Hannah Grace (7 page)

Not only was Hannah Grace Kane mule-headed and saucy, but she was crazy, to boot.

What would possess a woman of her caliber-for she did appear fashionable, if not somewhat privileged-to care about some little savage? Gabe kicked a stone out of his path as he made the turn off Water Street onto Third. Classic two-story houses lined both sides of the dirt-packed road, as did giant oaks and maples, the shade of which provided relief from the penetrating heat of the sun's afternoon rays. An old man rocking on his front porch lifted a grizzled hand to wave at Gabe. He returned the gesture but kept up his pace. Were he not in a rush, he would have stopped, but with only minutes to spare before his meeting with the judge, he continued on his way to the Kane residence.

He found the two-story redbrick house numbered 210 at the top of a hill on the corner of Ridge and Third, its gaping front porch gracing the exterior; rocking chairs and wicker couches strewn from one end to the other made it a welcoming sight.

He climbed the steps and knocked on the door, glancing in either direction as he waited for the sound of approaching footsteps. Several potted geraniums bedecked the porch, and he imagined that many a pleasant conversation took place there between people relaxing on rockers or wicker settees.

The door opened as he raised his hand to knock again, and a woman who looked to be in her early sixties or perhaps midsixties greeted him. His first thought was that Hannah bore a strong resemblance to her-the creamy complexion, coiled hair, high cheekbones, and crystalline eyes.

"Who's there, Grandmother?" A girl with hair the color of coal, pinned back with matching barrettes, emerged from the kitchen. Her brown eyes sparked with curiosity when she spotted him standing in the doorway. This must be Abbie Ann, Gabe surmised, at the same time recalling Kitty's words about how lovely the Kane sisters were. She'd get no argument from him.

He extended a hand to the older woman. "Afternoon, ladies."

"If you mean to sell us something, we don't need it, young man," said the matron, casually lifting a hand to press her silver hair in place.

Not that she need have bothered. Every hair on her head was gathered neatly into a fancy knot at the nape of her neck, a pair of oval, wire-rimmed glasses hooked behind her ears. Wiping her hands on the yellow apron that covered her olivecolored cotton dress, she wrinkled her pert nose and sniffed. "Sakes alive, I've bought enough chicken and fish to last me through the winter, You wouldn't be trying to sell me more, would you?" She angled her head to peek past him as if to see where he'd stashed his goods. "I don't see your wagon."

He laughed. "No, ma'am. I am not here to sell you anything." Hand still extended, he took a step closer. "I'm Gabriel Devlin, Sandy Shores' new sheriff."

Throwing up her hands, she gasped. "Oh, my London stars!" Then, startled into action, she took his hand, gave it a hearty shake, and hauled him inside. "Abbie Ann, put on the teapot!" she ordered. Abbie turned abruptly. "I'm Helena Kane," the woman announced, still pumping his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am, but I can't stay." Abbie made a quick about-turn. "Thank you, though. I've stopped by with a message." He proceeded to tell them about the nameless, wordless boy and Hannah's dauntless decision to sit with him in a locked cell.

"That's my granddaughter for you," Helena said in her pronounced English intonation. "She's unreservedly zealous about certain matters-always has been, ever since she was a little thing. Why, I recall the time a scraggly cat hobbled into our yard. My son told her to leave the thing be; could have had rabies, you know. But would she listen?"

"Hope!" Abbie chimed. "She makes up her mind on a matter, and there's no stoppin' her. Take Huffy, for example."

"Abigail Ann!" Helena interrupted, dropping her chin. Abbie looked duly reprimanded, straightening her shoulders and pinning her mouth shut. Without even knowing the girl, Gabe dubbed her a rascal.

Helena Kane cleared her throat and took a steadying breath before angling Abbie with a stern look. "Go change out of those garden clothes and hurry over to the Whatnot," she instructed her.

"Yes, ma'am," Abbie said with clear excitement. She dashed upstairs, but not before flashing Gabe a bright smile and awarding him a slight curtsy. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Devlin."

Gabe tipped his head at her, then made for the door. "We'll be expecting you for supper one night soon, Mr. Devlin," Helena said, rushing ahead to hold the door for him. "After you've had a chance to settle in a bit. And bring that little boy with you."

"Oh, he'll be gone by that time, I'm sure. I'll be getting to the bottom of this thing real quick, and as soon as I do, I'll put him on the next train."

She cast him an incredulous look, as if she doubted his abilities. "Well, on the chance he is still here, you bring him along, you hear?"

He turned his hat in his hands before plunking it back on his head, pushing back the nagging feeling that finding the kid's family might be a little like finding a silver coin in a rock quarry. "Yes, ma'am."

"We'll invite Hannah's gentleman friend, and a few others from the town, too. We'll look at it as an opportunity for you to meet some folks,"

"That'd be mighty fine," he assured her, touching the brim of his hat before taking his leave.

As he walked briskly back up Third Street, he thought about Hannah's so-called gentleman friend. "Must be a man of great composure," he muttered to himself.

And what, or who, is Hufty?

The boy woke up in spurts, turning over and pulling the blanket with him, opening his eyes for brief periods to stare at the four walls that surrounded him before drifting back to sleep. He hadn't spotted Hannah sitting on the floor in a shadowy corner, knees pulled up to her chin, while she waited for him to awake; otherwise, he surely would have scurried to the door, trying to escape.

Hannah wished she had more experience with children, that she understood the way their bright little minds worked; all she had to go on were her years of teaching Sunday school, and those hardly counted, as she only saw the children fortyfive minutes a week. She tried to remember how it felt to be a child, but that didn't help much when it came to the unfortunate boy-most of her memories were happy ones. Even the loss of her precious mother to a case of pneumonia hadn't put a terrible dent in her psyche, as Grandmother Kane had stepped right into the role of caregiver, tempering her granddaughters' loss with huge amounts of love and attention.

In her head, the words to the hymn "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" played repeatedly. Did the boy have any friends? Did he know the love of parents, siblings, grandparents-or even God? How long had he been running? And, most important, was anyone looking for him?

Hannah leaned against the cold concrete wall and closed her eyes. Lord, please lend Your wisdom and guidance to this situation. I ask for compassion beyond measure and the type of love that You would show to any one of Your lost sheep. May I be a friend to this poor boy, and may he somehow find the courage from deep within to tell us who he is.

Judge Ed Bowers sat behind his massive oak desk, reading spectacles perched low on his nose as he shuffled through papers. His assistant rapped on the door frame. "Sir?" the young man said. "The new sheriff's here to see you."

Judge Bowers looked up from his work, threw off his glasses, and rose to his feet, a colossal smile forming beneath his graying beard. "Come in, come in. I've been waiting for you." As was proper, his assistant left without a word.

"Good to see you, sir," Gabe said, unable to contain his pleasure at laying eyes on the old family friend. As children, his brother and sister, Sam and Elizabeth, and he had known the judge, then a lawyer, only as "Uncle Ed." He was their father's best friend, but age and the circumstances of his profession now put them on a different plane.

The judge extended a hand, but then withdrew it and went for a rough embrace instead. Gabe surrendered to it in the same way he always had as a youngster. When Ed set Gabe back at arm's length from him, hands on his shoulders, he perused him from head to toe. "I'm glad you've come, son. You have a trail of commendations following you. Your role as hero hasn't dimmed much, last I heard. 'Fraid I've made a few enemies by hauling you up to Michigan, though. I heard the county offered you a considerable raise if you'd stay."

Gabe felt a sudden warmth in his cheeks that didn't come from the heat of the day. As a matter of fact, the judge's quarters were plain comfortable, what with his electric ceiling fan circulating the air and the open windows in his secondfloor office affording a cool blast of cross-ventilation. "You've been talking to Pa, I see."

A hearty laugh escaped the judge's bulging chest. "He's mighty proud of you, that man, and for good reason. That was no small feat you accomplished, bringing down Smiley Joe Hamilton back in'01" The judge shook his head and frowned. "Still don't know why we didn't read about it up here. I guess the press didn't get wind of it."

"I'm glad for that," Gabe said. "Killing a man isn't one of those things I want to be remembered for."

Ed put a hand on Gabe's shoulder and squeezed. "'Lot better'n being known for lettin' that reprobate get away. You might not like hearin' this, but somebody had to stop Joseph Hamilton, and you were the man for the job. I heard you were mighty fast with a gun even before Hamilton came along. Guess that encounter proved it,"

Gabe patted his holstered gun even now, a rather obsessive habit he'd acquired to assure himself it was still there. Unfortunately, as sheriff, gun-toting went with the job, as did the occasional gunfight.

"I'm praying for no such encounters in Sandy Shores,"

Ed smiled and pointed him to a chair. "It's a downright pleasant place to hang your hat, Sandy Shores. But enough of that. Take some weight off and tell me how you fared on your trip north. I trust you didn't run into any problems."

Hat in hand, Gabe felt himself relax as he plopped into one of the two leather chairs positioned in front of Ed's desk, Ed taking the one adjacent to it. "No problems-that is, not until I arrived here safe and sound, only to discover that I had a stowaway."

The judge crossed a beefy leg over his knee and settled back, hands folded in front of him, a curious expression elongating his brow. "How's that?"

Gabe proceeded to tell him about the nameless, mute boy he'd unknowingly hauled from Holland, how he'd carried him up to his third-floor room, fed him a big hunk of bread and a slab of dried beef, and then tried to pump him for information. That had gotten him nowhere, so Gabe had pulled back the blankets, thinking the offer of a real bed would win him points, but the kid made a beeline for the door instead. Then, he got fighting mad when he found it locked, and the slide lock beyond his reach.

A battle of wills ensued for the next hour, Gabe trying to get the boy to talk, the kid crossing his arms in belligerence and proving several times he had a tongue by sticking it out as far as it would go. Sheer fatigue finally forced him into a fitful sleep-not in the bed, but curled up in the chair next to the window.

Next, Gabe unraveled the events of the morning-how he'd won a measure of the boy's trust by taking him to breakfast and allowing him to eat his fill in silence. Then, how it all went downhill from there after Hannah Kane had scared the boy spitless with questions about his cuts and bruises, resulting in the wild goose chase down Water Street, until Gabe had managed to nab him by the sleeve in front of Sandy Shores Bank and Trust and carry him back to his office, albeit kicking, thrashing, and biting.

The judge hadn't appeared surprised when Gabe told him Hannah had stationed herself in the jail cell with the boy, determined to win him over. "Sounds like something one of those Kane girls would do," Ed said. "They have spunk, every one of 'em. 'Course, they come by it naturally. I've known Helena ever since she and Simon arrived here from England with their boy, Jacob. He must've been about eleven or twelve at the time. Like so many others, the family wanted a new start in America, so when Simon inherited a good amount of money after his parents' passing, they landed here and started up Kane's Whatnot. Right from the beginning, Simon got little Jacob involved in the general store, and it's a good thing. In 1879, Simon passed on very suddenly from a bad cough, almost the exact same time as my Marian. Later, folks speculated diphtheria was the culprit. It sent a number of folks to their graves that year. It could be quite an epidemic in those days, sweeping through both small towns and big cities. Anyway, that forced Jacob into the retail business full time. I think he was just out of school. He and Helena braved things together, but times weren't easy for a lot of folks."