"Well, we ain't askin' you, are we?" Roy sneered. "Besides, we been over this already. Tomorrow's the best day. We'll catch the whole town unawares by doin' the deed right durin' the ceremony."
Out of nowhere, that same stabbing pain recurred like a vise, pressing in and crushing Rufus's chest. He clutched the point and sucked in a tight gasp, but neither boy noticed as Roy proceeded with his perfectly laid out plan, casting Rufus only an occasional look. "We start out together just before noon but split up a half mile east of town so's we're all enterin' from a different street. The last thing we want t' do is draw attention to ourselves.
"The service starts at one o'clock, so while that's commen- cin' we'll take the back roads to the Kane house. You listenin' to me, Reuben?"
"I'm listenin," Reuben grumbled, face to the fire.
"Stay clear of Water Street and Third. Approach the house on Ridge from every direction but north. In other words, stay away from the center of town and keep outta sight.
"When you come within a block o' the house, dismount and tie yer horse in some inconspicuous place, 'hind a cluster of trees or in a deserted shed. We'll meet up at the Kane house soon's we can, got that? If you see anybody lurkin' about, though, hang back and lemme handle it. Whatever you do, don't move in till the coast is clear."
Roy put great emphasis on every word, eyes trained on his brother's back. It was a good thing, too, or he'd have noted Rufus writhing in pain. Roy droned on while Rufus took several slow breaths, letting his cigarette waste away between his fingers.
"Pa'll stand guard outta sight while I knock on the doorand too bad for the woman that answers it." A black-hearted chuckle rose from his chest.
"Whatcha goin' t' do to her?" Reuben wanted to know.
"Thump her out cold, what else? It'll happen fast, believe me. Reuben, after I whack 'er, you'll stand watch over the body. If she starts comin' to, shower the butt of yer gun." He laughed again. "One more good wallop should do the trick.
"While Reuben's standin' watch, I'll run through the house and find the kid. When I find him, I'll tie'im up and gag'im."
"Thought you tol' us there was two women in that house," Rufus said, doing his best to sound attentive.
"Exactly," Roy answered. "Dependin' on which one's left, I'll deal wither when the time comes. If it's the younger one, I might tie and gag her, too, and bringer along for some fun,"
Rufus jerked his head up. "You best not go messin' with the sheriff's lady friend,"
"He ain't nothin' t' brag about," Roy said. "I can take'im." He puffed out his chest like he was something special, then gave a quick shrug. "Who knows? Maybe we'll find the boy playin' all by himself outside. In that case, we'd gag him and haul'im off and no one would be the wiser."
Reuben made a scoffing noise. "I don't like it. Sounds like a silly plan, if y' ask me, something a half-wit kid could dream up.
It took a lot to make Rufus McCurdy cringe, but Roy's string of ear-splittingly vulgar curses, which followed Reuben's remark, did just that. Of course, he wouldn't let on that his boy's crude mouth and hideous manners affected him. After all, he'd taught him everything he knew. Resting his head on the back of the wooden chair, he took another drag off his dying cigarette and closed his eyes.
After a minute, Roy asked, "You got a plan better 'n mine, Pa?"
Eyes still closed, Rufus clutched tight at the chair arms to control his tremors and mumbled, "Mine was pretty much the same as yers."
uesday morning's sky showed the probability of rain-or perhaps even the season's first snowfallif heavy, drooping clouds were any indication. Icy, damp air clawed clear to the bone as Gabe made his way to the station on Slate after dropping off Jesse at the Kane household, clicking off a mental checklist of the day's duties. First on the agenda: return his father's phone call of yesterday afternoon-Kitty said he sounded anxious. Next, meet Ed Bowers in his office at eight-thirty. It would stand to reason that the judge would insist on an update regarding the McCurdys. Around nine, he planned to sit down with the South Bend detectives for another review of each man's appointed responsibilities, and, after that, he'd drop by Ralston Van Huff's office to draw up the final plans for transporting Luis McCurdy's body to the cemetery.
From what he'd heard, Baker & Baker Furniture and Funeral Store had donated a coffin from their most basic line for the burial service, and the city had rented a funeral wagon from the livery. Very generous, Gabe thought, considering the kid's criminal background and no-good reputation. But then, he was finding that out about the residents of Sandy Shoresthey were a kind and bighearted group of people. They could have taken a less expensive route, like cremation, but city officials had voted to give the boy a decent burial, some arguing he'd probably never stood a chance, having Rufus McCurdy for a father.
Gabe had wanted to keep matters concerning the boy's identity secret for as long as possible, but Stewart Stuyvesant hadn't missed a single morsel of information the evening of the drowning, and he'd made it more than clear he intended to print his findings. Joining the parade of curious spectators marching up the street to Van Huff's office and sneaking past the door with the medics and deputies, Stuyvesant had kept a watchful eye on the proceedings while Van Huff examined the body, and he'd documented all of it in his handy notebook.
Thankfully, Stuyvesant had printed the facts as he knew them and kept any speculative hunches to himself. That is, until his good friend George Vanderslute met him for supper the same day he came to see Gabe and filled him in on the rest of the story. After that, the reporter leaked enough information for the citizens of Sandy Shores to realize that their lives could be in danger. Maybe it's just as well, Gabe reasoned, as long as folks keep their heads about them and don't panic. For now, they traveled in pairs, stayed off the streets after dark, and kept a closer eye on their properties. Almost without ceasing, Gabe prayed things would reach a peaceful conclusion.
Gabe gave Slate's reins a gentle tug to the left, routing him up Fifth Street in the direction of City Hall. Slate snorted, and a cloud of mist shot out from both nostrils. As they made their way into town, Gabe's thoughts went to Jesse, tucked away safely at the Kane house and awaiting the arrival of his friend, Billy B. What might have happened to him, had he not jumped into the back of Gabe's rig that night in Holland? Very likely, he would have wandered aimlessly, perhaps eventually hooking up with the wrong set of friends-people much like the McCurdys. Not for the first time, Gabe thanked the Lord for bringing the two of them together, as well as for the providential manner in which Hannah had entered their lives.
Hannah. He'd missed seeing her this morning, and he'd hoped his disappointment hadn't been too obvious to Helena, who had come to the door instead. She welcomed Jesse with a grandmotherly hug. Gabe must have looked confused, for over Jesse's head, the older woman lifted a curious, if not impish, brow at him, then said, "She's upstairs collecting the day's laundry."
"Oh." Was his disappointment that blatant?
Apparently so, for she'd chuckled and shaken her head. "I declare, you two are the berries! Seems to me you both come from the same berry bush, just landed in different baskets. The trick's going to be to get yourselves onto the same plate." In some roundabout way, he understood her mixed-up symbolism.
His father answered on the second ring after Gabe situated himself in the chair behind his desk and dialed his number. It didn't surprise him when their connection crackled and he had to yell into the mouthpiece. Sometimes these telephones proved more troublesome than good. "What's that? Yes, I'm fine, and you?"
"We're fine here," his father answered. "Mother sends her undying love, and Elizabeth tells you to hurry home for a visit-those rascals of hers miss their uncle. Sam's past his neck in clients but praising the Lord for the way his law practice has grown. Looks like he might be bringing in a partner come spring.
"But listen, I've something important to tell you, which has nothing to do with any of this,"
"Yeah?" Gabe pressed the receiver tightl
y to his ear, noting the sudden seriousness in Joseph Devlin's tone. This would not be a social call. "What is it?"
More crackling on the phone line,
"Howard Twining called me yesterday afternoon with some interesting information," Howard was one of his father's old cronies. He'd worked for years in the Columbus Police Department and had served as a sort of mentor to Gabe when he got his start in law enforcement, "You know, he's been following that South Bend murder case, gathering facts and details as they come across his desk,"
His agency isn't the only one interested, Gabe said to himself. Ever since news had seeped out about the apparent identity of Sandy Shores' recent drowning victim, inquiries had come in from around the country-people wanted to know if there had been any McCurdy sightings. In the eyes of the press, Stewart Stuyvesant had done a bang-up job of reporting.
In Gabe's eyes, he'd created something of an uproar.
"I'm all ears," Gabe said.
"Yesterday, some young woman showed up at the South Bend headquarters claiming to have left a Jesse Gant with that couple who was murdered. She works as an agent for the Children's Relief Society in New York, chaperoning orphans to homes in the Middle West.
"After visiting with the couple back in August and affirming they were good people, she left Jesse in their care and took the train further west to find homes for two remaining orphans. Apparently, this young couple had decided, quite on impulse, to foster Jesse, and since they lived a ways from town, no one else even knew about the arrangement. Therefore, they knew nothing about Jesse."
Gabe strained to take in every word, his heart pounding with elation, not for the unraveling of one of the saddest stories he'd ever heard, but for the way it validated Jesse's earlier claims that he had witnessed the couple's murder.
He sucked in a bottomless breath and gathered his fastmoving thoughts. "What took this woman so long to come forward?" he asked, glad to discover an improved connection, if only for a brief span.
"I wondered the same thing, but, apparently, her mother passed on unexpectedly, prompting the woman to leave the agency on a temporary basis to tend to family affairs.
Her intention was to check on Jesse's welfare on her way back to New York.
"Until yesterday, no one, not the agent or anyone from the society, knew anything about Jesse's missing status. It goes without saying they're on a frantic search for him right now. As you might know, this doesn't bode well for them. These orphan trains have already taken a hit from some of your Middle Western politicians who feel as if New York is taking advantage of their pleasant little farming communities by shipping them the dregs of society."
Anger such as Gabe had never known bubbled up within him like a geyser. "Dregs of society? These are orphans we're talking about-children without parents."
"Not all of them are orphans. Some have parents who've simply abandoned them to society. Many of these unfortunate little souls have learned to make their own way, and, once the orphan train leaves them at a destination, they run away, particularly the older boys. Some of them find themselves in a heap of trouble with the law, too, and this is what has some grandstanders in a dither, but enough about that. My suggestion is you put in a call to New York and let them know Jesse's in good hands."
"I'll do that. And, while I'm at it, I'll tell them I'm adopting him," Gabe said, surprised by his offhanded announcement.
An awkward pause ensued. "Well now, you mean without a wife? Your mother and I support you, Gabriel, but adoption? That's quite an undertaking for a single man." Another long pause followed a convenient string of static. "Are you still there?"
Over the pop and crackle, Gabe sneaked in a promise to call his father later, successfully evading his question about a wife. Hanging up the receiver, he stretched back in his chair for one brief moment and allowed himself a giant sigh.
"Hot-diggity, this here's somethin'," said Billy B, scoping out the Kane attic in the same way Jesse had the first time he saw it, eyes wide open, mouth gaping. To get to the attic, one had to walk through the Kane sisters' bedroom, as the attic was an extension of their room, separated only by a curtained doorway. It was a long room with a ceiling that sloped so low that Jesse had bumped his head a few times. Crates and sealed boxes lined the short wall, and, at the end of the room where the ceiling was highest, clothes bars extended from one side to the other, holding coats, long dresses and skirts, and an array of frilly-looking things. Under the clothes were cubbies of women's shoes and boots in every style imaginable. At first glance, one might have thought he was in a boutique.
"What's in all them trunks?"
"Stuff," Jesse said. "Pillows, blankets, old artwork, picture albums, Grandfather Kane's army uniforms."
"You looked in all of'em?"
"Not all. Mostly Grandmother had me sorting through those books over there." He pointed at a floor-to-ceiling bookcase at the opposite end of the room, its shelves lined with volumes of all sizes, from encyclopedias to children's books. "There's another room downstairs they call the library. There's a big desk in there and more bookcases with glass doors. The only place I ever seen more books was at my school library in New York."
Billy B gave him a sideways glance, and Jesse suddenly realized he'd never told his friend about his former home, much less talked about his mother, or the mission where they lived, or the orphanage where he was sent after she died.
"New York?" Billy B moved away from Jesse to roam about the cedar-scented room, stroking the fabric of a long wool coat as he passed it, then bending to pick up a stray work boot and place it with its mate. `Ain't that a long ways away? I'm not very good at my maps."
Jesse rubbed the side of his nose with his sleeve and nodded. "Yep, it's a long ways from Michigan."
"How'd you get here if you ain't got parents?"
It was a fair question, and one Jesse gave Billy B credit for neglecting to ask a lot earlier. He looked at the big cedar chest sitting next to the bookcase and pictured all the quilts inside it-quilts Grandmother Kane said survived the trip across the ocean when she and Grandfather Kane left England those many years ago. She said every quilt had its own special story, just as he had his. Jesse liked thinking about his life in that way.
He walked to the big chest and plopped on top of it. "You want to hear my story?"
A flicker of light flashed in Billy B's eyes, accompanied by a lopsided grin. "If y' want t' tell it to me."
Hannah hung the last of the wash on the clothesline at half past twelve and hoped it would dry before the rain came. The air was heavy, not at all a good day for doing the wash, but Grandmother insisted she stick to her routine. Tuesday was wash day, rain or shine-it always had been and always would be, even when it meant a two-day drying period.
In the dead of winter, at least they hung their finer things on clothes racks in the kitchen.
She bent to lift her empty clothes basket. "Howdy, Miss Hannah,"
Startled, she turned at the voice, then quickly relaxed at the sight of Jarvis Vandermueller's head peering over the wooden privacy fence. She wasn't sure when he'd arrived to relieve the fellow who had stood watch all night, but he'd been there when Gabe had dropped off Jesse that morning. She knew, because she had run to the window to gaze down, hoping for a peek at Gabe. And when she'd seen his muscled frame loping down the porch steps, her heart had lurched, just as she'd suspected it would. Drat! There simply was no denying that she'd fallen head over heels for the bossy sheriff.
Before mounting Slate, Gabe had stopped for a moment to speak to Van, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, probably telling the deputy to keep the women of the house locked up tight. She could see keeping Jesse under lock and key, but why her?
"Well, hello there, Van." Clothes basket resting on her hip, she walked to the fence, pulling her coat collar close to her throat to ward off the icy chill in the air and putting on a smile for the friendly, if not slightly quirky, deputy. "You must be plumb tired of guarding our house."
Ever
the gentleman, he removed his hat as she approached. "No miss. I'm just doin' my duty."
"I appreciate your dedication, then. Would you like something to eat?"
"Oh, no, thank you, ma'am. The wife packed me a fine midday meal. In fact, I just finished it not ten minutes ago."
"How about some coffee, then?" It seemed a shame to make him stand outside by the hour with nothing hot to soothe the nip in the air.
He gave a nervous glance in all directions, as if expecting trouble. "I better not. Fact is, the sheriff told me you mustn't be out wanderin' around."
She shifted the clothes basket on her hip. "I'm not wandering around, Van. I'm standing in my fenced-in backyard."
A sheepish expression washed across his narrow face. "Well, I s'pose that is different."
"Of course it is. I don't know what the sheriff thinks is going to happen. It's been very quiet around here."
"Yeah, almost too peaceful, if you ask me."
It did seem deadly quiet for the noon hour, now that she thought about it. Most weekdays, Ridge Street bustled with folks heading toward downtown on horses or in buggies to attend doctor appointments, make bank deposits and withdrawals, mail letters at the post office, and pick up items at the grocery store. She wondered how business fared at Kane's Whatnot.
"I only seen a few folks pass by in the last hour. I guess that article Stewart printed in the Tribune has Sandy Shores livin' more cautiously these days."
Hannah had not read the article, but she heard talk of it over the supper table. Naturally, the subject was taboo in Jesse's presence. "You're probably right. I'm hoping that awful bunch of scoundrels has left the area altogether. Has anyone actually spotted any of them?"
Hannah Grace Page 27
