“He asked me out, but I haven’t received permission yet. I might need to call Papa again.”
“Anytime. But if you get your freedom, you won’t have to.”
“Papa will expect me to ask.” I took a bite of the pie and chewed. “Francis kissed me.” I felt myself reddening.
Pearl sat down her fork, her eyes widened again.
“He stole it,” I said secretively.
“Do tell, Honey!”
I laughed. “I let him. Maybe this Saturday I can telephone Papa before we have our pajama party?”
Pearl frowned. “I’m going on a date.” She got up and pulled the calendar off the wall and tapped April 11 where it was marked Party. “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry I forgot about the invitation. I’ll just tell—”
Disappointed, I fibbed, “It’s okay. I have chores and a route to make up on Saturday anyway. What’s his name?”
“Perry.”
My hands flushed suddenly, and I put down my fork. “Hmm, I only know one Perry in these parts.”
“He’s from here. It’s Perry Gillis, the strapping young miner. Has about the biggest arms I’ve seen anywhere.”
I swallowed uneasily, collecting my thoughts. Staring down into my lap, I picked at a loose string alongside the seams of my napkin, then folded it in half and placed the napkin carefully beside my plate, resting my hand across it.
“Perry is Robbie Hardin’s cousin,” she said. “He’s been up here four times in the last six days, trying to make right what his relative did wrong. I turned him down the first three. There was something just off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Something more in those pretty eyes of his. Then Perry explained it was all Robbie’s doing and apologized all sweet-like.”
When I didn’t say anything for the longest time, Pearl said, “What’s wrong, Honey?” She glanced at my telling hands. “Go on. Do tell. We’ve not even had a real date yet, it’s not like I’m about to bed or wed him.”
My face warmed and I pushed away the pie. I started with the easy—and what I knew to be true. How Gillis punched Francis, taunted Wrenna Abbott and hurt Bonnie Powell. Then I paused, trying to decide what more I should tell.
Pearl flicked her napkin and arranged it neatly back across her lap. “I’ll have a talk with him about it. But maybe they were being nasty or did something to him first. Why he even brought me those flowers.”
I drew my eyes to the cheerful pot of violets sitting on her chifforobe.
“He’s real ornery, Pearl, and his wife, Guyla Belle, has been missing for a while now. And I’ve been getting an uneasy feeling about it.”
“She left him,” Pearl quipped.
“No, she’s missing.” I shook my head, sympathetic. “Haven’t told a soul, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced he’s part of it.”
She locked disbelieving eyes to mine for a moment.
“Their little boy, Johnnie, fell down the well. I was able to get him out, but…”
“What, Honey? You can tell me.” Pearl gripped my coloring palm.
“I’m not so sure that he hasn’t hurt Guyla Belle again.”
Pearl’s eyes narrowed and fear spread across her face. “What about her?”
“Well, I stopped at the nurse’s home. Amara was treating their boy for pneumonia. When Perry found out Johnnie had fallen in the well, he hit her in front of us. She had to get stitches.”
Pearl stood up and paced the room. “No.” Her jaw hardened as she pounded a fist against her leg. “He led me to believe she gave him a divorce and left. Slick bastard.”