Bachelor's Puzzle (26 page)

Her final and perhaps most disquieting discovery was a leather wallet that had one hundred fifty dollars in it along with a paper verifying the amount and signed by Maggie’s father! Maggie had heard her parents talking about how they had given the building fund money to William for him to deposit into the St. Helens bank. William had already been to St. Helens. Why had he not deposited it?

With trembling fingers, Maggie replaced everything, even the clothing, back into the truck just as she had found it. She did not want him to know she had been in the trunk and to suspect she had been snooping.

She sat in the chair by the desk in order to give herself a moment to digest all she’d found. Her mind conjured a dozen logical reasons for everything, for there were indeed many. There need be nothing sinister in any of this, yet her mind, which her mother always said was too imaginative for her own good, also formed many devious reasons. But she shook away each and every one. It was all perfectly innocent, she was certain.

And rather than let her imagination run away, she could ask William himself. He surely had nothing to hide. That would, of course, mean she’d have to admit she’d been snooping.

Propping an elbow on the desk, Maggie bumped a book that was sitting open. Glancing toward it, she saw the chapter title on the open page was “Love Extolled.”

He must be working on his sermon, she thought, for beside the book was a sheet of paper with writing on it.

The words “Love Extolled” were at the very top. Below that she read,
This morning we shall explore the miracle of grace—our Savior’s astounding grace. This is a difficult concept for men to grasp. How often have I heard men say, “You can’t get something for nothing”? This we understand. Even a gift is often perceived with having ulterior motives behind the gesture. . . .

Maggie turned back to the book. Her eyes moved down the printed page, and she saw the same exact words as were written on the paper. She picked up the book, turned it over, and saw it was titled,
The Sermons of Robert E. Markus
. She flipped through the pages and paused at one titled “Consider the L ilies.” She was not one to listen too closely to the sermons in church, nor to remember them verbatim afterward, but what was written on this page sounded incredibly like the first sermon William had preached in Maintown.

Was William stealing another preacher’s sermons?

Well, what of it? Maggie found herself answering her own query.

Again, she put everything back the way she’d found it and jumped up from the chair. Mama always said no good came of snooping.

She knew there had to be perfectly good answers to everything she’d discovered. She also knew she wasn’t going to try to find those answers. A great sense of protectiveness rose up within her. There were folks who might take these discoveries wrong and think ill of William, and she just couldn’t have that.

Was it love she was feeling? Did she love William and thus desire to protect him?

He was, after all, the first man to ever kiss her. She didn’t want to think she was the sentimental type who fell in love with the first kiss. Yet he had kissed her, and she had liked it. She felt as light-headed around him as she did around Colby Stoddard.

She just did not know what it all meant and wasn’t sure she wanted to. She wanted things to stay just as they were.

She hurried out of the room, nearly colliding with Mrs. Copeland.

“Oh, there you are,” the older woman said. “I was coming up to see what became of you.”

“N-nothing . . .” Maggie stammered. “I’m fine.” Her voice came out in a squeak.

“You look absolutely peaked.” Mrs. Copeland frowned. “Couldn’t you find the pastor’s clothes?”

“Oh . . . uh . . .” Maggie chuckled sickly. “I forgot them.” She ducked back into the room, grabbed the suit, and exited again.

“Just the suit?”

“I’ll get the rest later. I gotta go.” Maggie spun toward the stairs, and suddenly remembering her manners, she paused and offered a quick, “Thank you.”

Then she raced down the stairs and outside. She ran halfway home, fearing the entire time she would run into William and he would see guilt spelled clearly on her face.

TWENTY - TWO

Zack was exhausted. He trudged up the stairs after telling Mrs. Copeland he would forego supper. She told him she would keep it warm on the back of the stove in case he changed his mind. In his room he plopped down upon his bed and stretched out, only vaguely thinking of his work-soiled body defiling the fine quilt. But he was too tired to do anything about it.

He’d been up at five in the morning to start work at the mill at six. He’d worked ten hours.I n past days they’d had him sweeping up and performing other light tasks, no doubt taking it easy on the minister. But today a couple of fellows had quit, and Zack had been given the job of bucking logs onto the carriage that moved the logs to the saw. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling labor, and his hands, though he’d worn gloves, were sore and blistered.

He nearly laughed aloud as he thought of his ma’s frequent admonishment: “Zack, you work harder than anyone I know to get out of work.”

Masquerading as the minister had seemed a lark, an easy way out of his sticky predicament. Now he saw it probably would have been better if he’d just taken a job at one of the lumber camps back in the woods. But that had seemed too much like work.

Then adding insult to injury, Elisha Cook had ridden up after work as he was nearing the Copeland place and asked if he could come back to his place and pray for his ill mother. Mrs. Cook had been suffering with a carcinoma for some time, and it seemed her condition was worsening. Zack had paused long enough to tell Mrs. Copeland he’d be late for supper, then rode with Elisha about four miles to his parents’ farm—it was just Elisha and his mother now because his father had run off several years ago.

Zack was growing accustomed to making such calls. He hardly gave it a thought anymore to visit the sick or the troubled. Calvin had once mentioned he’d likely have even more calls later. Some folk were holding off on account of his being new and the folks wanting to “test” him first. Also, word that his license hadn’t arrived yet had circulated, so some were probably holding off for that reason, too. If he’d been a real minister, he would have already had several “altar calls” and as a result, a number of baptisms to perform. He’d be counseling folks, knocking on doors, and getting the backsliders to church.

It was easy to sidestep all this by offering one excuse or another or by not seeking out these tasks. He’d rather they think him lazy than inept. L ast week in Deer I sland he’d officiated at another funeral. He figured there was no harm in doing funerals, since these folks were dead and all. But he knew it would not be much longer until he was fully accepted into the community and more demands would be placed upon him. He hoped to be long gone before then.

He wondered about Beau Cutter. Could he possibly still be looking for him? A man like that had a long memory. Maybe he should cut out of this place when he got his first pay from the mill.

All this thinking was starting to add a headache to his other aches. People talked a lot about “honest, hardworking men,” but he was sure it was the dishonest man who worked hardest. Lying and deception did not come easy. Had he realized that when he fell into this scheme, he might have done differently. Yet he was here now, and the best thing was to see it through.

At least tomorrow was Sunday and he’d not have to face the grueling work at the mill for another day. That made him remember he’d been so busy he hadn’t finished working on his sermon. He’d copied one from Markus’s book but still needed to memorize it. Well, he’d just rest for a few minutes, then eat that supper Mrs. Copeland had promised to keep warm for him. By then he’d be able to face the task ahead.

The Newcombs were spending a quiet evening by the hearth when Jane Donnelly knocked on their door.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening,” she said, obviously distraught but still conscientious about propriety.

“What’s wrong, Jane?” Ada asked.

“Tom and Tommy went hunting earlier this afternoon, and they have not returned home.” She glanced up as Calvin joined them at the door. “You know they wouldn’t be hunting after dark.”

Calvin probably was thinking the same as Ada. What had they been doing hunting at all in the middle of the day when most men were working? Well, Ada knew what they were doing— shirking real work with the excuse that they were hunting food for the table. Still, Ada didn’t know why Jane was so worried. The two layabouts were no doubt passed out drunk in the woods.

“Come on in, Jane,” Calvin said, “and tell us why you are so worried. This can’t be the first time they are late coming home.”

“Even Tom don’t miss supper,” Jane said a bit defensively.

“You want me to go have a look around for them?” Calvin asked.

“I hate to drag you out at this hour. But . . . oh, I know what you are thinking, and I don’t blame you, but this isn’t right even for them.”

“Maybe they’re just lost,” Ada offered, though she was certain Tom knew the woods better than anyone.

After confirming with Jane the possible places the men might be likely to hunt, Calvin took his coat from the peg. “Boyd, would you join me?”

“I can go, too, Dad!” offered Georgie.

“Not this time, son. Two of us is enough.”

Boyd and Calvin left, and Ada invited Jane to sit down.

Jane hesitated. “I better go back home in case Tom comes back there, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure Calvin will go by your house to check,” Ada said. “Come and visit with me. Have you had supper?”

“I couldn’t eat.”

“Then some tea?” Ada asked. “Ellie, would you fix up a fresh pot?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Jane said.

“Of course you’re not. Come and sit down.”

They sat in front of the hearth that was bright with a nice warm fire. They chatted and Jane helped Ada with some sewing. The next hour passed slowly. Ellie brought tea and joined them with her own sewing while Maggie helped Georgie with a puzzle. I t would have been a pleasant, homey scene except for the frequent lulls in conversation and the rising tension as time dragged on.

Ada still believed there was nothing to worry about. Yet what was taking Calvin so long?I t was only a few minutes’ ride to the Donnelly place and a mile or two into the woods where the men liked to hunt. Of course, searching in the darkness would take time, but Ada did not think Calvin would have to go far before he found the father and son most likely passed out from their moonshine.

Finally, there came the sound of footsteps on the front porch. Ada expected the door to burst open, but nothing happened for several long moments. She could tell by the voices it was Calvin and Boyd. Jane was looking expectantly toward the door, as was Ada, holding her breath.

At last the door opened. Calvin and Boyd entered and hung up their coats before saying a word. That’s what made Ada start to worry.

Calvin walked slowly toward the women. “Jane, we found something,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t know how to say it except right out.” But even as he spoke those words, it was obvious he didn’t want to say it at all. “We found Tom.” Calvin stopped and cleared his throat. “He was . . . ah . . . he was dead, Jane.”

Jane gasped.

Ada jumped up, and going over to her friend, she glanced at her husband, who merely shook his head. Ada dropped to her knees beside Jane and took her hand. I n the silence that followed Ada noticed some stirring from the children, who had also heard the news. She knew at any moment Maggie would start in with a barrage of questions, for she’d be concerned about Tommy in all this. But Ada didn’t think a lot of questions would help right at the moment.

“Children,” she said peremptorily, “it is time you went up to bed.”

“But, Mama—” Maggie began.

Calvin cut in gently but firmly. “Go on, Maggie. We’ll be up soon to tuck you in.”

Maggie was not going to like her father speaking to her as to a child, but they’d talk later, and all would be well. This simply wasn’t the time or place for young folks. Perhaps Maggie did understand this, for she followed her brothers and sister upstairs without another word.

Ada turned her full attention toward Jane, now sitting very still and quiet, her face pale and drawn.

Calvin came and pulled a chair close to Jane and sat down. “Jane, I saw no sign of Tommy,” he said. “I went by your house afterward, and he wasn’t there.”

“How—?” Jane began, but her voice caught on the word and she stopped, fighting back emotion.

“Tom was killed with a shotgun.I expect they were bird hunting, and it was an accident of some sort.”

“He . . . he’s dead? You are certain?”

“Yes, Jane. I’m’m very sorry,” Calvin replied. “We brought his . . . body back. I laid it in your barn.”

Ada couldn’t help being relieved that Calvin had the foresight not to bring the man’s body here. What a trauma that would have been for the children.

“Where is Tommy?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know,” Calvin answered.

Ada had the feeling he wasn’t telling everything.

“I left a note at your house for him in case he comes home. I told him you’d be staying here.”

“I must go home!” Jane started to rise, suddenly agitated. “I must be there for him.”

“He’ll know to come here,” Ada said. “Why don’t you stay with us for the night?”

“I . . . I . . . don’t know what to do!” Jane lamented in a shaky voice and turned toward Ada. “Ada, my Tom is gone!” Then the tears started as the terrible news finally penetrated her mind.

Ada gathered her friend into her arms, comforting her as best as she could. She didn’t know what else to do or say, though there probably wasn’t anything to say just then.I nstead, Ada prayed silently for Jane and also for Tommy. Where was he anyway? Could he have been involved somehow? Had he finally run off? Only God knew the answers, so it was to God that Ada made her prayer for the boy’s well-being.

After a while Jane’s tears quieted. “I’m sorry for being such a bother to you.”