Beyond This Moment Read online

  Seeing it was time to start, she whispered final encouragements to the children, especially the youngest ones standing on the bottom steps of the risers before her, who looked a tad more nervous than excited. Taking a breath, she turned to face the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the students of the Timber Ridge School, I welcome you to the first annual Christmas Celebration:"

  As if on cue, everyone applauded, and she motioned for Billy Bolden and Amanda Spivey to join her. She'd awarded them the lead speaking and dramatic roles. As Billy and Amanda delivered their scripted messages, Molly scanned the audience.

  Sitting beside James now, Rachel scrunched her shoulders and flashed a smile. Ben and Lyda Mullins were in attendance, as was Dr. Brookston. Charlie Daggett and Lori Beth stood in the back, all smiles. But what pleased her most was seeing Josiah and Belle Birch, along with Elijah. Molly smiled in their direction, but her smile faded as her gaze moved back toward the front.

  Mayor Davenport and his wife, Eliza, sat on the first row, neither of them looking pleased. Same for LuEllen Spivey and her husband. Hank Bolden occupied the pew behind them with his wife, Ida. Ida wore a pleasant countenance, no doubt anticipating her son's role in the drama of the birth of Christ tonight. And she wouldn't be disappointed.

  Molly had discovered that Billy's love for story came alive on the stage, even more so than for Amanda Spivey, who had asked if-in portraying Mary, the mother of Jesus-she could sing a special solo and wear her hair in ringlets as she'd seen in a recent issue of Harper's Weekly. "No solo and no ringlets;' Molly had told her in no uncertain terms.

  And yet ... Amanda's mother had been in charge of the costumes, and lovely as they were, Molly had never seen so ornate a shawl as Amanda wore this evening, gathered in decorative tucks around her face-with rosettes on each temple. If she'd seen it before today, Molly would have asked for an alteration. But once Amanda had arrived, minutes before the program, it was too late. Amanda's and LuEllen's intention, Molly felt certain.

  More applause as Billy and Amanda took their places on the risers again.

  Molly addressed the audience. "The students and I appreciate your attendance this evening. Teaching the children of Timber Ridge-your children-has been a joy and a privilege I won't soon forget, and one for which I'm most grateful. I daresay I've enjoyed it far more than I ever did instructing on the college level:" Proud smiles dotted the faces in the audience. `And now, without further adieu, we hope you enjoy tonight's festivities:'

  Turning back to meet the children's eager smiles, she hummed the starting note, and on her mark, the class began in practiced unison. " `The first Noel, the angels did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay..... .

  As the innocent voices filled the corners of the church, she looked from child to child, thanking God for each one. Even incorrigible little Kurt Boyd. The pomp and prestige she had pursued and garnered at Franklin College paled in comparison to seeing the sparkle in Ansley Tucker's eyes as the little girl had learned how to read and write. Or Benjamin Foster's satisfied smile as he'd grasped the ordered world of mathematics. Or Billy and Elijah's shared enthusiasm over stories.

  The way the two boys had continued to teach Angelo was also a wonder. Angelo was teaching them some Italian too, Elijah had told her. Earlier in the week, Billy had shared after school one day that he wanted to be a teacher when he grew up, just like she was. He could not have paid her a higher compliment. She was so grateful for the friendship those boys shared. And that God had used her, even in the smallest way, to bring them together encouraged a smile.

  Now, if only some of the people in this room would learn from their example.

  The next hour passed far too quickly, and Molly tucked away the nuances of the evening-the sprinkled oohs and ahhs from parents, and the cute unscripted responses from students when they forgot their lines. The event could not have gone better, mistakes and all.

  Cloth-covered tables laden with cookies, cakes, pies, and punch lined the back of the room, and following the program, families stayed and visited, as Molly had hoped.

  Mathias and Oleta Tucker gently pulled her aside. "Thank you, Dr. Whitcomb;' Mathias said, "for all you've done for our children:"

  Oleta took hold of her hand. "You've been such a gift to our children and to this town. We're so thankful God brought you here"

  Molly appreciated their gratitude but squirmed beneath the praise. The more she mingled and the more people thanked her, the more uncomfortable she grew, knowing she wasn't deserving.

  "Molly?"

  She spotted Lori Beth standing off to the side. Their paths had crossed in town in past weeks, but only a handful of times and all too briefly.

  Molly j oined her. "It was so kind of you and Charlie to come tonight, Lori Beth. Thank you:"

  "We wouldn't have missed it for anything. It's been all the talk around town, you know."

  Molly sighed, shaking her head. "Better that than other things, I guess."

  "So true. Here ... this is for you" Lori Beth held out a cloth bag. It was tied at the neck with a bright red ribbon. "Open it later, when you get home. And please know that I've been thinking about you, praying for you ... and your baby," she whispered. "I so appreciate our friendship:'

  Molly took the bag. "I feel the very same way. And thank you for this-though you shouldn't have." She grinned. "I'll open it as soon as I get home:"

  Lori Beth turned to go.

  "Lori Beth, if you have time this week ..." Molly fingered the bow on the bag. "Would you like to have tea together? I'm moving out of my cabin this weekend and will likely be staying in the hotel, but I'd appreciate another opportunity to visit:"

  Lori Beth held her gaze. "I'd love that. But why don't you come to my house? Charlie's still working at the Mullinses' store. Just stop by there and he can show you the way."

  Molly nodded. Watching Lori Beth and Charlie leave, she felt the same sense of rightness inside her as she had that night in Miss Clara's dining room.

  "Mrs. Whitcomb!"

  Recognizing the high-pitched singsong voice, Molly pasted on a smile and turned. "Mrs. Spivey, how are you this evening?"

  "I'm doing very well!" Mrs. Spivey's hand fluttered over her heart. "I'm just so proud of my precious Amanda. Have you ever seen a better or more beautiful Mary?"

  Molly had learned to read LuEllen Spivey fairly well, and no manner of theatrics could disguise the keenness in the woman's gaze. "I can honestly say that I've never seen a Mary quite like your daughter portrayed this evening:'

  LuEllen smiled, but it wasn't genuine. "Have you decided yet, Mrs. Whitcomb, whether you'll be staying in Timber Ridge? After your child is born?"

  "As I mentioned to you last week, when you asked me then;' Molly said softly, knowing she was walking a fine line and that she was far more errant than LuEllen Spivey knew. "My future plans are still uncertain."

  "I see. . . . Well, my niece, Judith Stafford ... Do you remember her? She's the woman Sheriff McPherson so enjoyed dancing with that evening at the town-"

  "I remember Miss Stafford." Which LuEllen already knew, of course. "She's quite lovely."

  "Isn't she, though? And so kind and good-and forthcoming." LuEllen's eyes narrowed in a manner incongruent with her pleasant tone. "She's applied for the teaching position here again, and as the mayor just told me, she's his first choice of the current candidates. As she was for many ... of the town council members before you came."

  Molly felt the barb and didn't do a good job of hiding it. Imagining what Mrs. Spivey's reaction would be once she knew the truth, Molly shuddered inwardly. Merciless was the first term that came to mind. "If your niece is awarded the position, I have no doubt she'll do a wonderful job, Mrs. Spivey. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to-"

  "Not only will she do a fine job as teacher, but my niece is the type of woman people in this town could respect, that they could look up to. Like they do Sheriff McPherson. You know, Mrs. Whitcomb"-LuEllen stepped closer and
slipped her arm through Molly's, as though they were the dearest of friends-"having the right woman beside a man can make all the difference in his success. Wouldn't you agree?" She didn't wait for a response. "Men are often blind to things, no matter how intelligent they may be. They don't see what's best for them. They only see what they want. But we women"-she smiled-"we have discernment, do we not? We see things-and people-as they are. And sometimes it's up to us to make the right choice, not just for ourselves ... but for others:"

  Molly swallowed. The room suddenly had less air than it had seconds before.

  LuEllen patted her arm. "The election for sheriff will be coming up in the spring. James McPherson is a fine man, and he's done so much for Timber Ridge. It would be a shame if he were to make a ... personal decision that could cost him his job."

  Personal decision? Not believing what she was hearing, yet hearing it clearly, Molly felt a light sweat break out on her forehead. Did Mrs. Spivey know about her? No, that wasn't possible. Because if she did, then everyone else in this church building-in this town-would know. But the woman did suspect something. Somehow.

  Feeling like an insect caught in a spider's web, Molly disengaged herself from the woman. "Please excuse me, Mrs. Spivey, I ... I need to say good-bye to the Tucker family before they leave:"

  Setting etiquette aside, Molly didn't wait for a response but made her way toward the double doors at the back of the church, speaking to people who greeted her, trying to be the gracious schoolteacher, but unable to ignore the tremor deep inside, like a gentle thunder.

  She'd known there would be a cost to her relationship with James. She'd known that from the beginning and had tried to put distance between them. But, selfishly, she hadn't tried hard enough. And not until now had she realized what an extravagant price he would pay once the people of this town-his town, all the people who knew he cared for her-discovered she'd never been married.

  A sickly weakness fanned out inside her.

  If only she could go back to that moment when she'd first stepped foot onto that train station in Sulfur Falls and make her choice again. She would choose differently this time. Sin's cost to her was one thing. But the cost of her sin to someone she loved was another. Hindsight was a thorough, if not oftentimes cruel, teacher.

  "Well, Dr. Whitcomb, I'd say this evening was a great success:"

  Hearing James behind her, Mollybriefly closed her eyes before facing him. "Why thank you, Sheriff McPherson. I appreciate that:"

  His brow furrowed. "Are you all right? You look a little pale:"

  She tugged at the high collar of her black dress. "It's just a little warm in here, that's all:"

  He glanced around them, then leaned closer, but not too close. "Are you ready for that sleigh ride? I just need to see Rachel and the boys to the wagon, then-"

  A commotion sounded outside the church building. Among shouting voices, a woman screamed.

  James made for the door and Molly followed, the last of the families trailing behind her. But they were stopped by a crowd of people bottlenecked on the front steps. Murmurs drifted back, some gasps. Molly stood on tiptoe but couldn't see anything. James pushed his way through and she followed.

  A handful of torches provided scant light in the churchyard. She made it to the front of the group, and it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the shadows. When they did, she had trouble making sense of what she saw.

  Four men formed a half circle, their rifles pointed down at someone who lay bloodied and crumpled on the ground. She stepped forward, peering over someone's shoulder, trying to see who it was-when Angelo Giordano raised his beaten and swollen face.

  Her breath left in a rush. "Angelo!"

  The boy struggled to rise, his thin arms pushing upward. One of the four men standing over him delivered a swift boot to his stomach, and Angelo went down hard.

  Molly screamed, running for him.

  39

  ames reached the boy seconds after Molly did and felt for a pulse on his thin arm. Nothing. Molly cradled Angelo's head in her lap and smoothed his blood-matted hair. Tears lined her cheeks, but anger lit her eyes.

  Brookston knelt beside them, his bag already open. He gently probed the side of Angelo's throat with one hand while listening to the boy's chest through his stethoscope. James felt his own throat tightening, images of Josiah Birch crowding close. He could hardly breathe. Oh, God, please ... not again.

  Hearing murmurs behind him in the crowd, James rose, a bitter taste on his tongue. His attention went to one of the four men standing over Angelo. "Are you responsible for this, Rudger?"

  Leonard Rudger eyed him, rifle in his grip. "This boy stole my cattle, Sheriff. I'm just protecting my land and my stock. I still have a right to do that in this town, don't I?"

  James wanted to take the man's Winchester and gut punch him with it. "Do you have proof?"

  "My men and I searched Little Italy. We found meat hidden in this boy's tent, and a burned carcass with my brand on it not too far away. That's enough evidence in my book:"

  "But you didn't catch the boy in the act?"

  "Didn't need to" An unpleasant smile turned Rudger's mouth. "He confessed to doing it:"

  James gritted his teeth. "Was that before-or after-you beat him senseless?"

  Rudger gave a shrug. "We just applied a little pressure, Sheriff. Something a man in your position knows a little about, I'm sure:"

  Brookston peered up. "Sheriff, I've got a pulse, but it's faint. I need help getting him to the clinic:"

  Josiah Birch and Ben Mullins stepped from the crowd. With Molly close beside them, they lifted Angelo's frail body and carried him to a wagon. James saw Molly glare back at the four men, accusation fierce in her expression. He caught her gaze and indicated with a nod for her to go on, hoping she would. For her to say anything would only complicate matters.

  She climbed into the wagon beside Angelo and Dr. Brookston.

  James turned back to Rudger as the wagon pulled away. The rancher and his men could have killed Angelo and dumped his body on the side of a road somewhere, or could've dragged him onto Rudger's property to make a stronger case. But they hadn't. They'd brought the boy to town, tonight, to a public gathering, and a school gathering at that-to make a point. And he didn't have to look far to know who was behind it all.

  Davenport stood watching the scene, an all-too-smug look on his face. James strode toward him, and the man's confidence wavered.

  "Hold on, McPherson!" Davenport shielded his face with his hand. "You've got no-"

  James stopped inches from his face, aware of the families gathered, watching. Especially Mitchell and Kurt, who stood with Rachel just feet away. "I want to speak with you and your men inside the church."

  A nervous but affable grin lit the mayor's face. "Now, Sheriff..." He glanced around them. "I think Leonard Rudger is well within his rights to protect his property. The boy confessed to the crime and needs to be dealt with, according to the law. And it's up to you to see that the law's enforced, and that he's sent to Denver to stand trial for his-"

  "Now, Mayor!" James included Rudger and the other three men in his stare. "You either get inside that church building and we talk, or I'll take you to jail and we'll do it there. Your choice:"

  Slowly, the men filed through the crowd and up the stairs, Davenport trailing them.

  "Everyone else, head on home:" James caught Rachel's worried look and crossed to where she stood. "Would you and the boys stop by Willis's place and ask him to join me here? As soon as he can:"

  She nodded. "Be careful, James."

  As he made his way to the church, Billy Bolden caught his eye. Billy stood by his father and his mother, his face wet with tears. Billy looked at him, then bowed his head.

  Hank Bolden shoved his son through the crowd. Ida Bolden followed at her husband's urging. But James couldn't shake the look on Billy's face, or the feeling that the boy knew something. And knowing about Billy's friendship with Angelo made him even more suspi
cious.

  "Bolden!" he called out.

  Billy was the first to turn. Then his father.

  Hank puffed out his barrel chest. "You want something with us, Sheriff'?"

  James closed the distance between them. Thankful the crowd was dispersing, he kept his voice low. "I'd like to speak with you and your son, please. Over at my office, if you will:"

  Hank bristled. "If there's something you're wanting, I'd prefer you put it to me straight. I'm a busy man. If not, then I suggest you get on with the job of keepin' this town safe."

  Ida slipped a protective arm around her son's shoulders, and sure as anything, James read guilt in Billy's eyes. He couldn't fathom that Billy Bolden could be mixed up in this-just as he couldn't imagine Angelo doing it either-but Billy was involved somehow, he was certain. "I'd rather not speak about this here, Hank. So, please.. " He gestured. "Meet me at my office. I'll be there shortly, after I speak with Rudger."

  Molly held Angelo's hand as Dr. Brookston sutured the gash on his forehead, the coppery tang of blood heavy in the air. "The doctor's almost done;' she said, wondering if the boy could hear her. He hadn't awakened yet.

  "Keep speaking to him, Dr. Whitcomb." Brookston pulled the needle taut, his manner calming and methodical. "I believe people can still hear in situations like these, and a familiar voice can make all the difference."

  Molly leaned closer. "Angelo, I'm here with you. You're going to be all right. I'm so sorry this happened. So sorry. Mi dispiace." Without thought, she slipped into Italian. "I don't know if what those men are saying you've done is true or not, but even if it is, I want you to know that I'll stand beside you, Angelo. I won't leave you. Nothing you could do could make me turn my back on you. Because I know what it feels like to be alone...'

  Brookston looked up from suturing. "I don't know what you're saying to him, Dr. Whitcomb. But it sure sounds comforting."

  Molly sighed and continued to whisper in Angelo's ear.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Josiah Birch poked his head inside. "Is it all right if we come in?"