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PRAISE FOR
THE WINTER PEARL
“Molly Noble Bull has written a charming story with twists and turns for a character the reader will really root for.”
—Lauraine Snelling, bestselling author of The Red River North series
“The Winter Pearl is a jewel of a novel! I literally couldn’t put it down and found myself reaching for a tissue more than once. Molly has beautifully blended a heart-stopping adventure and a glorious romance filled to the brim with God’s love and redemption—all set against the backdrop of the Old West. I can’t wait to see more from this talented author.”
—Diane Noble, award-winning author of The Butterfly Farm
“I cared about Molly Noble Bull’s heroine, Honor McCall, from page one of The Winter Pearl to the end of her satisfying and surprising journey where she discovered the precious pearl of grace set in a filigree of hope, redemption and forgiveness.”
—Tamela Hancock Murray, award-winning inspirational author of Virginia Hearts
The Winter Pearl
Molly Noble Bull
To my husband, Charlie Bull, to our family—
Bret, Burt, Bren, Jana, Linda, Bethanny, Dillard, Hailey
and Bryson. And to our pastor, Rev. Jerry Scott.
But to God give the glory.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Chapter One
Falling Rock, Colorado
Late October 1888
“I’m not one to go without a woman for long, missy.”
When Honor McCall had first heard her uncle say those words, she’d been sitting beside him in the wagon on the drive from the farm to the cemetery in nearby Falling Rock. She’d trembled then. Now, standing at Aunt Harriet’s grave and digesting what Uncle Lucas must have meant, she realized she’d never stopped shaking.
She did not want to marry her late aunt’s husband. If only the God that Aunt Harriet had told her about would provide her with a means of escape.
Although her aunt had been a Christian all her life, Lucas wasn’t allowing a funeral service. There was no one to attend the burial because only the grave diggers knew about the death. It was surprising that Lucas had driven Honor to the cemetery to watch the men dig the hole. Knowing him, that was more than she’d expected.
As the diggers lowered the crude, wooden coffin into the ground, Honor saw a flash of gray behind a group of trees. In a moment, it became a young man in a gray suit, coming toward them, and she knew she’d never seen him before.
Her heart knotted. Lucas would not be pleased by this turn of events.
The stranger had thick brown hair and broad shoulders that reminded her of Lucas. Though her uncle was at least twenty years older, both men were tall and well built. But the young man’s clothes looked spotless, and he held what appeared to be a black Bible in one hand and an umbrella in the other. While Lucas, also in a gray suit, had liquor stains down the front of his jacket, and he gripped a half-empty whiskey bottle as though it were glued to his right hand.
Dreading a confrontation, Honor wished the young man would just go away. At the same time, she hoped he would stay. There was something in his presence that made her feel safe.
She’d been so overwhelmed by the death of her aunt, she’d hardly noticed the weather. Now she felt the nip of a fresh norther that had just blown in. Dark clouds gathered, and an icy wind stirred the pines that surrounded them. Her shivers deepened.
When the younger man reached the graveside, Lucas glowered at him. “What do ya think you’re doing here, mister?”
“My name is Jethro Peters, but my friends call me Jeth. I’m just visiting here in Falling Rock. I live over in Hearten. I’m the pastor there, and when the diggers told me someone died, I came to see if I could be of help.”
Lucas studied the minister, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging slack, the way it always did when something unusual happened to him. After a moment, his thick eyebrows drew together. His face turned red, and a crease appeared in the center of his forehead.
“Your kind ain’t welcome here,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly. “We don’t need no preacher.”
“Yes, Uncle, we do.” Honor could hardly believe she’d found the courage to speak up. She knew she could be beaten for her words, but for her aunt’s sake, she’d had to say what was in her mind.
Lucas scowled. “What did you say, girl?”
“I said that we need a preacher here today—at least, I do.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Aunt Harriet was a Christian, and she would have wanted someone to say a prayer over her grave and read from the Good Book.”
“I would be glad to do it,” Jeth Peters said softly, “if you will allow it, sir.”
Honor expected Lucas to curse the preacher and drive him away, but strangely, he kept silent for a few moments, staring at the younger man. Then he looked down at his dirty black boots. “All right,” he mumbled. “Say what you have to and read from that there book you got. Then git. I ain’t never had no use for do-gooders.”
Jeth
