The Winter Pearl

But she remembered how it began. Our Father, who art in Heaven.

The sun had risen over the horizon now and was beaming through the east window. Inching back along the pew, closer to the light, Honor reached for a hymnal. When Lucas wasn’t around, sometimes her aunt had enjoyed singing hymns as she did her daily chores. She said that church music gave her strength.

Strength. Honor could use some of that.

Flipping through the songbook, she didn’t find any of the hymns her aunt had once sung, but she noticed some blank sheets of paper near the back of the book, titled “Note Pages.”

She considered using one of the sheets to compose a note, a letter to members of the church. And what better place to write it than the back of a hymnal? She reached for the pencil that was in a slot on the bookshelf, and began to write.

Dear Church People,

I hated to steal the money from the collection plate, and I wrote in the hymnal, too. I know I did wrong, but I was once told that the collection money went to the minister and to the poor and needy. Well, I’m poor and might need money more than the preacher does.

You see, I have to leave town today. If I don’t, my uncle will beat me and force me to marry him. He might even kill me.

Thank you for leaving the money in that plate so I could find it when I needed it the most. If I knew how to pray, I would tell God I am sorry for what I did. Since I don’t, would you folks please pray for me?

As soon as I can find a job, I promise to pay back everything I took, a little at a time.

Yours truly,

H.

Honor placed the songbook back on the shelf. She was wondering if there was a way for her to count her money without making a sound, when the bell in the tower suddenly pealed six times. Honor flinched each time. Somebody had to be pulling the rope to ring that bell, but she hadn’t heard a sound above her all night long. Yet, someone other than Annie and Simon was nearby. The minister? If he came down and saw her in the church or the churchyard, might he stop her from leaving?

The bench behind her squeaked, cutting off her racing thoughts. Honor didn’t move a muscle.

“Wake up, Simon,” Annie said. “It’s time to go.”

“What? Oh. Well, I wasn’t asleep no-how.”

“You were, too.”

“No, I was just resting my eyes,” Simon insisted.

“You can rest your eyes when we get on the stage.” There was fond exasperation in the woman’s voice. “Get up now, Simon. We have to get out of here. It’s six o’clock. The stage leaves at six-thirty, and we still have to buy our tickets.”

The bench creaked several times. Then Honor heard the tap, tap of their shoes as they moved back up the aisle. When the heavy front door of the church closed, Honor cautiously sat up and began to quietly count her money.

She had ten dollars and fifty-one cents, more than she had dreamed of finding. She could go to Pine Falls, for sure. That much money might take her all the way to Denver.

She’d almost reached the entry of the church when she saw the shape of a man in the shadows to the left of the door. Though she couldn’t actually see him, she felt him—and there was something in the air between them, a kind of regret. Was it coming from him? Or was it her distress?

Guilt engulfed her. Did he know what she’d done? Would the man try to stop her to recover the money? She hesitated by the door, waiting to see what he might do. But he never said a word.

“I’m sorry,” Honor whispered.

Without saying more, she raced out the door and down the path toward the livery stable where stagecoach tickets were sold. Once the stage pulled out, she would never have to see Lucas or Falling Rock, Colorado, again.

Honor waited in the carriage with Annie and Simon for the fourth passenger to arrive. The silver-haired couple looked older than she had expected, and she learned that their last name was Carr. Honor couldn’t help liking them, but she wished they weren’t so talkative.

The red velvet interior of the carriage looked new, and, although the back of the seat was wooden, the bench was padded.

Honor had heard that within a year, the railroad would be coming to Falling Rock. Tracks were being laid throughout the state, and stagecoaches could soon become outdated. A stagecoach had brought Honor to Colorado after her parents died, but she was too young to have a clear memory of that journey.

Now, fidgeting with the small velvet bow at the neck of her dress, she waited for the fourth passenger. She wished she had a hat with a net veil like Annie Carr’s little black one. Honor also admired the string of pearls around the older woman’s neck.

Aunt Harriet had had a pearl necklace that she’d inherited from Honor’s grandmother, but one day it vanished. Lucas was behind the disappearance, of course.

Proper ladies wore pearls and store-bought hats, not homemade print bonnets like Honor’s. But there wasn’t much cause for Honor to worry about becoming a lady now.

The driver had explained that the fourth passenger would be delayed as a result of unforeseen circumstances. Honor hoped whoever it was would hurry and be done so they could leave. Lucas could come looking for her at any moment.

When she heard a click at the door, she looked up expectantly, and then recoiled. Lucas! Trembling, she pressed back and covered her mouth with her hand to keep from shrieking.

In the next moment, she saw that it was the minister who’d prayed at her aunt’s grave, standing outside the carriage in his gray suit. He looked so much like a younger version of Lucas that for an instant, she’d thought he was her aunt’s husband.

Standing in the street, with one hand on the door handle, the handsome young man smiled warmly at the passengers in the carriage. “Sorry to have kept you nice folks waiting. Jeth Peters,” he said, leaning through the door, offering Simon Carr his hand, which the older gentleman took in a friendly shake. Jeth identified himself as the pastor of a church over in Hearten.

When Simon finished introducing his wife, Annie, Jeth turned his gaze on Honor for the first time. His smile fell away. “I want to express my sympathy once again for the loss of your aunt,” he said.

Annie and Simon glanced at each other, then at Honor. She recognized the expression of sympathy in their eyes.

“Reckon we’re sorry, too, miss,” Simon said.

Honor’s heart squeezed. “Thank you.” She ducked her head, trying not to look at Jeth.

Was he the man from the church who’d hid in the darkness? Had her sin been discovered? Did he know what she’d done? When Honor glanced up, finally meeting his sky-blue eyes, the warmth in them suggested he wasn’t concealing thoughts about her. But who could be sure?

Jeth climbed into the carriage and took a seat beside Honor. “I don’t believe you told me your name at the burial yesterday. May I know it now?”

“My name is Honor. Honor Rose McCall.”

“Honor.” He smiled. “I like that.”

Why had she told him her real name? She could have lied. Now it would be easier for Lucas to find her.

“Honor is a good character trait to have,” he went on, “and one we should all live by. Are you on your way to Pine Falls?”

“Yes,” Honor said a little too sharply, and pressed her lips together.

Jeth turned his gaze to the Carrs. “And where are you folks headed?”

“We’re going to Pine Falls, too,” Annie said, “and we’ll be gone for quite a spell. We’ll be home by Christmas, though.” She turned to her husband. “Won’t we, Simon?”

“We sure better.”

Annie Carr looked back to Jeth. “Did I hear you say you were a preacher?”

A grin started in Jeth’s blue eyes. “That’s right.”

Annie’s wrinkled lips turned up at the edges in reply. “Reckon you could answer some questions about the Bible?”

“Watch out, Preacher,” Simon put in. “My Annie is a longwinded woman when it comes to Scripture.”

Jeth chuckled under his breath as Annie Carr began asking her questions. Honor glanced out the window on her side of the coach.

A quaint little log cabin with a peaked roof stood on a hill. It reminded Honor of the clock her grandmother had sent to Aunt Harriet for a wedding gift. Grandma McCall was dead now, but when she sent the present, she wrote that she’d bought it from an Amish wood-carver during a visit to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

Painted statues of a little man and woman inside the clock had captivated Honor as a child. She’d spent hours in front of the clock, sitting cross-legged on the floor, waiting for the toylike couple to come out of their little house to check the weather.

Sometimes, the statues stayed out on their front porch for a while. At other times, they went right back inside and shut the door.

Honor was like that, too.

She’d been a happy, winsome child who loved playing in the sunshine—until Lucas came into her life. After that, she went inside herself and only came out occasionally to see if things had changed. Nothing ever did.

An image of Honor and Lucas sharing a house together as man and wife flashed through her brain. Her heart constricted.

Lucas couldn’t force her to marry him, but if he found her, he would whip her. Could she survive another of his beatings?

Aside from fearing him, she was disturbed and disgusted by the thought of seeing Lucas again. She knew she would always feel that way.

The stagecoach rocked, bumping Honor against the door. Holding herself stiffly on the bench, she gazed out the window again. They would be driving south from Falling Rock through what the ticket agent had called “rugged country.” There was to be a stop in Hearten, then on to Pine Falls. Some of the trees were leafless. Others were alive with all the fall colors—red, orange, yellow, gold and shades of rusty brown.

The ticket agent had explained that traveling through the hills would not be easy. The roads were rocky and there were numerous low-water crossings. Nevertheless, Honor loved the beauty that surrounded her.

“God gave us a good world to live in, didn’t He, Miss McCall?”

It was Jeth Peters who spoke, and Honor turned to face him, nodding a quick reply. She hadn’t realized the minister was sitting there watching her. She wondered how long he’d been doing so.

“I noticed you looking out at the scenery,” he continued, “and I figured you must enjoy the magnificence of nature as much as I do.”

“Yes.” Glancing away again, she squeezed her hands together tightly. She didn’t care to talk. She hoped he’d take the hint.

“White-topped mountains are peaceful looking,” he said. “Aren’t they?”

She turned back again, nodded, and then looked away once more.

“It’s real peaceful over in Hearten, too, where I live,” he went on. “The stage will be stopping there before going on to Pine Falls. Hope you have time to look around before you have to get back on the stagecoach. Have you taken this route before, ma’am?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then let me prepare you.”

When he leaned a bit closer, she flinched and pressed her shoulder against the side of the carriage. A hint of puzzlement crossed his face, but then his expression became sober.

“The first creek will be easy to cross,” he explained. “But some of the rivers ahead are deeper. The currents will be swifter.”

“Are you trying to scare me, Preacher?” she asked.

“Not at all.” He chuckled, and a twinkle gleamed in his eyes. “Still, a person should know what to expect.”

They crossed the first creek easily, just as Jeth had predicted. The banks held only a trickle of water. What he’d said about the rivers worried her, though, because she’d heard that a stagecoach could be swept away by the rapids in an instant.

Annie and Simon Carr had fallen asleep. Simon snored; the echo of it filled the carriage.

Jeth laughed softly, sharing his amusement with Honor. She smiled back, giving herself permission to relax. The stress she’d felt since Aunt Harriet died slowly began to melt.

The ride had been bumpy since they’d left town that morning, but now, all at once, it felt like the carriage hit something large and hard. The coach rocked and tilted to the left. Annie and Simon were jolted awake as they tumbled toward the door. With the stagecoach canted to on one side, Honor slid across the seat, landing in Jeth’s arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she exclaimed.

He gazed down at her, and she felt the warmth of his smile.

If the man weren’t a minister, Honor would say he enjoyed their brief encounter. Then the rig straightened, and she returned to her half of the padded bench.

Squeaking and jerking, the stagecoach continued down a road, which really wasn’t much more than a set of deep ruts. Then the vehicle stopped. The driver got down from his perch and came to the window on Jeth’s side of the carriage.

“We’re gonna be going up a steep hill,” the driver told him. “And the horses could sure use some help pushing the load if you two men are of a mind to lend a hand.”

“Of course we’ll help.” Jeth glanced at Simon. “At least, I will.”

“Reckon that makes two of us,” Simon added.

“Now, you be careful, Simon,” Annie warned. “You ain’t as young as you used to be.”

“Neither are you, my dear.”

When the two men exited, the driver turned his gaze on the women. “Both you ladies better sit on Mrs. Carr’s side of the coach. ’Cause you’ll be thrown to her side anyway, once we start up that hill.”

Honor considered offering to help push. She certainly felt fit enough. But Aunt Harriet would have said it wasn’t ladylike to do such a thing, and Honor didn’t want to draw more attention to herself or to be judged improper.

The stagecoach slowly moved upward at a steep angle. Honor fell against the back of the seat and held down the skirt of her dress to keep it from slipping up and showing her ankles. If she had thought the journey jolted her back and forth before, she needed a new word to describe the ride from that point on.

At the top of the hill, the carriage stopped again. Honor checked the condition of her clothing. The tan dress had been her aunt’s wedding gown, and the wide lace collar looked soiled—no doubt the result of her dash into town through the woods and a night spent sleeping in it. The pearl buttons that went up to her chin appeared clean enough, but her sleeves were dirty.

After she’d bought her ticket, she’d placed her remaining paper money in the lace-edged cuff of her right sleeve. After the rough ride to the top of the hill, she wondered if she still had the bills. Pressing her fingers against the cuff at her wrist, she felt the stiff wad and breathed easier.

Honor moved back to her original seat. She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt, then stuck her head out the window to see what the world looked like from the top of the hill. She saw three riders coming up behind them at a fast gallop, and her pulse began to race. They wore masks. For a moment, she couldn’t react.

Outlaws.

“Jump back inside!” she heard the driver shout to Jeth and Simon Carr. “I’m gonna try to outrun ’em.”

Both doors flew open. The stagecoach lurched forward—starting off at a fast pace, while the two men crouched on the floor.

“Get down!” Jeth yelled to the women. “Both of you.”

Honor jumped to the floor beside Jeth, Annie Carr right behind her. The men pulled pistols from their belts.

Honor hadn’t expected Jeth to be armed—he was a preacher. However, she felt relieved, knowing he carried protection.

“Will we be able to outrun ’em?” Annie asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jeth replied. “I think so. At least, I hope so.”

Every muscle in Honor’s body tensed as the carriage rolled on down the hill. Clinging to the edge of the bench, she tried to imagine the driver and the man riding shotgun whipping the horses, urging them to run even faster. She could only hope the two men driving the stage could outrun their pursuers.

The carriage took a sharp curve, wobbling and swaying back and forth over the big rocks. Honor was tossed against Jeth again and again, and he jostled against her.

She felt a sudden jolt as the carriage lurched sharply. “What’s happening?”

Jeth peered out a window. “We lost a wheel! I can see it rolling down the hill.”

The carriage swerved to the right. The screeching cry of iron against rock rang out. All four passengers tumbled to the side of the stagecoach. Honor could scarcely breathe until Jeth pulled her out from under Annie. The crippled rig careened down the hill, half rolling, half dragging. They were coming close to the edge of a cliff. Annie screamed.

“Move out of my way, Miss McCall!” Jeth shoved Honor to one side and crawled to the door.

The stagecoach lost speed, then banged against the side of an embankment. They were all thrown to and fro. The rig slid a few more feet. Then stopped.

“Praise the Lord!” Jeth released a big breath of air and wiped his brow. “Someone must have cut those horses loose. Anybody hurt?” He glanced around and smiled. “Guess not. What a blessing.”

“We’re safe, then?” Honor asked, feeling a first rush of relief.

Jeth shook his head and cocked his pistol. “Now we’ll have to deal with the outlaws.”

Honor shrank to the floor as shots blasted from both directions. Jeth placed his hand on her back to keep her there. At the ring of a bullet hitting metal, Honor glanced out the window just as a rifle flew by.

“The stagecoach driver lost his weapon,” Jeth announced.

Jeth and Simon aimed their pistols at the three riders who had caught up with them. Before the two men inside the carriage could discharge a single shot, the outlaws surrounded the crippled stagecoach.

“Everybody out with your hands up,” a bandit with gray hair shouted down from his horse. “And be quick about it.”

Jeth tucked his pistol in the waistband of his trousers. “Do whatever they tell you to do, Miss McCall,” he whispered. “This is not the time to try anything risky.”

Honor stepped down from the stage and stood between Jeth and Annie Carr. When she raised her hands above her head, she noticed that the edge of one bill protruded from the cuff of her dress.

Two of the robbers had dismounted. A young-looking man with a pimply face above a red bandanna held a basket that reminded Honor of the one she had discarded back in Falling Rock. Another outlaw stood beside him, aiming a gun at the hostages. The man with gray hair remained atop a big, reddish horse. He held a rifle on the group as well.

“Put all your money and valuables in the basket there,” he ordered them. “And hurry up, or you’ll be sorry.”

When Honor thought nobody was watching, she attempted to push the money back in the cuff of her dress. The next moment, everything went black.

Chapter Three

Lucas awoke with a jerk. Someone was pounding on his front door.

“All right, all right,” he shouted. “Hold on to your horses. I’m comin’!”

He sat up. A massive headache made him wish he were still flat on his back. He pressed a hand over his forehead and looked around. He was shivering on the hard kitchen floor. Had he been there all night?

He stumbled to his feet. His legs felt like jam. Slowly, he made his way to the door and opened it. An icy wind swept inside. His shoulders shook from the cold.

The grave diggers he had hired stood on his porch. All three men wore dark clothing, gloves, and something furry-looking covered their ears.

“Mr. Scythe,” the tallest one said. “Remember me? Hector Brown?” He motioned toward the other two. “And these are my brothers, Joey and Abner. We hate to bother you at a time like this, but you forgot to pay us for burying your wife yesterday.” He handed Lucas a sheet of paper.

“A bill?”

Hector nodded.

“Oh, yes. The money.” Lucas searched for something to say, to stall for time. “You’ll have to excuse me. I ain’t feelin’ well today.”

Hector nodded again. Joey and Abner just stood behind their brother, staring at Lucas.

Lucas shook his head. If it ain’t one thing, it’s somethin’ worse, he thought. “Wait here, and I’ll go see what I can do.”

He started to close the door, to shut out the chill, but when he saw the hard look of warning in Hector’s eyes, he left it open.

Lucas stormed into the kitchen and grabbed the cookie jar, one of the places Harriet liked to hide money. He removed the wooden lid of the clay pot and tossed it on the floor. Then he poured out the contents of the jar. Broken cookies, crumbs, and a sprinkling of sugar spilled onto the table. A few coins clinked together. They rolled around and stopped.

He scooped up the money and counted it. Thirty-six cents. He winced. The diggers expected more. Well, there was nothing he could do about that now.

Lucas pasted a smile on his face and walked back to the door. “Here’s thirty-six cents. Sorry, I know it ain’t enough. But it’s all I’ve got until I sell them calves I’ve been feedin’. This’ll have to hold you ’til then.”

Hector Brown stepped forward, filling the doorway. “We expected to be paid in full. When will we get the rest?”

“As soon as I can find the time to drive my calves into town and sell ’em.” Lucas grabbed the door and began to swing it shut as he spoke. “I’ll keep in touch. And much obliged to ya.”

“Wait, Mr. Scythe.” With the toe of his black boot, Hector prevented the door from closing all the way. “We’ll be back. You can be sure about that.”

When Lucas finally closed the door, he leaned against it for a moment, listening to the three men depart. He felt hungry as well as cold. Thirsty, too. For something stronger than cow’s milk or water.

Now, where was that Honor-girl? “Missy,” he shouted. “Get in here!”

No answer.

“Don’t play games with me. I ain’t in the mood.”

Lucas grimaced. That girl was never around when he needed her.

As he moved toward the kitchen, he glanced in a mirror on the parlor wall—then stopped and looked again. His eyes seemed more red than usual. His face had a drawn, pasty look.

He remembered why he was wearing his gray suit—to attend the burial of his wife—but he couldn’t recall arriving at the graveside, much less leaving it. Come to think of it, he’d been having a lot of memory problems lately.

Lucas laid two small logs in the woodstove. When he had managed to start a fire, he pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. Honor must be out in the garden, he decided. Reaching out, he held his hands in front of the fire, to warm them while he made his plans.

First, he’d get Honor to fix him something to eat. Then he would look for any other hidden money. Harriet had always hidden money from him, but she must have put it somewhere else this time.

Later, he would drive into town, buy a couple of bottles of whiskey, and maybe pay Miss Ruby a visit. His slow smile became a chuckle.

He vaguely remembered asking Honor to marry him, but he would worry about getting hitched some other time.

Lucas went out onto the back porch. “Missy! Come in here this minute!”

Calves bellowed. Chickens squawked from the henhouse. But not a sound from Honor. Lucas spent the next ten minutes searching the farm buildings, but he was unable to find her.

She could have hiked into town to buy supplies, he supposed. He’d noticed the flour sack was almost empty. Yeah, that must be what she done, he convinced himself.

Cursing his late wife for selecting a hiding place he couldn’t discover, Lucas tore up the house and barn looking for money. Honor could clean up the mess when she got back from Falling Rock.

His breath became rapid from all the labor in his quest, and he felt a little shaky. He wanted alcohol—bad. He wouldn’t hold out much longer without it.

Honor had been gone a long time. Too long. How much time did it take to go into town, buy a few things on credit at the general store, and walk back to the farm? Was that girl really shopping? Or had she left with the rest of his money?