Cindy Holby (9 page)

Her touch was light and quick. Just the barest hint of her fingertips on his forehead, and the scent of roses as they pushed the hair back. It took every bit of his willpower to stay still beneath it. He wanted more. Beyond the roses, he smelled fresh bread. It filled him with a sense of peace. Roses and bread. What a combination.

“Sleep is the best medicine now,” she said. “I imagine you’ll be hungry when you wake up.”

He was. Starving. His stomach nearly growled in response. He felt her move, heard the gentle swish of her skirts and the soft sound of her feet on the hardwood floor.

“Sleep well Pastor Key.”

Cade opened his eyes. It all came back to him. Fitch, the escape, being shot, stumbling around in the forest after his horse died, finding the camp, Davis showing up and the ensuing gun battle.
Pastor Key’s dead because of me…
The man who helped him. The man who thought he’d been put in Cade’s path by God to help him. Timothy Key. Another one of God’s practical jokes, on both him and Timothy Key. And this woman thought he was the pastor.

“I’ve got to get out of here.”

He looked around the room once more. There was no sign of his clothes. The only thing that looked remotely familiar was the book on the bedside table. Cade attempted
to reach for it and realized how weak he really was. It didn’t matter. He could see it now. It was Timothy’s Bible. An envelope stuck out of it.

“I have my letter of introduction right there.” Timothy pointed to the pocket of the large overcoat. “A recommendation from Bishop Henderson himself.”
He’d taken Timothy’s overcoat and his Bible. Whoever had found him, assumed he was Timothy Key.

Isn’t that what you wanted?
It had been his hope that whoever else was trailing him would find the bodies and assume that the burned one was his. That he and Davis had killed each other. That they would think he was dead and would leave him alone. It had never been his intention to assume Timothy’s identity.

Wasn’t it?
He’d taken his coat. Because it was warm. Because Fitch and his gang knew he didn’t have a coat like that.

“I took his Bible.” Why? Fitch knew he didn’t have a Bible. But more than that, he wanted to protect it. He didn’t want any of Fitch’s gang laughing over it. Kicking it around. Throwing it in the fire. They would have.
You used to be one of them…
But he wasn’t now. He’d drawn the line. There were some things he simply would not do. Murdering the husband of a woman Fitch wanted, then delivering the woman to Fitch so he could take their land was the something he could not do. Not under any circumstances.

Did he draw the line at impersonating a minister? That depended upon whether or not it would save his life. And how long it would take him to get out of this place, wherever he was.

Cade decided he was too tired to think about it now. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

The scent of roses awakened him. Cade blinked his eyes against the light until a face came into focus.

“Welcome back,” a woman said. “I’m Leah Findley.”

She was the angel in his dreams. The lamplight glowed around her head, highlighting her light brown hair with copper and gold. She wore it pulled back, but a few curls had pulled loose and danced around her shoulders. Her face was lovely, with a pert nose, a wide mouth with perfect teeth, and large green eyes surrounded by dark lush lashes. She smiled and turned to pick up a cup from the table. When she handed it to him he noticed there were gold flecks within the green of her eyes.

“It’s water,” she said. “You must be parched after your fever.”

He was. Cade drank thirstily, draining every drop. He wiped his hand across his mouth to spread the moisture over his chapped lips. “Where am I?”

“Right where you’re supposed to be. In Angel’s End.”

I was called to minister to the people of Angel’s End…
Timothy’s words.
Feed my sheep.
His last words to Cade before he died. And here he was in the one place he shouldn’t be. He needed time. Time to figure this out. Memory loss might be a convenient side effect of his wound and fever. When in doubt, play dumb. It had served him well in the past.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You don’t know?” She returned the cup to the table and sat down in the chair.

Cade rubbed his jaw. He needed a shave, and a bath would be downright wonderful. He quickly looked at Leah’s profile while she turned away. He wouldn’t mind if Leah gave him a bath. Not at all.
You’re supposed to be a minister. They don’t go around asking women to give them baths.
Cade tried to recall what Timothy had told him.

The stage wouldn’t take me any farther, because of the weather. So I bought a horse and struck out on my own
. He looked at Leah with what he hoped was confusion.

“You don’t remember getting shot?”

Cade looked down at the bandage and shook his head. “I don’t.” He was in it now. He just needed to play it out until he got his strength back. Until he could leave town.

“I found you a couple of nights ago. Your horse brought you to town during the blizzard. You must have fallen off. You were in the snow, in the middle of Main Street, by the statue.”

A statue of an angel? Was that what he saw that night in the snow? Or was that all a part of the nightmares he’d experienced during his fever? Cade kept his face blank. Things really were fuzzy, the line between what actually happened to him and what Timothy told him blurred.

She smiled at his hesitation. “Actually, Dodger found you.”

“Dodger?”

“My dog.” The dog appeared in the doorway as if he’d heard his name. He gave a slight wag of his tail. “Since you’re supposed to live with me we brought you here. Angel’s End doesn’t have a doctor.”

“I don’t remember any of it.”

“Well, you were very sick.” She stood and fussed with the blankets, straightening them and tucking them in at the foot of the bed. “You didn’t have any money on you. I’m guessing that you were robbed.”

That meant she hadn’t found the money he kept in his boot. Or maybe she had and was using his memory loss as a reason to keep it?

“Maybe it will all come back to you.” She pulled her shawl up and crossed her arms. “Hungry?”

“I am,” he said.

“I’ll be right back.” She touched the top of the dog’s head as she walked by.

When did you get so jaded?
How could he think someone who more than likely saved his life could steal from him? Not everyone in the world was bad. It was just that the good
were so few and far between that he sometimes forgot they existed.

Dodger stared at him. Cade waited. It seemed as if the dog wanted to say something to him, which was a pretty crazy notion. Dodger moved beside the bed, sat down and placed a paw next to Cade.

“What?” Cade asked the dog. He wagged his tail in response. The trouble was, he knew what. He was in it now. Masquerading as a minister. “She’s the one who said I was supposed to be here.”

Cade picked up the Bible. Its weight made his arm drop and he had to drag it across the bed to his lap. “Dang, I’m as weak and helpless as a baby.”

Dodger whined.

“Also good for nothing,” he added.

Dodger turned a circle before lying down on the small rag rug next to the bed. Cade heard the sounds of Leah in another part of the house: footsteps, the heavy sound of a plate being placed on a table, the clank of a pot lid.

The leather of the covering on the Bible was worn smooth. There was an indentation in the spine. Cade recognized it as the result of years of wear and tear, from a palm holding it open so that it eventually warped the spine. He remembered the sight of Timothy holding it in his hand and waving it like a banner as Cade approached his fire. It was apparent the book had been read many times throughout the years.

Cade tested the heft of it and a vision of his father appeared before his eyes. In it he held a Bible in one hand and thumped his other on a pulpit. Cade quickly blinked his eyes to chase away the image. His father had abandoned him, why should he waste a minute of his life thinking about him now?

Cade flipped the Bible open. A verse was written on the inside cover.

With it was written the chapter and verse: Psalms 91:14. Obviously this verse was of some importance to Timothy or a former owner of the Bible.

Cade read it again. Since it had been made quite clear to him through the years that he was not privy to God’s love he dismissed the verse with a shrug. “To each his own.”

A rather extensive family tree filled the next few pages. At the bottom he noticed Timothy’s name and the date of his birth, followed by the birth of brothers and sisters who all died young. One sister, born several years after Timothy, did not have a death date next to her name. Cade studied the handwriting. There were notations of Timothy’s parents’ deaths in a different hand. He flipped back a page to look at the scripture again. It matched. Cade could only assume that Timothy wrote the deaths and the scripture since this was his Bible. He checked the date next to Timothy’s birth again. He was thirty-seven years old when he died. Twelve years older than Cade was now. Did he look thirty-seven? The town must know how old their new preacher was supposed to be.

There are days when I feel like I’m a hundred and seven…

Footsteps in the hall alerted him to Leah’s return. He snapped the Bible shut and it slipped from his hands. The pages flipped open, and several flattened envelopes and folded pieces of paper escaped just as Leah entered the room with a tray in her hands. Cade made a grab at the letters but missed most. Dodger jumped up, instantly alert.

“Oh my goodness!” Leah quickly put down the tray and bent to retrieve the sheets of paper from the floor just as Cade turned and weakly stretched his arm to the floor. His hand contacted soft flesh.
Her breast?
He yanked his hand
back and it tangled in her arm. Leah jumped at his touch and the top of her head cracked on the underside of his jaw, knocking his head backward and into the headboard.

“Ow!” He saw stars and his stomach heaved in response. Luckily there was nothing in it to come up.

“Oh. My. Goodness. I’m so sorry.” She babbled. Her cheeks turned scarlet and she covered them with her hands before reaching for him, then pulling her hands back as if he were a pot of scalding water. “Are you hurt, of course you’re hurt, I am such an idiot at times. I can’t believe I did that.” She knelt down and gathered up the papers.

Cade opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. Even that hurt.
Think man, what would Timothy say?

She was turned away from him, her upper body level with the bed as she straightened the papers. Cade hesitantly reached out and after a tentative pause, placed his hand on her head, cupping it within his palm. Her hair was soft and silky and he had to force himself not to pick up a lock and run it between his fingers. Leah stopped her dithering and turned to look at him. Her eyes widened behind the thick dark lashes and the gold flecks shimmered around the dark center. They drew him in. There was sadness in her eyes, and loss, both emotions he easily recognized. Emotions that were his constant companions. He pulled his hand away, surprised by the connection he felt between them.

“No harm done.” Cade nodded his head toward the tray. “And that food smells wonderful.” He straightened his blankets and pulled them up around his chest, suddenly conscious of his lack of clothing.

She smiled and bit her lip. She handed him the papers and the Bible. Cade shoved the papers inside the Bible and put it on the table. His mouth watered as she placed the tray on his lap.

Chicken and dumplings, warm bread and something with apples in it. Cade couldn’t remember the last time he’d had
a meal like this. His appreciation must have shown on the first bite. He closed his eyes as the succulent chicken settled onto his tongue.

“Gretchen made it,” Leah quickly said. She dithered about with his clothes on the peg. His clothes were back. She must have brought them in while he was sleeping. She straightened his shirt. Flicked an imaginary piece of lint from the black frock coat.
Timothy’s coat.
“She’s Jim’s wife. Jim Martin? On the selection committee.”

Was he supposed to know whom she was talking about? The selection committee? Something to do with Timothy and his letter of introduction. Who was he supposed to be introduced to? Maybe he should read that letter, and the rest of the papers that were stuck in the Bible.

“She’s a wonderful cook,” he said after he swallowed. He might have been an orphan for most of his life but he well recalled the manners his mother had taught him. “Please tell her I said so.”

“You can tell her yourself,” Leah said. “Jim and Gretchen should be here soon. They promised to have Banks back by suppertime.”

“Banks?”

“My son.” Leah stood at the foot of the bed with his long johns folded over her arm. “He’s six.”

The second bite was as good as the first. Cade chased it down with a piece of the bread. It was lightly toasted and spread with a soft creamy butter.
Heaven…
Or as close to it as he was going to get.

“What about your husband?”

She stiffened. “He died four years ago.” She put his long johns and pants on the end of the bed. “I thought you might want these now. I’ll be back for your tray in a bit.” She left without another word.

Cade watched her go.
I wonder what happened to her husband.
Was he supposed to know already? Dodger
padded around to Cade’s side of the bed. He placed his paw on the mattress and gave a slight whine.

“Go get your own,” Cade said. He could hardly wait to sample the apple treat. As for the arrival of Jim, Gretchen, Banks and the selection committee, he was more than willing to wait on that treat.