The Redemption of Jake Scully (12 page)

Scully shook his head. Lacey’s attempt to distance herself from him had been more obvious to him than she’d realized, and whether he cared to admit it or not, the thought had tormented him. He’d been determined to discover why—for many reasons. He had told himself that Lacey was too beautiful, too honest and trusting for her own good. He had reminded himself of the many dangers she would face because of that potent combination of attributes—dangers she was unprepared to handle. He had purposely recalled to mind that Charlie had entrusted him with her future, and that he had a right to his intense interest in her welfare. Keeping all those thoughts in mind, he had deliberately ignored the deadening ache that had twisted tight inside him when he became certain she was avoiding him.

But that was all changed now.

Almost.

It was now clear that for some reason he could not fathom, someone was trying to turn Lacey against him. He would be able to understand it, if not condone it, if that person had been Todd. Yet Lacey’s instinctive reaction had dismissed that possibility. Was it Reverend Sykes or Doc Mayberry? He’d had difficult conflicts of opinions with both those men in the past, and they didn’t especially approve of him. He wondered if, possibly, Janine Parker was spreading harmful gossip at the mercantile these days, or if Rita Johnson or Noelle Leach had made that untrue comment to Lacey about his preference for redheads—a remark he wouldn’t have given a moment’s thought to, if not for Lacey’s reaction to it.

He had scrutinized Sadie’s customers as he had eaten breakfast in the restaurant that morning. He had searched his memory for those who had become regulars since Lacey had begun working there. He’d thought of Hiram Watts, Jerry Livingston and Mitch Carter, all bachelors who hadn’t disguised their interest in Lacey. He’d remembered Barret Gould, who had paid her special attention. He had searched his memory for the faces of Weaver residents who had expressed disapproval of him at any point in the past, and had considered the possibility of their interference. Lastly, he had then recalled the reaction of the Gold Nugget girls to Lacey. He’d known that “preference for redheads” comment had been a direct reference to Charlotte, but he’d dismissed Charlotte’s possible involvement. That wasn’t Charlotte’s way.

No…male or female, this person was sly. Scully couldn’t figure out his or her agenda, and that worried him.

His discomfort dismissing any further thought of sleep, Scully threw back the coverlet and walked to the washstand. He splashed cold water against his face in an attempt to clear his mind, rubbed his hand against the shadow of a beard on his chin, then stared at his reflection as he dried his face. He wondered what Lacey saw when she looked at him.

She’d said he was handsome. He considered himself in the mirror more closely.

His hair was thick and dark, but he’d recently seen a gray hair or two at his temple.

His features were passably regular, but he’d been told his frown was too harsh and his smile too infrequent. He supposed there was truth in that.

In examining his broad-shouldered, tightly knit frame, he saw only hard muscle and sinew.

Lacey had said she had come back to Weaver expecting him to be an old man, that she had been surprised to find him so young. He supposed that comment had come back to roost uncomfortably with her when the person who had made the “redhead” comment made her consider everything that remark entailed.

Then Lacey had said she loved him.

Loved him.

She’d said it so easily, with an affection so obviously heartfelt that he’d been left momentarily speechless. He remembered the totally innocent touch of her lips against his cheek, the warmth of her arms around his neck, the sweet contact of her body pressed to his. It had seemed so right when he had closed his arms around her and held her close. And when he had kissed her cheek, he remembered the fleeting thought again returning, that her lips had been only a hairsbreadth away.

He had said he loved her, too.

The words had come easily, he supposed because, in a way, he had loved her from the first moment he had seen her as a sick, injured child.

But Lacey wasn’t a child anymore.

That last thought the only clear reflection in his mind at that moment, Scully turned away from the washstand and reached for his clothes. He was too restless to sleep any longer, and he was hungry.

Scully glanced at the clock again. Lacey would be at the church by now. He was glad she was making a life for herself in Weaver.

Yes, he was.

Scully forced himself to retain that thought as he dressed and turned toward the door. But he had things to do.

“Oh, I see you’ve brought a friend.”

Lacey glanced between Rosie and Jewel as the youthful saloon girl entered the silent church anteroom. She took another backward step to allow Jewel to enter as Rosie responded, “I hope you don’t mind that Jewel came with me. We figured it would be just as easy to teach two of us as it was one.” Rosie added, “You don’t have to worry, you know. Jewel’s smart. She learns fast, and I’ll share my tablet with her.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.” She looked down at the broken pencil and damaged tablet Rosie clutched and asked with concern, “What happened? Did you have an accident?”

Lacey saw the tense breath Rosie took before she responded, “I fell. I told you, I’m clumsy—but I saved all the pages that got torn out of the tablet and I’ll still be able to use them.”

Lacey scrutinized Rosie’s flushed expression, then said, “I know there’s more to it than that.”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” Jewel responded in Rosie’s stead, her expression void of emotion. “We can handle it.”

We.

Meaning the two of them.

Saddened to be excluded, Lacey was silent for a few moments before she said, “I need to know, Rosie, does it have anything to do with your association with me?”

“Oh, no! He doesn’t know about you. I mean…he…”

Rosie halted abruptly, her face flaming. With a concerned glance at her friend, Jewel repeated, “We can handle it.”

Her expression unexpectedly softening, Jewel then said, “I’d like to stay if you don’t mind, Lacey.”

“Of course you may stay. I’m truly happy to welcome you.” Lacey offered, “You can use my pencil while we practice.”

“No.”

“Please. I have others.”

Jewel reluctantly nodded.

With those words meant to lessen Jewel’s discomfort fresh on her lips, Lacey picked up her slate and chalk. She’d replace the pencil at the mercantile after the lesson was over. She hoped the Lord would forgive her stretch of the truth meant to alleviate Jewel’s hesitation, then dismissed the thought from her mind.

Lacey glanced at the broken pencil Rosie clutched. She looked at the fading bruise on her cheek.

Despite Jewel’s protestations, she could ignore the obvious no longer.

“Is that all you have to tell me?” Barret’s narrow nostrils twitched as Larry stood a few feet across from his desk, his report completed. The odor of unwashed body permeated the distance between them as Barret said, “So you’re telling me Lacey is now meeting with
two
saloon girls at the church—but you don’t know why.”

“How are Blackie and me supposed to know why? We ain’t mind readers.”

“But you do have eyes, don’t you?”

“Yeah…so?”

“And ears.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You couldn’t get close enough to
see
what they were doing through a window, or possibly to
hear
what they were discussing?”

“You didn’t say nothin’ about that. You just told Blackie and me to follow Lacey and report back to you.”

Barret’s smile was cold. “But you aren’t reporting anything.”

“I told you that Jewel woman’s with them other two now, didn’t I?”

Barret took a secure hold on his patience. “Yes, but I don’t know much more than I did before about the reason they’re there. So now I’m telling you to find out what they’re
doing
in that church.”

Larry shrugged. “It can’t be nothin’ too bad. It is a church, after all.”

His forbearance snapping, Barret ordered, “Find out!”

Larry responded defensively, “Me and Blackie always do the best we can.”

“So far it hasn’t been good enough. Get back there, and don’t let Lacey out of your sight.”

“Right.”

“And take a bath!”

Larry scowled. He was about to respond when Barret ordered, “Go. We’re done talking.”

His eyes trained on the door through which Larry had disappeared, Barret paused to consider his situation coldly. He could not be truly certain how much ground he had gained in turning Lacey against Scully, and the reason for Lacey’s association with the Gold Nugget women was a total mystery. If things did not change, Blackie and Larry’s ineptitude would force him into a premature move that would not be totally wise. Yet impatience was tearing at his innards.

Barret took a deep breath and made the only wise decision available to him. He needed more time to assess the situation. He needed to be certain what he was walking into before he took any drastic steps.

That decision made, Barret growled a soft warning into the silence of the room.

“But don’t waste too much time in making your move, Lacey, or…I’ll make it for you.”

“I don’t want to bring trouble to the church, Reverend.”

Her smooth brow knit with concern, Lacey looked at Reverend Sykes with uncertainty. She had waited patiently until Jewel and Rosie had left the church at the end of their lesson and had walked out of sight before seeking out the reverend where he was working in the small church garden.

Responding to her statement in his typically soothing manner, Reverend Sykes said, “You’re not bringing trouble to the church. You’re doing the Lord’s work. That’s what the church is here for.”

Lacey hesitated, then said, “Rosie’s beau beats her, Reverend. She doesn’t want to admit it, but most everybody who knows her realizes it by now. Jewel came with Rosie to her lessons today. She said she needs to learn how to read and write, too, but I think there’s more to it than that. She’s so protective of Rosie. I have the feeling she’s thinks Rosie’s beau will be a problem if he finds out the reason she’s coming here every day.”

“You’re doing the Lord’s work, Lacey.”

“But—”

“You’re taking Rosie a step in the right direction, and Jewel is following, whatever her reason. You’re succeeding.”

“But—”

“Don’t be concerned about anything else. Things will work out. And don’t worry about the church. It will continue to stand. Just remember, in the short time you’ve been back in Weaver, you’ve given more thought to the future of those two women than anyone in this town ever has.”

“That can’t be true.”

Reverend Sykes did not reply.

“What about Rosie, Reverend? Her beau—”

“The situation is longstanding, isn’t it?” At Lacey’s nod, the reverend continued, “You know Rosie will most likely retreat from you, that you’ll probably lose her and Jewel, too, if you attempt to speak to Rosie about her beau at this early stage. It’s probably taken all the courage she could muster to make this first attempt at improving herself. A step at a time, Lacey.”

“But—”

“You’ll be in a better position to have her listen to what you’re saying if you wait.”

“But—”

“You can’t expect fast progress when attempting to reverse the conduct of years.” He added with a smile,
“‘Let us not be weary in doing good—for at the proper time, we will reap the harvest.’”

Lacey sighed.

Patience.

Yet somehow she had to do more.

“We’d better hurry. We’re going to be late for work.”

Jewel turned toward Rosie as they rounded the corner and approached their boarding house. Rosie had been scanning the street nervously since they had emerged from the church. It was obvious that she was worried Riley might be lurking somewhere nearby, but they had also stayed at their lesson longer than they should because things had been going so well. With a day’s head start on her, Rosie had actually begun printing her name so that the letters were recognizable. She’d never seen her friend so excited.

Jewel gave a mental shrug. She had no doubt she’d soon be writing her own name, too, but Rosie had been correct in her assumption that the lessons didn’t mean as much to her. Rosie’s sense of self-esteem was somehow tied to her progress. She was happy to see Rosie’s enthusiasm, but she didn’t fool herself that paper and pencil could change their lives.

Rosie was breathless from hurrying, and Jewel urged, “Slow down, Rosie. The Gold Nugget won’t shut down if we get there a few minutes late.”

Rosie nodded, her chestnut curls bobbing.

Chestnut curls.

A familiar knot of pain clenched tight in Jewel’s gut. Cynthia’s hair had been that same color. Her baby sister had also been small and slender like Rosie, and had had brown eyes so similar to Rosie’s that she had caught her breath the first time she met Rosie a few years earlier.

Rosie and Cynthia were similar in so many other ways, too. Both were honest and totally forthright, with a way of looking directly into a person’s eyes that elicited from Jewel a strong need to protect the trusting nature that in Rosie’s case had been so badly abused.

Jewel fought back a familiar distress. Cynthia, her baby sister—dead at the age of twelve. Cynthia and both their parents had been victims of the fever that had swept through their small cabin. Jewel still could not comprehend why she had been spared. Alone and devastated afterward, she had fervently wished she had been taken, too. Yet it was later that she realized fully how merciful that would’ve been.

She had been orphaned at fourteen.

A trace of innocence had still remained at fifteen.

By the age of sixteen, however, she’d fully absorbed some of life’s most painful lessons.

Those lessons had changed her.

It had stunned Jewel—and made her sad—to realize, when she met Rosie a few years earlier, that despite all that had happened to her, Rosie was still trusting at heart. Anybody with half an eye could’ve recognized Riley for what he was when he cozied up to Rosie with flattery and promises that first day, but he had said all the things Rosie wanted to hear, and Rosie had told herself she was “in love.”