Love in the Balance (34 page)

“You’re awfully anxious, Bailey,” Mrs. Lovelace said. “Can’t wait to catch a big one?”

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about fish. Mr. Lovelace was adding up the last of the accounts over dessert, but Bailey’s thoughts weren’t on the books. He was chewing over a more important matter. Should Bailey ask Thomas’s permission to court Molly? Molly might not accept his suit yet, but he wanted to do it right this time. Getting her parents’ approval would be a victory worth celebrating.

The grandfather clock struck eight. If they were courting, he’d meet her here at her parents’ house. Everyone would know his intentions, and wouldn’t they be surprised? Bailey swallowed. It might be hard at first. He could imagine what would be said behind his back, but he was tired of pretending. He was tired of wearing a reputation that didn’t fit.

“Have they found the James boy yet?” Mrs. Lovelace asked.

“No,” Bailey answered. “He’s a fool if he’s still in the county.”

“He’s still here,” Thomas grumbled. “And I’ll bet Russell knows where he is, too. I have to figure out how he is robbing me. It’s probably been going on for years. Once a scalawag, always a scalawag.”

On second thought, Bailey wouldn’t ask for Mr. Lovelace’s blessing. He’d already gotten it once, and there wasn’t an expiration date that he’d heard tell of.

When Mr. Lovelace finally handed him the ledger, it was all Bailey could do to keep from bolting out the door. He reined in his enthusiasm, complimented Mrs. Lovelace on the pie that Lola had baked, and took his leave, patting his vest to insure the inventory booklet was safely inside.

What would Molly say? That morning she’d been reserved. She hadn’t refused his declarations, but neither had she returned them. His long strides lengthened in his rush to get to the parsonage. He knew his Molly. She loved him, but convincing her to brave the storm of gossip they’d kick up was going to be tough. Especially since his old methods of convincing were now banned.

Reverend Stoker’s horse was tied to the church’s hitching post. Bailey halted. Maybe he should swing around the lawn. He didn’t want his business with Molly to be delayed any longer. He would split open like an overripe watermelon if he didn’t talk to her soon.

He backtracked to the street and removed the inventory booklet from his vest.

“Bailey, were you looking for me?” Stoker called through the open window of the church building.

“No, sir. Are you looking for me?”

“I guess you could say that, but you aren’t easy to find these days. Come on in.”

Bailey tightened his grip on the ledgers, wishing he had the nerve to make an excuse. He straightened his hat. Didn’t matter much. From the sound of Stoker’s voice, he wasn’t going to get off the hook that easily anyway.

His pastor sat on the front pew and motioned for Bailey to join him. “You can imagine the fears that overwhelmed me when I saw that Molly had moved into the parsonage.”

Looked like this was a conversation he couldn’t avoid. Bailey sat on the second row and removed his hat. “You know me better than that.”

“Yes, but I also know a young lady who has a history of bringing out the worst in you. I’m shocked you allowed her to live on the church’s property.”

With effort Bailey eased his shoulders down. It’d do no good to get riled at Reverend Stoker. The man had always been good to Bailey, but he needed to see where he was wrong.

“Her folks approved, but I should’ve asked you first. I’m sorry.”

Stoker lifted his stiff knee and stretched his leg along the pew. “I’ll help her move home tomorrow, but it’d be better if you didn’t visit the parsonage until she’s gone. If people see you together, they’re going to question your character.”

As well they should.

Bailey laced his fingers together. No matter how godly he lived today, he still had a past. God had forgiven him and with that forgiveness came the responsibility to live honestly. Not everyone needed to know his doings, but someone should hold him accountable, someone who understood how weak he was.

But how to get Stoker to really hear him this time?

Bailey’s heart pounded, and he wiped his mouth. He was making things right with Molly, but how could he understand what she’d been through while he was still hiding his own failure? He had to speak now before he lost the gumption.

“Pastor Stoker, you know I enjoy serving here at the church. I don’t think God will ever turn me into a preaching man, but that doesn’t give me leave to stray from His path.”

“Um-hum.” Stoker rubbed his kneecap.

“I’m honored that you and the rest of the church trust me to keep the grounds up and go on visits.”

Stoker grunted again and pulled out his pocket watch. No time to spare.

“If you have a minute, I would like your advice about a situation. There’s a young man I spent time with this week who told me a shocking story. I don’t know how to counsel him.”

“Who is it?”

“I shouldn’t say. I’d always thought him an honest sort. Trustworthy.” Bailey’s voice grew stronger as he found the story he needed to tell. He plunged ahead. “Turns out he’s sweet on this girl, but she has her reservations. He told me he’d tried everything to win her over. Candy, songs, poetry. She was interested but wouldn’t say yes.”

“Someone here in Prairie Lea or in Lockhart?” Stoker’s brows met over his puzzled face.

“That’s confidential, and you’ll see why. Not long ago he caught the young lady at a vulnerable time. She’d had a family tragedy, and she was feeling mighty low.” Bailey’s gaze dropped to the floor. He felt like he was disrobing in the pulpit. Naked for the world to see. “He thought that could be his chance. If he could ruin her, then she’d have to marry him.”

Stoker’s legs shot off the pew and hit the floor. “I refuse to do the ceremony. You can tell him that. She’s under no obligation to marry him.”

Bailey held up a hand. “Let me finish. He intended to compromise her. He got her alone, and then his plans fell through. Now, as far as God’s law is concerned, I don’t know what sin he’s guilty of.”

“You don’t? Haven’t you read about the seducers lying in wait? Doesn’t the call for purity and holiness cover our intentions, not only our actions?”

Stoker was right. Finally Bailey was hearing the words he’d known were his due. Finally someone agreed with him on his sin.

“I can’t stomach it, either. I don’t know how he could justify himself.” Bailey peeked at Stoker, still florid. “And then there’s Molly, whose sole desire was to please her parents, but instead she’s ruined. It dries up any mercy I might’ve felt for this man.”

Stoker’s eyes narrowed. “Molly used bad judgment. Had she prayed over her decision, surely God would’ve protected her.”

“I agree that Molly made a horrible mistake, but while I was thinking about her, I thought that maybe I should introduce her to this man. He wants a wife and everyone seems to believe Molly is unmarriageable now. Perhaps—”

“Molly’s misfortune shouldn’t leave her at the mercy of ruthless men. She shouldn’t be shackled to someone without a conscience.” Stoker shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing.”

Bailey fell against the hard pew. He wasn’t good enough for her. She wasn’t good enough for him. Obviously they weren’t fit for anyone else, either.

He’d made it through the account, and now it was time to take the blame. Bailey paused. Stoker’s perception of him would change. Was he ready to lose his mentor’s respect? And what if Molly refused to marry him? What if Nicholas found a job for her and she never returned? Was he making a needless sacrifice?

Bailey loosened his collar. He needed to deal with his hypocrisy even if Molly was out of reach. Besides, he’d do almost anything to clear his conscience. This secret had festered too long. It was time to come clean.

“Pastor, this is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to tell a soul. When I stood up in church that Sunday and asked y’all to pray for me, I didn’t need protection from an enticing woman. I needed God to protect me from my own bad decisions. I cut Molly a wide swath in the beginning, but when I saw that Pierrepont fellow, I knew her parents would be hot on his trail. I knew Molly couldn’t tell them no. So when the opportunity came, I tried to take advantage of her.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “That was
my
story I told.”

Bailey hung his head, unwilling to watch the disappointment grow on Stoker’s face. He’d told him. No going back. His pastor would never think of him in the same light.

“You didn’t.” Stoker sounded more hurt than anything. “You wouldn’t.”

“Mr. Lovelace had that spell and Molly looked to me for comfort. What did I do? Instead of offering her friendship, I pressured her. I knew what to say to earn her trust and silence her doubts. I told myself it was for the best because I was keeping her from making a mistake. If Sheriff Colton hadn’t caught me—”

“You could’ve done her as much harm as Pierrepont did. Still could, if Colton talks.” Stoker pulled out his hankie and mopped his face. Folding it carefully, he leaned back and sighed. “If Thomas Lovelace knew this, you’d be run out of town.”

“But how do I make it right? I’ve been miserable hearing people talk about her, knowing the reason they can say such things is because I ruined her reputation.”

“Are you talking about your confession last fall?”

“No, there’s more. I’m the reason that Edward Pierrepont escaped jail. The trial wasn’t canceled because Molly didn’t have a case. It was canceled because of me. At the hearing, they asked me under oath to describe our relationship, to tell them about our last . . . encounter. Do you think she’d want this repeated at a trial with a jury and a galley full of people?” His voice rose. “He went free, I went free, and Molly bore all the blame.”

And she’d borne it with grace while he’d cowered, unwilling to be counted with those who needed forgiveness.

Stoker’s words stung. “If I was Molly, I’d never speak to you again. You’ve been prancing around scot-free while she’s been scorned.” He shook his head. “Even I’ve been unfair.”

“I’ve tried to make it up to her. I’ve tried to help out when I could, but then people will hail me and cut her. I don’t know why she’s stood it. I don’t know why she hasn’t called me out.” He watched Stoker for a reaction, but the man was still stunned. “I want to marry Molly if she’ll have me. If that means I’m not cut out to help around here, then so be it. I’m willing to take my licks. It’s not fair Molly’s been taking them alone.”

He’d bared his soul. It’d be hard looking Stoker in the eye for a while, but Bailey had no regrets. He finally felt clean.

“I’m glad you told me, son. I know it wasn’t easy.” Stoker paused before laying a hand on his shoulder. “I owe an apology to Miss Lovelace, as well. Unfortunately, I said some things to her today that, in light of your story, were unwarranted. I figured the trial would clear her, and when it didn’t . . . well, I thought she was somehow to blame.”

“We can go together to apologize,” Bailey said. A first step toward bringing Molly back into society and taking him off his pedestal. “I was on my way to deliver these ledgers to her.” He rose in time to see a horse thundering down the dirt lane. The roan flew by them with the rider crouched low, head inches from his mount’s neck. Covered by a bandanna and slouch hat, Bailey didn’t recognize the man immediately, but it rankled that he’d be as careless as to barrel through town.

“Who was that?” Stoker asked, peering out the door.

Before Bailey could comment, another rumbling was heard, louder than the first.

“Posse coming.” Bailey could hardly contain his excitement. “That was Michael James.”

“You take my horse,” Stoker called. “I’ll find another and be right behind you.”

He nodded as Stoker hobbled to untie it from the hitching post. Bailey sprinted across the lawn to the parsonage and banged on the door.

“Here are the account books.” He pushed the door open wider to see more of Molly’s shocked face. “I’ve got to run. The posse. Be back in the morning.”

And he clomped off in a rush to do his civic duty.

29

The barking of the neighbor’s dog woke her. Molly rubbed her eyes and groaned. It had been a late night, although a profitable one. She’d labored so long over the ledgers—trying one theory after another—that she hadn’t felt like changing into her nightgown but fell asleep fully clothed. She blinked. Why was it still dark outside? Had morning not come?

Pushing the quilt aside, Molly stood and made her way to the window. What was bothering that dog? A firm knock on the door startled her. With a surprised laugh she smoothed her hair.

“Bailey, is that you?”

“Yep.”

“You scared me coming over this early.” She swung the door wide to see a pistol thrust into her face.

Grabbing the barrel, Molly tried to push it aside, but Michael James shoved her away, stumbled into the cabin, and fastened the door behind him.

Oh, how he stunk. Molly covered her nose, feeling ridiculous. Her life was in danger and her biggest concern was his hygiene. She’d better be careful unless she wanted her last breath to be the foulest. He motioned her to light the lamp while he pulled the curtain over the lone window. With shaking fingers she adjusted the wick and replaced the globe, only then getting a good look at the man who’d caused so many tragedies in their community.

Bareheaded, face haggard, and filthy gloves smeared in . . .

Molly gasped.

Blood—bright and wet, with a dark crust already drying in the creases. His gloves were slick with it.

“Not Bailey. Please, tell me that Bailey is all right.”

“Shut up!” He raised his arm as if to strike her but instead yelped. His arm dropped and he had to catch the back of the chair to steady himself.

“You’re shot, aren’t you?” Molly picked up the lamp and held it between them, only then noticing the thick dark fluid seeping through his shirt above his waist.

“I thought this cabin would be empty, since everyone is with the posse. Just as well. You can sew a few stitches to keep me from bleeding out.”

Molly had avoided Michael for most of their childhood and had never thought to compare his looks with his father’s. Even with her discovery over the account books last night, she still couldn’t reconcile the connection.