found a little food in the root cellar on the farm and had wrapped it in a potato sack to bring along. He was taking a route that avoided Falling Rock—too many debts waited for him there. His plan was to make a stop in Hearten, pick up a couple of bottles of whiskey, and move on.
There were no saloons in Hearten. The whole countryside was dry, though he’d heard of several ranchers who brewed spirits on the side. Maybe he could find one of them.
His mind seemed clearer now, and he’d been thinking about the minister from Hearten, who had been at the cemetery. The preacher had reminded him of somebody. Try as he might, Lucas couldn’t think who.
When he was a child, his mother had read to him from the Good Book. Since the preacher carried a Bible, maybe that was what stirred his recollections. All he knew for certain was that seeing the reverend had caused him to recall events he would rather not remember.
His mare, Lady, moved into a soft trot. A frosty breeze whipped Lucas’s ears. He pulled up the collar of his brown jacket. He had never thought he would miss Harriet. But he did. With a jolt, he realized he missed his mama and his childhood home, as well.
Lucas had ridden a horse named Old Smokey to school every day when he was a boy. He could almost see his mama standing at the kitchen door, waving goodbye to him and his big sisters as they sat astride the big gelding. Back then, Lucas was known as Lawrence Smith, but it had been years since anybody had called him by his real name.
His mama had wanted him to become a Christian and get a good education, but he’d fulfilled neither of those goals. Maybe he would have if he’d stayed at home instead of running away when he was barely fifteen.
Both his parents had been churchgoers, but his father was a hypocrite. Every time Pappy got drunk, he’d beat Lucas severely. Mama never said a word about the old man’s drinking, but she scolded Lucas when she found him behind the barn one day, sipping spirits with his friends.
As soon as he was big enough, Lucas had joined a cattle drive. He’d admired the strength he’d seen in his first trail boss, Adam Scythe. He wanted to be just like him. Before signing with the outfit for the next drive, he’d changed his name to Lucas Scythe. Like Lucas’s father, the trail boss had been a hard drinker, and Lucas had thought drinking would make him a man. In the end, he had become more of a drunk than Pappy.
Mama would have been disappointed if she’d known how her only son turned out. That was why Lucas never went back to Cold Springs for a visit. No point in making Mama feel worse by showing her what her son had become. Lucas swallowed an ache in his throat. Word had reached him that his parents died years ago, but he’d never checked out the rumor.
Patches of ground were visible under the melting snow. From a distance, the earth had a reddish color—like Honor’s hair.
Missy. At the thought of her, Lucas’s face hardened. When he found that girl, he’d teach her a lesson. She deserved a few knocks for taking his money and heading out of town. Then he would marry her. Why, she was young enough to have babies. He’d always wanted a family, but Harriet couldn’t have children.
Lucas slowed Lady, then pulled her to a stop. He wanted to think. Miss Ruby Jones lived on the far side of Falling Rock. If he looped around, he could ride out to her farm without being seen. Maybe he would pay her a visit before riding on to Hearten.
He never saw Ruby much after Harriet got sick and not at all toward the end, but Lucas intended to visit her now. Would she agree to see him? After all this time, she could have found someone new. He looked forward to being with her again, especially since Ruby always kept plenty of whiskey in the cabinet in her parlor, but if she turned him away, so be it.
When Honor opened her eyes, Jeth Peters was sitting in a chair near her bed, watching her.
“So, you’re awake.” He smiled.
Remembering her fall in the snow, she glanced under the covers and saw that Mrs. Peters must have removed her wet clothes and helped her into a flannel nightgown. Relieved and grateful, Honor pulled the quilt around her neck again.
“Now,” Jeth said. “Would you mind telling me what you were doing walking around in a freezing rain without so much as a coat on?”
“First, sir, you tell me why you left one of your sermons in my room.” She motioned toward the papers on the table. “Did you think I needed to be preached to or something?”
“I didn’t know I left my sermon in here. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.” He reached for the stack of papers. “I came in once to check on you earlier and I must have left my sermon notes then.” His forehead creased. “And, Miss McCall, will you please stay put for a while? I’d like to rest up for a few days before I have to rescue you again.”
Chapter Five
Jeth sat in the chair beside Honor’s bed, entertaining her with amusing stories about Timmy, a mischievous little boy in his congregation.
Honor was chuckling softly, when a tall gentleman with white hair and wearing spectacles suddenly appeared in the doorway. The little black bag he carried identified him as a doctor.
Jeth stood and crossed the room. “Dr. Harris. Thank you so much for stopping by, sir.”
The men shook hands, then Jeth smiled and gestured toward Honor. “Miss Honor McCall, I would like to present Dr. Alvin Harris. He’s the one who examined you after the robbery and bandaged your head.”
Honor nodded. “I’m glad to meet you, Doctor. Thank you for all your help yesterday—or whenever the robbery took place.”
“I’m glad to meet you, too, Miss McCall. And the stage robbery was yesterday. Though somehow it seems longer ago than that, doesn’t it? How are you feeling?”
“Much better than when I first woke up, thank you.”
“I hope you’ll get better and better, young lady.”
Jeth stood beside Dr. Harris. Honor thought he’d looked uncomfortable from the instant the doctor had come into the room. Nervous and slightly flustered, like a guilty child.
Jeth motioned toward the chair. “Please, Doctor, won’t you sit down. I should go downstairs anyway and tell Mama you’re here.”
“I know he’s here.” Mrs. Peters stood in the doorway. “But do go down and wait for us in the parlor, Jethro. I know Dr. Harris will want to give you a report on Miss McCall’s health as soon as he’s had time to examine her.”
“Yes.” Jeth walked to the door. “That’s just what I’ll do.”
The snow had vanished. Though a cool wind whistled down from the mountains, the day was clear and sunny. But even if it had been cold and icy, the valley would have reminded Lucas of springtime as he rode into the pasture in front of Ruby Jones’s farmhouse. Everything about her had that effect on him.
How many times had Ruby insisted there was something almost magical about her farm? Especially her house, with its white shutters and all the fancy gingerbread trim around the eaves. In the next breath, she would talk about how unhappy she was. How tired of being “the other woman” in Lucas’s life. Her moods moved back and forth faster than a lady’s fan on a hot summer night.
He had stopped seeing Ruby after it
