Lightning and Lace

chapter 32

Travis sat on the back porch and watched the cloak of night embrace the trees before him. The bare branches reminded him of the long arms of God reaching out to the world. Judgment had come to Travis Whitworth—the preacher. Soon everyone would learn how he’d failed his flock before coming to Kahlerville. Only time stood between Tennessee and Texas. He’d been a fool to think his sins rested in the past like a grave full of live bodies.

God’s forgiven me. That’s the only thing that matters. But the consequences were still to be reckoned with.

What hurt the most was Lester’s accusation that he or Zack might have had something to do with Rosie’s murder. Eli Palmer’s words about Zack echoed in his mind. He’ll be murderin’ us in our sleep. Mark my words.

How many others had Eli made that claim to? Could he and Lester be working together?

Prayer was supposed to change things. God heard every plea, and if a man prayed in faith and confidence, then He answered. Travis clung to the promises of God. He preached them at every opportunity. But the situation in Kahlerville had gotten worse. The more he prayed, the more folks were hurt—or killed. The problem must lie with Travis.

Why had he believed God had forgiven him and wanted him to continue in the ministry? Had he mistaken the Lord’s voice for his own desires? Travis wished he knew. In times like these, he wanted to think the good he’d done in Kahlerville made up for the wrong in Tennessee. Yet he understood that God didn’t look at deeds to cover up wrongdoing. He looked at a man’s heart. Travis had been broken over his sin in Tennessee, and his relationship with God had been restored by true repentance. But now he doubted every move, every prayer, every piece of scripture that he felt God had given to him.

“Brother Travis, don’t feel so bad about what Lester is doing. You told me the story about your old church, and you’re too hard on yourself. You tried to help a woman like those living at Heaven’s Gate.”

“Thank you, Zack. I have to tell the deacons what happened a week from Sunday. They’ve called a meeting with me after the evenin’ worship. It will be up to them to decide whether I continue as their preacher.” He hadn’t the gumption to tell Zack about Lester accusing them of Rosie’s murder.

“But Uncle Morgan and Uncle Grant are deacons.”

“So are Eli and a few others who aren’t happy with me right now.”

“That’s because they believe lies and not the truth.”

Travis smiled. “Sit with me here a spell. There are a few things I’d like to say to you before I meet with the deacons, and tomorrow I might change my mind.”

Zack seated himself beside Travis. All the while, night settled in.

“The time’s come for you to return to your mama. She needs you, and I’m being selfish by wanting you here with me. I couldn’t be any more proud of you—or love you more if you were my own son. If the good Lord ever blesses me with a family, I hope I have a son as fine as you.” He paused a moment to stop a tear from rolling down his face and to collect his emotions. “Michael Paul and Lydia Anne need you, too. They are beautiful children, but without a father, they need someone to look up to. It’s a lot of responsibility for a young man nearly thirteen years old, yet I have no doubt of your abilities. Tell them you love them. Tell them when you make mistakes. Guide them, but let them learn about life on their own. It’s a balance. Encourage them to seek God’s face in good times and bad. Memorizing scripture should be a part of their life, like breathing. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best. I don’t believe the deacons will make you leave Piney Woods. I believe God has other plans.”

“You’re sounding more like a preacher every day.”

“I think God might be calling me there.”

Travis placed an arm around Zack’s shoulders. “Keep listening. When the call on your life consumes you first thing in the mornin’ and the last thing at night, then you’ll know it is God’s will.”

“What about Mama?”

“What do you mean?”

“I see you care for her, and I’m not jokin’ about it. She cares for you, too. Seems like God would want you to do something about it.”

Travis swallowed hard. “If the good Lord wants your mother and me to be together, He’ll have to work out the problems to make it happen.”

“All right. When . . . when do you want me to move back home? I understand what you’re saying, but I’ll miss you.”

Zack nearly swallowed his words, and for a moment, Travis thought both of them would weep. Then they did.

Travis finally squeezed Zack’s shoulders. “We can still see each other. I’ll miss lots of things between us, too. I talked to Miss Scott, and she says you’re welcome back in school.”

“I don’t think anyone could ever teach Latin or the Bible like you.”

“I reckon those classes could continue.” Travis took a deep breath. “I’m thinking this Sunday afternoon would be a good time for you to move home. We’d have three more days together.”

That night, Travis lay awake. He’d done the right thing with Zack, even though it had been hard. If the deacons kept him at Piney Woods, he could visit Bonnie and the children. Of course, the deacons could very well insist he stay away from them. The only thing he knew for certain was that God rode the waves of uncertainty with him.

His mind trailed back to the many happenings in Kahlerville since he’d first arrived. God had placed some wonderful people in his path, and their friendship had tempered the misfortune.

His thoughts rested on Rosie’s death. Who had killed the young woman who carried a child? The murder had snatched away two lives. How tragic. How futile.

Could Lester have been so ruthless as to destroy her? She hadn’t been beaten. There was only the single thrust of a knife to her heart. Whoever had committed the killing either planned her demise or had done so in a moment of anger. What puzzled him was that Lester had used his fists in the past to persuade Rosie. Not a mark had been found on her.

Did this mean he was innocent of her murder? But who? The father of her child? One of the men Lester brought to Rosie’s door? Travis pieced together what he remembered about the morning he and Zack had found her body.

The path had been trodden by Rosie and another man. He had led her to the clearing and stabbed her with a large knife. The sheriff said the blade was larger than one typically used for hunting. What else had the sheriff found? Travis concentrated on the findings. Nothing came to mind.

Suddenly Travis sat upright in bed. The knife. Could it have been a kitchen knife? A thought sickened him. Where could that hideous thought have come from? Still it persisted until he could not let it go.

*****

Sleep had evaded Bonnie ever since she learned that Lester had succeeded in having the deacons call a meeting about church discipline of Brother Travis. If the rumors were found true, then Brother Travis was unfit as a preacher and possibly linked to Rosie’s murder—along with her son. At the very least, Travis could be asked to leave Piney Woods—or worse yet, face the sheriff for questioning about Rosie. And what of Zack? Lester was getting his way.

Dear God, protect Travis and Zack. Bring the truth to light. You know Travis’s heart, and you know he and I are innocent of the gossip. And you know my Zack would never hurt anyone. Please, I beg of You, help us all through this trial. And guide me in my feelings toward Travis.

The days ahead would pass slowly until the deacons met. She could only imagine the heaviness weighing on Travis and dear Zack. He’d come so far in his faith. She prayed for her son to remain strong and not to allow the sins of man to dissuade his faith.

Bitterness rose in Bonnie until she flung back the quilt covering her and walked to the window. For a moment she thought she’d be physically ill. Lester. How could one man cause so much trouble for so many people? God instructed His children to love their enemies. He’d help rid her heart of hate, or she’d be no better than Lester.

Right now she needed all the help she could get.

A sky full of stars grasped Bonnie’s attention. Her father used to sit her on his knee and tell her that, just as God had taken time to mount the stars in the heavens, he’d surely listen to her every prayer.

*****

Travis realized he needed to do something about his suspicions. The thoughts refused to let him go no matter how hard he tried. At first he blamed Satan for trying to persuade him to think evil about an innocent person, but after much prayer, he believed God was urging him to find the answers. Travis intended to follow his hunch, but he needed someone to go with him. Morgan Andrews was that man.

As Travis lifted his fist to knock on Morgan’s office door, he didn’t know whether to pray he was right or wrong. Neither alternative settled well. The situation reminded him of the time when he spoke to Zack about choosing between two wrongs. Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the office door of Kahlerville’s lawyer and waited for him to respond.

“Door’s open.”

Travis knocked the dirt from his feet and prayed for truth. In the moments that followed, he revealed some of his speculations.

“You want me to help you prove what?”

“Not prove, simply look into the matter,” Travis said. “It’s far-fetched, I know.”

Morgan studied him curiously. “You’re thinking a kitchen knife was used to kill Rosie, possibly one from Heaven’s Gate?”

“The sheriff never found the murder weapon, and he said it was larger than a hunting knife.”

“All right. Let’s stop at the boardinghouse and pick up a loaf of bread first. I hope you’re wrong, Brother Travis.”

“So do I.”

With the loaf of bread under Travis’s arm, he and Morgan set their sights on Heaven’s Gate. Neither man spoke. No doubt Morgan’s mind whirled as fast as Travis’s.

“Sylvia may be the only one there,” Travis said.

Morgan didn’t respond. With what Travis had suggested, what could he say? Once on the porch of Heaven’s Gate, the two men went into action. Sylvia opened the door and greeted them.

“Are Miss Laura and Miss Daisy in?” Morgan said.

She cast a wary glance at Travis. His last conversation with her had not been forgotten. “No. Can I help you with something?”

Travis handed her the brown wrapped package. “We were at the boardinghouse, and the bread smelled so good that Morgan snatched up a loaf. We wanted to see the young ladies but didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“That’s very considerate of you. I’ll make sure they thank you properly.”

“Do you mind if we come in?” Morgan said. “We’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

“Lester would not approve.”

“That’s my fault, and I apologize,” Travis said.

“We only want to talk about the young ladies and ask a few questions,” Morgan said. “I think we may have a possible suspect in Rosie’s death.”

“Oh, my. In that case, come on in. I surely want the horrible situation resolved.” She ushered them to the parlor.

Someone walked across the upstairs floor. Travis assumed Daisy was recovering, but he chose not to mention whomever was on the second floor.

“May I offer you gentlemen some coffee?”

Morgan glanced at Travis. “I don’t ever refuse a cup of Sylvia’s coffee.”

“I hear she makes the best.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am. Know what? I’d like a slice of that bread. Made my stomach growl when I smelled it, and the feeling hasn’t left me.” Morgan chuckled.

“Certainly.” She smiled and disappeared. The sound of clinking cups and saucers came from the kitchen, and soon she returned carrying a tray with the coffee, cream, and sugar. “I’m so sorry, but

I can’t find a knife to slice the bread.”

Travis inwardly cringed.

“One of the girls must have misplaced it,” she continued.

“My goodness, just when a man has a hankering for warm bread.”

“And I have freshly churned butter, too.”

Morgan pulled a pocketknife from his trouser pocket. “Would this help? I cleaned fish with it the other night.”

“I don’t think so. The knife we always use has a wide blade and slices through bread quite nicely without chewing it up.”

“Must be a fine knife. Did you purchase it for the kitchen here?” Morgan said.

Travis’s heart hammered too hard to think of any fancy, lawyer like questions.

“I did. A fine one, too.”

“Maybe next time then.” Morgan picked up his coffee.

“I remember you Andrewses drink your coffee black,” she said, “and you, too, Brother Travis.”

“I always thought the stuff folks put in coffee ruined the taste,” Travis said. “You have a good memory.”

“Thank you. Now what did you want to ask me about Laura and Daisy?”

Travis glanced at Morgan for him to begin.

“Do you know where they were the day Rosie disappeared?”

Sylvia tilted her head. “I told this to the sheriff, but I will repeat myself. Laura and Daisy were at the bank. Lester had extra work and needed the help.”

“What about later on in the evening? Were all three girls here?”

“Rosie wasn’t when they returned from work. They assumed she was with me.”

“Obviously that wasn’t the case.” Morgan took another sip of coffee.

So did Travis. If this made him this nervous, how would he handle the deacons’ questioning?

“Did the girls all get along?” Morgan said.

“For the most part. Three women in the same household can sometimes be a bit stressful.” Sylvia gasped. “Surely you aren’t thinking one of them had anything to do with dear Rosie’s misfortune?”

Morgan twisted his head. “Well, Sylvia, someone did this terrible thing, and all three of them have lived pasts that saw violence.”

“Mercy. Mercy.” Sylvia fanned herself.

“And the knife is gone.” Morgan shook his head. “Brother Travis, do you think we should go see the sheriff with this new evidence?”

“Seems like a good idea to me.”

Morgan swung his attention back to Sylvia. “I know how you feel about Laura and Daisy—like they are your own daughters—”

“I can’t believe either of them would do such a thing. Brother Travis, you’ve visited with them, just as Lester and I have done. But I know they lived a hard life before Heaven’s Gate. Does such a tragedy seem possible to you?”

“Any thought of wickedness is troublesome to me. Lester and I have had our differences, but I know he conducted Bible study with them, gave them jobs, helped support them. This is all downright ugly.”

Sylvia folded her hands in her lap. “Maybe it is a good idea for you to take this information to Sheriff Arthur and let him figure out what’s best.”

“Can I count on you to make sure Laura and Daisy don’t leave town?” Morgan said. “I mean, if you hear of any plans, you’ll go to the sheriff about it?”

“Naturally. To think I am with those two nearly every day. Makes me fearful for my own life.”

“Do you mind if we look about the kitchen to see if the knife could simply have been put in another spot?” Morgan said. “I sure wouldn’t want to be thinking one of them is guilty only to find the knife is really here. I hope you understand my interest in this case has grown since rumors are that Brother Travis and Zack might be involved.”

“You go right ahead. We all want the truth.”

Morgan whistled as he and Sylvia moved things here and there in the kitchen. Sylvia removed all the dishes from the cupboards while Travis made his way to the back porch.

“I don’t see how that knife could be out there,” Sylvia said. “But you go ahead and look, nevertheless.”

Travis took in the neatly arranged jars of fruits and vegetables, a small stack of newspapers, and jackets for cooler weather. “Nice backyard,” he said. “Looks like y’all had a good garden this past year.”

“We did. Had more tomatoes and green beans than we knew what to do with.”

Travis finished with the back porch and made his way to the garden. He saw nothing suspicious, but why would the killer put a knife there anyway? In the corner of the yard, a large oak tree shaded a small area that faded into thick brush. A perfect spot to pray about what he and Morgan were doing.

As Travis pondered the realization of the missing knife and the likelihood of someone at Heaven’s Gate killing Rosie, he kicked at the brush and stared into the thick undergrowth.

Boots. He moved closer to study them. Strange, a pair of men’s boots covered in mud had been carefully placed near a small sapling, as though waiting for feet to fill them up. They were expensive ones, too. He picked them up and carried them to the porch steps. He opened the door, detesting what he’d found.

“Sylvia, I found a pair of men’s boots in the brush.”

She clopped across the kitchen to meet him. “Oh, those are Lester’s.”