Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (68 page)

“No time for that.” Will picked her up and lifted her through the window. “Be careful of the glass.”

After making sure Rose made it to the ground safely, Will turned to Mary. “Your turn.”

Over Mary's shoulder, Will noticed that the marshal had gotten trapped underneath a fallen beam. Though the marshal cried for help, no one stopped, as they were all too busy trying to save their own lives.

“Jasper,” he said, turning to his friend. “The marshal's stuck. Let's get Mary out and then try to help him.”

Jasper gave a quick nod of his head, as though he'd been thinking the same thing. Will lifted Mary.

“Let me stay and help.”

“No. Tend to your sister.”

He didn't let Mary argue further as he guided her through the window. There'd be time enough for that later.

“Go to my house,” Jasper said, leaning out the window. “Father has men he can send, and the doctor is next door. Besides, it's closer than the parsonage.”

Mary nodded. She looked as if she wasn't going to obey, but as her sister started coughing again, Mary took her sister's arm and tugged her down the street.

At least Mary was safe, and Will wouldn't have to worry about her. But as another beam crashed down in front of them, Will had to wonder if his nobility had been nothing but suicide.

Chapter Twenty-Three

W
hat had Mary been thinking, letting Will and Jasper remain behind like that? She passed a group of firemen, but she knew they weren't going to save the building or its occupants. Their only concern would be to keep the nearby buildings from catching fire.

“I'm sorry,” Rose gasped as they turned the corner by Jasper's house.

“Don't talk nonsense. That fire's not your fault.”

Technically, they had started the fire. But neither of them had realized that it would so quickly get out of hand. Or spread to the entire building.

Please, Lord
, Mary prayed.
Let everyone get out safely.

She should have stayed behind to help. But then Rose coughed again, and Mary knew that Will had been right to send her home with her sister.

“It's not much farther,” Mary said, putting her arm around Rose and helping her the last few feet to the stairs leading to the imposing Jackson mansion.

They'd barely set foot on the first step when the front door flew open, and Emma Jane came rushing out. “What happened?”

“There's a fire at The Pink Petticoat. Jasper and Will are helping get people out. Rose needs a doctor.”

One of Mr. Jackson's men came and grabbed Rose, carrying her into the house, while another rushed past Mary, presumably to get the doctor.

“Are you all right?” Emma Jane examined Mary as she arrived at the top of the porch.

“I'm fine.”

Emma Jane led Mary to a sitting room that looked too elegant and immaculate to hint that it had been full of people only hours before.

“I'll ring for some tea.”

The absurdity of such a statement made Mary want to laugh, given that the clock in the hall said that it was two o'clock in the morning. Who would want tea at such an hour? But as Mary examined the lines on her friend's face, she knew it was best to keep Emma Jane occupied and not focused on the fact that her new husband was in a burning building.

“We should send word to Frank, as well. I'm sure he'll want to know Rose is safe.”

Mary forced herself to sit on one of the rather stiff-looking chairs. This perfect room was a far cry from the comfortable sitting room at the Lassiters'. Emma Jane looked equally uncomfortable in this space, taking a seat across from Mary with her old sour expression firmly planted on her face.

“Mr. Jackson has already seen to it.”

Stiff, formal. Like the old Emma Jane who was too prickly to approach.

“You call your father-in-law Mr. Jackson?”

Emma Jane sighed. “Mrs. Jackson requested I do so. I'm not yet family, it seems.”

Poor Emma Jane. “You married their son.”

“Who didn't even stay until the reception was over.”

“I'm sorry.” Mary wasn't sure what else to say, and her words hardly seemed sufficient to cover her guilt in allowing Jasper to be a part of Rose's rescue.

Mary moved to the edge of her seat. “I should see to Rose.”

A maid bustled into the room with the requisite tea tray. Having spent some time working as a maid in Ohio to help support her family, Mary pitied the poor girl, who'd likely still have to be up at dawn to tend to her regular duties.

“That's not necessary, miss,” the maid said, as she arranged the tray on a nearby table. “The doctor's just arrived, and he's asked for privacy. I'm to come get you when she's able to have visitors.”

The Jacksons, it seemed, had everything in hand. And from the expression on Emma Jane's face, this was going to be the rest of Emma Jane's life. Emma Jane poured the tea and handed Mary a cup. She wanted to say that she didn't want it, nor the sandwiches so nicely displayed upon the tray. But she found, as she took her first sip, that she was parched. She hadn't had anything to drink since she'd gone in search of lemonade at the reception.

The reception seemed as if it had happened decades ago, not the mere hours that had passed. Emma Jane, too, had aged, turning back into her former self, filled with a resignation devoid of light.

Emma Jane asked about the events of the evening, and Mary recounted them as best as she could. “Mary!” Frank burst into the room. “I came as quickly as I could. Polly and Maddie remained at the house in case one of the children wakes, but Gertie has gone to the sickroom to see if she may be of assistance to Rose. You're uninjured?”

Mary nodded slowly, realizing that if she had been injured, she wouldn't have noticed. Upon reflection, her body felt tired, sore, but nothing that needed treatment. Except a deeply wounded heart.

Unfortunately, no salve for such things existed.

“How bad is the fire at The Pink Petticoat?”

Mary glanced at Emma Jane, not wishing to alarm her friend, but also knowing she couldn't keep the truth from Frank, particularly when he might be of assistance.

“I don't think there will be anything left. The smoke was terrible, and Will and Jasper went to rescue a man trapped under fallen beams.”

The horrible images flooded her mind again, especially as she recalled the people scrambling for the exits. “Those poor women,” Mary said, tears filling her eyes. “It's our fault the place burned down. Rose and I only meant to start a small fire, enough to distract that terrible Ben, but something happened, and there was a loud noise, and suddenly the whole place was engulfed.”

Frank wrapped his arms around her. “It's all right. The kerosene in one of the lamps must have ignited something flammable. I know you wouldn't have intended to cause anyone harm.”

Though his comfort was reassuring, it wasn't enough. Mel's lifeless body clung to the inside of her memory like sticky goo. “Part of your ministry is helping those women. They're going to need a place to stay. Can you help them?”

Helping them wasn't the pastor's responsibility. “That is to say, I would like to help you help them. I don't approve of their lifestyle, but a wise woman taught me that many of those women are not in that profession by choice. Surely there is something we can do for them, especially now that their home and livelihood is gone. I'm responsible for what happened to them, and I need to make it right.”

He nodded slowly, looking at Mary as though he understood what she needed to do. “Mary, I appreciate your heart in wanting to help. And we will do something for those women. But I need you to understand something about grace.”

Grace? What did grace have to do with any of this? They weren't talking about God or salvation, but about women who'd been hurt because of her.

“Grace doesn't have to be earned. When you sin, you don't have to do something to make up for it. God's love is boundless.”

The man made absolutely no sense. Mary stared at him, trying to understand why she was getting a lecture on something she'd known her whole life.

“I've seen how you react to things going wrong. You hold yourself far too responsible for everything bad that happens. Polly said that you even blame yourself for Rose's predicament. She said that you promised to never leave your siblings alone and that you'd spend the rest of your life making up for this mistake.”

Mary's eyes filled with tears. She had told Polly those things. But her friend shouldn't have repeated it to Frank.

“You can't make up for it. God doesn't place such a large burden on our shoulders. We can't control everything. Don't you think that I felt guilty for allowing that man into our house? Of course I did. But I don't need to spend the rest of my life serving some penance as a result.”

“You don't understand!” The words burst out of Mary as a new flood of tears flowed down her cheeks. “This is all my fault. I knew Ben was a bad man. But I was afraid that the lies he threatened to tell about me would be believed and that I would get in trouble, so I said nothing. I refused to expose him because I feared my own exposure. Had I been open with my sister, with my family, with my friends, none of this would have happened.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, the weight of the enormity of her mistake nearly crushing her. So strong, the pain pinned her to her chair.

“So what?” Frank stared at her calmly. Too calm. “It did happen. Nothing you can do will change it. Nothing you do will make up for it, because you've put too much guilt upon yourself. Jesus has already forgiven you, so forgive yourself.”

Forgive herself? Did the pastor not understand how selfish she'd been?

“But I owe them.”

He knelt in front of her and spoke softly. “Mary. Look at me.”

She had no choice but to obey. Not because he was forceful, but because something tugged at her heart.

“When Christ died on the cross for your sins, He paid a debt that you can never repay. Grace is about not trying to pay Him back. If you accept Christ's love, then you have to accept that you cannot spend the rest of your life atoning for your sins.”

The insides of Mary's heart tore wide-open. If she couldn't atone for her sins, how was she going to live with the guilt?

“He's right, Mary,” Emma Jane said. “You have to let go if you're going to be free. You taught me that by loving and accepting me even when I was completely unlovable. The expectations you have of yourself—they're not what God wants of you.”

Mary closed her eyes and tried to shut out all of the voices accusing her of the many things she'd done so wrong. She understood what Emma Jane and Frank said, but it seemed so inconceivable against the weight of the lives that had been damaged because of her reticence. And yet...

Just a few weeks ago, Frank had spoken on the parable of the debtors. Mary had marveled at what it must have been like to have the enormity of forgiveness these men experienced. Could it be that as much as Mary said she believed, she'd never fully experienced the full freedom of the forgiveness of God?

Lord, forgive me for I have sinned. I've been trying so hard to turn my faith into a checklist of the right and wrong things to do that I've forgotten Your love.

Mary turned to Frank and Emma Jane, and as she wiped the tears from her eyes, she realized that for the first time, she was truly free.

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
he air was getting thicker with smoke by the second. Will pulled the lapel of his coat over his mouth and nose, crouching low to the ground, where the smoke wasn't as thick. It occurred to him again that the fire couldn't have started by the small lamps Rose and Mary had tossed. The explosion had sounded a lot like dynamite.

Will and Jasper reached the marshal, lifting the beam off him.

“Come on, we've got to get out of here,” Will said, tugging at the other man's arm. “I have no idea what other explosives are in this place. It's only a matter of time before the whole place goes up.”

The marshal coughed and put a handkerchief up to his face. “Then we'd better get the rest of these people out of here.”

Will nodded, looking around. Though most people had reached either the door or one of the windows, he could spot pockets of people trapped in the thick smoke. No one was going to die, not if he could help it.

Jasper pointed to a place where a group of women appeared huddled together. “I'm going to help them. There's a window not too far away.”

Another beam crashed to the ground, trapping a group of people that had been trying for the back door.

Will didn't wait to see what the marshal would do. He started for them, looking for something he could use as a tool to move the burning rubble. A discarded buffalo robe lay at his feet. Though the heat was stifling, Will wrapped it around himself to offer some protection from the falling debris. As he got closer to the site, he spotted a pick leaning against one of the tables. Probably belonged to a miner with no place to stay, so he kept his gear with him.

Offering a silent prayer of thanks for the miner leaving it behind, Will grabbed the pick. He swung it through the stack of burning beams to clear a path. Above, more timbers burned, clinging precariously to the beams that held them up. He had only minutes, maybe less, to get these people out of here.

“Come on!” Will set the pick down and held out his hand. “We've got to get out of here, now!”

A scantily dressed woman took hold of him, and he pulled her toward the mercifully clear space that would soon be engulfed in flames.

“Head to the window, there!” Will pointed to an open window where it looked as if the marshal was helping people exit.

Will ushered four more women toward the escape, then noticed a man lying in a crumpled heap beside the bar. Hopefully, he wasn't dead. Will checked the burning timbers. Helping the man was a risk, but he had to believe he still had a chance.

Holding the buffalo robe high above his head, Will made his way toward the bar. As he got closer, he realized that he'd risked his life for Ben.

The man he wanted to kill. Could have killed. Should have killed.

For an instant, it occurred to Will to just leave Ben there, but as the man moaned, Will realized that he had to have been led to find Ben for a purpose. All along, thoughts of vengeance had consumed him, combined with Pastor Lassiter's words cautioning him that it was a dangerous path to follow.

Could Will let a man die when he'd been clearly led to save him?

Will knelt beside Ben. “Are you hurt?”

Ben coughed. “Got to get to my safe.”

The man was knocking on death's door, and he was worried about the contents of his safe?

“The ceiling is about to cave in and kill us both. We've got to get out of here. Can you stand?”

Ben struggled to get up but quickly fell to his knees. Will put his arm around him and helped Ben stand just as the ceiling collapsed across the path Will was going to take to get them both to safety. Will looked around for an alternative exit. The back door was only a few yards away, but the path was blocked by several burning timbers. Still, if they were quick, they could dodge the timbers and get to the exit.

“Come on!”

Will tugged at the other man, looking around to be sure there weren't any others in the building. He couldn't see beyond the wall of fire blocking them in.
Please, Lord,
he prayed,
get everyone out safely.

They arrived at the back door, which was blocked by a burning beam. Ben slumped to the floor as Will looked around for a tool he could use to move the beam safely. Thick smoke clogged his lungs, and Will coughed, pulling the coat more tightly around his mouth and nose. He knew enough about fires to know that if he didn't get fresh air soon, he wouldn't be much use to anyone, especially himself.

He spied a rifle lying haphazardly on the floor, probably abandoned by one of Ben's men in the melee. Hoping the heat wouldn't ignite any of the powder within, Will grabbed the rifle and used it to poke at the burning beam. The beam practically crumbled underneath the effort.

The fire was hot, too hot to have been caused by two kerosene lamps.

Will glanced up to see more flames rushing toward them. He gave another good swipe at the burning beam, then kicked at the door to open it. Air, fresh, blessed air greeted him. He tugged at Ben. “Come on!”

Will pulled Ben out of the building just as the fiery mass came crashing down. They'd both have a few singed hairs, but at least they were alive.

As Will gulped in the fresh air, he had to wonder why God would put him in a position to save the very man he'd sworn to kill. The man who deserved to die and not be allowed to victimize another human being.

“Don't think this changes things, Lawson,” Ben gasped. The man could barely breathe, barely talk, and he was still fighting their old battle. “I own the law in all these mining towns. You should've let me die, because tomorrow, you'll be facing a noose. Especially when folks realize you're responsible for the fire. You're only a hero if you didn't start the thing.”

Yup, he should've left Ben to die.

“You and I both know that the fire couldn't have been started by those lamps.”

Ben coughed. “New powder to use in the mines. A spark from one of the lamps must've hit the crate holding it.”

He grinned, the flames behind him giving him an eerie, more wicked glow. “But everyone will know you did it. And those girls...they'll be so desperate for me to keep their names out of it that they'll do whatever I ask.”

Another cough wracked Ben's body. “At least I got the contents of one of my safes. Now I really need to marry one of them.”

It took everything Will had in him not to shove the other man back into the burning building.

“Will!”

Will turned to see Jasper running toward him.

“Thank God you got out of there all right. When I saw that ceiling fall in, I was sure you were done for.”

The other man clasped him in a bear hug. “You all right? The doctor's around front, treating some of the people who were badly burned.”

“I'm fine.” Will patted his friend on the back, then stepped away. “Did everyone get out?”

“As far as we know. We were fortunate. The marshal said that your quick thinking saved a lot of lives.”

“In a fire you caused,” Ben said, his voice raspy and strained with smoke damage.

“That's a dirty lie!” Jasper started for him, but Will held an arm out.

“Don't. It's not worth it.”

Suddenly weary, Will looked for a place to sit. He was tired of fighting. Tired of running. If he met his end at the end of a rope thanks to Ben's lies, so be it. Will's conscience was clear. He'd meet his Maker knowing he was innocent and knowing that instead of taking a life, he'd saved it. He trusted the instinct that said his actions honored God, and he'd like to think that, just as it said in Hebrews about faith being a man's credit to righteousness, God would credit this to Will's.

If there was anything to regret, it was that he couldn't tell Mary how he felt about her. In the flames, all he could see was that he loved her. He'd tried to tell himself it was admiration and respect. Sure, those two things played a part in his feelings, because after all, a man couldn't love a woman he didn't admire and respect.

Jasper seemed to sense his need and led him to a crate. “Here. You can sit here. The marshal asked us to stick around. I figure we ought to oblige him, given that maybe saving his life might account for something in keeping us out of trouble.”

“That's not why I saved him.”

“I know,” Jasper said solemnly, nodding in the direction of Ben, who remained lying on the ground. “You're a good man, Will Lawson. And even if people want to believe the dirty lies about you, there are people who know the truth, people who are honored to call you friend.”

Will thought back to Mary and how he refused to express his feelings for her because he couldn't give her a respectable life. If he hanged, it wouldn't matter, because there'd be no life at all. Earlier, Jasper had chided him for not letting his friends help him. For not letting his friends make their own decisions about his character.

If Will had one more chance to see Mary, he'd give her the same opportunity. A woman deserved to know when a man admired, respected and, yes, loved her. Mayhap it would all be for naught, but Mary needed to have the choice.

Will closed his eyes. The heat from the burning building was almost scalding. Would it feel this way to hang? Or would it be worse?

The crunch of gravel interrupted Will's thoughts. He opened them to see the marshal standing before him.

“Marshal.”

“Lawson.”

“Ben's over there. He needs a doctor.” Will barely had the energy to move his head.

The marshal made a motion with his arm, and Will realized a number of men were already tending to Ben.

“Ben says he has evidence that proves your involvement in the Century City robbery.”

“He thinks he does,” Will said slowly. “But a man's got to wonder how Ben seems to know so much about a crime he didn't commit.”

The marshal seemed to think for a moment as he gazed at the burning building. “A man does have to wonder. I've been following the activities of Ben's gang for a while now.”

“When I asked for the marshal's office to look into Ben's activities, I was told their hands were tied.”

Marshal Whitaker shrugged. “You know we can't talk about an ongoing investigation. And you were a suspect.”

Were. As though there might be a chance Will was in the clear.

“And now?”

“Seems to me a guilty man would have run. But I've been dogging your tail long enough as you've tracked Ben to realize that you've been doing your best to help us catch him.”

Will watched as a group of men carried Ben off on a makeshift stretcher. By the time the other man told his tale, most people would look at Will with more askance glances than he'd been receiving since the accusations first began. Even if he went to trial and was exonerated, there'd always be some people who thought him guilty. Either way, Will would never be able to walk around without a stain on his honor.

Especially since the marshal hadn't said Will was off the hook.

“I've got Rusty Horton around front demanding your arrest. He claims he's got definitive proof that you were involved in the bank robbery.”

Will didn't have the heart to fight it. He pulled aside his jacket to reveal his father's gun. “This is the gun used in the Century City Robbery. I found it on Colt this evening, and I took it. I reckon it's my word against his, but until tonight, I haven't seen the gun since before it was used in the bank robbery.”

The marshal paused in thought again. “I suppose, though, if the evidence burned up in that fire, I wouldn't have anything to hold you on.”

Will thought about the gun he'd slipped into his holster. He had Jasper to back up his story, even if the law wouldn't listen to what Mary and Rose had to say. But would it be enough?

“I have too much respect for the law to destroy evidence,” Will said.

With a loud rush, the rest of the building caved in with a burst of flame and smoke.

“It's not too late,” the marshal said. “I believe you, but I can't guarantee you'll get a fair trial.”

The trouble with being convicted by the Holy Spirit to do the right thing was that it didn't hold any guarantees of not facing human consequences. He had to do the right thing, no matter what the cost.

“I know. But I can't live with the thought of having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

At least this way, Will knew he'd done everything he could to keep his integrity intact.

“I'm gonna have to take you in.” The man said the words slowly, sounding as if he regretted them deeply. But Dean Whitaker was the kind of lawman who followed the law, and as much as he believed in Will's innocence, he had to follow the evidence.

“Would you be willing to let me turn myself in, in the morning? I'd like the chance to get my affairs in order.”

Will watched the shadows cross the marshal's face. To let a man accused of bank robbery walk when the safest bet was to take him in was unheard of. But the marshal believed in his innocence. Plus, the first time Will had faced accusations, he'd turned himself in. At the time, he'd stupidly believed that he'd be released after he explained things. That hadn't happened. He'd only obtained his release after they'd determined they didn't have enough evidence to hold him. His possession of the gun changed things.

“I'll give you the gun,” Will said slowly. “If I don't show up tomorrow morning, my face will be on every wanted poster either side of the Divide.”

The marshal held out his hand. “You're a good man, Will Lawson. I'll do what I can to put in a good word for you.”

Will shook the other man's hand, then pulled out his gun, holding it out so the marshal could take it. “Take good care of this, will you? If I come through this, I'd like to have it back as a reminder of my father.”

“He was a good man, too. Raised you right. Shame about what happened to him.”