Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon

by Miralee Ferrell

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of sound did you hear?”

  Margaret thought for a moment, trying to recall exactly what had alerted her. Was it simply a feeling, or had there been something tangible that made the hair stand up on the backs of her arms? “At first, it sounded like someone may have stepped on a dry branch, and it snapped. I called out, asking if anyone was there, but no one answered. I waited a moment, then decided to return home when I heard”—she shivered as the memory surfaced—“what sounded like loud breathing not far from the porch.”

  Andrew gripped the sofa arm and leaned toward Margaret. “Someone was watching you?” A groan escaped his lips. “This town has always been safe for women to walk the trails at night, but I don’t like the sound of that. Did you see anyone?”

  She met his worried eyes. “No. I wasn’t sure what to do—try to get inside the house and bolt the door, or run for home. Then I heard an owl hooting nearby, and he flew out of a tree only a few feet from the porch. I decided I’d been imagining things and hurried back home.”

  Nathaniel had sat quietly through her recitation, but now he turned a worried face toward the sheriff. “The morning we found Jenkins, Donnie Williams was at the house. He mentioned seeing Margaret knocking on the door Friday evening, as well as seeing her talking to Browning on Saturday morning.” He nodded at Andrew.

  Sheriff Bryant leaned against the high back. “Miss Garvey, would this Williams character have a reason to be following you around?”

  She shook her head and frowned. “Not that I know of. I don’t really know him, other than…” A thought made her pause. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “What?” the sheriff asked.

  “Donnie carried my order from the company store home for me awhile back, and asked me to the ice-cream social. I turned him down and explained that Andrew”—she blushed—“Mr. Browning was escorting me. Donnie grabbed my hand and held it and told me that he knew I liked him.” She shook her head and brushed a tendril of hair from her eyes. “I jerked my hand away and told him I didn’t, not in that way, and asked him to leave.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “He got agitated and said that I’d soon find out that he was a better man than Mr. Browning, and stalked down the path toward the store. I didn’t see him again until that Saturday morning at the Jenkins’ home.”

  Andrew pushed to his feet and faced the sheriff. “It must have been Donnie Williams spying on Margaret outside the house that night, and it’s possible he killed Martin Jenkins before she arrived. He’s been trying to place the blame on everyone else and accused Margaret and me. I hope you’ll at least take a serious look at the man.”

  Margaret wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms. “He could be right. Donnie’s been acting odd lately, and it’s hard to say what he might be capable of. Either way, I certainly think this should remove any suspicion from Joel.”

  Nathaniel raised his brows and looked from Margaret to the sheriff. “Suspicion from Joel? What’s that all about?” He stood and faced the sheriff. “You think the boy that’s staying here might be the killer?”

  Sheriff Bryant rose to his feet and tucked his hat under his arm. “No sir, I didn’t say that. I’m looking into all possibilities and just asking questions at this point. No accusations are being made against anyone, yet. I’ll want to talk to the boy, of course, as well as this Williams person and Dan Meadows, and I’m trying to track down the hobos who’ve been seen in the area. We’re not ruling anything out.” He took three long strides toward the kitchen area and peered out the open window over the sink. “You think you could call Samantha and Joel in now, Miss Garvey? I might as well talk to the pair of them before I head over to see Donnie Williams.”

  Margaret placed her hand over her heart and inhaled sharply. She’d forgotten to check on the children. She pulled open the door and nearly bolted outside. “Sammie? Joel? It’s time to come in.” A quick step brought her to the edge of the porch. “Sammie! I need to speak to you for a moment.”

  She waited, listening, barely aware of the three men standing in the open doorway behind her. A chipmunk chattered from a branch in a maple tree, and a small flock of finches fluttered from a nearby willow tree, but she didn’t see either of the children playing outside.

  Andrew stepped to her side and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You think they overheard?” He nodded toward the open window.

  She hugged herself. “Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past Sammie to take Joel and run again. I was afraid she was acting too calm earlier. She must have been listening the entire time she was reading.”

  Sheriff Bryant cleared his throat and moved forward. “Miss Garvey? Any idea where the children might head?”

  She turned and stared into his eyes, noting the spark of compassion in their gray blue depths. “No, sir. I don’t. And I’ll admit I’m worried.” A glance at the sky showed the sun heading toward the horizon. “They ran away one other time and we found them huddled in a shallow cave in a wash, not far from Bridal Veil Falls. They may have gone back there again, I don’t know.”

  “We’d best check before it gets dark.” Sheriff Bryant tugged on his hat brim. “I’m sure there aren’t too many places a young girl would feel safe hiding on a dark night.”

  Margaret frowned. “You don’t know Sammie. That girl has spunk—lots of it. And if she thinks she’s protecting Joel, she’d go to the ends of the earth.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Sheriff Bryant headed toward Donnie Williams’ home with the assurance that he’d check back with Margaret on behalf of Sammie and Joel. Margaret, flanked by Andrew and Nathaniel, rushed across town and into the grove of trees where they’d found the two children hiding last time. Margaret tried to calm her breathing and willed her heart to quit pounding so hard, but nothing she told herself seemed to help. She’d prayed all the way from her cabin to the patch of woods but couldn’t seem to find any peace. A hard knot gripped her stomach, and it was all she could do to hold down her supper.

  Andrew moved ahead when they neared the spot and got down on his knees and crawled through the brush toward the hollow in the hillside. Even before he reached it, Margaret knew what he’d find. She’d known in her heart that Sammie wouldn’t return to the place she’d hidden before. The girl was too quick-witted and wary to choose the same hiding spot twice. If only they’d discovered where they’d hidden when they first came to town. But would Sammie choose to return there? Probably not.

  “Nothing here and no sign they’ve been there tonight.” Andrew backed out of the brush on all fours, then stood and brushed the bits of twigs, dirt, and leaves off his trousers. “Think we should talk to Art and see if he’d use his dog again?”

  Nathaniel pushed forward and peered into the surrounding brush. “What makes you think they’d come here?”

  Margaret met his eyes and didn’t flinch. “Sammie got spooked the first time you and the sheriff came, and after you left, she took Joel and ran. She figured the sheriff came to take them back to the home they ran away from. We found them here.” She pointed at the brush. “But I didn’t really think she’d come back.” She swiveled her gaze to Andrew. “Yes. Let’s head to Art’s house and see if Buck can help.”

  Margaret saw Nathaniel start to speak, then clamp his mouth shut. A good thing, because she didn’t have the time or patience to deal with whatever he was thinking right now.

  Andrew struck off down the path, with Margaret close on his heels, and Nathaniel brought up the rear. Silence fell over the group as they wove through the trees. The path they trod was cast in deep shadows as the weak rays of the setting sun were gobbled up by the swaying boughs. The wind had kicked up, and threatening clouds piled in towering black billows against the darkening sky. Margaret shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then stared at the clouds. It looked like a thunderstorm might be building. Another thought stilled her breathing for a moment, and her heart rate picked up speed.
Were Sammie or Joel afraid of lightning storms, and would they find a safe shelter out of the storm? Please, God. Take care of them. You brought them back safely last time and protected Sammie when the two men followed her. Hold them in the hollow of Your hand again.

  The trio approached the fence surrounding the small house where Art Gibbs lived, and Andrew paused at the gate. Nathaniel reached over the top and grabbed the latch, but Andrew laid a hand on his arm. “You might want to wait.”

  Nathaniel drew his hand back and scowled. “What for? Don’t we need to hurry before it gets dark?”

  Margaret nodded and moved up beside him. “We do, but Mr. Gibbs’ dog doesn’t care for strangers. If he’s loose, you’re apt to get bitten.”

  Andrew stepped close to the fence and cupped his hand around his mouth. “Ho, the house. Art Gibbs—you in there?”

  No answer came from the small wood-sided house, and no patter of feet or barking dog came racing around the corner. No lights lit the windows facing the road running past the house. Andrew tried again. “Gibbs. You home?” He lifted the latch on the gate and pushed it open, then held up his hand to the others. “Why don’t you wait here, just in case?” He gave a wry smile. “No sense all of us getting bitten, in case the dog suddenly wakes up and bolts around the house.” He pushed the gate closed and walked across the short space to the house. After rapping on the door, he waited a minute, then rapped again. Quiet continued to reign, and no lights sprang to life.

  Margaret called across the yard. “It appears he’s not at home, Andrew. What should we do now?”

  Andrew made his way back to the gate, a worried look on his face. “I’m not sure. I guess we need to find the sheriff and start looking.”

  “It’s going to be dark in another hour. We need to hurry.” Margaret opened the gate and shut it behind Andrew.

  Nathaniel stepped up beside her and extended his hand. “Don’t worry, Margaret. You said they were on their own before you took them in. I’m sure they’ll be all right. If we don’t find them tonight, we can keep looking tomorrow.”

  “We have to find them tonight.” Margaret moved away from Nathaniel’s hand and tried not to let her voice rise. “What if whoever killed Mr. Jenkins is still around and goes after the children?”

  Andrew nodded. “I have to agree. Let’s head over to Donnie’s house and see if we can find the sheriff. There’s no time to lose.” Thunder pealed and lightning flashed in the east as gusts of wind bent the tops of the trees. The clouds building in the Gorge grew darker, and a scattering of drops started to fall.

  Three hours later Margaret stood on the edge of her porch, staring at the small group of people gathered in the lantern light. The east wind had picked up over the past two hours, and occasional lightning flashes showed whitecaps churning on the river. Sheriff Bryant had brought some volunteers together, but the children hadn’t been found. Word had spread through Bridal Veil and neighbors turned out, offering to search again in the morning.

  The sheriff waved his lantern to quiet the murmuring crowd. “I think we’ll have to call it a night, folks. Not much sense trying to hunt during this storm, and we don’t want someone getting hurt. Why don’t you head back to your homes, and let’s gather in front of the schoolhouse first thing in the morning.”

  A man standing just back of the circle of light cast by the lantern called out, “Hey, Sheriff, is it true these two young’uns are the ones leavin’ the notes in people’s homes sayin’ they’ll pay for the food they took?”

  “We think so, Hiram, but we’re not certain yet.” Sheriff Bryant held his lantern higher and peered out into the crowd. “They’ve been stayin’ at Miss Garvey’s for the past couple of weeks, and she vouches for them.”

  “I heard you were asking questions about that big boy. You worried he might a’had something to do with Jenkins’ death?” Another voice spoke from the other side of the small group.

  “I don’t think so, no. I’m checking into a number of possibilities right now. We’re just concerned that two children are missing.”

  The wind whistled through the tops of the trees and swayed the limbs, sending fircones and needles flying across the clearing. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a sprinkling of rain plopped on the dust in front of the cabin. But the clouds were scuttling by at such a dizzying pace that it didn’t appear they’d get any substantial rain, despite the dry woods and their need of moisture.

  Vernon Myers lifted his hand and grabbed at his hat. “He didn’t look like no child to me. He appears to be at least sixteen or seventeen. That isn’t no child.”

  Margaret stepped to the edge of the porch. “Samantha is only thirteen, and her brother is fourteen, but yes, he’s big for his age. Joel is a sweet boy. He’s a little simpleminded, but he wouldn’t harm anyone.”

  Vernon kept his hand on his hat and shook his head. “Maybe not. All I know is, someone came into my house and took food right off’n our table.”

  “They were hungry and scared,” Margaret said. “They didn’t know who they could trust when they came to town, but they’re just children.”

  Hiram scratched his head. “Where’d they come from? Don’t they have parents, or someone to watch over them?”

  “I wish I knew, Hiram. I think they ran away from someone who hurt them. Sammie told me their parents are dead, and they’re searching for relatives, but that’s all I know for sure.”

  Sheriff Bryant cleared his throat and held the swinging lantern. “Thank you all for your help. Any of you who can make it, meet us at six in the morning.” He turned to Margaret as the knot of people dispersed. “Too bad your friend Mr. Gibbs isn’t around with his dog this evening. He’d probably find those two mighty quick.”

  “One of the men said he’d headed to Portland for the weekend to see Glenna, his fiancée, at her parents’ house. He’s supposed to be back on Sunday evening. Hopefully we’ll have found them before then, and we won’t have need of Buck.”

  He wagged his head and stepped down off the porch. “Well, good night, Miss Garvey. Try not to worry too much.” He turned to Andrew standing silent beside him. “Walk with me, Mr. Browning? I’d like to talk with you for a bit.”

  Andrew shot a look at Margaret, then nodded. “Good night, Margaret. I’ll be praying for the children. I’ll start looking for them first thing.”

  She lifted her hand and attempted a smile, although the muscles in her face protested at the effort. “Thank you, Andrew.”

  Nathaniel Cooper stood off to the side, then moved forward as the sheriff and Andrew tugged their hats low over their eyes and trudged off down the path. “May I speak with you, Margaret?”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned a hand against the wood post on the front corner of the porch. “It’s late, and I’m tired. Can it wait?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “I suppose it could, but I promise I won’t keep you long.”

  “All right. We can sit on the porch.” She led the way to one of the two chairs set back from the edge and sank onto the hard surface. “I’m glad the wind’s died—at least for now.”

  “Knowing the Gorge, I doubt it’ll be calm for long. Probably going to blow hard tonight.” Nathaniel gripped his hat and sat on a nearby chair. Thunder continued to roll and lightning lit up the sky on the Washington side of the river. “It’s quite a sight, the sky all lit up like that.”

  “Yes, it’s such a testament to God’s power. Lightning has never frightened me, but it does remind me how insignificant we are.”

  “I don’t agree. Man is the most powerful force on this earth. I believe one day we’ll even harness the lightning storms.”

  Margaret folded her hands in her lap and shook her head. “That may be, but man isn’t the most powerful force—God is.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “I won’t argue with you about it. God is all-powerful, but I meant that man’s intelligence outweighs all else.” He leaned forward, his face and eyes intent on Margaret’s. “I n
eed to know if you’ll forgive me for leaving you here. I didn’t know you’d answered me.” She started to speak but he held up his hand. “Please. Give me a moment?” She settled back against her chair and he continued. “I shouldn’t have assumed you didn’t care, but I guess my pride got in the way. I know now that I should have found you, talked to you, made sure of what you were feeling, but I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’ll always regret my decision, and I hope you can find it in your heart”—he dropped his head, then slowly lifted it—“to forgive me and let me have another chance.”

  Margaret paced the cabin, too keyed up to sleep. She’d changed into her nightgown and wrapper but hadn’t been able to stay under the covers. Her mind struggled to take in all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours and make some kind of sense of it. Nathaniel arriving with news about the box, the sheriff bringing the notes, Sammie and Joel running away, her feelings about her father—it was too much. Now all she could focus on were the young brother and sister alone in the night. If only they’d been more careful and kept their voices down, or she’d checked on the youngsters sooner.

  The window facing the river rattled with the force of the wind, and she could hear what sounded like small branches hitting the roof. The thunder and lightning had abated for the last hour but picked up in earnest now. A peal of thunder rang through the cabin, and close on its heels, lightning lit the room, creating dancing fingers of light and shadow on the walls. That was close. If only God would send rain, or the woods could be in serious trouble—but what if the children didn’t have good shelter? She didn’t want them soaked and shivering, hiding under a tree trying to stay warm.

  Another thought struck her, and her knees went weak. What if the hobos never left town and found Sammie and Joel before the searchers could? O God, you’ve got to keep them safe! Margaret sank into her mother’s rocker. If it weren’t for Sammie and Joel being out in this storm, she’d almost enjoy it. Thunder brought a sense of awe, and the jagged flashes of light were a source of delight when she was a child.