The Winter Pearl. Molly Bull Noble
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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.