What Once Was Lost

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Mrs. Tatum came closer. “Do the Creegers know?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “And they still allow you to … to serve decent folks?”

  A familiar ball of shame began rolling in Cora’s chest. Ma Creeger had said Jesus took the shame away and she shouldn’t let people give it back to her. She swallowed and answered bravely. “Yes’m. I made a mistake. An’ I’m gonna have to”—she searched for Ma Creeger’s exact words—“bear the consequences, but I don’t hafta hang my head in shame ’cause Jesus forgave me.”

  Mrs. Tatum’s mouth dropped open so wide she looked like a big old bass gasping for air. If things hadn’t been so tense, Cora might’ve laughed. Mrs. Tatum finally found her voice. “I’m appalled. Completely appalled!” She barged past Cora into the mercantile, slamming the screen door against the wall and making the cowbell clang angrily. “Mr. Creeger! Mrs. Creeger!” Her screech was even more raucous than the bell.

  Cora snatched up the broom and scurried in after the woman. She clutched the broom in both fists, ready to give Mrs. Tatum a good whack if she said anything hurtful to Ma or Pa Creeger.

  Ma Creeger rounded the counter as Pa Creeger hurried in from the storeroom. Mrs. Tatum charged up to them, placed her fists on her hips, and let loose. “This girl you’ve hired to serve customers is an abomination to every Christian woman who comes through your door! How can you possibly allow her to stay here, knowing she’s a … a—”

  “Sinner saved by grace?” Ma Creeger cut in. She put her arm around Cora’s shoulders. Cora took strength from the woman’s comforting touch.

  “She’s a sinner, all right, and her sin is ever before her!” Mrs. Tatum waved her hands toward Cora’s stomach and then covered her eyes with both palms. “Why, it’s offensive to me even to rest my eyes on the evidence of her wrongdoing!”

  “Then don’t look,” Pa Creeger said, a hint of impishness in his expression.

  Mrs. Tatum lowered her hands and exposed a wide-eyed look of shock. “Wh-what did you say?”

  “Don’t look at her,” Pa Creeger repeated in the same dry tone. “If it offends you, turn your eyes somewhere else. But”—he scratched his chin, rolling his gaze toward the ceiling—“I reckon you’ll be hard-pressed to find a direction that doesn’t expose somebody’s wrongdoing, seeing as how every last one of us is walking around in imperfection.”

  Mrs. Tatum’s round eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you insinuating—”

  “I’m saying the Bible I read tells me, ‘There is none righteous, no, not one.’ That includes Cora, my wife here, me, and even you.”

  Cora thought Mrs. Tatum might burst, her face turned so red. She held her breath, waiting for the explosion.

  “Of all the impertinent statements! Don’t you dare preach to me when you stand there deliberately supporting a wanton girl!”

  “A wanton girl …” Cora’s ma had said the same thing. Shame reached for a hold on Cora’s heart. She sent a silent prayer heavenward. Don’t let me grab onto it, God.

  Ma Creeger released Cora and stepped forward. “Mrs. Tatum, when Jesus came upon a crowd accusing a woman of immoral behavior, He said something worth considering. Do you remember what He said?”

  Mrs. Tatum’s chin quivered. She balled her hands into fists and glared at Ma Creeger, but she didn’t answer.

  Ma Creeger went on quietly, gently, the same way she talked to Cora. “He said, ‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.’ Now, I’m not going to cast any stones here, but I think we’d all be wise to examine our own lives before we go pointing out the wrongs other folks’ve done.”

  The banker’s wife raised one hand and pointed at Ma Creeger. Cora gripped her broom, ready to swing away if needed. The woman spoke between gritted teeth. “You’ve clearly made your choice, and now I’m making mine. I will not do one more penny’s worth of business here until she”—she jammed her finger in Cora’s direction—“is sent elsewhere.” Then she whirled and stormed out, leaving the bell once again clanging in her wake.

  Cora twisted the broom handle the way she wanted to wring Mrs. Tatum’s neck. “What’re we gonna do?”

  Pa Creeger looked at Ma Creeger. She looked back. In unison they shrugged. Pa Creeger said, “I’m going to go finish unloading those bags of pinto beans.”

  Ma Creeger said, “I’m going to finish dusting. Cora, did you get the walk all swept? Yes? Well, then perhaps you could straighten the cloth bolts. Someone left them all askew.”

  Cora gawked at the pair of them. “But”—she waved the broom toward the door—“you heard Miz Tatum. She ain’t gonna shop here anymore! An’ she’ll probably go around tellin’ others to stay away, too! Don’t that worry you?”

  Pa Creeger crossed to Cora and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Cora, standing up for what’s right sometimes brings trouble. But God promises to be with us in times of trouble. So instead of worrying about what Mrs. Tatum and her ilk might do, I’m going to keep doing what God’s called me to—running an honest business and ministering to those in need.”

  Tears stung Cora’s eyes. “But ministerin’ to me is gonna cost you so dear. Maybe I oughta—”

  “Absolutely not!” Ma Creeger scurried over and took Cora’s face in her hands. “You aren’t going to skulk away somewhere and hide. We love you, Cora, and we want you with us.”

  Cora sniffed hard and rubbed her nose. “I—I love you, too. Both of you. But I feel bad, causin’ you trouble.” She sighed. “Seems like there’s an awful lot wrong right now, what with the poor farm house gettin’ burned, an’ somebody stealin’ from you, an’ Miss Willems bein’ accused of doin’ wrong. I’m glad God’s with us, ’cause we’ve got plenty of troubles in need of fixin’.” Shaking her head, she added, “Sure hope nothin’ else bad happens ’cause—”

  The door burst open, the cowbell clanging. Cora turned, expecting to find Mrs. Tatum followed by a mob of angry supporters. Instead, Mr. Jonnson strode across the floor with a worried look on his face. “Creeger, I need your help.”

  Pa Creeger separated himself from Cora and his wife and moved toward Mr. Jonnson. “What is it?”

  “Tommy Kilgore—the blind boy who stays with me …” The man gritted his teeth. “He’s wandered off, and I can’t find him.”

  Why’d he let Dresden sneak up on him that way? Tommy berated himself. If he hadn’t been facing the wind, he’d have smelled Dresden’s cigar smoke. If he hadn’t been playing on his harmonica, he’d have heard the man’s feet on the grass. But he hadn’t paid attention, and Dresden had managed to sneak up on him.

  His lips still stung from being pressed so hard against his teeth. Dresden had held his mouth closed until Tommy promised not to holler. How could he risk yelling with the man threatening to take his gun and shoot anybody who came running to help? So he’d kept quiet and let Dresden drag him off … somewhere. Tommy couldn’t be sure where he now sat. Maybe a cellar, considering they’d used a ladder to get down into it. The moldy smell and dampness reminded him of a place underground. It was quiet, too, like a cellar, but it didn’t seem to be the one under the poor farm kitchen because he couldn’t detect the odors of apples or onions or sauerkraut. This place only smelled old and neglected.

  “Sorry to do this to you, Tommy-boy.” Dresden’s voice echoed as if it came from far away. “But I can’t have you losin’ your senses an’ spewin’ everything you know to that snoopy lawyer before I’ve had a chance to get out of town. ’Sides, I needed everybody away from that house. If they’re all out ahuntin’ you, they won’t be payin’ me any mind.” He laughed, and the sound bounced around Tommy’s ears.

  Tommy twisted his head, willing his ears or nose to capture something that would help him understand where he was so he could get out. “Where you goin’?”

  Another laugh rolled, and it seemed to come from above Tommy’s head. “None o’ your affair, Tommy-boy. But you can bet it’ll be far away.”

  Scraping noises came from overhead. Was he ta
king the ladder? Panic struck. “But wait! What about me? You can’t just … just leave me!”

  “Oh, now, Tommy-boy, you’ll be all right.” Dresden sounded impatient. “I’m gonna write a note an’ put it where your friend Mr. Jonnson’ll find it. He’ll come get you out.”

  Tommy dug his fingers into the slimy dirt supporting his weight and angled his head upward. “How do I know you ain’t lyin’? You been lyin’ about everything else.”

  A grunt exploded. “I’m a lot o’ things, but I ain’t a murderer. Not gonna face no hangman’s noose, not even for five thousand dollars.”

  Tommy gulped. “F-five thousand dollars? Where you gonna get five thousand dollars?”

  “Didn’t I say none o’ this is your business?” Dresden’s tone moved from impatient to angry. “Now you just sit still like a good boy an’ wait for somebody to find you. Long as you sit tight, no harm’ll come to you. Bye now, Tommy-boy.” A muffled thud reverberated from above, and the air turned still and dead.

  “Mr. Dresden!” Tommy scrambled to his feet, clawing the area in front of him. His hands collided with the ladder. He grabbed hold and clambered upward as quickly as he could. His head connected with something hard, and the jolt knocked him down a couple of rungs. His head ringing, he hung on the ladder for a few seconds until he gathered his senses again. Then he inched his way back up, slower this time, and explored with his hand. Splinters poked into his flesh, but he ran his hand as far as it would go in every direction. Wood planks stretched from side to side. No opening anywhere.

  “Mr. Dresden, come back! Come back!” He banged on the ceiling with his fist. Dizziness struck, and he slid down the ladder. On the ground he stumbled forward, hands outstretched, until he connected with a wall. He patted it with both palms. Rough, curved, damp. Stones, he realized. Grunting with pure fright, Tommy inched his way along the wall, seeking a door. But it felt the same all the way around.

  Around … His heart fluttered, and cold sweat broke out across his entire body. A circular stone wall. Damp. Closed in. Dresden had put him in an old well. And no matter what the man had said, he wouldn’t let anybody know where Tommy was.

  Panic rose from the center of his chest and exploded in frantic, hopeless actions. He clawed at the damp wall, screaming for help from Mr. Dresden, from God, from anybody. Eventually exhausted, he collapsed onto the moist-smelling floor. Sobs heaved from his dry throat. Dresden had sealed him in. Nobody would hear him. This well would be his coffin.

  Chapter 40

  Levi listened to Cora’s musings as he flicked the reins, urging his horses to hurry the wagon back to the poor farm. The young woman had insisted on riding with him while the Creegers rounded up more searchers, and despite misgivings he’d succumbed to her pleas. He regretted it now. She hadn’t stopped talking since they’d left the mercantile. He’d already considered every possibility she named, but he recalled his mor needing to sort things out aloud, so he let her talk without interrupting.

  “He probably wanted to go to the outhouse an’ just got lost tryin’ to find his way back to the wagon.” Cora swayed with the motion of the wagon, her hands cupped loosely around her belly. A belly which, Levi tried not to notice, formed a swelling mound beneath the pale green calico skirt of her dress. “Or he decided to visit the goats in the barn. Tommy’s always been crazy about them goats—pettin’ ’em like he can’t get enough. He could’ve followed his nose to the barn, an’ maybe he curled up somewhere for a nap an’ didn’t hear you callin’ for him.”

  As loud as Levi, Tucker, and Grover had bellowed, they could’ve roused the dead. If Tommy was within shouting distance, he’d have heard. But Cora seemed to need assurance, so he flashed her a tense smile. “Maybe you’re right. You can look there as soon as we get to the poor farm.”

  “I will.”

  Wagons bearing townsfolk followed Levi’s cloud of dust. If Tommy was hollering for help, they’d never hear him over the racket made by rattling rigging, thundering hoofs, and crunching wheels. But once they reached the poor farm, they’d all set off on foot. They’d surely hear him then. Let us find him.

  Levi jolted. Had he just petitioned God for help?

  “Mr. Jonnson?” Cora shifted slightly, seeming to memorize his profile. “All my yappin’ about this or that happenin’—it’s just for show. To be truthful with you, I’m really scared Tommy might not’ve wandered off by accident. I’m scared he might’ve took off on purpose an’ doesn’t wanna be found.”

  Levi frowned. “Why would he do that?”

  “He was scared of somethin’ at the poor farm.”

  “Of what?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I dunno. But remember that time me an’ him went out there with you an’ Miss Willems? You was gonna look an’ see how much wood was needed to fix the place.”

  He remembered his nostrils filling with Miss Willems’s scent—floral, fresh—as they sat together on this wagon seat. He remembered the grace of her slender form as she moved from room to room. He remembered the sunlight shimmering on her stained-cherry-wood brown hair. He remembered the gratitude in her soft blue eyes when he’d said he’d provide the lumber. He swallowed hard. “I remember.”

  “Tommy was scared that day. He hunkered up close to me an’ shivered.”

  Levi thought back. “It was cooler then,” he said.

  Cora shook her head hard. “Huh-uh. They wasn’t cold shivers, Mr. Jonnson. That boy was scared o’ somethin’. An’ I’m wonderin’ if you takin’ him out there got him all worked up again an’ he just decided to light out.”

  Levi didn’t know what to say, so he fell silent and stared straight ahead. Cora stopped talking and sat smoothing her hands over her mounded stomach again and again while biting her lower lip.

  The wagon rolled onto the poor farm property, and Tucker and Grover ran out to meet it. Tucker, panting, grabbed the edge of the seat. “No sign of him yet.”

  Grover shook his head, clicking his tongue on his teeth. “For a young un, he must have good strong legs. We’ve covered every direction stretching a good half mile. Don’t know how he could’ve gone farther’n that.”

  “ ’Less he’s put himself in a hidey-hole o’ some sort,” Tucker added, brow crinkling, “an’ we just ain’t seein’ it.”

  Levi leaped down and then reached for Cora. She took his hands at once and allowed him to help her down. When her footing was secure, he turned to the men. “Since you know where you’ve already hunted, I’m going to let you direct the townspeople who’re coming out to help.”

  Tucker looked toward the approaching wagons. “Whoo-ee! Half the town’s comin’, it seems!”

  “With them all searching, you two can get back to work on the house so you can make your deadline. You’ve already spent enough time looking for Tommy.”

  Tucker dropped his jaw. “Mister, I don’t know what you take me for, but I got two young uns myself. No job’s more important than findin’ that boy. Right, Grover?”

  Grover nodded his great head. “Right. We’ll keep lookin’ with you all. The paintin’ an’ such can wait.”

  Levi swallowed a lump of gratitude. He’d never witnessed such unselfishness. Except maybe from Miss Willems. He nodded. “All right then. Let’s—”

  “Mr. Jonnson?” Cora touched his arm. Tears shone in her eyes. “Before you start huntin’ again, I … I’d like to pray.”

  Before Miss Willems arrived on his doorstep with Tommy in tow, Levi would have scoffed at the notion. Yet at that moment he wanted nothing more than to beg God to lead them to Tommy. But after his long time away from the Almighty, he didn’t know how to begin.

  “I ain’t never prayed out loud in front o’ anybody before—me an’ God, we just recently got acquainted.” Cora released a self-conscious laugh. “But I’m gonna try.” She bowed her head. Tucker and Grover whipped off their hats and followed suit. Levi removed his hat and held it to his pounding heart as Cora began in a faltering voice. “Dear God, To
mmy’s lost.”

  I’m lost, too. Levi’s body involuntarily jolted. Had he really admitted that?

  “We don’t know where he is, an’ we’re real worried about him.”

  A fierce ache filled Levi’s chest, stealing his breath.

  “He’s probably scared an’ waitin’ for someone to come along. Would You please help us find him?”

  Yes, God. Please. Please … Would God even listen to Levi after being ignored for so many years?

  “An’ whatever was ailin’ him when we was here last, fix it, an’ help him not to be scared no more. Keep him safe ’til we find him. Amen.” She opened her eyes and turned a troubled look on Levi. “Do you think I was too bossy with God?”

  Levi gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I think you prayed just right, Cora. Now, why don’t you go sit on the bench in the shade over there”—he pointed to the spot near the barn—“and keep watch in case Tommy manages to find his way back here.” If his suspicions were correct, she shouldn’t be wandering all over the countryside. She made a face, but then she nodded and headed for the bench. Levi turned to Tucker. “I’m setting off north. Tommy’s smart enough to know the wind at his back will lead him toward my place.”

  Men began pouring out of wagons and moving toward the house. Tucker and Grover would direct them. So Levi grabbed his lantern from the back of the wagon—who knew how long he’d be searching—pocketed a tin of matches, and set off with a determined stride. Cora’s prayer became his. Keep him safe ’til we find him … He couldn’t lose another person he loved.

  With nothing to do and the walls closing in on her, Christina had stretched out on the bed for a nap. But the church bell’s clang had startled her awake. The bell announced Sunday service, the noon hour, and emergencies. She’d reached for her watch, then shaken her head, frustrated with herself for her inability to break the habit. Besides, she hadn’t needed a timepiece to know it was neither Sunday nor noon. Which meant something was wrong. And her promise to Ben to remain in her room had hindered her from going downstairs and making inquiries.