The Winter Pearl. Molly Bull Noble
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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 became clear that Harriet was dying, and she’d said she understood. But did she still care? Or had she found someone new? With Ruby, it was hard to tell what she was thinking, and they hadn’t been together in almost two months.
He never knew whether Ruby was going to kiss him or hit him over the head with a frying pan. Raising his collar against the chill, Lucas wondered what she would be like this time.
“Reckon I’ll find out soon enough,” he thought.
A white picket fence circled what Lucas called her dollhouse. Since he was here the last time, she’d painted her home butter yellow. A man would go insane in an over-decorated house like hers. Lucas unsaddled Lady, tied her to a tall pine out front, and gave her some water from the nearby well.
As he started up the stepping stones leading to Ruby’s front porch, the door flew open. Ruby burst out onto the porch, arms outstretched, and waited for him. Her laughter, like music, floated toward him. Ruby had never lost her sense of grace or her ability to pull in the sun with one of her smiles.
“Oh, Lucas. I’m so glad you stopped by. I haven’t seen you in ages and ages.”
Since he didn’t see a frying pan in her hand, he moved forward.
Ruby had been a dance-hall girl until she’d inherited the farm from a great-aunt. Though almost forty, she looked younger. Dressed younger, too. Ruby was one of those women who refused to grow old—always trying to turn fall into early springtime. She almost got away with it.
She probably expected Lucas to marry her now that Harriet was gone. They’d been keeping company for almost ten years. But marriage to Ruby wasn’t in his plans.
Yet already, the sweet scent of her floral perfume drew him closer and closer. Around her, he always felt like a hooked trout on a short line.
Ruby’s smile evaporated, and she sent him a sorrowful look. “I regretted hearing about Harriet’s death. You have my deepest sympathy, Lucas.”
“Thank you.”
Just as suddenly, her grin reappeared. “But, as they say, life must go on.” She grabbed his hand. Pulling him forward, she opened the door. “Hurry now. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I need a drink first.”
“Later.”
Lucas stopped as soon as he walked into the house, and then he coughed. An overpowering odor of perfume choked him. The air reeked. His eyes watered. He wished for a handkerchief.
The parlor had been rearranged since the last time he had seen it. New yellow chintz curtains hung on all the windows. Orange and yellow paper flowers in white vases were everywhere. He took a moment to absorb it all.
“Like it?” she asked.
“Maybe. Now, about that drink—”
“Please,