“I can’t help how I feel, but I don’t mean to make a fuss over it. I’ll walk down the aisle to you whenever you say, Simon.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Charlie Wilson stood at the doorway of the parsonage the next morning, nodding politely as Simon opened the door for him. “How are things going?” he asked, extending a hand to the young man.
Simon greeted him, then motioned to the parlor doorway. “Won’t you come in, sir?” he invited, aware of Grace behind him in the hallway. Without hesitation, the lawman stepped into the parlor and took a seat, Simon following behind him with Grace in tow. He settled on the sofa with her at his side and waited patiently for Charlie to state his business. It didn’t take long, for the lawman cleared his throat and began.
“I wanted to be certain of where we stand, Miss Grace. You have no intention of returning to your uncle’s ranch, have you?”
Grace shook her head. “Certainly not, sir. Simon has asked me to marry him, and Mrs. Anderson is making lists and plans for the reception. Even if all of that were not so, I’d never go back there so long as Kenny is on the loose. I feel much safer being in town.”
Charlie looked quickly at Grace. “I’m here on a mission. Surely Simon has told you about Miss Belle over at the saloon being hurt. Well, the doctor stopped by to tell me he’d been by to visit her again.
“Belle told the doc who the fella was and soon as I get a posse together, I’ll be after him again. I’m sure hoping with a dozen men combing that part of the area, by this time tomorrow afternoon, he’s gonna be in jail.”
“Who did it? A stranger? Or one of the ranch…” Grace’s words trailed off as Charlie Wilson shook his head. “It was Kenny Summers, wasn’t it?” she asked, feeling the blood drain from her head, fearing the worst. “Is the woman badly hurt?”
“She’s alive. Pretty well stove up, couple of broken ribs and a pile of bruises. But she can talk and she identified Kenny. Told the doctor what he was wearing and described the bandage on his shoulder left over from when you shot him, Simon. And a birthmark he’s got on his—” The sheriff cleared his throat loudly. “Anyways, she smacked him on his wounded shoulder and made him madder than a hornet. Probably shouldn’t have done it, but she was fighting like the dickens, from what she said.
“Anyway, she identified him to the satisfaction of the law. I’ve got Judge Hale heading this way by the end of next week. If all goes well and if Summers is finally located, he’ll no doubt be hauled off to a Federal facility. He’s proved to be a slippery fella so far. I’m gonna feel kinda foolish if we can’t lay hands on him before the judge shows up. The young women in this town shouldn’t have to fear walking out alone or wondering if the fellas they’re with are out for more than a few kisses,” Charlie said.
Simon rose. “Let me know what you find, Sheriff. I have to make a couple of calls on sick folks this morning. I don’t want to be gone too long for I hesitate to leave the parsonage for any length of time.”
Charlie stood and followed Simon to the doorway. “Just be careful that no one follows you, Reverend. Keep a good eye out.” The sheriff looked fierce as he touched a hand to his gun, removing it from its holster, checking to be sure it was fully loaded. “Everyone in the area knows that Kenny is a wanted man, and if I find out that Joe Cumberland is keeping him hidden from me, there’ll be hell to pay. I’ll guarantee you that.”
Simon and Grace sat in the parlor after supper, both of them excited about their future together, neither of them wanting to move apart, so enraptured were they with each other. Simon leaned closer for a moment, his need for her holding him in thrall, for he could think of nothing but the wedding to come and the plans yet to be confirmed.
“I must send a wire to my parents, Grace. I’d thought to write, but I can’t wait so long for them to know about you. I hope you haven’t any doubts about the date I’ve set for our wedding.”
“I’m agreeable to Saturday next, Simon. When will you wire your parents?”
“Right away. I want them to have plenty of time to make plans.”
“I’ll leave it up to you to make the arrangements. I’ll meet you at the altar as soon as you ask your bishop about speaking the marriage vows for us.”
“I’ve notified all of my deacons that there is to be a wedding on Saturday next. Most all of them already knew of your presence in my home, but I wanted to make it apparent to all the men that there will be a wedding right soon. I don’t want any gossip about you being here. Ethel, bless her heart, is a fine chaperone but I think my church board is relieved to see the problem solved so readily.” He rose then and drew her to her feet.
“Come with me to the rail station. I want to send a wire and I don’t want you out of my sight for a minute.” He tilted her chin upward and his mouth found hers again, his lips firm as he claimed hers, and then he grasped her hand, leading her to the hallway, where he called out to his housekeeper, who was in the kitchen.
“Ethel, we’re going to the rail station to send a wire to my parents. We won’t be long.”
The older woman came from the kitchen, her face alight with a wide smile. “We’ll have a real celebration in no time, Simon. I’ve been making out a menu and I’m going to talk to the ladies at church about helping out with the food for the reception.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “The pair of you go on now and take care of your plans.”
When Simon and Grace arrived in town to send the wire, the stationmaster watched the young preacher and the lovely woman by his side, perhaps recognizing that something of great import was happening right here in the telegraph office. For Simon’s hand trembled as he wrote the words that would be delivered to his parents’ home in Oklahoma the next morning.
“I’ve found my bride. Come immediately. Wedding on Saturday next.”
And then he sent a few terse words to his bishop, reaffirming his request for that man’s presence to officiate at his wedding to Miss Grace Benson.
Chapter Six
It was the next day just after noontime when the lone gunman rode along the riverbank and hid within the thick stand of trees. As though he thought himself a smaller target, less visible to those he watched, Kenny Summers dismounted from his horse and tied the animal to a tree limb lest he follow where he should not go. Hiding amidst the trees was an easy task, for the heavily wooded area gave him shelter and he had a good view of the house, the parsonage wherein lived the man he sought.
The preacher had not seen him, even though he’d been following him for a long distance this morning. He could have fired then, but it was more important to find out where he’d stashed Grace Benson than to kill the preacher man right away. And before him now, through the window near the back porch, he caught sight of the woman he sought. Grace Benson was in his sights and his anger at her grew by leaps and bounds. She had no right to be living with the preacher. She’d been offered marriage by Kenny, and she’d turned him down. The urge to lay his hands on her swelled within the man and his hands shook as he held his gun. It would serve her right if he took aim at her through the window. But for now, he decided a warning would do. Would suit his purpose better.
He’d watched as the older woman came out and had hung what looked like dish towels on a line on the back porch, then gone back in the house. Maybe he’d take aim, next time she walked out the door. That would get Grace Benson’s attention. She’d know then he meant business. For surely she’d have a good idea who’d fired the gun.
He saw the female move from the window then. Grace Benson for sure, for the housekeeper was taller, a larger target. He could have picked her off like an empty can on a fence post had he wanted to, earlier. Maybe just a shoulder shot would put her out of commission, leaving Grace more vulnerable to him.
And having Grace in his power was the final victory he sought. His body craved the womanly shape, her curving form, and his greedy soul sought out her inheritance. For he’d overheard Joe Cumberland speak of it one day, and vowed
he’d claim it the day he married the girl.
He’d almost had her, almost won her as his bride, for even her uncle had approved of him. But the preacher had snatched her away. Bringing her home with him, like a dog with a bone. It had been a good trick to pull, for it had taken Kenny a while to figure out where she was stashed. Until he’d followed the preacher man back to the parsonage and caught sight of Grace there.
And so he watched the place where his target hid. Perhaps she’d come out and he could lure her far enough from the house to make her an easy pickup. His horse could run faster than a slip of a girl, and once she was away from shelter, he’d get her.
For now, though, he concentrated on the woman, the old lady who kept a tight rein on Grace. She wouldn’t be any great loss to anyone, maybe to the preacher man, but he’d already made Kenny angry enough to get rid of him, too. Right now, he was ready to shoot the first one of them who came through that back door. Not Grace, he corrected himself quickly, but if the old woman was laid up with a bullet wound the girl would have to come out of the house sometime, maybe to tend the garden, at least show herself on the porch.
The trees hid him as Kenny moved to another spot, one in which the house was more clearly visible through the trees. And there he waited. And felt a surge of triumph when the old lady opened the back door and came out on the porch, a rug in her hand. She stood on the end of the small porch and shook the rug a bit, looked down at it and lifted it to shake it again.
The gunman raised his rifle, a weapon he’d practiced with until it felt a part of his body. It rested on his shoulder, and he winced at the pressure from it, for his wound was still giving him problems. But he forgot all of that as he took aim and his finger tightened on the trigger. As the old woman stood, rug in hand, he pulled back his index finger and the shot was fired.
The bullet missed the target he’d aimed for, hitting instead the siding of the house behind her. She’d bent just a bit as he shot and his aim had been off. And then she slumped to the floor, fainting dead away.
The sound of the rifle bullet being fired brought Grace out the door, and the sight of Ethel lying on the porch made Grace fall to her knees, behind the railing, visible between the upright spokes. He heard her voice call out.
“Ethel. Oh, Ethel.” She bent low, her attention only for the woman before her. Her hands touched Ethel with care, as if she sought out any sign of blood or injury, but she seemed to find nothing untoward, only a woman who seemed to be regaining consciousness, her eyes blinking a bit, her voice speaking Grace’s name.
Grace was in his sights, but Kenny lowered his gun, for she was not the target yet. He’d get to her. He crept backward from his hiding place, untied his horse and was on his way, confident that Grace would be more readily available to him, with her guardian warned to stay clear. He’d return, with provisions enough to take up a watch for hours.
Grace bent over Ethel, her hands careful as she brushed back the woman’s hair, leaning over her as she blinked and looked up, fright alive on her face as she thought of Simon next door in his office at the church.
She cried out to Simon, calling him urgently as she heard him enter the house, banging on the wooden siding near her. Within seconds, he was there, kneeling by her side, and Grace cast him a look of fear.
“Someone tried to hurt her, Simon. I’m so glad he missed his target.”
“I heard the sound of a gun from my office and came home as quickly as I could, Grace.” He looked up at the side of the house, where Ethel had been standing only moments before. “There’s where the bullet went into the siding,” he said, pointing to the hole over their heads.
“What shall I do?” Grace asked. “I can run to find the doctor if you want me to. Or else stay here with Ethel while you go. Perhaps he should take a look at her. I think she’s only frightened, but I’d feel better if he saw her.”
“I’ll carry Ethel into the kitchen, Grace. And then you shut the back door and lock it.” He lifted the woman into his arms and carried her over the threshold into the kitchen, placing her on the floor there, Grace bending over her. “I’ll go for the doctor and you stay right here on the floor with Ethel. I’m going to get the shotgun for you, and if you see anyone trying to open the door or see a gun out there, don’t be afraid to shoot. I’ll hurry and be back as soon as I can. Just fire that gun if you think you should. Don’t take any chances,” he said quickly.
“I won’t. I’ll be all right here,” she told him, grasping the gun he handed her and placing it on the floor by her side. She bent low, whispering Ethel’s name as the woman slowly regained her awareness.
Grace dampened one of the dish towels beneath the pump and washed Ethel’s face, then a movement from the woman caught Grace’s quick attention and she bent low to hear the words Ethel spoke.
“I think someone shot at me, Grace,” she whispered.
“Simon has gone for the doctor, Ethel,” Grace said quietly, her eyes wet with tears she’d shed as she’d tended her friend.
“Now, blow your nose and don’t be fussing so,” Ethel managed to whisper. “I’ll be fine. There’s no need for Doc to come here. I haven’t been shot, have I?” She lifted her head and looked down at her body, clucking her tongue. “Seems to me I’m in good shape, girlie.”
“If I had whoever shot you at you in my sights, I’d pepper him good,” Grace said.
Ethel’s voice was weak, but anger gave her words emphasis. “I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts it was that Kenny Summers. He’s found out where you are, Grace.” She leaned on one elbow and lifted herself from the floor. “Give me a hand here, Grace. Help me sit up.” Together they leaned against the wall near the stove, Grace with an arm around Ethel’s shoulders and holding her hand while they waited.
The front door opened and Simon’s voice called out. “It’s only me, Grace. I’ve found the doctor and he’s with me.”
Grace felt a surge of relief such as she’d never known before, sitting there on the kitchen floor, helping to hold Ethel erect. Her hands trembled as she looked to the hallway door and watched Simon enter. His gaze touched her face immediately and his smile, though strained, was welcome.
“Are you doing all right?” he asked, looking at Ethel, who was pale but unhurt.
She nodded, and the doctor came quickly to kneel by her side. He moved her a bit, freeing her from Grace’s hold, and Ethel groaned, her eyes closing tightly as he settled her on the floor before him.
“I’ll get a pillow for her head,” Grace said and ran to the parlor where the decorative pillows she’d made just a few days since were perched on the sofa. Carrying one back to the kitchen, she slid it beneath Ethel’s head and then grasped that lady’s hand again.
“I’m fine, Doc. Just feeling kinda woozy from all the excitement, I think. The damn fool missed me, hit the side of the house instead,” Ethel said in a low whisper.
“You just lie still for a few minutes, ma’am,” the doctor said, his hands steady as he lifted Ethel’s hand to take her pulse.
“It looks to me like you did a fine job here, taking care of Mrs. Anderson, young lady,” the doctor told Grace. He found a bottle in his seemingly bottomless satchel and opened it, shaking four pills out into his palm. “Just give her one of these now, and then another in three or four hours. She’ll be just fine after a good night’s sleep. Takes more than a nasty scare to get a good woman down,” he said with a chuckle, closing his bag and rising from his knees to stand by Simon.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow to make sure you’re feeling up to snuff, ma’am,” he said to Ethel, watching as she swallowed the pill. “But I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about.”
“I’ll take good care of her, sir,” Grace assured the medical man. “I’ll make her some soup and a pot of tea so she’ll have something nourishing when she gets hungry. And I’ll put her on the sofa in the parlor to rest.”
The doctor smiled at her. “You’ll do, girl. I won’t worry a bit about my patient while you�
��re here.”
“Well, Grace isn’t going anywhere, sir,” Simon said, his gaze touching on Grace’s flushed face and slender form. “Between the two of us, we’ll look after Ethel.”
The doctor nodded his agreement with Simon’s plan and then made another suggestion. “You’d better see the sheriff right off, Reverend. He needs to know what’s going on here. He’ll no doubt want to go out back and see if there’s any sign of a gunman out there.”
“I’ll walk over there right away, sir. Shouldn’t be gone more than five minutes or so. Grace will hold the fort while I’m gone.”
“We’ll be fine. I think maybe Ethel will sleep for a while. She looks kinda drowsy to me,” Grace said. She helped Ethel to her feet and headed for the hallway, the sofa in the parlor her goal.
“That pill was pretty powerful. Should help her sleep for at least three hours, maybe longer,” the doctor said. “It’ll give you time to make that soup,” he told Grace with a wide grin. He turned then and, satchel in hand, went out the front door, followed by Simon.
When Simon reported the latest incident to Charlie Wilson, he was indeed upset over the latest shenanigans, as he put it, to be going on in his town. He followed Simon from the jailhouse and went with him back to the parsonage. Leaving Simon in the house, Charlie went out beyond the garden where he found evidence of a horse having been tied to a tree near the riverbank. The grass was stomped down there, as if someone had walked back and forth, and the parsonage’s back porch was clearly visible from the site. Although protected by a thick stand of trees, the gunman had found an ideal spot to hide while he did his dirty work.
Charlie went up to the house, knocking on the back door, till Simon unlocked it and welcomed him into the kitchen. The door had rarely been locked and the key had a difficult time turning in the chamber.
“I’ll need to oil that a bit, make sure it works well from now on,” Simon said. It was not the general practice for anyone in town to lock their houses, but Simon vowed he’d make certain they were behind locked doors from now on, as he told the sheriff.
Saving Grace Page 7
