I know enough. I know Jonas trusts you. I know his children have come alive since you arrived. I know you sat with old Mrs. Henderson at church last Sunday, listening to her stories when everyone else was too busy to bother.
The reverend smiled gently. And I know innocent people don't look at their accusers the way you looked at Reed Mercer, like you were facing the devil himself. He terrifies me, Lena admitted. Then we'll make sure he can't hurt you. The reverend pulled out his own paper and pen.
Now let's start from the beginning. Tell me everything. They talked for hours, the reverend asking pointed questions, making notes, his legal knowledge evident despite his calling. By the time he left, well past midnight, they had the outline of a defense. It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't guaranteed. But it was more than Lena had when the day began. The next few days were a blur of activity. Jonas wrote to the merchants Lena had sold to, requesting documentation. Reverend Matthews sent telegrams to colleagues in Denver asking about Reed Mercer's reputation.
The children, bless them, wrote letters to Lena's family members, simple, heartfelt appeals for help. On Thursday, two days before the wedding, a response came from Kansas City. The jeweler remembered Lena, remembered the pearls. He'd kept records of the transaction, including Lena's statement that they'd been her grandmother's. It wasn't proof of ownership, but it was something.
That same day, disaster struck. Lena was hanging laundry when she saw a rider approaching at speed. Her heart sank when she recognized Reed Mercer. He dismounted before his horse had fully stopped, his face twisted with rage. You think you're clever, don't you?
Sending your pet reverend to ask questions about me? I don't know what you're talking about. Lena stepped back, glancing toward the house. Jonas was in the fields with Samuel. She was alone.
Don't play innocent. I know Matthews has been making inquiries, stirring up trouble. Reed advanced on her. You need to understand something, Lena. I always get what I want, always.
And I want you to pay for embarrassing me. I never did anything to you. You rejected me. You, a divorced woman with nothing, rejected me. His voice rose, spittle flying.
Do you know how that made me look? How people laughed when word got around that I'd been pursuing you and you'd run away? So this is about your pride. This is about respect, about putting you in your place. Reed grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in painfully.