Jacob Payne ran. He was already late to the Everlasting Hope Church. Promising Bonnie that he would take on the role of Joseph in the Nativity play had been easy when all he wanted was to please her, when he was sure that it would be easy to discover who had robbed the telegraph office and he could free Benjamin Wilbourne.
The one thing he kept holding on to through all of his hurrying was the fact that Coleman would also be at the church. Jacob could keep an eye on him at the very least. The man was a good enough Christian to volunteer to be part of the Nativity play, but that didn’t mean that Jacob’s gut feeling about him was going to go away.
Jacob burst through the wide front doors of the church and strode down the aisle into the dim light. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed Bonnie on the left side of the altar, sitting and studiously sewing buttons on to a wide swath of fabric that was draped across her lap.
He looked around at the rest of the participants.
Clifford Pierce sat in the front row of the church, dressed in one of the rough cloth robes that Bonnie had been sewing all week. On one side sat Coleman in another robe, with several other men and women gathered around. Pierce was holding court, telling a story that made his listeners laugh and gasp alternately.
Jacob knew it was likely some embellished tale of one of the outlaws the man had captured. He had captured them, after all, so Jacob tried not to begrudge him the attention he so loved.
But he wouldn’t be joining that group.
Instead, he went straight to where Bonnie sat.
“Still at it?” he asked.
She smiled up at him, but didn’t cease in her sewing. “Mrs. Cicero’s oldest boy got the flu, so I’ve been on my own in this. I should have just enough time to finish this last costume before everyone starts arriving, though.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“No. Thank you. But you can put your own costume on.” She indicated with a nod to a robe draped over a nearby chair. “That one’s yours.”
“I can do that,” he assured her.
With the robe on over his clothes, Jacob couldn’t easily check the time. He would just have to bide his time. He almost wished the Nativity play was starting soon so he would have something to distract himself with, rather than think about Benjamin Wilbourne being brought up before a judge.
“That’s strange,” Bonnie mumbled to herself. “I wonder if Mr. Coleman knows he’s missing a button.”
Jacob’s head whipped around. “What did you say?”
She blinked up at him, confused, as though surprised that she had said something out loud. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just noticed that Mr. Coleman’s vest here is missing a button and wondered if he realized it. I’d sew on a replacement if I had one handy, but I don’t think I have time to run to the general store.”
“Can I see?”
She handed him the vest without comment and moved on to the next costume in her pile. Jacob held the garment close to his face—he wanted to be sure he wasn’t mistaken. There were three other buttons still on the vest, all matching and all worn evenly, as one would expect if they rubbed against the inside of a coat regularly. Though Jacob didn’t have the original button found at the crime scene, he was positive that it matched the ones he saw here. The color, the shape, and even the way they were worn and used.
This was it. This was the last piece of evidence he needed to poke a hole in what the marshal was presenting as the case against Wilbourne.
“Bonnie,” he said quietly. “You’re absolutely sure this vest belongs to Andrew Coleman.”
“Yes. He took it off and kind of threw it at me when I handed him the costume he’s wearing now.” She frowned, but didn’t complain more.
The disrespect of throwing it at someone was just one more offense piled on top of others. Coleman needed to be in that jail cell where Benjamin had been the last couple days.
The bounty hunter had to get to the courthouse as soon as possible.
As soon as he looked up and began to make his way to the door, he felt a hand on his arm. Pastor Ambrose was tugging him toward the altar.
“It’s your cue, Mr. Payne,” the pastor hissed at him. “Go out there and be Joseph.”
The vest was pulled from his hands, and his Mary—Mrs. Rogers, the schoolteacher—linked her arm in his. Jacob felt a gentle nudge from behind as he was thrust up the steps of the altar where he would pretend to be present for the birth of Jesus Christ.
While God’s son was saving mankind, all Jacob could think about was how he could save one fifteen-year-old boy.