Bobby Crammer.
“So, do I get my thirty dollars?” John asked. “I could shore use it, seeing as I’m about to get married.”
“You’ll get nothing from me until I know exactly where Honor is,” Lucas replied firmly. “But if you’re wantin’ to make a little money, I might have a job for you.”
“What could that be, sir?”
“I need to be gone for a few weeks, looking for my niece. If you and the boy would look after my place and my cattle for me until I get back, I’ll give you one of my milk calves and call it even.”
“I reckon that sounds like an honest trade,” John said. “We accept. When are you leaving?”
“Today.”
At noon, Mrs. Peters returned to Honor’s bedroom. She placed a wooden tray on the bedside table, then removed a blue cloth that covered a white bowl. The aroma of chicken broth made Honor’s mouth water.
“Hungry?” Mrs. Peters asked in a perky voice.
Honor glanced at the older woman’s radiant smile and friendly expression and couldn’t help smiling in return. “Yes, ma’am, I would like some. Thank you for asking.”
Jeth’s mother chattered away as Honor ate her soup, talking about herself and her son. Honor learned Mrs. Peters was a widow and owned the only boardinghouse in Hearten, Colorado. Honor also discovered that Jeth rented a room there. In addition to being a pastor, he farmed the six acres behind the rooming house and was the handyman for all house repairs.
Now Honor understood why his hands were rough.
“My son is a widower,” Mrs. Peters said suddenly, simply.
Honor met her gaze. “I didn’t know.”
Honor hoped to hear more details, but instead of continuing to speak, Regina Peters gestured for Honor to lean forward. Then she reached for the pillow behind Honor’s back.
“Jethro lost his wife in a terrible fire that burned down the parsonage,” Mrs. Peters said as she fluffed the pillow. “My son hasn’t fully recovered from the pain of it yet.”
Honor looked into the older woman’s eyes again. “How terrible.”
“Yes, it was.” Mrs. Peters placed the pillow behind Honor’s head and put gentle pressure on her shoulder, encouraging her to relax. Then she pulled the covers up to Honor’s neck, tucking her in as if she were a small child.
“Jethro was visiting his former in-laws, Reverend and Mrs. Andrew Fields, in Falling Rock, when the grave diggers told him about your aunt’s death, Miss McCall. Ordinarily, Reverend Fields would have been the one to visit the gravesite, but he’s been a little under the weather the last week or two. So Jethro went in his place.”
“I don’t know Reverend Fields, but I’m sorry he’s sick,” Honor said. “And I hope he’s feeling better now?”
“Yes, let’s pray so.”
After Mrs. Peters left the room, Honor started thinking about Jeth again. Was he the man who had stood in the vestibule of the church on the morning she stole the money? Did Jeth know she was a thief? If so, why had he played innocent and acted nobly? There must be a reason.
She needed to leave Hearten as soon as possible. She couldn’t go on being a burden to these good people much longer.
It was Honor’s plan to move to Pine Falls. She had a lot of money to pay back. But first, she needed to find a job.
From the edge of the bed, she glanced out the open window. Jeth and his mother were in front of the boardinghouse, sitting in a wagon. A moment later, the team of brown horses started down the dirt driveway, Jeth at the reins.
A gust of wind rattled some papers on the table at the foot of the bed, sending them spinning. The vase of flowers stopped them from whirling to the floor. Honor crawled to the end of the bed, gathered the papers, stacked them, and placed a book on top, to keep them from scattering again. She was turning away when her eye fell on the title at the top of the first page: “Sermon for Sunday.”
Had the sermon been left deliberately? Was Reverend Peters hoping to convert her? More likely, it was an oversight. Still, she wondered….
Honor glanced toward the bedroom door. If she was going to leave now, this might be her best opportunity to get away without being noticed.
Swinging her legs around, she rose out of bed. When her feet touched the soft rag rug, she felt as if the carpet had grown wings and was about to fly away. To keep from falling, she grabbed the bedpost and waited for the wave of dizziness to disappear.
Several moments later, the flying carpet became a rug again, and she reached for her tan dress. Pulling the garment from the hook on the wall, she saw that it had been cleaned, freshly ironed, and smelled faintly of rosewater. She buried her nose in the sweet scent, grateful for Mrs. Peters’s kindness. Honor’s shoes, bonnet and shawl were on a shelf by her dress—and those items, too, had all been cleaned.
Honor still felt slightly woozy. Jeth had said Dr. Harris wanted her to stay in bed for a week. For a moment she was tempted to follow medical advice and climb back under the covers. But no, if she planned to make her escape, she had to do it now.
Jeth and his mother were indeed generous to have done so much for her. Aunt Harriet had always valued giving thanks, and Honor couldn’t leave town without writing a thank-you letter.
After quickly buttoning up her dress and gathering her bonnet and shawl, Honor went downstairs. In the entry hall, she noticed dark wood paneling. A small maple desk stood against one wall, and writing materials lay on the desktop. Honor sat down to write.
Dear Reverend and Mrs. Peters,
You have been more than kind to me, and I appreciate all you have done. But it is time for me to leave now. I hope to have left on the noon stage by the time you get back.
Yours truly,
Honor McCall
The minute she stepped out the door and onto the wide, front porch, a rush of cold wind whipped around the corner of the big, old house and slapped her in the face. The air smelled like rain. For a moment, she doubted her strength, and her resolve weakened. Perhaps she should have stayed in bed.
Another norther must have blown in while she was recuperating in the bedroom upstairs, and she wasn’t dressed warmly enough. She longed for her old woolen cape, but she’d left that back at the cabin with Lucas. Still, she was determined to leave now.
Honor stepped into the wind, head lowered. The ends of her long hair flew below the print bonnet. Draping her shawl over her bonnet and around her shoulders, she continued up the road on shaky legs. Since she never reached her destination, Jeth had said that Honor’s ticket was being held until she could pick it up. All Honor knew was she’d never been to Hearten before and had no idea where to find the ticket office.
Wagon tracks went to the right. She turned to the left as droplets of frozen rain hit her cheeks. Honor took a dozen steps, then slipped and fell. Quivering from the dampness and cold, she tried to rise and slipped again. Her head began to spin. The next moment,
