People plain scared him, and that was about the gist of it. It hadn't always been the case, but after his ma died, something snapped in him-something that got only worse when those hospital people hauled him off to a big home full of orphans. As if that wasn't enough, in May, some people put him on a train with a whole bunch of other kids to find him a new family. The last thing he'd wanted was a new family, but how could he argue with a bunch of adults who thought they had all the answers? Along the way, he witnessed fistfights on the train, his food was stolen daily by bullies, he was knocked to the ground by a big kid waiting in the food line, he listened to screaming children with runny noses, and, once, he got so sick with fever that he begged God to let him die.
At each new town, an agent urged Jesse off the train, then quickly pushed him to the side for an "inspection." Inspections usually involved orders to pull back his shoulders and fix his wrinkled collar. On occasion, the agent even spit-polished his dirty cheeks. In the end, though, the agent would frown, as if to say, "There's only so much one can do with a face like that."
Next, he'd push him into a long line with dozens of other children, each to be examined by the careful eyes of adults from the town. Some who arrived simply as husband and wife walked off as a family, taking with them a child, or, in some cases, several children.
Jesse could have tried harder to be polite in these towns, but he didn't want to imagine living with anybody but his own mother. "He's too frail for my taste," one woman said of him. "Must've had small parents." He'd wanted to spit at her, but the agent would have punished him on the ride back to New York, so he'd tried to think of other things-like when his mother was alive and they'd walked to Central Park to play on the big rocks.
Then, there was the tall, big-nosed woman with pimples who'd lifted his chin with a pointy finger and made him open his mouth. "That a cavity in there, or just a speck o' food?" she asked. "I ain't got money for takin' you to the dentist right off the bat." As simple as that, she dropped his chin and moved on, leaving him to send his tongue on a quick cavity search, only to find a tiny black bug that had somehow found its way into his mouth.
Big-Nosed Lady moved on down the line and selected a little girl with long, blonde hair. "You'll do fine," she'd said, taking her by the hand and marching off with her, as if she'd just found herself the cutest pup in the litter.
The boy now approaching him held a curious gaze, but he looked harmless enough. In fact, he looked about as dangerous as Dusty. Still, Jesse wasn't up for questions, the mere thought of which rattled his nerves. What if he asked hard questions: "Who's your real family?" "Where did you come from?" "How come you don't go to school?"
Jesse stuck his hands deep in his jean pockets and studied his shoes, which were unusually clean for a boy his age. In fact, the clothes Hannah and Gabe had given him showed nary a speck of dirt from play.
He lifted his face when the boy was within a few feet of him. The first thing he noted about him was the spray of freckles peppering his face-and then the grin that exposed a top row of crooked teeth. He wore knickers that came well above his knees and sported stain. His dirty shirttail hung out, covering the clips on his suspenders, and a tawdry cap was parked sideways on his dark brown mop of straight, poky hair. The boy reminded Jesse of how he'd looked only weeks ago, before Gabe and Hannah took pity on him.
Rather than ask permission, the boy helped himself to the top step, stretching out his lanky legs and tossing aside his dented lunch pail. Dusty's tail wagged like a flag in the wind as he licked the boy's freckles.
"Hey, it's okay by me if you rub those stupid things off'n my face, but my Grandma Hiles won't be too happy 'bout it. She says they're the diamonds God's gonna use for decoratin' her crown o' glory some day." He laughed and caught Jesse's eye, but Jesse remained silent and wary.
When it looked like Dusty might be wearing his welcome thin, Jesse nabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him to his side.
"He part hound or somethin'? He's a nice dog. Hey, I hear you been livin' with Sheriff Devil."
The misuse of Gabe's last name brought up his defenses. "Devlin," Jesse corrected him.
The boy shot him a sly smile. `Just checkin' t' see if you was payin' attention. I thought maybe you was missin' yer tongue or somethin.'
Anger brewed under his skin, but he remained careful not to let his mask slip. As much as he wanted a friend, he wasn't about to let down his guard.
"My name's William Bruce Hiles, but my ma and grandma calls me Billy B. You can, too, if you want. Or drop the B. Makes no matter. I'm nine. How old are you?"
Jesse pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and shifted his position.
The boy sized him up through narrow green eyes. "That's okay, you don't have t' tell me. I'll just tell you some stuff about me. My pa, he ain't around. Ma used to tell me he was dead, till I turned five, when I guess she thought I was old enough for the truth. He's in jail, 'cause he kilt his own brother, Tom Hiles, in a barroom. I wasn't even born yet, so I never met 'im, not that I'd want to, mind you. Ma said if I didn't hear the truth from her then some of chatterbox 'round town was bound t' tell me." He leaned forward to look past Jesse, through the clearing of trees just adjacent to an old, unused outhouse at the back of the Kane property. "See that little white story-and-a-half over there behind that big oak tree? There's a big red bush by the front step."
Jesse squinted to see which one he meant, as there was a block of houses all similar in features.
"Yellow door?" Jesse heard himself ask.
"Yep, that's the one. That's where Grandma Hiles, Mama, and me live. Grandma Hiles is my ma's mother-in-law. I have a sister ten years older 'n me, can you believe it? Plus, she's married. Mama says Katrina shouldn'ta got married so young, but y' can't talk blood out of a turnip-or somethin' like that. In other words, y' can't talk'er out of somethin' once she gets 'er mind made up. Mama's used to the whole thing now, though, and she likes Micah plenty. He's older than Katrina by five years, so that makes him twenty-four. Seems ancient, don't it?"
Jesse nodded, overwhelmed by all the words flying at him. Maybe he wouldn't have to worry so much about questions since Billy B seemed pretty intent on doing all the talking.
"Wanna know what we learned in science today?" Billy B asked.
Jesse's ears perked up. He'd always enjoyed science. Shoot, he liked all his school subjects and never once earned a poor grade. His ma used to call him a genius, but he'd never go that far.
He hoped his nod didn't show an abundance of enthusiasm. There was no sense in giving Billy B high hopes for earning his friendship, even though the idea seemed appealing.
Billy B scooted over and patted the space beside him on the top step. "First, you got to at least tell me yer name."
He might have known there'd be a hitch to getting a free science lesson. He sucked in a noisy breath. "Jesse,"
The boy raised his thick, brown eyebrows. "That's it? No middle or last name?"
"Ray. Jesse Ray Gant," he supplied. "I'm eight."
Billy B looked thoughtful. "Yer little for your age, but you'll probably grow tall when you get in the bigger grades. That's what happened to Joe Cort, you know. Everyone says he was a pip-squeak till he got in ninth grade. Just like that, he took off and never stopped till he was eighteen. Now he's somethin' like eight feet tall."
"Huh?"
"Well, I don't know my feet an' inches that good, but when you see 'im walkin' down the street, you know it's him."
Billy B slanted his eyes down to study a loose thread coming out of his pants. He gave the thing a pull, and several more inches came loose from the fabric. It didn't seem to bother him, though, as he set to winding the excess thread around his index finger. "You'd be in my grade, third-if you come to school, that is. I'm older'n you, but I flunked first grade. Couldn't read them big readers. All the letters kept turnin' 'round on me. I still don't get it very good, but I'm good at science. And world history, too. Those are my whiz subjects. Math'
s pretty easy, most days. What's your whiz subjects?"
Bored, but contented enough, Dusty curled up at the foot of the steps and closed his eyes.
Overhead, the wind rustled the leaves, which were fast turning from green to oranges and golds. In the gentle breeze, several more leaves broke free of their branches and settled to the ground, adding to the already orange-brown, crispy blanket.
"R-reading, I guess. W -what about-that-science lesson?" Jesse asked, still timid.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Okay. Mr. Middleton, ar teacher, took two balloons."
"You have a man teacher?" Jesse didn't know that men could be teachers.
"Yeah. Anyway, he takes these two balloons. One of'em, he blows up; the other'n, he puts a quarter cup o' water in first. Then, he blows it up."
"Young or old?"
"What-the balloons?"
"No, the teacher." He was starting to like this kid.
"Oh, old. He's around twenty-nine."
"That's not old."
Billy B rolled his eyes. "You want for me to tell you about the science lesson or not?"
For the first time in a long while, Jesse felt near to laughing. "Yes,"
"Okay, so he lights a match under the balloon with no water, and poof! The thing pops. Made Margaret Wilderdeek jump clear to the moon."
Jesse covered his grin with his sleeve.
"Then, he sticks a flame under the balloon with water in it-right where the water's sittin, you know, and guess what? That balloon didn't pop, even though he let the flame touch the balloon. It's 'cause the water in the balloon-what's that word?-absorbed the heat from the flame, so the rubber in the balloon didn't get too hot to break. Water is a good, um, absorber of heat. It takes a lot of heat to change the temperature of water. He told us other stuff about why water in teakettles takes a long time to boil and why the ocean helps keep land warmer in cold months, but he lost me there. Besides, I was still thinking about how Margaret Wilderdeek's face looked when that balloon popped."
This triggered an unexpected spurt of laughter from both boys, and, when it happened, the pair fused together like paper to glue.
They sobered in seconds. Billy B picked up the stick that Dusty had between his paws. When he did, the mutt leaped to his feet. Billy B gave it a toss and they both watched Dusty zoom off. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," said Billy B. "Some things take time."
A thousand rivers of relief flooded Jesse's veins.
Just then, the screen door opened and Hannah stood over them, a platter in hand. "I've brought you some cookies and lemonade."
"Cookies?" Billy B jumped to his feet quick as a cricket to survey the plate of cookies, no doubt looking for the biggest. "Mmm, sugar cookies, my favorite."
Hannah laughed. "Take two," she offered. Then, dipping her face down to study Billy B's, she said, "You're Katrina Sterling's little brother. Did you know she's best friends with my sister, Abbie?'Course, now that Katrina's married, I don't think they see each other quite as often as before."
Billy B looked thoughtful. "I know Abbie. She used to come over and tell us jokes. Gabby Abbie. That's what Kat calls 'er. She's real funny. My ma said she should be in show business."
Hannah laughed. "That's our Abbie:" She glanced from Billy B to Jesse. "Well, I see you two are busy talking, so I'll just set this tray down here and leave you be."
She winked at Jesse before turning to go back inside, and the tightness he'd felt around his chest for days slowly let up.
ctober had drained the last of summer's warmth, ushering in a cold start to the month ofNovember. Rufus shivered under his thin jacket and pulled tight the flank cinch on his horse's saddle. The critter balked and sidestepped, missing Rufus's big toe by an inch.
"Hey, watch it, y' dumb brute," he sneered, coughing up a wad of tobacco juice and spitting it at the horse's hoof.
He took a gander at his boys, still hunkered over the fire and grousing about having to get up on such a cold, windy morning. He pulled his watch from his pocket. Already going on seven. From their vantage point up in the hills, surrounded by thick woods, they had no view of the Big Lake, but they sure heard its pounding surf; today, it resonated like a thousand hungry lions.
"You lazy fools," he muttered under his breath. His horse flicked its tail and bent back its ears. "I ain't talkin' to you, for a change," he said to the horse.
"I'm goin' into town on business. You boys clean up this camp. We'll be movin' on soon."
"Movin' on?" asked Roy, coming to life. "How come y' ain't told me nothin"bout it?"
Rufus's patience had worn thin over the past few weeks with that rotten little kid still on the loose, and he'd taken his vexation out on his boys, even backhanding Reuben last week when he had the nerve to question his decision to stay in Holland a few more days. If there was one thing he always made clear to his boys, it was that he ran this outfit; if they didn't like it, well, they could just move on, knowing that if they did, they wouldn't get far. He would make sure of it himself. He liked being the one in control, but sometimes, maintaining that position meant instilling a little old-fashioned fear.
He finished saddling his horse and prepared to mount.
"Pa!" Roy said, leaping to his feet. "What are y' plannin' on doin'?"
Irritation cut deep. He climbed in the saddle, wincing with the pain of old bones gone arthritic, and tugged on his beard. "You don't go worryin' over my every move, y' hear? You ain't in charge-leastways not yet. I tol' y' I got business in town. That of biddy who owns that restaurant in the center of town tol' me yesterday she saw some little straggler a few months back. Diggin' through garbage, he was. Said I ought t' come back this mornin' and talk t' some guy name of Vanderslute who comes in there pert near ev'ry mornin. Said he might know somethin'. So there. I'm goin' to talk to him. That make y' feel any better?"
"I thought you tol' us we was to lay low, not talk to folks, just keep ar eyes and ears peeled for clues," Roy said, blatant challenge in his eyes.
"You got any clues yet, turkey brain?" It wasn't often he allowed himself to rant at Roy, his number one supporter, but every now and again, Roy needed it bad as the other two.
Roy hung his head and poked his boot around in the dirt. Good. "Now, listen up. I want this camp lookin' just as it did before we got here, wild and rustic. Put that fire out, throw dirt over it, haul some logs over top, hide any trace of us, y' hear? Chances are, no one's seen hide ner hair of us anyway, but we ain't takin' no chances."
No one appeared to be in any big hurry.
"Move!" he yelled. This got their attention. "When I get back, I want you boys ready to ride." He kicked his horse in the side, and the gelding jolted. `And start lookin' alive!" he ordered.
Six forty-five. Gabe had lain awake for the past hour, not wanting to disturb Jesse, who had slept soundly through the night, for a change. Something seemed different with him lately-it was like he'd turned a big corner. His words were coming out better these days, as the precarious trust he'd placed in both Hannah and Gabe grew in tiny increments. And then, there was that boy he met, Billy B-someone Hannah knew and said would be a good friend for Jesse. Gabe prayed that was so. He'd grown very protective of the lad, sometimes wondering how he would give him up if they ever found his parents, even if they proved to be good people.
"Lord, I pray You'll give me direction as to the next steps for this boy," he whispered, lying on his back and staring at a spot on the ceiling. The ceiling that needed a new paint job. No light shone through the windows yet, but a low-burning kerosene lamp provided enough light to pinpoint its flaws.
He had lived here for three weeks, and though he enjoyed having a place of his own, it wasn't till after he'd moved in that he'd noticed the imperfections-cracks in the walls, ruts in the wood floors, peeling wallpaper, and rusty pipes. And, as if that wasn't enough, an outhouse needing a new hole! He supposed that's what he got for giving the place no more than a perfunctory look before purchasing it.
He dre
w in a deep breath and pulled a bare leg out from under the blankets. `All in good time, Lord," he muttered. "I thank You for the blessings You've given me, and this house is one of them."
Outside, he heard a beckoning neigh and an answering bray, and he grinned to himself. At the same time every morning, Slate and of Zeke the Streak let him know they expected their breakfast of oats. It appeared they'd had a bit of pampering over at the livery, but that was okay by him. He'd rested easier knowing they were in good care. They'd had some adjusting to do in their new environs-a meager shed with three stalls that was tighter and cozier by far than what they'd had in Ohio on the Devlin ranch, and then over at Enoch Sprock's roomy livery. But they'll survive the cold just fine, he told himself, figuring they'd probably be more comfortable in their smaller confines, what with all the straw he would provide.
Jesse rolled over and whimpered like a pup, not yet awake but fighting his way to the surface of consciousness. He had his own room, but so far, Gabe hadn't convinced him to take ownership of it, even though a thin wall was all that separated his room from Jesse's. "Look, I can give you a little knock to let you know I'm here, and you can knock back. It'd be like our own special little code," he'd said shortly after moving into the house.
Jesse had looked partially impressed by the idea, and he'd started out that night in his own bed, knocking on the wall every few minutes and Gabe knocking back. But when Gabe had drifted off to sleep and stopped reciprocating Jesse's knocks, the boy had padded into Gabe's room and crawled under the covers. It wasn't until the next morning that Gabe had discovered the mite of a boy snoring into his back. Since then, he'd given up, even though he wasn't wild about sharing his bed with a wiggly worm.
Time. That's what he needs. But a niggling thought told him it was much more than that.
Hannah Grace Page 14
