Nightwatch

by Valerie Hansen

  Tim pulled Mitch closer and cupped a hand around his mouth before he said, “He doesn’t get it, but I do. Mama and Daddy are in Heaven. Right?”

  “That’s right.” Mitch was doing his best to keep from showing the depth of his emotions. He knew from his experience on the fire department, and with church youth, that kids who had been raised going to Sunday school simply accepted the loss of a loved one because they’d been taught about eternal life. He’d often wished he could have that kind of childish, unquestioning faith.

  “I’m gonna miss my daddy,” Tim said.

  “I know you are. But don’t worry about that right now. First we need to get you and your brother and sister settled here. Then maybe we’ll go into town and buy you all some new clothes.”

  Tim brightened. “Yeah! Miss Jill says she might have some stuff for Megan to wear but not so much for Paul and me. We’re big boys.”

  “I know you are. You’re growing like a weed.”

  Sobering, the seven-year-old nodded. “Uh-huh. That’s what my dad always says.” He tightened his grip on Mitch’s fingers and Paul grasped his brother’s hand as they all headed for the house.

  The little boy’s firm grip made Mitch feel so parental he was astonished. If this was any indication of how it felt to be a father, he doubted he was up to it. That child trusted him to make everything right again, to fix what was broken in his young life and set him on the right path. What an awesome responsibility.

  Carrying Megan, Jill ushered everyone inside, to the obvious delight of Mugsy. He wiggled and danced and tried to lick the boys’ faces in greeting.

  “Mugsy,” Jill commanded, making a hand motion at the same time. “Down. Behave yourself.”

  Mitch had to chuckle at the poor, rapidly panting little dog’s Herculean efforts at self-control. He could sure identify. He’d felt the same unbelievable urge to move, to act, when he’d seen Natalie physically rebuff Ms. Connors, not to mention when Jill had foolishly tried to intervene. And things had gone from bad to worse when Thad Pearson had arrived, acting as if he intended to take the house apart, brick by brick, to get to the kids.

  Giving credit where credit was due, Mugsy was doing a better job of holding his feelings in check than Mitch—or Thad—had.

  “Megan and I are going to go make everybody something to eat,” Jill said. “Who else wants to help?”

  The only one who jumped up and dashed to her side was Mugsy. “Okay. I have one volunteer.” She was grinning at the boys. “How about you two?”

  Tim cast a questioning glance at Mitch, saw him nod and dutifully responded, taking Paul’s hand and urging him to do the same.

  As soon as he was alone with the social worker, Mitch asked, “How long will they be allowed to stay here?”

  “That’s hard to say. Since there was a crime involved, they may eventually be moved into protective custody while law enforcement sorts it all out. For the present, let’s just take one day at a time,” Ms. Connors said.

  “Okay.” Frustrated, Mitch folded his arms across his chest and shook his head slowly, contemplatively. “I guess that will have to do. I just wish…”

  “I know.” She gave him a motherly pat on the shoulder. “You care. We all do. Here’s my card. If you learn anything else that may help, please let me know ASAP.”

  “Will do.” Slipping the business card into his pocket, he suggested, “What about asking the sheriff to keep a special eye on this place?”

  “Done,” Ms. Connors said. “They’ll be in contact with Jill and let her know what they’re doing. She’ll have to notify Harlan’s office whenever she plans to leave the farm or may be temporarily out of touch. I’ve already suggested that she carry her cell phone with her at all times, just in case.”

  The ominous mood of that warning gave Mitch the shivers. “You think the kids may be in danger?”

  “Probably not. However, I prefer to cover all the angles rather than be caught unaware.” She eyed him quizzically. “Do you happen to live close?”

  “No, but I can arrange to stop by on my days off. I’d planned to, for the kids’ sake, of course.”

  “Of course. Perfectly understandable.”

  Although there was no inference of improper behavior in the woman’s words or her tone, Mitch nevertheless felt his cheeks warming. He and Ms. Connors both knew that the children were not the only reason for his planned diligence. He wanted to watch over Jill, too. He had ever since he’d first met her.

  In the kitchen, Jill put little Megan in a high chair so she could take off her own jacket. She gave the toddler crackers to munch to keep her occupied.

  Then she donned an apron and taught the boys where she kept the bread, lunch meat and condiments while she prepared a pot of macaroni and cheese.

  “You two will be a big help around here, I can tell,” she said, smiling. “We have a couple of important rules, though. One, no touching the stove. Ever. And two, please ask before you try to fix yourselves something to eat unless I’m watching. It’s my job to see that you don’t get hurt, okay?”

  Two simultaneous nods satisfied her. All children forgot rules, of course, but this much cooperation was definitely a good start. They were good kids. She could tell. Megan might get into things once she was turned loose to explore but Jill had long ago childproofed her home so even a curious toddler was safe.

  Plus, she had Mugsy and the ranch dogs to keep her wards entertained. Mugsy was wiggly but very gentle and the larger dogs, being bred to herd, would naturally try to keep the kids together like a flock of sheep whenever they were outside.

  Her smile widened then became more reserved as Mitch joined them in the kitchen. If he was still upset with her she didn’t want to make more waves.

  “Ms. Connors had to leave. Mind if I stay for lunch?” he asked, acting suitably penitent.

  Jill was satisfied that he’d gotten over his earlier annoyance, at least enough to make him good company. “Not at all. The boys have been helping me set the table. Would you mind lifting down some plates for them? That cupboard is too high.”

  “I know.”

  “Yes, I suppose you do. You’ve eaten here often enough.”

  “Not that often.”

  It tickled her to see the blush on his cheeks. “Okay. Maybe not that often. But you do know where everything is kept. Just watch that Paul doesn’t slip another slice of bologna to the dog. I saw him do it once already.”

  Her gaze darted briefly to the younger boy and she smiled benevolently at his contrite expression. “I understand. Mugsy can be an awful pest when he wants a treat. Just ask me the next time you want to feed him. All right?”

  Paul mumbled, “Uh-huh,” while his brother nudged him in the shoulder and warned, “We gotta be real good or we’ll get sent back to Aunt Natalie.”

  Instead of being helpful, that brought tears to Paul’s brown eyes. When Mitch knelt in front of the unhappy boy and began to quietly speak to him, Jill’s heart clenched. She had to bite her lip to keep from weeping at the tender sight. Here was a big, strong man stooping to comfort a child who was not even his own.

  Touched to the depths of her soul, she averted her face until she could regain better control of her emotions. This was what the perfect family of her dreams looked like. And, although she had long ago given up the notion that she could have this kind of life on a permanent basis, she gave thanks that she was being granted the blessing of partaking in something so close to it.

  A chorus of gruff barking from the outside dogs jarred her back to reality. Her eyes met Mitch’s as he straightened. “This is almost done cooking and I can’t leave it,” she told him. “Will you check on the dogs, please? They don’t usually bark like that.”

  “Sure. Maybe they’ve spotted a skunk. That would liven up this party.”

  “Don’t even joke about something like that. Not unless you plan to stay and help me wash the smell off them if you’re right.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Gotcha. I’ll be rig
ht back.” Pausing, he looked at Tim and Paul. “Y’all be good while I’m gone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tim piped up as he grabbed his brother’s hand. “We will.”

  Jill was grinning foolishly but she didn’t even try to subdue her amusement. Here they were, five individuals thrust together by disaster, yet they already sounded like a normal family. Of all the children she’d cared for, these were the first who seemed this much like her own.

  That’s because Mitch is here, too, she told herself, slightly abashed by the obvious truth. Mitch was what completed the pseudofamily. Too bad his reasons for being there were because of the children for whom he felt such strong accountability.

  She was positive that was why he’d always paid so much attention to her, too. He was the kind of guy who took on far more responsibility for the results of his harrowing profession than was warranted. He was there because he blamed himself for not only the deaths of Rob and Ellen Pearson, but also for not being able to save her darling Eric.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the boiling pasta in the pan, she had almost managed to bring her wandering thoughts under control when she heard Mitch shout.

  She froze, listening, trying to hear what he was saying beyond the closed door and windows.

  Tim left his brother and sister and clambered up on a chair next to the dining table. From there he could see into the yard. He pressed his little nose against the glass, then turned to Jill in wide-eyed wonder, his jaw gaping.

  “What is it, honey? What do you see?”

  “Uncle Mitch is wrestling. And some mean dogs are trying to bite him!”

  “That can’t be. I don’t have any mean dogs.”

  Jill took the hot saucepan to the sink and set it where it wouldn’t accidentally be upset, glanced out the window, then immediately grabbed the largest iron skillet she owned.

  “Stay right here and mind Mugsy,” she ordered. “You can keep watching from the window if you want but don’t you dare set foot outside. Got that?”

  Without waiting for an answer she jerked open the back door and braced herself for battle, the heavy pan brandished like a real weapon.

  The moment her herding dogs heard her whistle and saw she was nearby they abandoned their task of worrying their grounded quarry and galloped toward her, tails wagging.

  Once they were out of the way she could see that Mitch lay prostrate in the dirt in front of the barn. There was no one else in sight.

  She cast the pan aside and ran to him, falling to her knees at his side. There appeared to be traces of blood and dirt in his hair but he seemed otherwise unhurt.

  He moaned and opened his eyes, then immediately tried to sit up.

  Jill restrained him by placing her hands on his shoulders while he gingerly probed the back of his head with one hand.

  Because he was looking around so rapidly and was obviously confused, she said, “Take it easy. Everything’s fine. I called off the dogs. How did they get you down, anyway? Did you trip?”

  “No!” It was guttural bark. “What are you doing out here? I told you to stay in the house.”

  “Helping you.” She made a face at him. “And you’re quite welcome.”

  He was struggling to stand so Jill assisted.

  “Where is he? Is he gone? Did you see which way he went?”

  “Who?”

  “The prowler,” Mitch said, swaying with the effort of maintaining his balance. “I didn’t just fall down. I was grabbed and hit from behind. Somebody was hiding in the barn.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at him. He was wearing a mask.”

  So that’s what Timmy had meant when he’d said Mitch was wrestling. The hair at the nape of her neck prickled. She tensed, instantly alert, and wished she hadn’t dropped her makeshift weapon.

  “I—I didn’t see anybody running off when I came out, but maybe the boys did. They were watching from the kitchen.”

  “Then let’s go ask them,” Mitch said, starting to lead the way with an obviously increasing ability to stay on his feet. “Then I want to call the sheriff and have him go over this place with a fine-tooth comb. I aim to find out what some lowlife was doing messing around your barn.”

  “Maybe it was just a thief,” she offered.

  He reached the back door and paused with his hand on the knob before opening it. “Look. We don’t dare assume that anything that happens from now on is innocent or simple.” Lowering his voice he added, “Those kids in there are orphans because somebody purposely killed their parents. Remember that the next time you decide to leave them alone and rush headlong into a situation you’re not prepared for.”

  Jill felt a shiver zing up her spine and tingle every nerve in her body. Mitch was right. She was the caretaker of all that was left of Ellen and Rob’s family. The importance of that responsibility was mind-boggling.

  She grabbed Mitch’s arm in a viselike grip. “You don’t think the children are really in danger, do you?”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you willing to take the chance they aren’t and let down your guard?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then come on. You phone Harlan while I talk to the boys and see if they saw more than we did.”

  She didn’t release her hold until she’d said, “I’m scared, Mitch.”

  To her chagrin, he replied, “Yeah. So am I.”

  Mitch managed to get the kids calmed down enough to sit still at the kitchen table and Jill was able to rescue most of the mac and cheese.

  She hadn’t wanted to eat at all but Mitch had insisted they must keep up a calm front for the sake of the children and she had to agree.

  They were halfway through the meal when Sheriff Allgood pulled quietly into the yard. The two dogs that had spotted the prowler also greeted the patrol car and loudly announced its arrival.

  Mitch crumpled his paper napkin and rose from the table. He looked pointedly at Jill. “Stay here and finish lunch. I’ll go fill him in on what happened.”

  She desperately wanted to ask him to stay, to continue to keep them all company, but she didn’t dare. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten the children more than they already were. Between being snatched by their hysterical aunt and then seeing Mitch fighting a masked nemesis, they’d already had plenty of unwanted excitement for one day. So had she.

  Mitch seemed to sense her uneasiness. He paused and laid a hand of gentle comfort on her shoulder as he passed her chair. “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

  She nodded without comment. That was just like Mitch. He truly believed everything was up to him, the same way he thought that success or failure on a cosmic scale was in his power.

  She knew better. She’d seen how it had hurt him when he wasn’t able to accomplish everything he set out to do and she’d often prayed that God would help him see the truth. Try as he might—as any of them might—there were some things in the universe that were not within their sphere of influence. Death was one of those terrible events that defied human understanding. It seemed so random, so unfair, yet her pastor taught that God was sovereign. And loving.

  Jill felt a tear slide down her cheek and surreptitiously brushed it away so the children wouldn’t notice. There were times, like now, when she struggled to accept what had transpired. Good people had been murdered. Children had been orphaned. And Mitch…

  A tiny hand began to pat her arm. It was Megan. The lovely, doe-eyed, curly-haired child had sensed her unhappiness and was offering solace. As Jill had often noted in the past, her heavenly Father had sent someone to let her know she was His child and that she was loved.

  Rising, Jill lifted the little girl in her arms, carried her to the sink and rinsed the sticky orange cheese off her cheeks and her hands.

  “Okay, gang,” she said with forced lightheartedness, “Shall we go see what Uncle Mitch and the sheriff are up to? We can’t let them have all the fun with Salt and
Pepper.”

  Tim frowned. “With what?”

  “Salt and Pepper. Those are the names of the dogs outside that jumped on Mitch,” Jill explained. “They don’t usually play so rough. I’ll tell them to be very careful and not knock you boys down.”

  “I ain’t scared,” Tim insisted, puffing out his thin chest. “I can take care of my brother and sister, too. I’m seven.”

  “I know you are. And I already appreciate how much you’ve helped me.” It thrilled her to see Tim beaming with pride. He was truly a “little man” in a child’s body, as were many firstborn or only children. They took charge and fulfilled adult expectations as well as they possibly could. It was their nature.

  It was her nature, too. Nobody survived abandonment and one foster home after another without becoming extremely self-reliant. For as long as she could remember she had felt as if she were standing alone against the whole world. And sometimes, like the day Eric had died, she’d felt that even God had forsaken her.

  That wasn’t true, of course. She knew in her deepest heart that God loved her. And now it was her duty to show that divine love to others; to demonstrate the same kind of unconditional acceptance and support that had brought her through all kinds of trials.

  Opening the back door and seeing the sheriff’s car made her shiver. There was little doubt that this current ordeal was far from over. She knew it and Mitch knew it. They didn’t have to discuss everything for her to be certain. She could read him like a beloved book and she strongly suspected that he could read her, too. That wasn’t all bad. It meant that whatever tests came, they would instinctively be able to face them together and triumph, just as they had when they’d rescued the children from their aunt—even though Mitch didn’t approve of her taking so much incentive.

  Would what lay ahead be even half as bad as what had already happened? Jill hoped and prayed that was not so. Because if it was, she and Mitch—and especially the innocents the good Lord had placed in her care—would be in terrible danger.

  SIX

  Mitch tensed when he saw Jill and the children approaching. The farm dogs were circling them in greeting while Mugsy did his best to keep from being stepped on by man or beast. Having those animals sticking so close was good. It meant they’d provide at least some protection; although the dumb dogs had jumped on him when he went down instead of chasing the guy who had decked him.