Hannah Grace

by MacLaren Sharlene

  "I wouldn't know."

  "Humph, definitely somethin' wrong with it. I'd guess Whistler painted this in, say, 1860, what do you think?"

  "I've never been much of an art buff." Truth was, he'd barely noticed the painting, except to set it aright once when he'd brushed against it in a mad rush. The muscles along Gabe's neck went taut, and he massaged them with care, even as his impatience mounted.

  Vanderslute stepped back from the painting and Gabe grew hopeful. "Want to have a seat?" he asked.

  "Sure," But then, Vanderslute noticed the old Seth Thomas wall clock with chimes and ran a quick hand over its side. "You ever dust?" he groused, squinting at his hand.

  "Sorry about that," Gabe said, grabbing yesterday's Tribune and offering it over the desk.

  Vanderslute looked down his nose at the paper, then looked up at Gabe. "I can't wipe my hands on an inky newspaper. Shoot, I wear gloves when I edit my newspaper work. Newspapers are notorious for leaving ink."

  "You're right. What was I thinking?" He didn't recall the fellow being so persnickety upon their first meeting. All he could recall was the cigar hanging out of his mouth.

  While Gabe rifled through one drawer after another, looking for a piece of cloth on which Vanderslute could wipe his dusty hand, the guy flipped his wrist at him. "Never mind. A little dirt and grime never hurt anybody, right?"

  Gabe would be sure never to invite him to his house. Ever since he and Jesse moved in, he had yet to take a broom to the wood floors, even though he could feel the sand grind beneath his boots. No telling how many layers of dust lay on the shelves and bed stands. In that very moment, it occurred to him how much he needed a wife-and, just as quickly, Hannah Grace's face flitted past his mind's eye.

  Next, Vanderslute's eyes scanned the floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with law manuals, leather-bound classics, and even a few dime novels, mostly detective-type and mysteries. He pulled a title from a tight slot and blew the dust off its top, handling it with care.

  "Tate's collection," Gabe offered. "So far, no one from the family's stepped forward to claim it, so there it sits,"

  "Humph," Vanderslute mumbled, "I heard tell Watson Tate was a good one for reading on the job-that and nodding off"

  Gabe had heard the same. Also, that folks liked him plenty despite his rather idiosyncratic manner of maintaining the law.

  "Well." Vanderslute replaced the volume, brushed his hands together, and faced Gabe head-on. "I s'pose you're wondering about my visit."

  Nervous laughter spilled out-the kind that won't stay contained. "Haven't you heard it's wrong to keep a sheriff hanging? I'll tell you, my head's whirling with all kinds of thoughts."

  Vanderslute smiled. "Didn't mean to do that to you. I s'pose that was rude of me, snoopin' around soon's I walked in, leaving you wondering what in the world I'm even doing here. Want me to walk out and come back in for a fresh start?"

  "Nothing doing," Gabe said with a tight grin. "Take a seat."

  "Well, now, that sounded like an order." The middle-aged man walked to the wooden chair with the worn upholstery, picked up his hat, and released a groan as he sat, stretching out his legs. "I'm an inquisitive sort, though my wife would say I'm nosier than a coon," He chuckled at his own joke.

  For some reason, Gabe had pictured the man living alone. "Nosiness is crucial in the newspaper business. You're just doing your job."

  He nodded several times. "Well, I must say I surprise myself with the facts I recall. Line editing will do that to a person. Take the other day, for example. I was sitting there at Eva's Place-you remember Aunt Eva jawing with some cronies, when I hear this feller wants to talk to me. I may just be a copy editor, but I told you that night I met you that I didn't miss much when it comes to the news. I read it before anybody else does, and certain tidbits stick at the inside of my head like a feather to tar."

  Gabe shoved down the thought that Vanderslute might be about to reveal some very valuable information.

  "I'm sure you being in the law business and all, you've heard of the McCurdy gang-thieves, murderous scum, rotten to the core."

  Gabe started thumping his boot heels on the floor, then shifted his body. "I've heard of them," he said, tone straight as he could make it, "Haven't run into them-yet."

  "Yeah, well, I'm sitting at Eva's when she tells me this here guy has some questions for me about that little stray kid who was hanging around Holland a couple of months ago. You remember the boy, right? Because you asked me about him. Funny thing-he up and disappeared that same night you were in town,"

  Gabe nodded, his pulse quickening. "The little rascal climbed under my gear in my wagon and rode into Sandy Shores with me. Been with me ever since. I don't mind saying I've grown attached to him. His name's Jesse Gant,"

  "Is that so? Where're his parents?"

  Gabe shook his head. "Haven't figured that out yet. He doesn't appear on any missing children's reports, and if he knows anything, he's not saying. We've only recently gotten him to start uttering his first words,"

  "We?" There went that probing look again, the silent inquiry famous to reporters.

  "A young woman and myself. She's taken quite an interest in Jesse. Between her and her sisters, Jesse's well cared for every day while I'm on duty."

  `Ah, that's good to know." Vanderslute laid a finger to his chin while propping an ankle over his knee and sitting back. "I can't tell you why exactly, but I'm not surprised the boy's with you. Sort of figured he'd followed you, which makes my reasons in coming here all the more important."

  Gabe's boot heels clicked the harder. "Why is that exactly?"

  "Well, I'm getting to that. See, I go over to this guy's table and sit down, and, right away, he seems familiar to me. Couldn't put my finger on it at first-something in the eyes, I think-or maybe just gut instinct. He'd shaved off his beard, bought new clothes, and tried to look spiffy, but you know what they say: `You can't put a sock on a rattlesnake and expect folks to think it's just a sock. At some point, that snake's going to slither out:

  `Anyhow, this fool started weaving a tale about his cousin's missing boy and how everyone, including the authorities, were out looking for him. When I asked him why the boy was running, he gave me two different answers; one, that he was a rebellious little cuss; two, that he'd stolen some goods from a farmer, and they needed him to come home and confess to the crime. He kept saying he didn't intend to hurt his cousin's boy when he found him; he just wanted to take him home, said things would go better for him if he found him ahead of the lawmen.

  "Not five minutes later, he changed his tune and said the tyke was a good little kid who'd been traveling with his family and accidentally got off at the wrong stop, probably around Dowagiac, thinking his parents were ahead of him. They failed to discover his absence until they'd gone thirty miles further south.

  "The more questions I asked, the more his story changed. And here's the funny part. The fool had no clue. I tell you, he didn't know which end was up, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd mixed a little brew with his coffee that morning, if his breath and clothes were any indication."

  "Why are you telling me all this?" Gabe cut in, leaning forward in his chair, taking up a fountain pen to drum its tip into an ink blotter.

  "Because, Sheriff'-Vanderslute pushed forward, eyes sparking with animation, fingers tapping on the chair's arms-"I'd bet my eyeteeth I was talking to Rufus McCurdy, and he wants to get his hands on that boy."

  Gabe had suspected the same, of course, which would fully explain Jesse's terror at having seen Rufus's picture in the newspaper.

  While a bitter taste pooled in Gabe's mouth, he took a calming breath and asked, "What do you think McCurdy wants with Jesse?"

  "Humph, that's easy," Vanderslute said, sitting back and clasping his hands over his chest. "The boy witnessed something Rufus ain't happy about, and he's of a mood to rid himself of the worry over it."

  Exactly.

  Gabe sat mute for a full thirty seconds, digest
ing the exchange. Next steps. He needed to think.

  Lord, give me wisdom. Protect Jesse and Hannah. Matter of fact, Lord, I'm asking again for Your protection over the whole town of Sandy Shores. The thought that McCurdy and his sons could be sneaking around out there sends a cold sense of dread through my veins.

  A flashback from shooting down Smiley Joe Hamilton back in '01 froze in his brain, the vexing eyes and vicious smile, the challenge in his expression when he drew his gun, and the split-second decision Gabe had made to pull his own gun and bring the man down-and then the blood shooting from Smiley's nose and mouth as he lay there, soundless and unmoving, his body sprawled on the bank floor.

  Gabe had come to Sandy Shores to escape additional bloodshed. Petty crimes, he could handle-but another gunfight? Lord, am I equipped for a face-of with Rufus McCurdy?

  "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." The first verse of Psalm 46, which he had read in its entirety that very morning, washed over him with fresh assurance.

  "I heard you had a drowning here a couple of nights ago," Vanderslute said, breaking into Gabe's musings.

  Gabe nodded, placed the pen back in its well, and started sorting several papers into various stacks. He looked at Vanderslute. "Yeah, the victim couldn't have been more than fourteen or so. He had a tattoo bearing the name Luis M."

  Vanderslute's face seemed to lose some of its color. "Luis McCurdy had a tattoo on his-let me think-left arm. A man in Chicago put it there. In fact, if you ever catch up with the rest of the McCurdys, you'll find their names etched into their left arms, as well-some kind of snake figure twirling around the letters."

  The hairs on the back of Gabe's neck shot straight up. "What? How would you know this?"

  Vanderslute shook his head and grinned. "When you're in my business, sometimes you get an inside line on things. A guy who runs a little business on the outskirts of Chicago confessed to having tattooed every member of the family. They paid him big bucks to keep his mouth shut. He didn't come forward with the information till after that murder down in South Bend, when he learned they were suspects. Says they were drunker than skunks when they came in'cept for the youngest. Apparently, he didn't want the tattoo, but Rufus forced him into it,"

  It angered Gabe no end that something so important hadn't made it into the most recent police files. Not that it would've made any difference.

  He pushed back in his chair, its legs squeaking in protest against the polished wood floor. He stood and extended a hand over his desk. On cue, Vanderslute rose. "I appreciate your coming, George. This information could be invaluable, if not lifesaving."

  The two shook hands before Gabe ushered Vanderslute to the door, opening it ahead of him. In the doorway, he paused and looked up at Gabe, who had at least six inches on him. "You watch your step, young man. Rufus McCurdy's the devil in disguise, and I'm convinced those boys of his-well, the two remaining ones, anyway-are under his spell. They'd probably duel with a grizzly if their pa demanded it. He's evil, I tell ya."

  Gabe nodded, his stomach churning, his mind congested with thoughts and questions. McCurdy and his boys are in town. I've got to get to Hannah and Jesse. Can I keep them safe? I must speak to Ed Bowers. I'll send a wire to Pa and Samuel-no, I'll phone them from the ofce-and the South Bend Police Department. I may need reinforcements.

  "The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" Again, the psalmist's words came back to refresh his soul, calm his spirit, and get him back on track. I am with You, My son. Trust My promises. The assurance bolstered his courage.

  He pulled his hat over his head and followed George Vanderslute out the door. Hannah Grace might not be pleased with the idea, but the first thing on his agenda involved getting her and Jesse out of that store.

  hat do you mean I can't work in the store anymore? That seems a little extreme. Papa, tell him I'm needed here."

  Jacob sighed. "I'm afraid the sheriff's right, Hannah. You and Jesse need to stay out of sight, unless you're with Gabe, of course. Too many people come and go from this place."

  She lifted arch-shaped brows. "You want us to stay confined, like prisoners?"

  "Be reasonable," Jacob said. "It's for the best-at least for now.

  Yes, be reasonable, indeed. Gabe and Jacob had spent the better share of ten minutes trying to convince the willful little imp of the importance of keeping a low profile for Jesse's sake.

  "It's not a life sentence, Hannah," Gabe put in, feeling the urge to grab her by the shoulders and give her a shaking, but with Jacob standing next to him, he counted silently to ten instead. Had he really kissed her full on the lips last night? It seemed like an eternity ago considering how quickly she'd managed to raise his ire today.

  She shot him a distrustful look. "Who are these so-called criminals again?"

  He clenched his jaw and tried to hide his growing impatience by taking a few steadying breaths. "We now know the boy who drowned is Luis McCurdy, the youngest son of Rufus McCurdy. Rufus and his two living sons are in Sandy Shores, no question."

  Her chin poked out to acknowledge her cussed stubborn streak. "I've never even heard of them,"

  "Then you don't read the papers!"

  "You don't have to yell about it," she said.

  "I am not yelling!"

  "You most certainly are!" If her chin went out any further, he could balance a thimble on it. She turned and left the two of them gape-mouthed, as she busied herself straightening several new pieces of artwork on the wall behind the register. `Aren't these pretty?" she remarked. Gabe and Jacob exchanged glances. "They just arrived in a shipment last week. There's another case of them in the back room. Oh, and several big cartons of goods I haven't even cracked open. There is so much work to do in preparation for the winter season; speaking of which, I ordered a whole shipment of Christmas decor some weeks ago. Those could be in one of the cartons out back and would need arranging in our Christmas corner, I always put the tree over there,"

  "I know exactly where you put it-and the display of decorations, as do your sisters. Between the three of us, we'll see to the important things," her father said.

  She sniffed and wiped her hands on the sides of her skirt, turning full around. She lifted her impertinent gaze to Gabe. "What did they do, anyway, these McCurdys? And what could they possibly want with Jesse?"

  "They're wanted on possible murder charges in South Bend." He hesitated in giving her the details, but only for a second. `Jesse may be a key witness."

  She opened and closed her mouth, then quietly muttered, "Oh my."

  "Yes, oh my," Gabe echoed. "That louse who paid a visit to your store a while ago might very well have been one of the McCurdys. Did he appear to be scoping the place out, looking for something-or someone?"

  "He wanted a winter coat, seemed plenty perturbed we hadn't received our winter shipment yet, although for all I know, they could be among those still-sealed boxes. I told him to come back later, but I think Papa discouraged him from doing that. He had a pockmarked face, if that helps."

  "When I get back to my office, I'll review his physical traits. We don't actually have a picture of Reuben, but I'm assuming it was he, the younger of the two boys, only because he's prone to making the most mistakes. His hot temper and easy-flowing mouth often get him into trouble."

  "So, if he heeds Papa's warning about staying away, he probably won't be coming back, right? Which means-"

  "Which means you're still not staying here. No telling what the other McCurdys might decide to do if they discover Jesse's at the store. Come on, gather up whatever things you need, and I'll walk you and Jesse up the hill," Gabe said, issuing the order in much the way he might speak to one of his deputies.

  "Yes, sir," she sassed sarcastically.

  Another look passed between the men, and, this time, Jacob shrugged his shoulders. Apparently, the Kane patriarch didn't have the best handle on Hannah's obstinacyobstinacy Gabe was sure came more from personal reasons than logical one
s. Again, the kiss had wreaked some havoc, and it seemed her intention to make everyone pay for it!

  Gabe attempted conversation on their way to the Kane house, Jesse between them, Dusty at their heels, his nose held high to sniff the many scents coming from Thom Gerritt's Meat Market, the Star Bakery, and Van Poort's Grocery Store.

  "Looks like it'll be a nice night for raking the leaves in the backyard, Jess. Maybe afterward, we can toss the ball. Would you like that?"

  "Yep," Jesse answered, eyes focused on his black lace-up boots.

  Over Jesse's head, Gabe looked at Hannah, but sheer stubbornness kept her from acknowledging him. The notion of staying locked up in her own house still had her worked into a lather, even though she knew it made sense, particularly if it involved keeping Jesse safe. Somehow, though, giving in to Gabe's demands didn't sit quite right with her.

  Lord, forgive me for my appalling attitude, she prayed.

  "Why we goin' to Hannah's house?" Jesse asked, looking up at Gabe when they crossed the street at Third. Jesse gave Dusty's leash a yank when the mutt insisted on chasing a darting squirrel.

  "I've already told you, Jess-Hannah's grandmother has some odd jobs for you, jobs that could take several days to finish," His voice hinted of slight frustration, and Hannah knew her morose mood lent to it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of his square-set jaw, watched it tense and flicker.

  "What kind of jobs?"

  Gabe shot Hannah a floundering look. She quickly refocused her gaze on the road ahead.

  "I don't know. Maybe polishing silver or-"

  "I don't know how t' do that,"

  "I'm sure Hannah will be happy to teach you, right, Hannah?"

  She gave an irritable tug at her coat sleeve. "I'd be delighted."