The Winter Pearl. Molly Noble Bull

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      To my husband, Charlie Bull, to our family—

      Bret, Burt, Bren, Jana, Linda, Bethanny, Dillard, Hailey

       and Bryson. And to our pastor, Rev. Jerry Scott.

      But to God give the glory.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Epilogue

      Chapter One

      Falling Rock, Colorado

       Late October 1888

      “I’m not one to go without a woman for long, missy.”

      When Honor McCall had first heard her uncle say those words, she’d been sitting beside him in the wagon on the drive from the farm to the cemetery in nearby Falling Rock. She’d trembled then. Now, standing at Aunt Harriet’s grave and digesting what Uncle Lucas must have meant, she realized she’d never stopped shaking.

      She did not want to marry her late aunt’s husband. If only the God that Aunt Harriet had told her about would provide her with a means of escape.

      Although her aunt had been a Christian all her life, Lucas wasn’t allowing a funeral service. There was no one to attend the burial because only the grave diggers knew about the death. It was surprising that Lucas had driven Honor to the cemetery to watch the men dig the hole. Knowing him, that was more than she’d expected.

      As the diggers lowered the crude, wooden coffin into the ground, Honor saw a flash of gray behind a group of trees. In a moment, it became a young man in a gray suit, coming toward them, and she knew she’d never seen him before.

      Her heart knotted. Lucas would not be pleased by this turn of events.

      The stranger had thick brown hair and broad shoulders that reminded her of Lucas. Though her uncle was at least twenty years older, both men were tall and well built. But the young man’s clothes looked spotless, and he held what appeared to be a black Bible in one hand and an umbrella in the other. While Lucas, also in a gray suit, had liquor stains down the front of his jacket, and he gripped a half-empty whiskey bottle as though it were glued to his right hand.

      Dreading a confrontation, Honor wished the young man would just go away. At the same time, she hoped he would stay. There was something in his presence that made her feel safe.

      She’d been so overwhelmed by the death of her aunt, she’d hardly noticed the weather. Now she felt the nip of a fresh norther that had just blown in. Dark clouds gathered, and an icy wind stirred the pines that surrounded them. Her shivers deepened.

      When the younger man reached the graveside, Lucas glowered at him. “What do ya think you’re doing here, mister?”

      “My name is Jethro Peters, but my friends call me Jeth. I’m just visiting here in Falling Rock. I live over in Hearten. I’m the pastor there, and when the diggers told me someone died, I came to see if I could be of help.”

      Lucas studied the minister, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging slack, the way it always did when something unusual happened to him. After a moment, his thick eyebrows drew together. His face turned red, and a crease appeared in the center of his forehead.

      “Your kind ain’t welcome here,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly. “We don’t need no preacher.”

      “Yes, Uncle, we СКАЧАТЬ