Romance Classics

by Peggy Gaddis

  “Of course not, Bert — of course not!” she soothed him. Trustingly Bert rose and guided her deeper into the woods and pointed to something half covered by leaves.

  Lynn bent, her hand out to touch the gun, then swiftly drew back. If the gun was here, where Larry had tossed it, then mightn’t it have his fingerprints?

  “You haven’t touched the gun, Bert?” she asked when she could manage her voice.

  “Oh, no, Miss Lynn.” Bert was very definite about that. “I’m scairt o’ guns and I hate ‘em.”

  Lynn knelt and studied the gun, and then she stood up.

  “Bert, you saw Larry shoot himself, didn’t you?” she asked tensely.

  “Well, yessum, Miss Lynn, sure I did. He didn’t go to do it. He was runnin’, and he stumbled, and the gun shot.”

  Lynn’s mind was racing. Here was the proof she’d been praying for; the eyewitness who could testify to what had really happened! And for further proof there was the gun, exactly where it had fallen! Her heart was racing like mad, and she felt like dancing!

  “Bert, you stay right here and don’t let anybody or anything touch that gun, promise?”

  “Well, sure, Miss Lynn.” Bert was bewildered.

  “Bert, Larry told people that Mr. McCullers shot him, in cold blood, and then went off and left him to get out of the woods the best way he could,” Lynn said swiftly.

  Bert’s eyes were enormous in his big round moon-face.

  “Why, that ain’t so, Miss Lynn. Mr. McCullers weren’t nowhere around. Larry shot hisself. Why’d he want to He like that?” he protested.

  “I don’t know, Bert; we’ll have to wait and ask him,” Lynn answered. “You stay right here, Bert, and watch that gun. I’m going to call the police.”

  “No, no, Miss Lynn, they’ll lock me up,” Bert wailed, terrified.

  “They’ll do nothing of the sort, Bert! Don’t you trust me?”

  “Well, yessum, only — well, that was why I didn’t try to help Larry when I seen he’d hurt hisself. I knowed folks would try to say I done it, and I didn’t.”

  “Of course you didn’t, Bert. And nobody’s ever going to threaten you again. You just stay here and see nobody touches that gun until I get back. Will you do that?” Lynn pleaded.

  Bert cast a wary eye at the gun as though it had been a coiled snake, nodded reluctantly, and Lynn patted his shoulder and turned toward the house.

  She came in the back door and through the hall to the telephone. She was deaf to the ladylike voices, the genteel rattle of teaspoons against her mother’s best china, as she lifted the telephone and dialed the police.

  She had some difficulty getting Chief Hudgins to the phone, but when she did, she said swiftly, “Mr. Hudgins, this is Lynn Carter. Can you come out here right away? I know now how Larry Holland was shot.”

  “So do we, Miss Carter,” said Chief Hudgins grimly.

  “You think you do, Mr. Hudgins, but it wasn’t like that at all. I have an eyewitness to the shooting, and I also have the gun.”

  She heard Chief Hudgins mutter something that sounded like an oath of exasperation.

  “Please hurry, Mr. Hudgins. Will you call Sheriff Tait, or shall I?” Lynn demanded.

  “Don’t see any reason for calling Tait. This is my bailiwick.” Chief Hudgins was irritated. “I’m just using his jail for McCullers because folks here are so riled up, and we don’t want a lynching.”

  “Will you come right out, Mr. Hudgins? I’ll meet you here in the drive. But hurry!” insisted Lynn, fearful that Bert’s terror might prove stronger than his promise to her.

  “On my way, Miss Carter,” said Chief Hudgins curtly.

  Lynn put down the telephone and turned to find Ruth standing in the doorway of the living room, wide-eyed and anxious. Grouped behind her were three of her church-circle friends.

  “What was that all about, honey?” asked Ruth.

  Lynn hugged her, gave the three women a bland smile and said sweetly, “Oh, I’ve just found proof that Wayde didn’t shoot the Holland boy.”

  There was a small gasp from the three women, and Lynn added, “Of course, I never for a moment believed that he did, but there are some people who are pretty hard to convince.”

  “Well, I’m sure if we’ve misjudged the man—” one of the women protested haughtily.

  “You’re just about to find out just how much you’ve misjudged him,” Lynn told her crisply. “I can’t tell you about it now. I have to go wait for Chief Hudgins.”

  She ran out of the house just as Chief Hudgins and one of his uniformed policemen skidded into the drive and drew up to a halt that sent gravel spattering.

  Chief Hudgins was a big man in his late fifties, powerfully built. His big face was weather-ruddy, and his thinning hair was speckled with gray. He looked distinctly impressive as he moved toward Lynn, and she told herself that she could easily have been afraid of him if she had been on the wrong side of the law.

  “All right, now, Miss Lynn,” Chief Hudgins acknowledged by the use of her name that he had known her since she was little more than an infant. “What’s all this about the shooting?”

  “You’re all sure Wayde McCullers did it, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve got the boy’s word for that.”

  “And Larry’s always been famous for telling the truth at all times, hasn’t he?”

  Chief Hudgins’ grim mouth thinned a little, and he rubbed a thumb over his closely shaven chin.

  “Well, now, I don’t know as I’d go as far as to say that, Miss Lynn,” he admitted frankly. “Matter of fact, he’s as big a liar as you’d ever want to see, and a little punk that’s given us all a heap of trouble. But that don’t excuse a man like McCullers for shooting him down in cold blood and then going off, leaving him to bleed to death.”

  “That wasn’t what happened at all, Mr. Hudgins,” Lynn insisted. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to someone who was an eyewitness and show you where Larry threw the gun. It’s still there.”

  She turned and ran toward the woods, and the chief and his companion plunged after her. As they reached the place where she had left Bert, Chief Hudgins slowed and eyed Bert, frowning.

  “Now, Miss Lynn, you’re not going to ask me to take Bert’s word for this? He’s not the eyewitness you were talking about?” he demanded sharply.

  “If the eyewitness hadn’t been someone so harassed and hounded by the ‘good people’ of Oakville, he would have come forward a long time ago.” Lynn flung the words at the chief, who reddened and looked a bit ashamed. “Because Bert was afraid of the police, he kept it to himself. He didn’t know about Mr. McCullers being arrested or the ugly things people were saying.”

  “Then he’s the only one in three counties who didn’t,” snapped the Chief, and eyed Bert with a distinctly hostile eye. “It’s been in all the newspapers, clear to New York.”

  “So?” Lynn’s eyes were on Bert, watching the fear that was clouding his eyes, terrified that he would panic and be unable to tell what he had seen as clearly as he had told her. “How many newspapers do you suppose the Estes family read? And if Bert’s parents knew about the shooting it would be the last thing in the world they’d want Bert to know. These woods — why, Bert lives in them. All the birds and animals are his friends.”

  Chief Hudgins nodded.

  “Well, what did you see, Bert? Come on, boy, out with it,” he barked.

  “That’s not the way to talk to him, Mr. Hudgins,” Lynn warned him softly. She turned to Bert and put her hand on his arm, her voice gentle and soft. “Now, Bert, tell Mr. Hudgins and his friend what you just told me about how Larry got shot.”

  Bert looked fearfully from one man to the other, and then down at Lynn. Her warm, friendly smile, her gentle touch on his arm dissipated his fears. He told the story again, as simply, as concisely as he had told it to her. And when he had finished he led them to where the gun lay, half buried in leaves.

  Chief Hudgins knelt beside it, carefull
y not touching it with his hands, using a stick to brush back the leaves, bending low to examine the gun.

  “The right calibre, all right,” said the companion.

  Chief Hudgins drew an ancient, battered notebook from his hip-pocket, studied it, studied the gun, and stood up.

  “Either McCullers’ gun or one exactly like it,” he grunted it. “Chances are it’s his.”

  He turned and peered at Bert, who was trembling a little at being this close to the dreaded officers of the law, of whom he had such a deep fear.

  “You don’t doubt Bert’s story, Mr. Hudgins?” asked Lynn at last, almost as tense and nervous as Bert, though for far different reasons.

  “Oh, good grief, no!” Chief Hudgins answered. “Bert’s not got mind enough to make up a story like that. If he says he saw it, then he saw it just like that.”

  He turned to his companion, who was carefully threading a length of cord through the trigger of the gun, so it could be lifted without endangering any fingerprints the smooth stock and barrel might hold.

  “Soon’s we test that for fingerprints, we’ll know who was lying,” he said grimly.

  “And you’ll find it was Larry,” said Lynn firmly.

  The chief shot her an amused, friendly glance.

  “Sound mighty sure about that, Miss Lynn.”

  Lynn met his eyes steadily.

  “You see, I know Mr. McCullers,” she pointed out sweetly. “No one else in town made any effort to know him or be his friend.”

  She thought Chief Hudgins colored, but she couldn’t be sure, for his weather-worn face was incapable of changing color noticeably.

  “Well, now, Miss Lynn, didn’t seem like he cared much about being friendly with the folks hereabouts,” he told her, and turned to his companion. “Get that gun in the car, Walt. And be almighty careful in case there’s fingerprints. Think we’d best go have a talk with Larry.”

  “Could I come with you?” asked Lynn eagerly.

  Chief Hudgins eyed her with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  “Well, now, Miss Lynn, guess you’d better not,” he advised her. “Larry might panic and tell some more lies,” he answered.

  “Then you do believe he lied about this!” Lynn flashed.

  “Sure begins to look like it, Miss Lynn,” Chief Hudgins agreed. “You broke the case, Miss Lynn. You leave the rest to us.”

  “How soon will Wayde be free?” she asked eagerly.

  “Well, now, that’s hard to say.”

  “But if he’s innocent—”

  “Well, we’ll have a talk with Larry,” Chief Hudgins said cautiously. “Throw him a good scare and see what he says. And then we’ll talk about Mr. McCullers coming home.”

  He turned and, with a word to his companion, started back up the path through the woods to where they had left their car.

  Lynn watched them go and then turned to Bert, who was watching her anxiously.

  “Did I do good, Miss Lynnie?” he asked worriedly.

  “Oh, Bert, you did wonderfully!” Lynn assured him, beaming at him joyously. “And you know something, Bert? Nobody — but nobody — is ever going to hunt in these woods again! Your ‘little folks’ are going to be safe from now on. This is going to be a sanctuary for them. That I promise you!”

  Eighteen

  When she reached the house, Ruth came to meet her, anxious.

  “What was all that about?” she asked the moment Lynn walked into the kitchen.

  “Your friends gone?” asked Lynn.

  “Now, Lynn, you mustn’t speak of them with contempt,” Ruth protested the tone rather than the words. “I’m sure they are just as eager to know the truth as I am; as all of Oakville, yes and Rivertown, too.”

  “I’ll bet!” drawled Lynn, bright-eyed, unable to control her malice at the thought of how easily all these people had been convinced of Wayde’s guilt.

  “Now, Lynn!”

  Lynn laughed and hugged her.

  “It’s all right!” Her voice was shaken, yet a paean of delight. “Wayde’s innocent, just as I knew he was all along.”

  “You found some evidence of that? Down where Larry was shot? And you said on the phone that you’d found an eyewitness. Who?”

  “Bert Estes.”

  Ruth looked shocked and distressed.

  “Oh, now, Lynnie, you know nobody will believe poor Bert.”

  “Chief Hudgins did,” Lynn boasted confidently. “He said Bert didn’t have mind enough to tell a lie like that. And the gun was Wayde’s but Larry shot himself.”

  Ruth blinked and protested, “Suicide? Oh, not a boy that age—”

  “Of course not! It was an accident!” Lynn cut in. Swiftly she recounted the story Bert had told her and how he had come to tell it. He was afraid of the gun and had wanted somebody to remove it from his beloved woods and dared not touch it himself. “So you see? Chief Hudgins has gone to have a talk with Larry. And once they face him with Bert’s story, and the gun will probably have Larry’s fingerprints on it, well, Wayde will be home in a little while. You wait and see!”

  Ruth sat down heavily in a kitchen chair and studied Lynn.

  “Well, I surely hope it all works out like that,” she said.

  Lynn whirled about sharply.

  “Well, why wouldn’t it? It’s true, and Chief Hudgins will force Larry to confess! They’ll throw a scare into him when they tell him how the gun was found and that there were his fingerprints on it. How can he keep on lying after that?” she demanded sharply.

  “I don’t know,” Ruth admitted helplessly. “I find it so hard to believe that Larry could have lied in the beginning—”

  Lynn’s eyes flashed.

  “But you didn’t find it hard to believe Wayde had done such a vicious thing? Shot the boy and then walked off, leaving him to die like an animal? Did you find that easy to believe?”

  Ruth said with a trace of spirit, “Now you drop that tone when you speak to me, Lynn. I’m still your mother, remember?”

  “I remember,” Lynn said curtly, but her eyes were still hot with anger. “But I don’t see how you, of all people, could possibly believe Wayde was guilty—”

  “I didn’t say I believed he was guilty,” Ruth defended herself. “I’ll admit frankly I was a little hurt when I found he didn’t want your father to defend him and preferred one of his own legal friends.”

  Lynn stared at her, shocked.

  “Oh, Mother, you didn’t believe that!” she gasped.

  “I did, and so did your father,” Ruth insisted. “He would never admit it for anything in the world, but he was hurt and humiliated.”

  “Oh, no!” gasped Lynn. “It was Steve who made me promise I wouldn’t ask Dad. Wayde wanted Dad. He sort of took it for granted Dad would act for him. And he was hurt when I had to tell him Dad couldn’t.”

  “What’s Steve got to do with it?” Ruth puzzled. “I can’t see that it would concern anybody but your father and Wayde.”

  “Steve felt Dad wasn’t strong enough to go through a trial that could be such an ordeal,” Lynn admitted reluctantly.

  Ruth’s eyes flashed. “Well, I like Steve’s impudence! How did he dare presume—”

  Lynn smiled and hugged her.

  “Steve is very fond of you and Dad, and I suppose he’s a bit possessive about you both,” she pointed out. “Anyway, on the way over to the county seat he made me promise I wouldn’t ask Dad or let Wayde ask him.”

  “Well, if Steve felt your father wasn’t strong enough — and that’s just plain silly, because there’s nothing your father likes better than getting his teeth into a case, especially one like this that involves someone he knows and likes—” Ruth puzzled aloud, her smooth brow furrowed—”why didn’t Steve offer his services?”

  A faint smile that was entirely mirthless touched Lynn’s mouth.

  “He felt he couldn’t afford to get involved in a case that would make him unpopular with the townspeople,” she said gently.

  Ruth
caught her breath, and her eyes flew wide.

  “Steve said that?” She obviously found it hard to believe.

  Lynn nodded. “In so many words,” she answered quietly.

  “Why, that sounds as if Steve believed Wayde was guilty,” Ruth protested.

  “I got the impression that he did,” Lynn answered dryly.

  “Well, of all things,” Ruth murmured, and then she looked up at Lynn and admitted frankly, “Somehow, I don’t feel I really know Steve as well as I thought I did.”

  “Oh, he’s an ambitious, aggressive young man who’s obviously going places in law, and he has to be careful of involvements that might interfere with his popularity,” Lynn drawled.

  “I suppose so,” Ruth said, still troubled.

  “Well, let’s not worry about it now, Mother.” Lynn was happy in the knowledge that even this moment Chief Hudgins was probably getting a confession from Larry and that Wayde would be back soon. “Let’s just gloat joyously over the fact that Wayde has been proven innocent and that he’ll sleep in his own bed at Spook Hill tonight instead of in the county jail.”

  She shivered and made herself smile.

  “It just about killed me to think of him there, caged up—” She broke off and laughed unsteadily. “You’re not going to mind having him as a son-in-law, are you?”

  Ruth said reluctantly, “Not if you’re sure he’s the one you want.”

  “I couldn’t possibly be more certain about anything in the world,” Lynn said happily.

  “Well, of course you won’t plan to be married for a long time.”

  “Get that crazy idea out of your head this minute, Mother,” Lynn said firmly. “I’m going to marry him the very minute he’s ready for me. I’d be waiting for him at the county seat tonight, ready to rush right to the license bureau and the nearest Justice of the Peace, if I didn’t think it might seem a little unmaidenly of me.”

  “Well, you’ll rush off to no Justice of the Peace, my girl!” Ruth was scandalized at the thought. “You’ll have a proper wedding, in church, with a group of bridesmaids and a white satin gown and orange blossoms. Don’t think you’re going to cheat me out of something I’ve wanted for you since the day you were born.”