This had been going on for what felt like hours. Rachel was desperate to get away, but she knew she couldn’t get far.
Moving away from town would have been a mistake. She wouldn’t have lasted an hour in the wilderness.
Her only option was to linger in town. Maybe somebody could help her. Maybe a priest.
“Rachel . . . girl, you can’t hide forever.”
The sound of his boots faded into the distance as she rounded the corner. The church loomed ahead, its white steeple ghostly in the moonlight. The front doors were dark, but she could see a thin golden line of light under the rear entrance.
She crept around back, trembling. Her hands were raw from gripping splintered boards when she’d slipped through the fence earlier. She eased open the back door, and the warm glow of lamplight greeted her.
Inside, the scent of beeswax and wood polish filled her lungs. Rows of pews stretched before her. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on a woman.
She was at the altar, kneeling in quiet prayer. It was Mrs. Albright, the pastor’s wife. Rachel recognized her immediately by her gray shawl.
Rachel froze. She didn’t want to be seen. Not yet.
“Who’s there?” the woman asked softly.
Rachel swallowed hard. For a moment, she wondered if it was better to stay quiet. But it didn’t take long for her to gather the courage to speak.
“It’s . . . it’s me. Rachel Buckeye.”
Mrs. Albright turned, eyes widening in surprise before softening.
“Lord above,” she said, standing. “Child, you look like you’ve run from the devil himself.”
“I might have,” Rachel said, her voice cracking. “Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
The woman didn’t answer right away. She crossed the aisle, her slippers whispering against the floorboards, and gently took Rachel’s arm.
“You’ll catch your death out there,” she said. “Come inside, dear. The Lord’s house turns away no soul.”
Rachel hesitated but followed her down the side hallway and past the vestry. They entered a small kitchen where a pot of tea simmered faintly over the embers of a dying fire. Mrs. Albright poured her a cup without another word.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Rachel said, clutching the warm mug in both hands when Mrs. Albright handed it to her.
“No one ever does when they end up here,” the woman said with a faint smile. “But you chose right. Sit. Rest.”
Rachel sank onto a bench. Her eyes stung—partly from the heat, partly from the weight pressing down on her chest.
“He tried to sell me,” she said at last.
Mrs. Albright’s eyes flickered, the only sign she’d heard something shocking. “Robert Kane?”
“Said he could make a tidy profit off me,” Rachel continued. “Called it ‘saving my future.’ He said my pa...he said my pa stole gold from Wilder. I didn’t believe him. I still don’t.”
The woman’s voice was gentle but firm.
“I always knew there was something wrong with him. The frontier breeds liars, child,” she said. “And men like Kane...they make their living off fear. Don’t let his words take root in you.”
It was obvious that the entire town knew about Rachel’s business. Gossip spread fast in small towns.
Everybody and their grandmother knew that Rachel had been under Kane’s care for a while now. Ever since Blaze rode away from her.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Rachel said. “Everything’s twisted. He said things about my father I can’t...My brother’s out there hunting Wilder. I just...I just hope he ain’t chasing ghosts.”
“Your brother’s a good soul,” Mrs. Albright said, kneeling next to her. “I’ve seen it. The Lord don’t lose sight of such souls, no matter how far the desert stretches.”
