On this Sunday morning it was close and airless inside the little church upon Tulane Ridge. There was a little breeze created from the many fans being waved back and forth by the ladies. They beamed at Preacher Robison, who had given them the pieces of white cardboard.
When the congregation had settled down, the reverend stood up behind the pulpit and motioned everyone to do the same. There was a rustling of clothing and a shuffling of feet for a moment; then Robison, after clearing his throat, began, “It gives me great joy to see you all here to listen to the word of God.”
He had barely begun to talk when the church door slammed open with such force, it banged against the wall. Everyone turned around to stare at whoever had caused the commotion.
But their heads swiveled back toward the pulpit as the two young girls who lived with the preacher marched purposefully toward the suddenly white-faced Robison. When the two reached him, the older girl, Millie, swung around to face the wide-eyed congregation.
“I have come here to clear the name of a good man,” she began. “This babe I carry”—she touched her stomach—“is not Dylan Quade’s. I let Robison and Jenny Quade spread that rumor, but it isn’t true. I spoke a lie because of this man”—she jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward Robison, who had started to step down from the pulpit—“who claims to be a man of God, but is actually a man of the devil.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Robison begged, his eyes darting to the open church door. “She’s mad at me because I make her work hard. I won’t abide idle hands.” He took the girl by the arm and started trying to drag her out the back door.
“Let the girl have her say!” Granny Hawkins shouted in her cracked voice.
Millie jerked loose from Robison’s grip. She was near tears and her voice was trembling as she began. “You people are probably wondering why I didn’t tell the truth before. I thought I had a good reason to keep quiet. This devil of a man said that if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, he would start sleeping with my little ten-year-old sister.
“Well, last night I discovered that he had been been visiting her room for the past two years. I had kept his secret for nothing. He had been using my little sister all this time.”
Knowing the jig was up, Robison darted out the back door. Every man in the church rose to his feet. “Let’s lynch the no-good,” one man called out.
“I have a good stout rope,” another said.
“You women and young’uns stay inside,” someone else directed. “This ain’t gonna be purty.”
The instant Millie had burst into the room, Jenny Quade had turned white and her eyes filled with alarm. She knew that her troublemaking had finally caught up with her. She had no doubt that she would be hanged beside the preacher. While the women and children crowded to the window to see what they could of the proceedings outside, she began edging toward the back door. She had to get away.
She eased the door open, then stopped short. The tree the men had chosen to hang the preacher from was only about three feet away. He was blubbering incoherently.
“Tie a rag across the coward’s mouth. I’m tired of listenin’ to him,” one of the men shouted. A dirty rag was pulled from someone’s pocket and tied firmly across Robison’s pleading mouth. As Jenny slipped away, she could hear the drumming of the preacher’s heels against the tree trunk. She was well on her way down the mountain when suddenly everything grew quiet for a moment. Then there was a joyful shout. It was over.
Jenny hurried on. She’d better hide out down in Jackon Hole for a while, she decided. Once people’s tempers had cooled, she could go back home.
Some time later, as she was passing the trail to the Bar X, she noted smoke coming from the chimney. That arrogant Dylan Quade must be back from Abilene. A sudden idea came into her head and she smiled slyly. There was one more piece of mischief she could take care of before she had to lie low. Laughing to herself, she turned onto the trail to the Bar X.
Dylan had slept later than usual Sunday morning. They’d ridden in late the night before and he was exhausted. He’d pushed himself and Devil as hard as he could in his eagerness to see Rachel again.
It was almost noon when Dylan walked down to the bunkhouse. “Got any coffee made, Charlie?” he asked the cook.
“Yeah, just made a fresh pot. Help yourself.”
Dylan filled a cup and carried it to the table. Sitting down, he leaned back and took a sip of the hot, strong coffee. He realized suddenly that Charlie, who usually talked a mile a minute, was very quiet this afternoon.
“Anybody pass by today?” Dylan broke the silence.
“Yeah. That trashy Jenny Quade,” Charlie said after a pause.
“What kind of gossip did she have to pass on?” Dylan took a long swallow of coffee.
Charlie gave him a sideways look, then after a moment half growled, “Nothin’ that you would be interested in hearin’.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Dylan frowned at his cook. “What is that gossip-monger peddling now?”
“Alright.” Charlie got real busy stirring a pot of stew. “But you ain’t gonna like it.”
“Oh, forget it,” Dylan said and swallowed the last of his coffee.
“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you.” Charlie replaced the lid on the stewpot. “That girl Millie who’s been livin’ with the preacher has come up big-bellied. The preacher’s been tellin’ everyone you’re the pappy.”
“What!” Dylan jumped to his feet, slamming his empty cup down on the table. “Nobody believes it, do they?”
“Well, Jenny says they do. Worst of all, Rachel believes it. Jenny claims she’s been spendin’ all her time with that preacher man. Said she’d shoot you between the eyes if you ever dared to come around her again.
“Where are you goin’?” Charlie called after Dylan as his irate boss went stamping off toward the barn.
“Where in the hell do you think I’m going?” Dylan yelled back. “I’m going down to the post to get this straightened out.”
“But . . . but . . .” Whatever Charlie wanted to say, it would be finished in the trail of dust Dylan was leaving behind him.
Rachel was enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting on her porch, watching a hawk circle against the gray sky. She sighed. She should have gone to church today. Her mother would have been disappointed in her.
But in Granny Hawkins’s words, she was too dismal these days to do anything but sit and ask herself how Dylan could have been sleeping with that Millie girl all the while he was courting her.
She stood up and called Shadow to her side. Dylan had seemed so concerned about her welfare when he’d given her the dog for protection. Had it been nothing more than an act? she wondered as she noticed two figures approaching from the post.
“What brings you down here?” she asked as Shadow bounded up to Granny Hawkins, who was being escorted by John Jacob.
“All hell’s broken loose,” John Jacob said as he helped Granny climb onto the porch where she sat down in one of the rockers.
“What do you mean, all hell’s broken loose?” Rachel asked as she sat down beside Granny.
“Do you want to tell her or do you want me to?” John Jacob asked Granny.
“One of you had better tell me or I’ll hit you both,” Rachel snapped.
“It will be my pleasure to tell you,” John Jacob said as he sat down on the edge of the porch and leaned against the post. “They hanged that preacher man this morning up on Tulane Ridge.”
“What?” Rachel exclaimed, sitting forward, gripping both arms of her chair. “Why did they do that?”
“Do you want to tell her, Granny?” John Jacob grinned at the old lady. “I think you should be the one to tell her good news.”
“I don’t understand you, John,” Rachel sniffed. “A man has been hanged—a man of the church, no less. What good news is there about that?”
“Well, you’ll understand pretty soon,” John Jacob said slowly. He paused a minute, his eyes studying Rachel. “You see, he was hanged for getting a girl in a family way. And the girl in question is Millie. She accused him this morning in church.”
Two emotions ran through Rachel simultaneously: shock that a man of the cloth had committed such a sin and been hanged, and overwhelming joy that Dylan was innocent of the gossip that had gone around.
Another emotion gripped her. One of shame. Why hadn’t she had more faith in Dylan? She looked at John Jacob, pink with embarrassment. He had tried to tell her Dylan was an honorable man. When he gave her a look that said I told you so, Granny gave him a sharp glance, then began to speak.
“There is another truth that is long overdue to be told.”
“Now, Granny,” John Jacob said nervously, “that’s nothing to be bothering Rachel about.”
“Hesh up, John Jacob,” the old woman snapped. “This child has a right to know who her pappy is.”
John Jacob stood up and leaned against the porch post, his back to them.
He shuffled uneasily, knowing what Granny was going to say. He flinched when she began speaking. “Rachel has a right to finally know who her father is,” the old lady said.
“Alright, tell her!” John Jacob half shouted. “I’ve been meaning to tell her and never seemed to find the right time or words.”
Rachel rose to her feet, her eyes wide with disbelief and incredible joy. “You are my father, John?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Yes, I am, honey.” He smiled at her and reached his arms toward her. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“I couldn’t be more pleased,” Rachel exclaimed, jumping up to throw herself in his arms. Then suddenly she froze, her face going as cold as ice. She had remembered the hellish life this man had caused her mother. Granny caught her dress tail as she started to lunge at his face.
“No, Rachel,” she said. “Calm yourself. Listen to what John Jacob has to say.”
“But, Granny,” Rachel protested. “You know the awful life my poor mother had to live because of him.”
“I know that, child,” Granny said gently, “and I’m sure there is no one who regrets that more than John Jacob. Go now, the two of you. Walk along the river and have that long talk that has been waiting all these years.”
As John Jacob and Rachel walked along the river, he told his daughter that he had loved her mother dearly and explained the circumstances that had kept him from returning to her. He ended by saying, “I never loved any other woman and I often thought of your mother.” He took Rachel’s hand as they returned to her porch. “Can you forgive me?”
“Yes, I can, now that I know the whole story. I’m glad that she knew love and happiness at one time in her life.”
Just at that moment Rachel caught sight of Dylan’s stallion racing up the river road toward the post.
He drew up before her cabin in a cloud of dust, and his face when he swung down off Devil was a thundercloud.
“Welcome back,” John Jacob called out. “Have you heard the news?”
“Don’t keep him waitin’,” Granny scolded.
“They hanged that preacher man this morning for getting little Millie in a family way,” John Jacob said straight out. “I guess you’ve heard that some folks were saying you were the one responsible.”
His face stone cold Dylan said, “I have. So they’ve found the real culprit and hanged him. How does that make you feel, Rachel? I also heard you’ve been keeping company with him while I was away.”
“Keeping company with him?” Rachel repeated in astonishment. “I certainly have not!”
Dylan bounded up on the porch and with angry strides marched over to where Rachel and Granny sat. Wordlessly he jerked Rachel to her feet and, still silent, half dragged her inside the cabin. John Jacob and Granny Hawkins took one look at each other and started back toward the post.
“Dylan! What’s wrong with you?” Rachel demanded, trying to pull away from him.
He dropped the bar across the door, then pushed her into a chair and said coldly, “I have a few words to say to you and I want to say them in private.”
Her chin in the air, Rachel pulled away from him and stamped across the room to stare out the window, “Say your few words and get out of my home,” she retorted.
“How could you have thought for one minute that I would have anything to do with that girl Millie? That I would get a child on her.”
“Why shouldn’t I believe it?” Rachel shot back. “Everyone else did.”
“But I thought it was different between us,” Dylan said. “I didn’t think anything would ever come between us.”
“Oh, really?” Rachel stepped away from the window. “I don’t suppose you ever wondered how things were between John Jacob and me.” She looked at Dylan with keen eyes.
He tried to hold her gaze, but after a moment he had to look away. His eyes flashed in defiance then. “Why shouldn’t I have moments of doubt? The two of you were always together, talking and laughing. He was always buying you things, even built you your own cabin. There were times when I wanted to kill him.”
Her hands on her hips, Rachel glared at him. “It’s a good thing that you didn’t.”
“Really?” Dylan growled, half threatening. “Why do you say that? What would you have done? Shot me, I suppose.”
“I might have,” Rachel came back at him in the same tone. “You see, John Jacob is my father.”
Dylan stopped in his tracks as though he had been kicked by a horse. After a long moment of stunned silence he said, “Your father? How long have you known that?”
“He just told me today.”
“Oh, Rachel, what fools we’ve been,” Dylan exclaimed, rushing across the room to swoop her into his arms. He started toward the bedroom, but just as he was about to lower her onto the bed, two pairs of young feet hit the porch. Dylan swore under his breath and hurried to the cabin door, where he lifted the bar that locked it.
Rachel smothered a giggle and called out, “Boys, Uncle John wants you two to spend the night with him.”
After a strained pause, a young voice asked nervously, “When we come back tomorrow, will we be livin’ with you as usual?”
“Of course, you silly boys. You’re my young’uns, aren’t you?”
“You bet we are,” Colby and Benny called out as they raced off toward the post.
Dylan smiled and shook his head, muttering, “Two more males to keep my eyes on,” as Rachel lifted her arms to him.
They helped each other off with their clothes. After Dylan had laved his tongue over most of Rachel’s body, had her shivering with her need of him, he slid his hands under her narrow hips and lifted her up to meet the slide of his eager need.
Rachel sighed her pleasure as he went deep inside her. He paused for a moment, just enjoying the feel of her. Then with a low groan he began to pump and slide rhythmically against her.
The western sky was ablaze with sunset when Dylan, exhausted, turned over on his side and stared down at Rachel. He stroked a hand over her pale blond head, treasuring her nearness. “Are you all right honey?”
“I’ve never been better,” she sighed, grinning up at him. “Let’s go tell John Jacob we’ve got a wedding to plan.”
“I don’t guess we’ll have to tell Granny a thing,” he added, kissing her quickly. “I think she’s seen this coming for quite some time.”