Reverend and Emma Crouse rented two rooms to Rachel and her brother, Caleb, on the condition that they would help with odd jobs around the place. That usually meant cooking for Rachel, and tending the horse and small carriage house for Caleb. Of course, four dollars a month from Rachel’s teaching salary also helped cover their rent. Reverend and Emma Crouse were in their late sixties and ready to slow down a little. Staying with such an upstanding couple had helped with her acceptance into the community. One couldn’t be too careful that way, especially after the years she’d lived in the mining camp. The roughness of the camp had rubbed off on her and try as she might to put it all behind her, unfortunate things would spring out of her mouth—or show up in her actions.
She pushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead, then leaned across the small table to open the window. A cool evening breeze swirled in heavy with the scent of brine from the ocean. Looking out into the early evening, she wondered what the light keeper and his daughter would be eating tonight. The two had been in her thoughts throughout the day, popping in unexpectedly.
She hadn’t liked Amanda’s attitude or Terrance Morley’s for that matter. Maybe what they said about the light keeper was true. Perhaps he was a criminal. But even so, the girl—Hannah, he’d called her—should not be condemned along with the father. The man obviously cared for his daughter or he wouldn’t have protected her from Terrance’s tirade. There must be something good in him.
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