Room for Hope

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Jesse forced a chuckle to cover the troublesome ideas taking shape in his mind. “No worries, ma’am. Law enforcement officers are trained to keep secrets. I won’t repeat what you said.”

  She offered a weak smile. An explosion of angry voices burst over their heads. She looked at the ceiling. “Uh-oh.” She inched toward the hallway, her beseeching gaze pinned on him. “Does your offer to watch the store for a few minutes still stand?”

  He nodded. “Go ahead. Take the time you need. I’ll stay right here until you get back.”

  She darted off.

  Jesse waited nearly a half hour before Mrs. Shilling and Bud returned. The woman wore a look of determination, and the boy seemed both surly and defeated. Jesse didn’t ask questions, but as he left, he made a decision. He couldn’t do anything about the missing money, but maybe he could help restore peace between the mother and her son. After all, he’d contributed to the conflict by interrupting their lockup routine. The least he could do was try to repair the damage.

  The next day Jesse began a routine of greeting the students as they arrived at school. Then he came back in the afternoon to supervise their leave-taking. At first he did it just so he could single Bud out for a quick chat or friendly smack on the shoulder. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made to get friendly with all the youngsters in Buffalo Creek.

  Kids who knew him and liked him would be less prone to cause trouble in town, so he worked to build camaraderie with all of them, from the little ones on up. As the days progressed, he learned their names, and they began running up to greet him instead of waving at him from afar. No matter how many children commanded his attention, Jesse always reserved an extra dose for Bud. Even when the boy acted standoffish.

  Jesse witnessed a lot. As Bud had hinted, the Randall boys ruled the playground without a word of rebellion from the other students. But Bud shouldn’t complain about the Randall boys, because he gave Charley the same lordly treatment, refusing to let the younger boy join the Kick the Can or marble games. He did enlist Charley when they played blindman’s bluff, making him the blind man and being especially rough in taunting him.

  At times Jesse battled the temptation to grab Bud by the collar of his jacket and shake him until his teeth rattled. But he wasn’t the boy’s father. He couldn’t take on a punitive role without sacrificing the opportunity to build a friendship with the boy. So he encouraged Charley to talk to Aunt Neva about Bud’s behavior and secured promises from the sad-faced boy that he would try.

  When he engaged Bud in conversation, Jesse shared tidbits of his childhood, being overrun with pesky little sisters and the regret he carried for the times he wasn’t as kind as he should have been. Yet Bud continued to use Charley as a target for his resentment and frustration.

  As Halloween approached—Jesse’s first holiday in Buffalo Creek—he became especially diligent in making his presence known at the school. In Beloit, hoodlums had sometimes broken shop windows and the globes on streetlamps, spread trash in people’s yard, and otherwise vandalized the community. Having spent time shooting marbles and playing catch and riding on the merry-go-round with them, he hoped the young people in his new town would decide to forgo mischief that night. And if they didn’t, he would have to show them a different side of being sheriff and let them suffer the consequences of their actions.

  Friday morning, the thirtieth of October, Jesse drove to the filling station and pumped twelve gallons of gas into his truck’s tank. The station’s owner, Rob Geary, ambled out and watched Jesse work.

  “Getting yourself a full tank?” The man raised his eyebrows and shifted his stained Western-style hat on his head. “Big spender, you are. Most folks just put in enough to get by.”

  “Driving to Beloit today. I wouldn’t want to run out.”

  “Reckon not. What’s in Beloit?”

  He intended to spend some time with Sheriff Abling, picking the older man’s brain regarding the suspicions he harbored about Warren Shilling, but nobody needed to know that just yet. Maybe never.

  He grinned. “Picking up a few things for Mrs. Shilling’s mercantile.” Her order was a lot smaller this time than last, thanks to her shortage of cash. He hoped she’d have enough goods to carry her a full month. Jesse removed the nozzle and handed it to Rob.

  The man held the nozzle the way a bride held a bouquet of flowers. “So she’s planning to keep that place going?”

  Jesse twisted the gas cap into place. “As far as I know.”

  “Well, I’ll be…”

  Jesse flicked a glance at the man. “There some reason she shouldn’t?”

  “She’s a woman.”

  Rob’s statement made Jesse laugh. “Well, that’s true enough, but there’s no law, is there, that a woman can’t run a business?”

  “S’pose there isn’t, or Betsy Ann Mullin would’ve been in jail a long time ago.” Rob draped the nozzle over the hook and leaped back when it dripped on his shoe. He folded his arms over his chest and frowned. “But seems to me women are made more for matrimony than owning businesses. Now Betsy Ann, being over forty and kind of homely and set in her ways, the likelihood of her getting hitched is slim to none. But that Mrs. Shilling—Why, she’s a fine figure of a woman, still young. And she’s got youngsters to raise. I can’t believe she doesn’t want to sell that place and look for a new husband.” The man’s expression turned wily. “You thinking about taking on a wife who’s got a herd of kids ready to call somebody Daddy?”

  Jesse grimaced. “Now don’t start matchmaking, huh? I’m not in the market for a wife.”

  Rob held his hands wide, smirking. “Me? Matchmaking? Huh-uh. I’ll leave that to my missus.” He lost the teasing look. “Gotta tell you though, Sheriff. Folks around town been talking about how good you are with youngsters, meeting up with ’em on the playground and making friends. More’n one of the ladies has mentioned how you an’ the Widow Shilling would make a good pair.”

  Jesse swallowed a sharp retort. All small towns had one thing in common—people loved to gossip. Mostly because there wasn’t much else to do. “That poor woman’s only been widowed a few weeks. I figure she needs some time to recover.”

  What woman would want to marry a lawman, knowing he could be called to duty any time of the day or night? If he did marry, he wouldn’t choose a widow with children. He’d paid his debt helping to raise somebody else’s kids.

  He clapped Rob on the shoulder. “Besides, I’m happy being on my own, and you can share that at the barber shop the next time you go in for a shave.”

  Rob barked out a laugh. “All right then, Sheriff. Enjoy your drive to Beloit. Hope that widow woman appreciates all you do for her.”

  Jesse climbed behind the wheel, offered a wave, then pulled out of the station. He parked in front of the mercantile and left the engine idling while he jogged across the sidewalk and entered the store. A few customers browsed the shelves, but Mrs. Shilling separated herself and met him near the threshold.

  “I’m heading out now.” He patted his pocket, where he’d tucked her list of orders. “I’ll get the boxes from the depot. Is there anything else you need while I’m there?”

  “Not a thing. But are you sure you should leave now?” Worry lines formed a V between her fine eyebrows. “The schoolchildren have grown accustomed to you being on the playground as they arrive.”

  Jesse grinned. “They’ll survive one day of me not being there. Besides, by leaving early I’ll be back by lunchtime. Then I can go over to the school and hand out those licorice whips I had you order as my Halloween treat to the youngsters.” He hoped there’d be enough in the jar for him to enjoy some of the whips, too. “But that means I need to get going.”

  She shook her head, backing up. “All right, all right, I’ll quit pestering you. Drive carefully, and thank you again for being my drayman.”

  Jesse lifted a hand in farewell and returned to his truck. The entire automobile quivered, as if eager to get on the road. He hoisted h
imself into the cab, pressed the clutch, and put the truck in gear. It groaned forward, and he rumbled out of town.

  The drive on Highway 14 didn’t offer much in the way of views, but Jesse didn’t mind. It was peaceful out here, farmland stretching in all directions. Nothing was growing now with fall in full swing, and nothing was green, because the rains had avoided the area for far too long. But he still liked looking across the rolling prairie and watching hawks trace circles against the clear blue sky.

  He reached Beloit and followed Court Street until it turned north and became River Street. When he rattled across the train tracks, he thought he heard someone grunt. He stopped on the far side of the tracks, listening, but the wind blowing through a tiny crack in the window combined with the noise of the trains’ stacks sending up steam covered anything else. He shook his head. He hadn’t grunted and he was alone, so his mind must be playing tricks on him. He put the truck in gear and pulled up in front of the brick depot.

  Mrs. Shilling’s crates were stacked on one corner of the porch. Jesse hopped out and left his door wide open. He waved one of the workers over. “Hey there! Can you help me load these onto my truck?”

  “Sure thing, mister.” The man moved past the truck, sticking out his hand to give the door a push. Then he sidestepped around the door, holding up his palms. “Whoops! Sorry there. Didn’t mean to close you up inside.” He ambled toward Jesse.

  Jesse sent him a puzzled look. “Who’re you talking to?”

  He poked his thumb over his shoulder. “Your kids. Reckon they’d rather not be shut up in there while you’re—”

  “My what?” The startled exclamation left his mouth at the same time Charley Shilling leaped from the truck cab. While Jesse gawked in amazement, Cassie slid out behind him. Charley grabbed her hand, and the two of them took off running as if the devil himself were on their tails.

  Jesse

  “Charley! Cassie! You get back here!”

  They kept running, heading straight for the middle of town. Stifling a growl, Jesse took off after them. If Charley’d been alone, Jesse wouldn’t have had a chance, but Cassie slowed him down. Jesse pounded up to them and scooped Cassie into his arms. The little girl shrieked.

  Charley whirled around. A look of fury pinched his face, and he charged at Jesse. Charley pounded on Jesse’s ribs with his fists while Cassie bucked worse than a bronco, still screeching like a banshee.

  Jesse tossed the little girl over one shoulder and grabbed Charley by his jacket collar. “Here now, that’s enough. Behave yourselves.”

  The fight left the boy as quickly as it had risen. He aimed his pleading face upward. “Let us go, Mr. Caudel, please? Can’t you let us go?”

  With her brother calm, Cassie must have figured it was time to stop fighting, because she went limp. Jesse set her on the ground next to Charley, then crouched in front of the red-faced pair. He held their wrists, though, just in case they took a mind to tear off again. His boots weren’t made for running over the rough ground. The soles of his feet throbbed.

  He gave their skinny wrists a yank. “What in blue blazes do you two think you’re doing, stowing away in my truck and then running off like that? You oughta be ashamed of yourselves.”

  Cassie leaned toward Charley and rested her cheek against his shoulder. His lower lip trembling, Charley glared at Jesse. “There wasn’t any other way for us to get to Beloit. Except to hop a train like the hobos. And Cassie’s too little for that. So we had to get in your truck.”

  Jesse couldn’t imagine scrunching into the small slice of space behind his seat and staying quiet for the entire drive. Charley must have been mighty desperate to plan such a stunt. “But why?”

  Charley jerked his face away from Jesse and pressed his chin on the top of Cassie’s head. Jesse waited, but the boy didn’t answer.

  Jesse released Cassie and tugged Charley several feet away. Cassie made as if to follow, but he pointed at her. “Stay put.” Blue eyes wide, she froze in place. Jesse planted his palms on his knees and looked eye to eye at Charley. “You’d best start talking, boy, because I’m running out of patience, and when my patience taps out, I just might turn you over my knee.” An idle threat—Jesse would never raise his hand to this miserable child—but he hoped the risk might motivate Charley to talk.

  The boy took several shuddering breaths as if gathering courage. He blurted, “I was going back to my old house. I was going to run Daddy’s store. I know Daddy said I’m supposed to stay with Aunt Neva, but I don’t want to. She doesn’t like me.”

  There were lots of things Jesse could say. The house and store belonged to someone else now. Charley was far too young to run a business. But he focused on the boy’s last statement. “Charley, she likes you. Doesn’t she take care of you?” Always clean, well-fed, neatly dressed, Charley was walking proof of Neva Shilling’s meticulous care.

  “She doesn’t like me.” He folded his arms and stuck out his chin in a defiant stance.

  If Charley had claimed Bud didn’t like him, Jesse would understand. Bud wore his dislike for Charley as openly as Jesse wore his badge. He straightened and plunked his balled fists on his hips. “You aren’t making an ounce of sense, Charley. How can you say Aunt Neva doesn’t like you?”

  Charley imitated Jesse’s pose, glaring up while Jesse glared down. “She never looks at me when she talks to me. And when I try to talk to her like you told me to—you know, about how Bud is mean at school—she says, ‘All right, Charley. I’ll take care of it.’ But she never does. I know she never does, because it never changes.” The boy’s tough demeanor began to melt. “And it never will. Bud doesn’t want me there, and Aunt Neva doesn’t want me either. So I’m gonna stay here in Beloit, where my friends are.”

  Jesse glanced at Cassie, who hunkered on her haunches building a little hill out of rocks. “What about Adeline?”

  Charley cringed. “She would’ve cried if I made her leave Belle. I’m gonna wait for a while, let her grow a little bigger, then I’ll go back and get her.”

  Jesse hated to topple the boy’s plans, but somebody had to. And he was the only one there. He sighed and laid his hand on Charley’s shoulder. “Listen, Charley, I’m sorry you aren’t happy with Aunt Neva. But you can’t stay in Beloit.”

  “Why not?” He sounded more inquisitive than insolent.

  “Because you don’t have a house here anymore. Or a store. Those things were sold after your daddy and momma died.”

  “Why?”

  How did one explain debt to an eight-year-old? Jesse scratched his cheek. “Well, because those things didn’t really belong to your daddy. They belonged to the banker.”

  Charley screwed up his face in confusion.

  “Your daddy took out loans from the bank to buy the house and the store. He hadn’t paid back the loans yet, so when he died, the banker had to sell the buildings to get his money back.”

  “So somebody else is living in our house?”

  Jesse nodded.

  Charley stared at Jesse for several seconds, unblinking. He shrugged. “Well, then, I’ll go to the banker and ask for money to buy a new house for Cassie and Adeline and me.”

  Jesse’s patience wore out. He gripped Charley’s jacket and turned him toward the truck. “A banker won’t lend a boy your age enough money to buy a house. You’ll have to wait until you’re grown up, out of school, and have a good-paying job. Until then, you’re going back to Buffalo Creek and your aunt Neva. Cassie, let’s go.”

  The little girl abandoned her rock pile and trotted over. Jesse caught her hand, and he marched the kids to his truck. The bed was already loaded, and the worker was nowhere in sight, so Jesse lifted the kids into the cab and climbed in behind them.

  All the way back Charley sat so stiff and quiet, Jesse wondered if he even breathed. Cassie wriggled some but she didn’t talk either. That suited Jesse fine. Dealing with the pair of stowaways stole his chance to talk to Sheriff Abling. Now he’d have to make an expensive telephone call
to get his former boss’s advice. He gripped the steering wheel and counted the miles until he could leave the runaways in their classroom.

  He pulled up to the school. Kids swarmed the playgrounds. “Looks like we got here in time for noon recess.” Neither Charley nor Cassie had eaten lunch, but Jesse decided that wasn’t a cruel consequence for their morning’s misbehavior. “Hop out, and go tell your teacher you’re back. I’ll let your aunt Neva know you’re both safe and at school. She oughta be happy to hear it.”

  Charley reached past Cassie for the door handle. He muttered, “She won’t care.”

  Jesse grabbed Charley’s sleeve. “Are you sure about that?” The boy turned a look of such misery on Jesse, his heart rolled over in his chest. True or not, Charley believed Neva Shilling didn’t want him around. He held tight to Charley’s sleeve, thinking. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with her?”

  The boy nodded so fast his hair bounced.

  “Well, there is one other place I could take you.”

  “Where?”

  Was he doing the right thing? Either he’d set Charley up for another disappointment—because Mrs. Shilling had made it clear she wouldn’t let the children go to an orphanage—or he’d convince Charley he was better off staying in Buffalo Creek. He drawled in a near whisper, “An orphans’ asylum.”

  Both children gazed up at him with wide eyes.

  “It’s not what your daddy wanted. And you wouldn’t all be together the way you are at the mercantile. Charley, you’d have to stay with the boys, and Cassie and Adeline would stay with the girls. But you wouldn’t be here anymore. Is that what you want?”

  Charley gnawed his lower lip. “I…dunno.”