walked right by the parsonage without stopping to thank her?

  Molly flew around the corner. A marked board balanced atop a barrel. Her father’s elbows rested on his knees while Mayor Sellers chewed an unlit cigar with a scowl.

  “Your move,” the mayor said.

  “Excuse me, Father.” Despite her best efforts, Molly couldn’t keep her boot heel from tapping on the porch floor.

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Her stays grew tight as she drew in a long indignant breath. “That’s it? You’re not pleased that I’m safe or that we recovered the money?”

  The mayor’s eyebrows rose, and he removed his cigar. “Of course he’s pleased. He’s not laid into anyone yet this morning, and it’s nearly noon. Happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

  “I’d be happier if I knew what Bailey was up to,” Thomas said.

  Molly tilted her head to better see her father’s face bent over the board. “Isn’t he at the mill?”

  “Hasn’t been there since I promised him a reward. He agreed to take Russell’s position, but then he skipped town.”

  “Why are you rewarding Bailey?”

  “Because he found the embezzlement. Without him we couldn’t prove how much had been stolen.” Thomas jumped a goober pea they were using as a checker.

  “But he didn’t discover the embezzlement. I did.”

  Mayor Sellers clasped his cigar between his teeth and grunted. “That’s a doozy of a story, young lady.” He double jumped two pecans and dropped them into his pocket.

  “It’s the truth. Bailey brought me the books. I spent the whole night going over them, and he’s taking the credit?”

  The two men exchanged amused glances.

  “Child, if you were that intelligent, I wouldn’t have to keep you on an allowance or manage your settlement.”

  He leaned forward to move his pecan, but Molly was quicker. Her hand darted to the board and plucked it out of his reach. “And about my settlement . . .”

  Thomas ran a finger under his collar. “Well, we shouldn’t need it now that the books aren’t being skimmed, but you never know. We mig
ht want to invest in a cotton gin. We could run a belt from the waterwheel to a gin and have a whole new—” Her scowl stopped him. “Do you have a better idea? I hate to see you fritter the money away on pretties.”

  “Pretties?” Molly snatched her bonnet off her head and held it before her. “I’ve worn the same old hats since I returned because you insisted our family was broke.” Molly threw her hat to the ground. “It’s my money, and I’ll buy a hat if I want to.”

  “Sounds like we best call this game a draw.” The mayor rose to his feet with creaky knees. “See you tomorrow.” He ambled away as quickly as his high britches and short suspenders would allow.

  Thomas rocked in his chair. “You should invest the money, save something for the future. To tell the truth, I’ve dipped into it time and again to meet expenses, but the money recovered from Michael James should pay it back. That is, if Bailey hasn’t run off with all of it.”

  She gritted her teeth. Bailey had kissed her good-bye. He’d said he might not see her again. “No wonder I fell for Bailey. He reminds me of another man I’ve tried to love my whole life.”

  “Don’t get all emotional. I’m taking care of you, aren’t I?”

  “You’re taking care of yourself. I’m just your baggage.” Molly took a handful of nuts from the board and stomped through the curious shoppers exiting the store.

  So Bailey had taken the credit and the money? Somehow whenever a man decided to help her, she ended up pocket poor and still in their debt. The peanut shells disintegrated in her hand. She chewed furiously as she walked, the top of her head burning under the midday sun, her hat lying forgotten at the store. No matter. A vast selection of hats in Lockhart awaited her pleasure.

  Too angry to wait for a ride, Molly headed out for Lockhart on foot, with plans to accept the first method of conveyance that presented itself. She didn’t care if she reached town in a turnip wagon. All that mattered was getting her hands on her money and on Bailey Garner. He could keep the reward if he needed it, but by george, she would rain curses on his head until he stood toe-to-toe with her father and admitted who had really saved the business.