Chapter 10
The Rumor

We all thought Mr. Royce’s decision to open Royce’s Supplies and Shipping was a pretty underhanded thing to do. By the time his sign was finished, word had gotten around town about it, and a lot of people were upset that he’d try such a deceitful, lowdown tactic as attempting to run Almeda out of business.

But we didn’t know the half of it yet. Within a week of Almeda’s speech, we began to get wind of a rumor circulating about town. Almeda, according to the gossip, had presented herself falsely to the people of Miracle Springs. She had left Boston and come to California to escape the worst tarnish a woman’s reputation could have. Some even said she had met and married Mr. Parrish on the ship north from Panama.

But the worst rumors had to do not with Almeda’s past, but with her present. They said that the baby she was carrying was not a Hollister at all.

Franklin Royce, of course, never appeared as the author of the rumors surrounding Almeda. He remained too skillfully concealed behind the scenes for anyone to suspect that he was doing anything other than expressing mild curiosity at the tale as it had been told to him by others.

When the whisper first awoke it was merely the hint that the former Mrs. Parrish had not been a Parrish at all in Boston. In its later stages was added the idea that her former name—however well hidden she had kept her past—was one that all Boston knew. Furthermore, it was said that whatever she had done, although no one could say of a certainty what exactly it was, it was enough to have barred her from the society of respected people. She had escaped the East on a steamer, leaving more than one broken heart behind her—some even said a child. On the boat she fell in with the late Mr. Parrish. The evil gossip reached its culmination with the final suggestion having to do with Pa and her present predicament—something about the chickens of her past coming back to roost. Or, more aptly, the roosters.

We went about our business as usual. Not many people came in to the freight office, and neither Almeda nor I thought much about the occasional peculiar looks on the faces of those people we saw. Whether Marcus or Mr. Ashton had heard anything, I don’t know. They acted normal. It did seem activity in town was quieter than usual toward the end of that week. But still we remained in the dark about the talk that was spreading from mouth to mouth.

Sunday came, and we all went to church. The service was quiet and somber. Afterward nobody came up and greeted Pa or Almeda, but just walked off silently in the direction of their horses and wagons. It was eerie and uncomfortable, but still we suspected nothing. We all figured it was a result of the scare Mr. Royce had put into everyone the week before. But the fact that some of his best friends had seemed to avoid him and hadn’t come over at least to shake his hand got Pa pretty agitated during the ride home.

All that day none of the whispers and lies and gossip reached the ears of the Hollister and Parrish and Belle clan out where we lived on the edge of Miracle Springs Creek.

Early Monday morning, a buggy drove up carrying Rev. Rutledge and Miss Stansberry. They came to the door while we were eating breakfast. Both wore serious expressions.

“We just heard,” said the minister.

“Heard what?” said Pa, rising to invite them in with a smile.

“One of the children who came early to school was talking,” he went on. “That’s how Harriet heard. She put one of the older children in charge, then came right to me. We drove out here immediately. Believe me, Drummond, Almeda . . .” he glanced at them both as he spoke, still very seriously. “Believe me, I don’t believe a word of it. What can we do to help?”

Pa glanced around dumbfounded, then let out a good-natured laugh. “Avery,” he said. “I don’t have the slightest notion what you’re talking about!”

“Almeda?” said Rev. Rutledge.

“It’s the truth, Avery. What is it that’s got the two of you so worked up and so glum?”

“You really don’t know,” said Miss Stansberry, almost in amazement. “Oh, you poor dear!”

“Drummond, we have to have a serious talk,” said Rev. Rutledge. “What we have to discuss has to be talked about alone.”

Pa gave me and Zack a nod. “You heard the Reverend,” he said. “Go on . . . git.” We silently obeyed, but curious beyond belief.

We heard nothing from inside for probably ten minutes. Then the door of the house was thrown open and out exploded Pa, his face red, his eyes flaming. I’d never seen any man, much less Pa, so filled with anger!

“Drummond, please!” called out Almeda, coming through the door after him. “Please . . . wait!”

“There ain’t nothing to discuss, nothing to wait for!” Pa shot back as he strode to the barn. “It’s clear enough what I gotta do!”

“We don’t know it was him.”

“’Course we do, woman! You told me yourself what he said. No one but him knows anything about Boston. It was him, and you know it!”

Pa was inside the barn, already throwing a saddle over his favorite and fastest horse. Almeda followed him inside.

“At least let me go talk to him first,” she pleaded.

“Time for talking’s over, Almeda. A man’s gotta protect his own, and now I reckon it’s my turn to do just that.”

“Drummond, please . . . don’t do something you’ll regret!”

“I won’t take my gun with me, if that’s what you mean.” He was cinching up the straps already.

“Drummond,” said Almeda, more softly now, putting her hand on his arm and trying to calm him down. “I can live through this. You don’t have to defend me to that evil man. The Lord has healed and restored and remade me. And I am at peace in his love, and yours. I don’t care what people say, or even what they think. Drummond, don’t you see? I know that God loves me just for who I am—past, present, and future. And I know that you love me in just the same way. That’s all I need.”

Pa seemed to flinch for just a moment in his determination. Then he said, “I understand that, Almeda. And I’m thankful for what God’s done. But sometimes a man’s got to stand up for truth, and stand up and defend maybe his own reputation, or maybe his wife’s. And even if it don’t matter to you, it matters to me what the people of this town think. That man’s got no right to say dishonoring things about my wife, or about any woman! And I aim to show this town that he can’t get away with it without answering to me! I’m sorry, but I just ain’t gonna be talked out of this. I gotta do what’s right!”

Pa pulled himself up in the saddle, then paused again and glanced around where all the rest of us were watching and listening, in fear and worry, having no idea what was happening.

“Zack, Corrie,” Pa said after a couple of seconds, “you two come with me. At least having my own kids around might keep me from killing the scum!”

In an instant Zack and I were throwing saddles on our horses, and in less than two minutes we galloped out of the barn, chasing Pa down the road toward town.