Carol Ritten Smith
Page 26
“Leave them,” he ordered gruffly. His eagerness to know her again was matched only by her desire for him. Too impatient for any preliminary touching, Tom laid her back on the edge of the bed, wrapped her legs around his waist and took her swiftly.
The bed frame squeaked and its headboard drummed a lively rhythm against the wall until it reached a thunderous level. But the only sound they heard was their song of love making.
They certainly didn’t hear the small boy exit the bedroom across the landing. They didn’t hear him tiptoe down to the kitchen to don his coat and shoes. They didn’t hear him slip outside.
Chapter 25
By the light of a waning moon, Davy started running. He had to hurry if he was going to make Tannerville by morning. He had to talk to the judge one more time, convince him how important it was that he and Bill be allowed to stay with Beth and Tom.
He ran down the train tracks, slipping often on the frosty wooden ties. The moonlight reflected off the rails, two silver lines converging to a distant point on the horizon. Beyond the horizon was Tannerville. In between was the trestle crossing over the creek that Whistle Creek was named after.
• • •
Dawn was breaking when Tom heard the pounding on the door downstairs. He pulled on the pants, still bunched on the floor.
Beth was awake immediately. “Surely it’s not Uncle Mead already!”
“If it is, I’ll knock his block off. We have until this afternoon before he’s supposed to come.”
It was Lanson at the door, coat pulled up to his ears to ward off the chill of last night’s frost. Beside him was a hefty man, a stranger. They both were grinning ear to ear.
“What’s going on?” Tom asked, letting them in.
Lanson removed his gloves. “Tom, I’d like to introduce you to the Honorable Judge Stone, the real Judge Stone.”
Tom was silent, stunned.
Judge Stone chuckled. “I can understand your shock. I have to admit I was rather surprised myself when Mr. Lanson met me when I returned from fishing and told me what had happened. It seems my janitor thought it would be fine and dandy to impersonate me. He is now looking out from the inside of a jail.”
“I’m still afraid I don’t follow.”
“Follow what?” Beth asked as she joined the men in the kitchen. She pulled her robe tight around her.
Tom made the necessary introductions.
She shook her head. “If you’re Judge Stone, then who … ?” She sank into a chair, confused.
Tom indicated the gentlemen should also seat themselves, and then quickly tossed some logs into the stove to chase away the cold.
The judge explained. “As I was telling your husband, Mrs. Carver, that charlatan was my janitor, Newly Jones. From what he told us, he met up with Parkerson in the saloon, and after a few free drinks, he agreed to help your uncle gain custody of your brothers.”
“Why would he agree to do that?” Tom asked. “Just for free drinks?”
“Plus a tidy sum of four hundred dollars.”
Beth huffed. “Uncle Mead barely has four dollars let alone four hundred.”
“Apparently Newly is easily duped.”
Tom turned to Lanson. “You suspected something, didn’t you?”
“From the moment the trial started. Everything was so unconventional. So after the trial, I asked my aunt if she knew Judge Stone and she did, but the man she described was certainly not the man in court. I merely waited for the real Judge Stone to return from fishing.”
“So now what happens?” Tom asked. “Do we have another trial?”
“We could,” the judge answered, “but what would be the point? Parkerson will soon be sharing a cell with my janitor and will be otherwise engaged for several years.”
For a moment there was silence and then Tom let out a whoop. Beth covered her open mouth with her trembling hand. “Does this mean … ?”
Tom picked Beth up and swung her once around the kitchen. “It sure does, darling. We have custody of the boys.”
“But the will?”
Lanson was quick to answer. “It is of no consequence now, but I’m willing to bet my gold ring it was forged.”
“It’s over? We’re safe?”
“Better than that, we’re a family,” Tom corrected, hugging his wife.
Judge Stone rose to leave first. “I think, Mr. Lanson, we ought to leave now. The Carvers have had a lot to deal with these last few days. I think they need some time to absorb this good news.”
The moment the door closed, Tom swung her around the kitchen again. Then abruptly her put her down and announced, “Let’s go tell Davy.”
“Yes. Right away.” They raced to the spare bedroom.
Their elation was short lived when they found an empty bed. Davy was gone.
“I don’t understand it,” she said, after having checked all around the house. Tom had just returned from checking the barn. “Where would he have gone?” she asked.
“He probably couldn’t sleep so he went to be with Bill at the livery,” he said casually, though the tense look on his face belied his calm manner.
Ten minutes later, they were inside the livery, waking up Bill.
Bill was immediately alarmed. “Davy wouldn’t run away.”
Tom took control of the situation. “Let’s not panic, here. He’s probably hiding somewhere. We need to take a good look around first before we jump to conclusions.”
Just the same, the first place they checked was the Whistle Creek’s boarding house where Mead stayed last night. The clerk told them that, not more than thirty minutes ago, Mr. Parkerson was led away by the authorities and Mr. Lanson and another gentleman were with him.
“Was Davy Patterson with them?”
“Little Davy?” the night clerk asked. “I didn’t see him.”
The morning sunrise was blocked by a heavy cloud, casting a gray pallor over the entire town. They checked the school, the smithy, and all the places he would most likely be, but found no trace of him.
“Tom, I’m scared,” Beth admitted.
He looked solemnly at her. “I guess we’d better get a search party out.”
Less than half an hour later, a large group of men and women gathered outside of Betner’s store. The town was sectioned off into quadrants.
“Check everywhere,” Earl instructed, taking charge. “Look in every building, barn, chicken coop. Check your root cellars, too. No telling where he might be hiding. Remember he’s small and he could fit in any tight space. If anyone finds him, bring him back to the church and ring the bell. All right, let’s go.”
Over an hour later, searchers straggled back to the church, having turned the small town upside down. Nothing. Several men volunteered to search the outskirts of town.
“Maybe he went to Gordie’s farm.” Beth spun to face Tom. “He stayed overnight there once before.”
“It’s a thought. Bill and I will check it out.”
“I’m coming, too,” Beth stated.
Tom didn’t waste precious time trying to deter her. “Fine.” They rushed to the barn.
“There’s no point in all of us going there,” Bill said, as he tightened the cinch of his saddle. “We should split up.”
“Right. You check Gordie’s. Beth and I will go the other way.”
“But the other way is the creek,” Beth said. “Davy knows he’s not supposed to go near there.”
“Honey, he also knows he’s not supposed to run away.” Tom gave her a boost into her saddle, then went around to his horse, thrust his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg up and over. “We’ll meet you back in town in … say a couple hours, if not sooner.”
Bill mounted his horse and took off at a hard gallop.
When Tom and Beth reached the creek, they reined in their horses well back from the jagged banks. The water, considerably higher than when they’d crossed it on the train the day before, glided swiftly past. Murky whirlpools swirled along the edges, while small rocks and mud trickled down in
to the water. The banks were dangerously undercut and gnarled roots were exposed to the elements.
Rain fell, at first in a fine mist, then in a continuous drizzle, soaking their clothing. Tom gave his hat to Beth. “Here, wear this.”
They road upstream along the bank’s edge, calling out Davy’s name, but the sound of rushing water drowned their voices. Often Tom would dismount, hand Beth his reins and walk along the craggy ridge, looking up and down the swollen creek, praying he wouldn’t find him in the water.
At every farm along the way, they stopped. The farmers, up about doing their morning chores, hadn’t seen any boy, but all promised to keep an eye out for him.
Disappointed and increasingly worried, they returned to the creek. Tom scoured the banks again. Then he saw something indistinguishable swirling in the eddy of a log jam.
“Wait there,” he ordered.
“What do you see?”
“Just wait there!”
Tom slid down the bank, grabbing at roots and shrubs, scraping his hands on the sharp wet rocks. Whatever it was, it was small and dark, twirling around and around in the whirlpool. Occasionally, the passing current would grab at it, threatening to carry it further downstream.
Wading out into the frigid thigh-deep water, Tom grabbed for the object. It was a shoe and, upon closer inspection, he read Davy’s name penned inside the heel. Staggering backwards, Tom fell against the bank, hugging the shoe to his chest. He groaned, fighting the pain in his heart as the drizzling rain ran icy runnels down his face. Dear God, he prayed. Please, not Davy.
“Tom, did you find something?”
Hurriedly, Tom dumped the water from the shoe and stuffed it inside his coat. “No, nothing,” he hollered, and then scrambled up the slippery bank, glad for the rain which hid his tears.
“Maybe you should go back, Beth. It’s starting to rain harder.” He wanted to spare her the possible agony of finding Davy face down in some backwater.
“No! Two can search better than one.” Strands of wet hair slashed across her cheeks and water dripped from her nose and chin. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
And time was important. Even now, the rain was turning to sleet. Spring snow storms could be surprisingly ugly.
“Lead my horse then,” Tom instructed. “I’m gonna walk along the edge some more.” As his eyes scanned the water and the banks, Tom told himself all he had found was just a shoe. It didn’t mean anything. Until he found Davy’s body, there was hope. There had to be hope.
Ahead, about a quarter mile upstream, loomed the train trestle, spanning the gully eroded deeper each spring by the rushing waters of Whistle Creek. Tom decided if he found nothing by the time they reached the trestle, he’d take Beth back and send some men to search downstream.
“Tom! I see him!”
“Where?” His heart stopped. Please, not in the water.
“On the bank by the trestle.” Beth dropped the reins to his horse and spurred hers into a gallop.
He mounted and, from his higher position, saw Davy sitting on the bank, hugging his knees. “Thank you, God.”
Davy saw them coming, stood on one foot as if he were playing hopscotch, and waved.
Before her horse had come to a full stop, Beth dismounted and scooped Davy up into her arms, crying. “Oh Davy, thank God you’re all right. You gave us such a scare. What are you doing out here?”
“I was goin’ to Tannerville to see the judge, but I was too chicken to cross the trestle. And then I lost my shoe and I was too chicken to come back home without it in case you got mad at me.”
“Oh, Davy,” she sobbed, setting him down, running her hands up and down his arms as if to convince herself he was safe and whole. “I don’t care about a stupid shoe. I’m just so grateful you’re okay.”
“You’re not mad?”
Beth shook her head.
“Maybe she’s not, but I am,” Tom boomed, dismounting. “I’m mad enough to tan your scrawny hide. Don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again, you hear?”
“No, sir, I mean, yes, sir,” Davy replied, standing free of his sister to bravely face Tom.
“Well, good then … fine,” he said, his ire cooling off rapidly. “You had your sister beside herself with worry.” He didn’t dare admit how terrified he’d been.
He pulled the shoe out from his coat and handed it to Davy. “Here,” he offered gruffly, “I found this downstream.”
Davy took the shoe and put it on. When he stepped down on it, water oozed out around the sole.
Suddenly Tom’s hands began to shake uncontrollably, and he stuffed them deep in his coat pockets. “I … ah … I thought you had … ” He choked, unable to finish.
Beth went to him, touching his arm, and peered into his dark eyes. “He’s fine, Tom. He’s all right,” she said in soft, reassuring tones. “He’s just cold.”
Tom nodded. “Right, and it’s starting to snow. We’d better get him home where it’s warm. Into some dry clothes.” He lifted the shivering boy up into his saddle and then sung himself in behind. With a protective arm wrapped around the boy’s small waist, Tom pulled Davy hard against him.
They rode silently until Tom felt enough control to scold gently, “What were you thinking of, Davy, running away like that?”
“I wanted to see Judge Stone. I need to tell him something he doesn’t know.”
Tom glanced at Beth. “What doesn’t the judge know?” he asked.
“That I love you and so does Beth and that I want to stay here, and that it’s not right a stupid piece of paper can make Bill and me live with a mean old man.”
“We agree totally.” Beth smiled at Tom.
“And I want to tell him that all my friends are here and that Bill has a girlfriend. And, Tom, remember you were getting a puppy this spring and I was gonna help train it? It’s springtime now.”
“You’re right, it is, even if we’re likely to have several inches of snow before nightfall.”
“So you see?” Davy said confidently. “I’m sure if I talked to the judge, real polite-like, he’d let us stay. That’s why I need to get to Tannerville so bad. Before Uncle Mead comes to get us.”
Tom hugged Davy close. “You don’t need to worry about your Uncle Mead ever again.” While they rode back to Whistle Creek, Tom and Beth explained all about the deception.
“So we can be a family now?” Davy asked, squirming about in the saddle to face Tom.
“Yup!”
“Yippee!” Davy yelled.
Beth’s heart swelled with happy emotions and her hand went instinctively to cradle the tiny bulge of her tummy. Yes, they were a family.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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