Hannah Grace

by MacLaren Sharlene

  "I appreciate that, Herb,"

  "You know where the Elwoods live?"

  "I have a good idea,"

  "Turn right on Fourth an' take that one block t' Oak Avenue. My guess is, them fire wagons are parked outside,"

  "Thanks, Herb. Now, you best get back inside,"

  "I'm a goin:" After yanking open his squeaky door, he gave a holler. "Ol' Bill ain't really dangerous as he seems. He's just fallen off his rocker."

  Old Bill was off his rocker, all right. In fact, when Gabe rounded the corner on Oak Avenue, he saw Bill standing on the edge of his porch, rifle aimed and at the ready, several members of the Sandy Shores Fire Department and a few unidentified citizens hiding out behind trees and wagons, too afraid to move. Crouching down, Gabe crept to the side of the house, unseen by Bill, but catching the eye of his deputy, Gus van der Voort, who had found a spot behind a skinny maple.

  "Throw your gun down, Bill," Gus shouted out. "You don't want anyone gettin' hurt, now, do you?"

  Gus looked at Gabe, who gestured for him to continue talking. Gus gave a helpless shrug and raised an inquiring brow.

  Gabe mouthed the words, "Keep talking." Gus nodded.

  "Come on, Bill. Throw down that rifle. None of us here means you any harm,"

  "Shut yer trap!" Bill retorted, his words resounding through the quiet little neighborhood, setting off a couple of dogs. A black cat darted across the neighbor's yard, and a woman opened her door in haste, inviting the feline inside. As soon as the cat skittered in, the door closed with a whop.

  From his hiding place, Gabe took a moment to study Bill Elwood. He had to be in his late seventies, but he still had a hefty build, probably the result of his career in logging. Too bad his brain had fallen behind.

  "Didn't I tell you to send for Mort McPherson?" Bill hollered like a wild man. "What you waitin' for?" He fired off another warning shot into the trees. Gabe felt the hairs on his neck stand straight up, saw the men Bill held captive jolt to attention. "I ain't puttin' my gun down till he gets his hide over here. He and me got a score t' settle."

  Gus shot Gabe a forlorn look, which Gabe answered with an encouraging nod. Gus sucked in a fortifying breath. "I already told you, Bill, Mort McPherson's dead."

  "Would you stop sayin' that? He's not dead. Shoot, we played cards not two weeks ago." Bill waved his gun in a frantic fashion as he talked. "Good-for-nothin' scoundrel didn't win fair and square, though. Took my last dime, and I mean to get it back,"

  "I'm afraid that's not possible, Bill. He died last spring, when the pneumonia took him. You were one of his pallbearers, if I recollect right."

  "Huh?" Bill rubbed the back of his neck and scowled, his eyes closing for the briefest time. When he scraped a hand through his thinning white hair and started to pace, Gabe took advantage of the moment by advancing around the corner of the house, skulking like a prowler to stay out of sight, then hunkering down behind a mostly bare forsythia bush a couple of feet from the porch. Thankfully, Bill never detected his presence. Through the thick brush, Gabe watched the old man process Gus's words.

  Wincing, Bill gave his head a couple of fast shakes. "No, you're lyin:"

  "Come on, Bill, why would I lie about something like that? Mort's dead. That's all there is to it. Now, put the gun down, would you?"

  Bill held on to his head with one hand and waved his rifle in the air with the other, his finger on the trigger.

  Gabe swallowed hard, waiting and praying for that perfect moment to overtake Bill Elwood.

  Just then, Evaleen Elwood pushed open the door and hobbled out onto the porch, a blood-spattered towel pressed to her forehead, "You put that cussed gun down, of man,"

  Before she even had the sentence out of her mouth, and well before Bill had time to react, Gabe leaped over the forsythia and landed on the porch, yanking the rifle from Bill's grasp.

  "I'll take that, Sheriff," said Gus, who'd materialized at Gabe's side and relieved him of the gun. With the squirming Bill in a firm hold, Gabe looked up as men emerged one by one from their hiding spots, relief evident on their faces.

  "He's plain loco," one of the firemen muttered.

  "Belongs in the nuthouse," another spouted.

  `And all that over a blasted cat," yet another fireman groused. "Dumb thing nearly killed me with his claws when I finally got him down." He extended his arms to reveal several tears in his jacket sleeves.

  "It's over now, folks," Gabe said. "Thanks for your patience. Glad everyone's safe."

  Still murmuring among themselves, the men made their way back to their wagons. Riding by on his scraggly looking horse, the same fellow Gabe had spotted just moments ago another block over slowed as if to size up the situation. His hat was pulled low on his head, shading his face from view. He lingered long enough to rouse Gabe's curiosity, then nudged his horse into a canter and disappeared around the next block.

  "Who was that?" Gabe asked his deputy, nodding up the road.

  Gus, who'd been looking after Evaleen's head wound, squinted in the distance. "Got no idea. Probably just a curious neighbor. Much as I'd like to, I still don't know all the citizens of Sandy Shores."

  A strange sense came over Gabe that he had seen him before, but with the wiggly Bill in his grip, he had little time to recollect where.

  "You all right, ma'am?" Gabe asked Evaleen, concerned about the blood on the towel from the cut on her forehead. "You'd better take a seat there."

  She mumbled under her breath and wobbled to the wicker settee, making sure to whop Bill in the side with her free hand as she passed. "That's for hittin' me with that rifle butt, you ornery cuss."

  "He hit you?" Gabe asked.

  Bill looked stunned. "I didn't hit you, woman."

  "You sure shootin' did too.'Course, you called me `Howard' when you done it. He's plumb lost it, Sheriff." She tilted her head at Gabe and squinted. "You are the new sheriff, right?"

  Bill jerked his head around. "Huh?" His hawk-like eyes looked Gabe up and down. "What you talkin' about-new sheriff? What happened to Watson?"

  It would seem poor Bill Elwood had some catching up to do.

  "This is a fine place, Pa. How'd you say you found it again?" Roy asked, running his fingertips over the piano's keys as he walked by it for the third time.

  "How many times I gotta tell you t' leave that thing alone? You're goin' to wake the dead, runnin' your hands up an' down that keyboard."

  "Don't say dead. This place is creepy enough as it is," Reuben said, his eyes as big as a Kansas moon as they roved about the roomy house, which was lit by a meager amount of candles.

  "It ain't creepy. Look at this place. Sittin' up high on a sand dune overlookin' the Big Lake, shut off from everything, and ritzier than any hotel. Why, it's the pleasantest place I ever been in," argued Roy, walking over to the long divan and yanking a protective sheet off its lush velvet upholstery. He threw it to the floor in a heap, then plopped onto the sofa and sighed with pleasure.

  Reuben scoffed. "That's 'cause all you seen in days is the back end of a pony, lunkhead. Anything'd look good to you by now," He walked to the window and pulled back the heavy drapery, looking into the black of night. "How you know the people what own this place ain't comin' home, Pa?"

  Rufus had had about all he could take of these two. "I told you, I heard talk down at the saloon 'bout the folks who live here. They only come here two months out o' the year, July and August. Rest of the time, they're in Chicago." From his place in the paneled doorway, he gazed at the mahogany fireplace mantle, the fine oak desk in the adjoining study, the massive walnut staircase, and the long dining table of an unfamiliar, finely polished wood. "Stinkin' rich buzzards," he muttered, angry how some folks just seemed to have the knack for growing money while he had spent his life scrounging for it, starting out stealing for his ma and pa when he was no more than a little squirt.

  Roy settled back and stretched out his arms on the back of the sofa, a cocky grin on his face. "You get yerself a new coat tod
ay, Reub?"

  Reuben snapped the drapery shut and whirled on his heel. "Oh, shut yer trap 'fore I throw you into the drink. You already know I didn't,"

  "Thought you was goin' to get yerself one at that Whatnot store," Rufus said, pushing away from the door frame and walking to a chair, a big leather job with a cloth draped over it. Like Roy, he removed the cloth and threw it on the floor beside the chair.

  "They didn't have any yet. The girl told me they'd be gettin' some in next week or so, said I should check back later."

  "'Cept there won't be no checkin' back, right, Reub? He got kicked out o' there, Pa, thrown out on his nose," Roy grabbed his stomach and rolled over with laughter.

  Reuben shot his older brother a hostile glare. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

  Rufus's mood veered from annoyance to anger. `And didn't I tell you boys not to be makin' any trouble? Last thing we need is for folks t' start recognizin' us. You shouldn't be talkin' to no one, y' hear? How'd you get kicked out, anyhow?"

  "He was playin' up to the shopkeeper's daughter, who, I'm findin' out, is friendly with the sheriff," Roy said, still grinning like a monkey, all teeth and no warmth.

  "I knew I shouldn't o' told you nothin," Reuben grumbled.

  "Shut up, both o' you!" Rufus ordered, digging his fingers into the chair arms, thinking about that fifth of whiskey he stole from the saloonkeeper when his back was turned away from the marble-topped bar. Soon as these boys found themselves a bed upstairs, he'd let that sizzling liquid do its job; but for now, he had to think, had to figure out next steps. Both boys fell silent, sobered by his no-nonsense tone.

  "All right, now, who is this-this storekeep's daughter, anyway?"

  "I don't know just some young skinny thing with a mass o' red hair. Testy little woman, too."

  "Fine lookin', if y' ask me," Roy cut in.

  "You'd a' thought I was some big of bear the way she jumped when I snatched her by the arm,"

  "You what?" Rufus bellowed.

  "I was just tryin' to earn some respect, is all,"

  Rufus stood up, ready to knock some sense into his younger son. "You're dumber than an of mule lookin' for a second gate. It ain't enough that you've etched yer mug in that girl's mind; now her pa's goin' to be searchin' for you 'round ev'ry corner."

  "And he's respected about town, too, not someone to tangle with," Roy put in, tapping on the back of the sofa, grinning like some know-it-all. "Owns an insurance agency across the street from Kane's Whatnot. Spends most of'is time in the office while his lovely daughters tend the store, but he checks on things often. The oldest, Reub's new girlfriend, is there most days, and there's a library upstairs that the girls take turns overseein."

  Rufus's anger at Reuben quickly yielded to sudden interest in the research Roy had just disclosed. He unclenched his fists and turned a slow gaze on him. "What made you so smart?"

  Roy brought a hand down to study his dirty fingernails. "Why, you, Pa. I learned my tricks from you. I just walks in that saloon on Columbus Street, that grungy one hardly nobody patronizes, and starts drinkin' my beers, mindin' my business. Pretty soon, I finds me a boozed up stewie sittin' in a dark corner talkin' to hisself, so I make my move! Ain't you always tol' us to go lookin' for the ones what keep to themselves?"

  Rufus stuck his chest out. "Most times they're the ones who spill the information you're after," he said. "'Specially when they're wallowin' in the brew."

  "Exactly. I got me an earful, too."

  Rufus plunked down at the other end of the sofa and looked at Roy, hungry for information. After a second, he slapped him in the arm. "So, what'd you learn?"

  "Well, let's see here." Rufus bit back a curse while Roy took his sweet time. Roy loved hording information from everyone, especially his own pa. He scratched his head, then folded one leg over the top of the other and played with his bootlace. "The oldest daughter, name's Hannah Grace, watches over the kid during the day while the sheriff works, but after Reuben's well-timed visit to the store, that might end. I saw the sheriff walkin' 'er and the little snot up the street to the Kane house. I hid out behind some brush while they all went inside. Wouldn't surprise me none if he starts takin' the kid there ev'ry day.

  "There was a to-do up at some of codger's house. Fool went loco shootin' off his gun. The sheriff headed up there to investigate, and I followed from a block over. 'Course, he never knew I watched the whole commotion from a distance. Afterward, I got real brave and rode right by there. Sheriff just throwed me a casual glance. I got me a good look at him, too. He don't look like much,"

  "Huh." Rufus was impressed. "You looked straight at him?"

  "Sure did. Here's what I figure." Roy slid forward on the couch, his eyes blazing with crude excitement. Rufus didn't much like the way he took the lead, but curiosity kept him from saying so.

  "There's goin' to be a graveyard service on Tuesday-for Luis," An uncomfortable, burning knot formed at the pit of Rufus's stomach at that bit of information. Roy truly had done his homework. "Figure the sheriff'11 be busy with that," Roy went on, not missing a beat. "Fact is, he'll probably be scoutin' the area lookin' for some clues about Luis's identity, maybe hopin' some family members will show up at the cemetery.

  "I'm thinkin' while the service is goin' on, we'll snatch the boy. He'll be at either the house or that store, but I'd try the house first. We can bring him up here for a day or so while we decide the best way to, you know, dispose of him. After the deed's done, we'll be on our way."

  Roy sat back and gazed, cold-eyed, at Rufus, "Well? What do y' think?"

  Rufus licked his lips, fighting back a sudden wave of nausea. "Yeah. Yeah, it's good," he muttered, hiding the fact that for the first time in his life, he felt swallowed up in mud, and, worse, bested by his own son. "What about the woman? How you think yer gonna snatch the kid without a fight from 'er?"

  Roy chuckled and the sound made even Rufus squirm. "Could be fun, y' know? Might be we'll end up bringin' her along for some excitement. There's a grandmother in the house, too, but she'll be easy enough to handle,"

  Roy shot his brother an icy look, his mouth twitching in the corner. "What's the matter with you, brainless?"

  A squeamish expression had washed over Reuben's countenance. He shook his head. "You want us to nab the kid on the day of our brother's funeral?"

  Raw hate seeped from Roy's eyes. "It's the best time to do it, dimwit, and we ain't goin' to the ceremony, if that's what you think. We show up there and we're goners, for sure."

  Rufus took a long gander at Reuben. If Reuben's eyes had been daggers, Roy would have been a goner in that instant.

  "You okay, buddy?" Gabe asked, pulling back the comforter on the bed, dropping to the mattress, and removing his boots. Ever since arriving home, Jesse had uttered little more than a couple of sentences, and he'd only picked at the meager supper Gabe had put together. Of course, who could blame him? Cooking for two wasn't exactly his forte.

  "I told you those gunshots you heard were nothing to worry about. An old fellow losing track of reality went a little berserk, that's all. He's staying in the jail for the night, and Doc Van Huff is giving him some medicine that will help his mind."

  At least, that's the plan, Gabe thought. Sedatives might make the old guy sleep more, but they wouldn't help him regain his faculties. It wouldn't surprise him if, down the road, Evaleen Elwood committed her husband to the state asylum. In fact, any more physical assaults and judge Bowers would personally see to it.

  Jesse pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and crawled in, taking one of the wooden toy soldiers Hannah had given him and tucking it under his chin. He looked as sober as a brick.

  Gabe slipped out of his uniform and into his pajama pants, threw it in a heap on the chair beside the bed, and crawled in on the other side. Nights were getting nippier. In preparation for the winter months, he'd ordered a ton of coal to be delivered the week of November 21. Until then, he'd conserve what supply he did have. That meant not always fi
ring up the furnace on chilly evenings like tonight but doubling up outerwear instead.

  Dusty turned several circles on the braided rug beside the bed before finding the perfect place to plop his furry brown body. Gabe hadn't wanted to start inviting the dog inside, but it seemed the natural thing to do tonight, in light of Jesse's somber mood. Until tonight, the mutt had been fending for himself outside, and doing a fine job of it, as far as Gabe knew.

  "Your dog seems to have made himself right at home," Gabe said, turning down the bedside light before settling in. A harvest moon cast its shadow across the room, giving off enough light for Gabe to make out Jesse's profile-his rumpled hair that called for another trip to the barber, little pug nose, round cheeks, short chin, pouting lips, and wide eyes, gazing up at the ceiling.

  Gabe turned on his side and stared at the soundless boy. He could almost see his little mind turning over one troubled thought after another.

  Lord, help him trust me enough to tell me his story. What can I say that will draw him out? It's been more than two months. He sighed while sending up the prayer.

  Tell him he's a fine boy, and that you care about him.

  What? It seemed too simplistic to Gabe's mind, What would that accomplish? Besides, hadn't he said as much by getting him off the streets, providing for his needs, spending all his spare time with him-letting his dog sleep in his house, for Pete's sake?

  I once was lost but now am found. Where had he heard it? Oh yes, from Maggie Rose while she was singing her off-key rendition of "Amazing Grace,"

  A lost boy needs to know someone loves him, wants him, will never leave him. Don't you remember getting lost in your father's cornfield when you were about Jesse's age? How you started screaming his name, and how he managed to find you after looking a full half hour? Remember your sense of fear? Like it was yesterday. One hot August day, he'd been chasing down field mice, putting them in his pockets while going deeper and deeper into the maze. His banshee-like screams, when he discovered his predicament, put his father on a mission-one he wouldn't have abandoned for the world. To this day, Gabe remembered that blessed relief of falling into Joseph Devlin's strong arms and savoring his words of assurance.