Ransacker

by Emmy Laybourne

  “Oh, Alice!” Sissel exclaimed. “You look splendid!”

  “As do you!” Alice said. “Turn for me.”

  Sissel might have balked for shyness, but she swirled and even gave Alice a curtsy.

  Both James and Howie applauded.

  “I take all the credit,” Alice joked. “It’s all in the dress!”

  James said something, doubtlessly charming, but the music began and it was lost.

  Some couples rushed forward to the clearing in the center of the barn; others quit it, heading for the sides.

  “Shall we?” James asked.

  “Let’s shall!” Sissel answered. She knew the American contra and square dances. In the time since they’d come to Carter, there had been several other dances like this one, though none quite so grand. Stieg insisted they all learn the steps, and they worked on them over the long winters, clapping a rhythm and calling the figures.

  It was much more fun with music.

  “Line ’em up now. Make four rows. Ladies on the left, take hands with your beaus.”

  The caller’s voice was deep and loud. Sissel looked at James, and they both laughed. They hurried to join one of the lines of dancers.

  She saw Stieg and Mrs. Denmead take positions a bit down the row.

  Stieg winked at Sissel.

  The fiddles were merry, the spoon man set a rollicking rhythm, and the caller hollered out strong and fine—it was the most fun Sissel had ever had. Her bad leg hurt only a little. With all the lilting of bodies and the jolting when they collided, which happened frequently, Sissel didn’t think anyone could even see she had a limp.

  Though all the girls looked their finest, and became even prettier as the evening progressed, their cheeks rosy from the warmth in the barn, James kept his eyes on her.

  Every time the reel came around and she found herself back in his hands, she got a private thrill. The dances had them part and return to each other a hundred times, and each time she felt his hands on her she felt touched by fire.

  She began to perspire and could see him sweating, too.

  In spite of her recent irritation with James, she found she very much wanted to kiss him. Every time they came close together again, before he’d spin her this way or that, Sissel imagined herself pressing her lips to his.

  Toward the end of a set, he swung her around and her feet nearly left the floor. She landed, careening into an older couple. She and James laughed, but the elders were not impressed.

  “Let’s have some lemonade,” he said.

  “Yes, please,” Sissel said.

  They broke from the dance, and James led her by the hand toward the tables.

  There was a bit of a crowd next to the tub. The lemonade was an unusual treat, and everyone wanted to have a cup.

  “Wait here a moment. I’ll be back,” James said, and pushed into the throng.

  Sissel saw Stieg, dancing with one of the littlest girls from school. The girl was grinning ear to ear, her braids flying as Stieg led her through the steps. The girl’s eyes were shining with admiration for Stieg. He did cut a fine figure in his best suit.

  Sissel saw McKray coming through the throngs of people toward her. She gave him a polite nod of the head, assuming he’d pass by. To her surprise, he stopped and planted his feet right in front of her.

  “Would you care to dance, Miss Hemstad?” he asked.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. With me.”

  Sissel’s eyes flashed toward the queue for the lemonade, but James wasn’t in sight. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, so she shrugged and said yes.

  He led her toward the floor, then took her hand tightly in his big mitt, as if he were afraid he’d lose hold of it otherwise.

  Isaiah McKray wanted to dance with her. Her mind couldn’t quite catch up to this fact. He was at least five years older than she. Surely it wasn’t romantic …

  Was it possible she was the only young lady he knew well enough to ask? That did seem quite possible.

  The previous dance came to an end, and cheers of applause went up. Without missing a count, the band launched into a new song. This one a contra dance, a slightly slower tune.

  Stieg was exiting the floor. She caught his eye and saw him raise an eyebrow at her dancing partner. She gave him a slight shrug.

  “Are you enjoying your stay at the hotel?” McKray asked as they pulled side by side to promenade.

  “Very much so,” Sissel said. They dipped away and circled around the couple to their right. Each time they came back, McKray pulled her in strongly.

  “Do you fancy the decor?” McKray asked.

  “I do.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about it, to tell the truth.”

  His expression was earnest. He seemed to be making a sincere attempt at polite conversation.

  “Collier picked it all out.”

  Sissel smiled at that. When they came around again, she added, “It does seem rather more his style than yours,” she said.

  McKray smiled.

  Then the dance quickened, and he left off the small talk to focus on the steps.

  He was not the dancer James was, not nearly so, but was he ever strong! He went bashing into the other couples without even noticing, keeping his attention either on Sissel or on his feet. James had held her lightly, but McKray grabbed on in a way that was rough but nevertheless pleasing.

  At the end of the dance, he mopped his brow with his handkerchief. Sissel found she was also out of breath.

  “Thanks,” he said. “That was more fun than I thought it was gonna be.”

  Sissel put her hands on her hips.

  “Really, Mr. McKray, what a thing to say!”

  “I meant to say—”

  James appeared, coming to push between Sissel and McKray. He looked irritated.

  “Come, Sissel, I have lemonade for you,” James said.

  “Good evening, Mr. Peavy,” McKray said.

  James nodded. McKray turned, with a little smile on his face, and went back into the crowd.

  “Not very polite of him, to steal a fellow’s girl,” James said. “Did he stomp on your feet?”

  “No,” Sissel said. “Not too much.”

  “I suspect he practiced with a chambermaid,” James said in a voice that was somewhat unkind.

  Then, suddenly, Alice was at Hanne’s elbow. She was crying.

  “Alice! What is it?” Sissel asked.

  Alice pulled her away from the dancers. James followed. Sissel wondered for a moment if Howie had done something untoward, but he was there behind Alice, looking concerned.

  Alice led them all to the corner near the door, where it was quieter.

  “My mother’s combs!” Alice cried. “Someone’s taken them!”

  Sissel checked. Sure enough, the pretty gold combs were gone.

  “Did you feel them take the combs?”

  “No, we were dancing and then we stopped and when I felt for them, they were gone!”

  “Let me check for you, darling,” Sissel said. “Maybe they’ve just gotten stuck.”

  She patted her fingers in Alice’s hair, to be sure the combs hadn’t just become tangled in the dark tresses.

  “I don’t find them,” Sissel said.

  “Oh! They are my mother’s greatest treasure!” Alice cried. Tears shone in her eyes. “What am I to do? She’ll be heartbroken.”

  “We have to tell someone!” Howie said. “We’ll … we’ll search everyone.”

  “No,” James said. “That’s not the way. If it’s a thief, then he will still be at work. We can catch him.”

  Alice clung to Sissel’s arms, crying into her shoulder.

  “I was a fool to wear them,” she said. “My mother told me to be careful! I never thought someone would take them!”

  “It’s not your fault,” Sissel said, patting her on the back.

  “I never thought we’d have crime like this here in Carter!” Howie said.

  “There’s bad men ev
erywhere,” James said.

  Sissel looked out over the dancers. She saw Stieg do-si-do-ing with Mrs. Denmead now.

  What would he say? He would forbid her from using her Nytte. There was no doubt, that’s what he’d do. He might even make her leave.

  Best not to tell him, then.

  “I say we tell the sheriff!” Howie said stoutly.

  “No,” James said. “Give me a half hour and I’ll find your thief.”

  “How?” Alice asked.

  “I just will,” James said. His eyes were already roaming the crowd.

  “Let’s do as James suggests,” Sissel told Alice. “If we can catch the thief ourselves we won’t have to break up the party.”

  Alice nodded, sniffling.

  Sissel turned to Howie. “Howie, why don’t you get Alice a cup of lemonade, then take her outside for some air. James and I will search for the thief.”

  James flashed a look of surprise at Sissel, as if he hadn’t expected her to help.

  Howie groused, “We’re wasting time here.” He didn’t like it, but did as he was told.

  “Let me look on my own,” James said. “I can’t explain, but I know something about crooks like this one. I’ll find him.”

  Sissel nodded. That was fine with her.

  * * *

  SISSEL WALKED TO the table with desserts and picked up a pecan tart. Squares of waxed butcher’s paper were laid out for people to use to put their food on. She nibbled on the crust. She needed something to appear to do while she opened her mind to her Nytte.

  “What a party!” said Mrs. Trowley to her. Sissel nodded politely. She slipped away, taking her food toward the wall. Some chairs had been set there for spectators. She sidled in and stood behind them, her back to the wall.

  “Where’s your beau?” Mr. Campbell asked. He was one of the people seated.

  “I told him I needed to rest for a moment.”

  “Here, then, you’d better take my chair,” he offered. She didn’t see the point in refusing, so she sat.

  Sissel held the tart on the paper in her lap. She relaxed her body, hoping she would look like she was resting. What if she looked odd when she started searching? She had never used her Nytte in front of anyone but Stieg. Why hadn’t she thought to ask him how she looked?

  She took a deep breath and called on her gift. Immediately, the colors and sounds of the dance dimmed. It was as if half the lamps had been extinguished. Rushing in came silver. There was so much of it in the room, all of it in tiny amounts. A glittery, confusing sensation, like watching a star shower.

  She tried to push the silver aside, but the forms called to her, brooches, buttons, bar pins, and hair combs. There was brass there, too. On belt buckles and vest buttons. And tiny flashes of gold. Earrings, maybe. A few rings. Nothing of the right size or shape.

  She began to sense the coins the Ladies’ Aid members had collected. Coin boxes set on the food table. One coin box, brimming with quarters, was hidden under a hat. That didn’t seem smart.

  Sissel frowned, concentrating. Where were the gold hair combs?

  Mr. Campbell was at her shoulder, a kindly look on his face. He had a tin cup full of water, and he held it to her, his face drawn with concern.

  Sissel rose, pushing away the cup. The tin, shrill, weak, and needy, was too loud to be borne.

  “Thank you,” she said, not knowing if she was speaking loud enough to be heard. “I’m better now.”

  She stepped away from the chairs.

  Gold, she directed her gift. Find me the gold.

  She walked a few steps toward the dancers.

  “Gold,” she said aloud. A cowboy looked at her funny.

  Then she felt them. Two pieces of gold, their vibration fluttering up above, like moths against a light, almost out of perception. She turned and walked in the direction the gold was calling from. To the left, to the left and up. Up somehow.

  The hayloft. A good number of people were up there, leaning over the railing, enjoying a view of the dancing below. One of those people had Alice’s combs. Might it be the cretin Ebbott himself? Sissel steeled herself to face him. She would not let him go this time.

  The stairs to the hayloft were more like a ladder—narrow slats climbing steeply at an angle. A boy from school was coming down; she had to wait for him to reach the bottom before she could start to climb.

  He asked her something, no doubt a pleasantry. She couldn’t hear for the cacophony of metal noises in her mind. They were swarming her like a flock of sparrows, chittering, swooping, too fast to follow.

  She smiled, said yes to whatever it was he had asked, and pushed past him.

  The gold combs were so close now. And the thief wouldn’t get past her. He couldn’t—not on the narrow ladder.

  Sissel poked her head up. She was at shoe level. Her mind seized on the incongruence of some of the footwear. Folks had worn their best outfits, but many made do with their sole pair of footwear.

  Never mind the shoes, she told herself. Where was the gold?

  She kept climbing, and as her body emerged from the square hole in the floor of the hayloft, a handsome young man she didn’t recognize held out his hand to help her up.

  Was it him? She listened for the metals on him. No, silver and nickel in his pocket. A brass belt buckle. She ducked her head, embarrassed to be sending out her senses in that direction.

  He spoke to her, but she did not reply. The gold was close now, and the strain of doing this much looking—holding her Nytte so strongly over such a busy scene, was starting to tell. The back of her head was throbbing, and her ears ached. She had her hands out now, she needed them out, no matter how strange she might look. Her fingers were burning for the gold.

  She walked along the line of partygoers looking down at the dance below. Ebbott was not among them. She staggered once, nearly losing her footing.

  She closed her eyes and cast out strongly. There. Behind her.

  She turned and saw a figure pressed in the corner of the loft, where the lamplight did not reach.

  They were there, Alice’s combs. The figure started as Sissel approached. Sissel looked around, realizing she should have someone strong with her. What if the thief attacked her? She knew she should call for help, but now all the world was silent for her. How would she explain?

  Then the figure lurched forward, as if to escape. Sissel reached out and grabbed. It was a girl! Sissel held tight to a thin arm. It was Bridget, from the hotel.

  Sissel was shocked. Bridget, a thief? The girl was sobbing; tears had already stained the front of her plain gingham dress. She was explaining something, making some kind of excuse to Sissel, God knows what it could have been.

  Bridget pressed the gold combs into Sissel’s hand and squirmed away. The gold expanded in Sissel’s touch, sending a release of warmth through her body.

  Sissel turned, knowing she should stop the girl. That’s when she saw McKray.

  He was standing right behind her, and he was grinning ear to ear.

  She was not a lip reader, but she could make out his words just fine, “I knew it.”

  Gods, it was a trap.

  She pushed past him, and he made no move to stop her.

  She climbed as carefully down the ladder as she could, given her shaking hands and her tired limbs.

  She saw Alice by the food tables, looking around, but Sissel ducked out, weaving through the dancers, until she came to the door on the other side. She couldn’t face Alice now, not as she was—trembling all over and deaf as a stone.

  She slipped outside and set off to find a dark, quiet place where she could shut off her Nytte, wait for her hearing to return, and make her pulse steady.

  * * *

  “WHERE WERE YOU?” James asked when she returned. It sounded as if he were talking from a great distance away, but she could make out the words. He looked flustered and agitated. He had been searching that whole time for the thief, and then must have started searching for Sissel.

  It
was now stiflingly hot in the barn, with all the bodies dancing.

  “I had the idea they might have fallen outside,” she said to James. He didn’t believe her. She opened her hand, revealing the two doves within it.

  “Outside? Really?” he said.

  Sissel walked past him. He put his hand on her wrist, some question in his eye. Sissel wriggled away; she couldn’t let his eyes search her face too long—she wasn’t a good enough liar.

  Stieg reached them. “Is everything all right?” he said. “I lost you in the dancing, then James said—”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Stieg had hold of her arm now.

  “What did you do?” he asked, low.

  “Alice needed my help,” she said.

  “What?” he asked. Sissel realized she hadn’t spoken loudly enough to be heard.

  “Alice needed my help,” she repeated. This time someone nearby looked around. Too loud.

  Sissel saw Alice sitting down with Howie in the collection of chairs near the door. She was staring at the floor, and Howie was talking to her, trying to cheer her up.

  Sissel swept over and took Alice’s hand in hers. She pressed the gold doves into it. Alice’s brown eyes widened with joy.

  She let out a happy squeal and jumped up, nearly knocking Sissel back. She hugged Sissel.

  “Where did you find them?” she asked.

  “Outside. On the ground,” Sissel said.

  “Outside! But how on earth did they get outside?” Howie said.

  “Oh, Sissel, you have saved me!” Alice said, hugging her again.

  It was a relief, at least, to have made her friend so happy, even if she had fallen into McKray’s trap.

  Alice folded the combs into a handkerchief and then made Howie tuck the handkerchief deep inside the interior pocket of his suit vest.

  Stieg stood behind Sissel, frowning, no doubt. Worried, no doubt. Sissel felt drained and wobbly. She wanted to go home, but she felt bad to cut the evening short for James.

  He had looked on as Alice thanked Sissel. She couldn’t quite read his expression, and she worried he was trying too hard to read hers. His eyes kept flitting between her and Stieg, noting her brother’s tension and disquiet.