Hannah Grace (9 page)

An owl let out a mournful cry, and, in the northern sky, a meteorite shot a straight path toward earth, petering out within seconds.

Reuben picked up a piece of driftwood and cracked it in two. "We know fer sure he saw y' kill 'is folks, Pa? I mean, what if...?"

"You dim-witted schmuck, you're the one who spotted'im watchin' through the winder 'fore he took off like a streak o' lightnin' 'cross that field. You said his eyes was bigger 'n a barn. If you'd o' run after 'im, you could've caught the little twig and done the deed right there!" Gall heated Rufus's veins until he felt near boiling. "Instead, what do y' do but stand there lookin' dumber than a bag o' nails. By the time Roy took out after 'im, the kid was up some tree or lyin' low in a ditch,"

Rufus leaned close enough to see the whites of his boys' eyes. "Now, you listen hard, y' hear? For all I know, ar mugs is plastered on sheriffs' boards and in post offices. If it weren't for that little twerp, we'd ride out o' these parts fast as ar horses would take us, but him bein' a witness and all, well, let's just say we got us a job t' do first. And the sooner it's done, the quicker we move on,"

"We still got money, Pa?" Reuben asked. "'Cause if we got money, we could jes leave the country and start over, say, in Mexico."

Rufus breathed hard and narrowed his eyes on his middle son. "Mexico, you say?" He looked from Roy to Luis, then back at Roy. "Hear that, boys? He wants to go to Mexico." Then, to Reuben, "What state y' think we's in, anyways?"

Reuben raised one dusty brown eyebrow and squinted. A feeble shrug of the shoulders showed he didn't have a clue.

Rufus scoffed and spat, and, without another word, grabbed his bedroll and laid it out next to the fire, his movements short and snappy, his breaths gruff

His sons followed suit, sober as bricks.

Gabe and the boy walked up Second Street, their stomachs full of poached eggs and toast. It had been another breakfast eaten in silence, save for Lucy Watkins, the middle-aged waitress at the Lighthouse Restaurant, who was eager to chat up a storm with Gabe when she wasn't tending to other customers. He'd learned more from her in thirty minutes than he had all yesterday afternoon, poring over Watson Tate's piles of paperwork and criminal records and talking with Gus van der Voort and Clyde Oertmann, two of his deputies. There had been a holdup at Marie's Ice Cream Parlor two years ago, "in broad daylight, if you can believe that!" Lucy had exclaimed. "All they got ofPn Marie was a dollar fifty, though, 'cause Merlin Rogers came walkin' in for his usual afternoon double-dipper and that scared 'em off Dumb tourists was jus' passin' through town. Never did see hide nor hair of'em after that."

Gabe had learned that there'd been a fistfight at precisely 1:28 a.m. this past March at Charley's Saloon-precisely, because Lucy lived in the second-floor apartment above Isabella Peterson's Hat Shop, which happened to be adjacent to the saloon, and she'd been awakened by the ruckus.

He'd also discovered that someone had busted out the window in Minnie Durham's Dressmaker Shop last winter, Hansen's Shoe Repair was missing several pairs of shoes, and the bad meat that Thom Gerritt had sold from his market last summer had made a slew of people deathly ill. If that wasn't enough, someone had broken into the Third Street Church four weeks ago and rung the bell at four in the morning. A prank, of course, Lucy clarified.

"You plannin' to talk to me today?" Gabe asked the boy as the two turned the corner onto Water Street. His night shift deputy, Randall Cling, would be happy to see him, but first he intended to make some purchases at Kane's Whatnot. Hannah had promised to open the store early just for them.

"You sleep good last night? You could share the bed with me, you know. I don't bite, and it's a big bed." He gave him a sideways glance. "Or the chair is fine, too. Entirely up to you.

They passed shops he'd not yet had the chance to explore, all with "CLOSED" signs on the doors. The boy stared straight ahead, but kept his pace, apparently feeling secure enough for the moment. A full stomach sometimes did that.

"You like horses? I need to stop at Sprock's Livery later to check on Slate and Zeke. I imagine Enoch's got a slew of animals in there who wouldn't mind a rub on the nose. Zeke's my mule, but he thinks of himself as a horse. Slate's my dapple gelding. He's a beaut. Fast as lightning, too. Don't be settin' any fires under Zeke, though." He chuckled just to see if he'd get a rise out of the lad. Fat chance. "Hey, why am I telling you all this? You've already met my horse and mule, right?"

The boy tilted his gaze upward, his freshly parted, longish black hair still wet from the dousing it had taken before breakfast, when Gabe had forced him into a tub of hot water.

"We're going to see that lady you met yesterday-Hannah. It's time we put you in some decent clothes, and she appears to have plenty in that store she runs. You don't plan to take off this time, do you? There's no need for it. No one's going to hurt you."

Nothing.

Several riders passed, each pursuing his own destination. A couple of rigs carrying lumber and other supplies rumbled up the street, their drivers tipping a hat or giving a nod to the new sheriff One stranger smiled as he drove by and called out a greeting. "Fine morning, Sheriff Devlin," Although Gabe had met a mere handful of people, it appeared that the news of his arrival had spread quickly. Of course, his newly pressed police uniform, a recent requirement in departments across Michigan, announced his identity.

"At some point, I have to figure out what to do with you. You thought about that?" he mumbled.

A gull swept down in front of them and snatched up what looked like a dry piece of bread. The two walked side by side, arms swinging, every so often making slight contact, until the boy moved to the other side of the boarded walk.

"It'd be real helpful if you'd talk to me, partner."

Hannah lifted the window shade on the front door of Kane's Whatnot in time to see the sheriff and his shadow advance across the street in her direction, pausing for a second to allow a man to pass on horseback. The boy looked spiffed up, even though sporting the same torn shirt, holey overalls, and worn boots that he was wearing the day before. He bathed. That's what made the d ft' erence. And his hair is combed, parted on the side. What a fine-looking little man, Hannah thought.

And what a fine-looking new sheriff-all swank and stylish in his pressed police uniform, something he'd failed to wear yesterday, perhaps because he hadn't considered it his official starting day. Whatever the case, she gave her head a little scolding shake and put a hand to her throat where the brooch she'd pinned on that very morning suddenly felt tight enough for strangling-the brooch Ralston had presented to her on her twenty-first birthday this past June.

"Think of it as a promise," he'd whispered close to her ear, so close she'd feared he intended to kiss her neck. This was a needless worry, in the end, for Ralston was nothing if he wasn't stick-straight proper. Why, a peck on the cheek was the most he had given her since they began courting a number of months ago-that, and a bit of hand-holding.

"The kissing part must come after the betrothal," Abbie Ann had said just weeks ago, after pestering Hannah for a full hour to determine what-if anything-had transpired between her and Ralston. "I shall never let a man with a beard kiss my lips. Papa's beard I don't mind, but only because he's old and his kisses are quick and only on the forehead. I can't imagine Huffy kissing me. Ick."

"Papa is only forty-three, and don't call Ralston `Huffy.' It's unfitting. He should be Doctor Van Huff to you. Furthermore, I find his beard makes him look quite distinguished." She dried her hands at the sink after washing the final supper dish, anxious to finish the foolish conversation and retreat to her room.

`And ten years older," Abbie mused, staring at her reflection in the shiny plate she held at arm's length. As usual, she took her sweet time drying the dishes.

"Perhaps he wants to look older," Hannah contended, despising herself for arguing the finer points of Ralston's facial hair.

`And what do you want, Hannah Grace? Do you want a man who looks more like he could be your-your uncle?" The question rankled her, but she held her tongue. `And something else. He's as serious and grave as a tombstone. Does that man ever laugh? I've scarcely seen him smile. I told him a joke once, while you were upstairs dawdling, just to see what he would say, and he actually sneered at me. Can you imagine? I thought my joke was quite humorous. What do you call ten rabbits walking backwards?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Abbie Ann, this is silly!" Hannah stopped her with a scolding look. She folded the dishcloth into a perfect square and laid it on the counter. Seconds passed. "Oh, all right. What do you call-er-ten rabbitswhat are they doing, again?"

"Walking backwards, silly. What do you call them?"

She drew in a deep breath, shook her head, and scowled. "I don't know. What?"

"A receding hair line,"

Hannah had quickly covered her smile and pushed past her sister. "You better finish your drying chore."

As she'd headed for the stairs, Abbie had called after her, "I don't think he appreciated it, because, if you'll notice, he's thinning a bit on top."

As the sheriff and the boy drew closer, the lawman lifted his gaze toward Kane's Whatnot and guided his charge onto the planked sidewalk. Hannah quickly moved away from the door and busied herself with one of the displays at the front of the store, arranging several pairs of men's wool socks that had arrived yesterday, along with a shipment of other fall items.

No need for him to know that she had been waiting for him.

he bell above the door chimed when Gabe and his quiet companion entered. Gabe glanced around, hoping his second visit to the place would be a tad more pleasant than his first. She looked up from whatever she was doing and walked quickly to the boy, smile as bright as a harvest moon. Of course, to him, she merely nodded. Good morning to you, too, he greeted her silently. Lord, what is it about this woman that tries my patience?

"Well, as I live and breathe, would you look here, you're all bathed and handsome-looking!" She touched a finger to the boy's chin and tilted it upward. Gabe waited for the boy to pull back, but, if anything, he stood a little taller, almost welcoming her scrutiny. "I've laid aside a few clothes for you. Want to have a look? I think I have your size all figured out, but we'll have to try them on, just to make sure. How would that be?" With that balmy, dove-like voice, she could quiet a roomful of tyrants, Gabe thought. Where was that voice when she addressed him?