Kathryn Albright - The Angel and the Outlaw

The kitchen door opened and Reverend Crouse entered. It seemed the room warmed as much from the heat that emanated from him as it did from the stove. “Supper ready?”

“Nearly.” Then, knowing his next question, she answered, “Mrs. Crouse is in the parlor with the guests.”

“Ah. Then I’d best get out there and greet them, too. Are you doing all right in here without Emma’s help?” She nearly smiled at the relief on his face at her quick nod. Then he headed to the front of the parsonage.

Suddenly the back door crashed open and her brother barreled into the kitchen along with his dog. At fifteen, Caleb was neither a boy any longer, nor yet a man. Clumsy was what he was. He was growing so fast—already four inches taller than she. He reached for a dinner roll, and she caught the bony knob of his wrist just in time.

“Not before supper. Now take Settie right back outside.”

He ignored her. “She’s getting close, don’t you think?”

Rachel studied the large black animal. The dog’s bulging abdomen swayed as she walked around the small kitchen sniffing the different aromas. “Any day now, I suspect. She is so big I don’t know how she manages to move.”

“Enrique said he’ll take a male. He thinks it might make a good hunter.”

She frowned. Caleb could use a good friend, but someone other than Enrique. Together, the two of them got into too much mischief. She turned back to her preparations. “Well, for now Settie goes outside. Wash up. The food is ready.”

Behind her, she heard Caleb maneuver the dog out the back door. When he didn’t come right back in, she glanced through the window. He stood in the yard talking with Enrique and another boy. The way they leaned toward each other, whispering, unsettled her. She watched a moment longer and then tried to shake off her misgivings. Time to get supper on.

She carried a platter with the roast lamb surrounded by new potatoes to the dining table. When they were all seated, Rachel sat down across from Terrance Morley and his sister, Elizabeth. The bouquet of roses he’d brought graced the center of the table, their delicate fragrance completely overwhelmed by the odor of mutton.

“Where’s Caleb?” Emma Crouse asked.

“He’s just outside with a friend. He’ll be in shortly,” Rachel said. “Perhaps we should go ahead before the food cools.”

The reverend frowned, but bowed his head to say the blessing. Then the dishes were passed around and the talk turned to local business and how New San Diego was quickly becoming a ghost town. Rachel tried, but she just couldn’t follow the conversation.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” She said, standing. “I’ll just see what is keeping Caleb.” Rachel walked into the kitchen and peered out the window into the empty yard. A feeling of foreboding enveloped her. She’d have to have a talk with her brother about manners—a good hard talk the moment he came back. But oh, how she dreaded it. Lately her talks had met with considerable deafness on his part—or anger.

She sat back down with the others. Elizabeth leaned toward her. “How is the teaching going?”

“Well, I think. The most difficult part is getting some of the local children to show up regularly. Last Tuesday I caught several boys heading toward Old Town to watch the horse races.”

“Perhaps you won’t have long to worry about such things,” said Emma. “You will settle down with some lucky man and start your own family. Except, of course, that would mean the town would need to hire another teacher.” She laughed softly.

Rachel tensed at her words. Although none of these folks knew much about her past, she’d already spent most of her life taking care of her father and Caleb, following the whim of a man caught up in gold fever. She forced a smile and tried to keep her voice light. “Oh, I don’t know. I rather like making my own way at the moment.”

Terrance raised his brows. “I should think marriage, taking care of one man and raising his children would be enough to satisfy a woman.”

A slow burn started inside her. “I like teaching. And I’m good at it. Don’t I have a responsibility to use this gift?”

“Yes,” Terrance said, frowning slightly. “Of course, for your own children.”

“Ah-hem.” Reverend Crouse placed his napkin carefully by his plate, signaling that supper—and this conversation—was over. She bit back her retort. “Rachel, if you’re still set on riding out to the lighthouse, we’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Terrance paused in taking his last bite of strawberry dessert, looking from the reverend to Rachel. “Uh…if you don’t mind my asking, what business do you have at the lighthouse?”

“I want to invite Mr. Taylor and his daughter to attend services,” the reverend answered.

Terrance quickly covered his mouth with his napkin, subduing a snort. “Good luck, then. He’s been living out there for nearly a year and this week was only the third time I’ve ever seen him in the store. He’s a lost cause—his daughter, too. You shouldn’t waste your time on those two.”

“Lost causes are the Lord’s specialty,” the reverend said, rising to his feet. “And I’m beginning to believe Rachel’s too.”

The others followed suit. Amid compliments to Rachel and Emma for the fine dinner, they gravitated toward the parlor to play games.

Terrance stayed behind as Rachel began to clear the table. “Excellent meal, Rachel.”

“Thank you.” It had better be edible; she had been cooking since she was fourteen. “Oh, you don’t need to help—”

A loud knocking on the front door interrupted her.

“Rachel?” Reverend Crouse called. “You’d best come here.”

She put down the dirty plates and walked into the parlor. Sheriff Thorne stood in the entryway holding firm to Caleb.

“Miss,” he acknowledged her and then the small group, sweeping his battered hat off belatedly. “Perhaps we’d better take this out on the porch so your guests can carry on.”

She nodded and followed him outside, feeling Terrance’s presence behind her. Thorne was the town’s part-time sheriff, splitting his time between La Playa and Old Town San Diego. She didn’t know him well, but he drew a lot of respect from the people here. “What is going on?”

“I caught your brother with his friends, startin’ a fire down by the old hide houses. A fire this time of year could destroy the whole town.”

Her brother hung his head and didn’t look at her.

“This is one more mishap in a line of minor scrapes, miss. You’re his guardian. I’d suggest you keep a closer eye on him.”

She nodded, acknowledging the responsibility. She couldn’t believe Caleb would try something so foolish on his own. It had to be the coercion of the other two boys. “Have you got anything to say?” she asked her brother.

His jaw set, he glared at her from under his red brows and shook his head.

“Then go to your room. We’ll talk about this later.” He shuffled past her and inside the house.

She turned back to the sheriff. “Thank you. I’ll watch him more closely.” She didn’t know how she could, but she’d try. Every day Caleb pulled further and further away from her. She was losing him. Her one bit of family left.

Sheriff Thorne touched his hat. “Sorry to intrude upon your day.”

She watched him stride down the steps and back toward the Custom House that held the small, makeshift jail.

Terrance stepped onto the porch from the doorway. “I’ll help the best I can, Rachel. Boys can be tough.”

A heavy sigh escaped. “He won’t listen to me anymore. Not like when he was younger.”

“His father should be the one looking out for him,” Terrance said. “Not you.”