Song of My Heart

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Carefully, he slid his hand across the ground until he located the lantern. A small tin of matches waited in his shirt pocket. He withdrew one matchstick and flicked it against his bootheel. The flare of the match made him wince, but he squinted his eyes and touched the lantern’s wick. Golden light filled the chamber. Thad unfolded himself, his muscles stiff, and stepped around the pile of crates.

  The first room appeared the same as it had when he’d entered earlier, but he sensed something was different. His hips complained as he picked up the lantern and aimed it at the second chamber’s jagged opening. A surprised exclamation left his lips. He stumbled forward, his gaze darting everywhere. At least a dozen of the crates containing jugs of beer were gone.

  Thad stared, disgusted with himself. The bootlegger had come, and he’d slept right through it! He charged out of the cave and looked around, his eyes watering at the soft glow of early morning. Apparently, he’d slept all night. He rubbed his aching temple, chastising himself silently. Small wonder he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t rested for several nights. Not since Sadie had made clear she wouldn’t accept his courtship. But even so, how could he have been careless enough to allow the bootlegger to take the goods from right under his nose?

  He extinguished the lantern and trotted to the spot where he’d left Thunder tied. To his relief, the horse remained firmly tethered, saddle in place. Thad rubbed the beast’s velvety nose. “I’m sorry, boy. Sure am glad no wildcat or bear came along. You’d have been helpless against an attack.”

  Guilt over his irresponsible behavior bowed Thad’s shoulders. Some lawman he’d turned out to be, endangering a borrowed horse and sleeping on duty. Mayor Hanaman might take away his badge, and Thad wouldn’t blame him. He had no excuse for letting the bootlegger get the slip.

  “Well, time to ’fess up,” he told Thunder. He started to heave himself into the saddle, but something caught his attention. The edge of a sheet of paper poked out from underneath the saddle’s seat. Thad pulled it loose and unfolded it. A scrawled message greeted his eyes.

  Hey sheruff. Or are you Rip Van Winkel. Ha. Ha. Hope you had Plessant Dreams.

  Thad wadded the note and crammed it into his trouser pocket. Ha. Ha. A sneering laugh rang in his imagination. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. With pounding steps, he marched to the cave and dragged the remaining jugs into the sunshine. One by one, he hefted the jugs over his head and flung them against a trio of boulders outside the cave entrance. His satisfaction grew along with the pile of shattered pottery. Pale golden liquid soaked into the ground, its stench permeating the entire area.

  Only one jug remained, but instead of throwing it onto the ground with others, Thad tied it to the saddle horn. Then he marched inside the cave and yanked the tubing loose from all three stills. He kept one piece separate and twisted the remaining lengths of tubing into a snarl that would take years to unwind. He wrapped the remaining piece around the only undamaged jug. He’d give the items to the mayor when he returned to Goldtree.

  Poking his boot toe into the stirrup, he pulled himself into the saddle and aimed Thunder for the road back to town. The lump of paper inside his pocket seemed to burn a hole through his pants. He pressed his palm to the offending note, the muscles in his shoulders tightening. The bootlegger probably thought he’d won. But he thought wrong.

  It bruised Thad’s pride to be caught sleeping, but he wouldn’t slink away in shame. Not when somebody was breaking the law and making liquor available. And he knew what to look for now—jugs bearing a molasses label. He’d check every wagon coming into or leaving Goldtree. That bootlegger better not relax his guard. Thad wasn’t finished yet—not by a long shot.

  “I might have to concede on this battle,” he said to the clear sky overhead, “but, God, as You are my witness, I will win the war.”

  31

  You have yourself a good day with Sid.” Miss Melva stood on the boardwalk, grinning up at Sadie.

  “I will.” Sadie forced a bright tone, determined to assure her employer she’d be just fine. The Baxter sisters had done too much worrying over Sadie already.

  Sid settled himself on the springed wagon seat beside Sadie as Miss Shelva sidled up beside her sister. “Stop somewheres purty along the road an’ enjoy the things in that basket.” Miss Shelva’s lips curved into an exact replica of the smile gracing Miss Melva’s face.

  “Oooh, a picnic.” Miss Melva hunched her skinny shoulders and giggled. “Just the thing to lift a gal’s spirits.”

  Miss Shelva shook her head and clicked her teeth. “An’ how would you know about that, Sister? You ever been on a picnic with a fella?”

  Pink tinged Miss Melva’s cheeks. “Well . . . no. But I come close that one time, remember? Harry Eugene asked me? Only you come down with the grippe an’ Mama was a-feared I’d get it, too, so she made me stay home, an’ he took Shirley Taylor instead.”

  “Oh, so I s’pose it’s my fault you didn’t never go on a picnic with Harry Eugene, is that what you’re sayin’?”

  Before the twins could launch into an all-out argument, Sadie called from her perch on the wagon seat, “Are you sure you won’t need me today? I don’t have to accompany Sid to Macyville.” She ignored Sid’s grunt of protest. “I can stay here and work.”

  “No, no,” they chorused, flapping their hands at her in perfect unison. Miss Melva said, “You ain’t took a Saturday off since you started workin’ for us. Time you had yourself a break.”

  “An’ Macyville’s close enough you’ll be back in time for the singin’ tonight,” Miss Shelva added. “Not many o’ Sid’s trips are quick ones, so you’d best go while you can.”

  As much as she looked forward to some time away from Goldtree—an entire day of not having to worry about encountering Thad on the boardwalk—Sadie battled guilt about leaving the two women shorthanded. “If you’re sure . . .”

  “We’re for certain sure,” Miss Shelva insisted.

  “Get along now—you’uns have a good day.” Miss Melva linked arms with Miss Shelva and the pair backed up beneath the porch’s overhanging roof.

  “You have a good day, too,” Sid called, then snapped down the reins. He shot Sadie a happy grin as the wagon rolled toward the edge of town. “Never thought I’d get to take you along on one of my deliveries. It’ll be nice to have company. Gets kinda lonely on the road all by myself.”

  Sympathy swelled in Sadie’s breast. “I would imagine so.”

  Although she’d initially balked at taking the day off—she’d come to Goldtree to work, not lazily travel across the countryside on a freight wagon—now she was glad she’d agreed to the Baxter twins’ instructions to enjoy a day of leisure. She’d had very little time with Sid lately, and their long-time friendship had suffered for it. Perhaps today they could recapture their easy camaraderie. And while she had him to herself, she could satisfy her curiosity.

  After Sid had talked with Mr. Baxter on Thursday evening, he’d indicated she needn’t worry—he’d take care of things. But he hadn’t told her what had transpired between the two of them. Away from town and curious ears, she could ask the questions that burned in her mind. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sid nudged her lightly with his elbow and bobbed his head toward the wagon’s bed.

  “Look behind the seat, Sadie. Next to the picnic basket Misses Melva an’ Shelva packed. There’s a little somethin’ back there for you.”

  Sadie offered him a curious look, but he just grinned. She twisted around in the seat, jouncing a bit as the wagon rolled over a rut, and spotted what appeared to be a small hatbox. Stretching her arms into the bed, she retrieved the box and set it in her lap. “What is it?”

  “Open it an’ see.” Excitement lit Sid’s face, but he shrugged—an apparent attempt to appear nonchalant. “Just a little somethin’ I found in Beloit.”

  Sadie remembered him promising to bring her a gift. Although only a week had passed, so much had happened in the interim the promise seemed a lifetime ago. She
hugged the box tight against her ribs. “Sid, you don’t have to buy me presents. Save your money to get things for yourself.”

  He angled his head to look directly into her face. Tenderness crept across his features. “Aw, Sadie, you oughtta know by now anything I have, I wanna share with you.” His cheeks mottled red. “ ’Cause I love you, Sadie.”

  Although the words were dear, Sadie couldn’t help but wonder why he looked so embarrassed while uttering them. Shouldn’t a man proclaim love for a woman boldly rather than hesitantly with cheeks aglow? Thad wouldn’t flush pink and stammer out his love for her—he’d pull her close, speak plainly, and then validate his statement with a kiss. But she’d sent Thad away. She ducked her head to hide the sudden welling of tears.

  Sid gave her another gentle nudge. “Go ahead. Open it. I wanna see if you like it.”

  Sniffing to banish her sadness, Sadie lifted the lid on the box. She pushed aside a wad of cotton batting, then gasped. Her gaze jerked to Sid’s smiling face and then back to the contents of the box. With trembling fingers, she lifted out a delicate glass figurine of a bluebird. She held the bird securely with one hand and traced the line of the pointed black beak with her finger, allowing her fingertip to trail over its blue head and then under its chin to the pale peach throat. Even though the bird was formed of glass, she imagined the softness of feathers beneath her touch. Tears stung again. “Oh, Sid . . . it’s lovely.”

  “I knew you’d like it.” His chest puffed, and he gave the reins a little flick. “Thought about gettin’ you—” More red splashed his cheeks. “Well, never mind. Just figured you’d like this little bird a heap better. For now.”

  “I love it.” Very carefully she returned the bird to the box and then tipped sideways to deposit a sisterly kiss on Sid’s jaw. “Thank you so much! You know how much I adore songbirds.”

  “Yep. I know.” If Sid’s chest expanded any farther, he’d pop his shirt buttons. He heaved a huge sigh and sent her a sidelong glance, his brows low. “I know pret’ near everything about you, Sadie. I know how you love listenin’ to birds singin’ in the trees. I know how you love peaches but don’t like sweet potatoes. I know how you’d rather read than pick green beans—”

  Sadie stifled a laugh, remembering the day they’d been scolded for sneaking behind the barn to read a storybook when they’d been sent to gather beans for supper.

  “—an’ that pink is your favorite color. I know you love to sing, an’ you love to laugh, an’ pleasin’ your family means more to you than seekin’ your own happiness.”

  Sadie’s chest ached, listening to Sid’s simple recital. He meant so much to her—her favorite cousin, her best playmate. Why couldn’t she love him the way he loved her? It would make things so much simpler.

  “I know all that ’cause since I was nine years old, you’re the only girl I cared about.” Sid’s voice turned husky with emotion. “I want us to be more than cousins or friends, Sadie. I want us to be . . .” The red in his cheeks streaked down his neck. “Man an’ wife.”

  Sadie sat in silence. Her heart ached with loneliness. Having a beau would fill that empty hole. As he’d indicated previously, they weren’t blood relatives—it wouldn’t be improper for them to court. Her mother knew Sid and trusted him or she wouldn’t have agreed to Sadie traveling all the way to Goldtree at his beckoning. She was comfortable with Sid. She genuinely liked him. They’d been friends since they were small children and had always gotten along well. Would it be so wrong to accept his attentions?

  She caressed the top of the box in her lap, envisioning the sweet figurine inside. His thoughtfulness touched her. He wanted her to be happy. Surely if she agreed to keep company with him as more than friends, they’d find happiness together. “Sid, I—”

  Pounding hoofbeats and a stern voice intruded. “Hold up there!”

  Sadie jerked toward the voice. A rider barreled toward them—a man with a silver star shining on the chest of his leather vest. Her heart caught. Thad!

  Sid pulled back on the reins, intoning, “Whoa, Hec an’ Rudy. Whoa there . . .”

  Thad reined in on Sid’s side of the wagon. He flicked an unsmiling look across the pair of them before turning his attention to Sid. “Doing inspections on cargo. Set that brake an’ hop down.”

  Sid held tight to the reins as if battling the urge to slap them onto the horses’ backs and escape. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

  Thad snapped, “Just do as I said.”

  Sadie had never seen Thad so forceful and unfriendly. Her stomach whirled at the hard expression on his face. What had happened to the tender, considerate man who’d stolen her heart? She leaned forward slightly, the little box cutting into the underside of her rib cage. “We’ve got to hurry, Th—Sheriff. Sid is due in Macyville by noon.”

  Thad didn’t even glance at her. “Set that brake, I said.”

  Sid’s hand shook as he slipped the brake into place. He clambered down and followed Thad to the back of the wagon. “Just makin’ a delivery for Asa Baxter,” Sid said. His voice sounded unnaturally high.

  Fear suddenly gripped Sadie. Sid had told her not to worry, and she’d assumed he meant Asa had released them from involvement in his illegal activities. She’d seen the labels on the jugs—Miss Melva had lifted one out and chuckled about how her brother could make just about anything he had a mind to, including molasses. So there was no reason to worry. But looking into Sid’s colorless face made anxiety nibble at the fringes of her heart anyway.

  Thad yanked a jug from a crate at the rear of the wagon bed and examined the paper label, his brows pulled into a scowl.

  Sadie called, “It says ‘High-Quality Molasses.’ They’re all the same.”

  Thad shot her an impatient frown. “I can read. I know what it says.” He sent a glowering look in Sid’s direction. “But labels can be deceiving.”

  Sid hung his head, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  Sadie looked from man to man. Thad’s brusque behavior left her troubled. And a little angry. Just because she’d refused his courtship didn’t mean he should run roughshod over Sid. With a huff of aggravation, she set the box containing her bird figurine aside and climbed down. She marched to the rear of the wagon and tugged the jug from Thad’s hands. The weight took her by surprise, and she nearly dropped it. But she regained her hold and turned the jug so the label faced Thad.

  “See? Right there it says ‘Molasses.’ ” She grasped the cork and worked it loose, grunting with the effort. “Put your finger inside and take a little taste.” She disliked this version of Thad who’d been transformed from courteous to curt. The sooner she could leave his presence, the happier she’d be.

  Thad grabbed the jug, but instead of taking a taste, as she’d suggested, he pointed the spout at her face. “Take a whiff of that, Miss Sadie.”

  With her lips pursed, Sadie leaned over the jug. Then she reared back, her eyes widening in shock. “Th-that’s not molasses!”

  Thad shook his head, his green eyes so dark they almost appeared black. “No, ma’am, it sure isn’t.” He smacked the cork back into the opening and plopped the jug in the wagon bed with a resounding thud. “An’ the two of you are now under arrest.” For a moment, something akin to pain flickered in Thad’s eyes. But then he closed them briefly, and when he looked at her again the hard edge had returned.

  He spun on Sid. “Climb up an’ turn the wagon around. We’re going back to Goldtree.”

  Sid caught Sadie’s arm and gave her a gentle push. “Get in the wagon, Sadie. I need to talk to the sheriff.”

  Sadie’s mouth went dry at the grim expression on his face. “W-why?”

  “Do as I say.” He faced Thad, his former cowering pose replaced by a square-shouldered bravado. “Can we step over there a ways? I need to talk to you, but . . .” He sent a quick glance in Sadie’s direction.

  Thad’s eyes zipped toward Sadie briefly, and he gave a brusque nod. “All right.”

  The men walked side by si
de several yards down the road. Sid pointed into the thick brush. His lips moved, Thad’s shoulders rose and fell in a sigh, and then the pair disappeared into the brush. Her heart pounding with trepidation, Sadie inched alongside the wagon toward the front. But she didn’t climb in. Wind teased her hair, tossing strands across her cheeks, but she pushed the tendrils aside and stared at the spot where Thad and Sid had been swallowed by a cluster of scruffy bushes. Questions crowded her mind. What was Sid telling Thad? Why couldn’t he say it in front of Sadie? When would they come back?

  Suddenly a shot rang out—one sharp blast of a gun. Sadie let out a yelp of shock, and the horses shied in their traces. She took two stumbling steps in the direction of the noise, then halted, fear freezing her in place. Sid burst from the brush and sprinted toward her. Hardly slowing, he grabbed her arm and propelled her to the wagon.

  “Get in!” he barked.

  But her trembling legs turned clumsy and refused to lift her. With a grunt of impatience, Sid grasped her around the middle and lifted her, nearly throwing her onto the seat. She fell forward and her hand hit the box he’d given her. It bounced from the seat onto the wagon’s floorboard. The lid popped loose, sending the glass bird onto the wooden floor. Sadie gasped in alarm as the little bird broke into two jagged halves. She reached for the pieces, but Sid clambered up and stepped over her, forcing her to lean out of his way. To Sadie’s dismay, his bootheel crushed the bluebird’s head and chest.

  He dropped into the seat and released the brake, then snapped the reins. “Hah! Hah!”

  The wagon jolted. Sadie grabbed the seat, fearful she’d be thrown as Sid urged the horses into a gallop that bounced the jugs together. She clung hard, her face aimed backward, watching—hoping—for Thad to emerge from the brush. But he didn’t. Her throat ached with the desire to cry, but she held it all inside, fearful of Sid’s reaction.