The one called Harry, middle-aged and skinny as a twig, shrugged. "Could be the folks who own the place are here on a brief visit. Just because they normally come only in the summer don't mean they can't break with tradition. Maybe they had some maintenance to tend to and didn't want to leave it till summer."
"You're absolutely right," Gabe said. "But I wouldn't want to ignore the fact that someone's up there, owners or not."
"I agree," said the fellow introduced as Shorty, who hardly lacked in stature. In fact, Gabe surmised he had to be pushing six and a half feet. And he wasn't skinny, either. Of the four men who'd ridden the train into town from South Bend, Shorty was the one he'd most want on his side. "How 'bout a couple of us ride out with the sheriff to do a little pokin' around after we're done here? Might be we'll learn a thing or two. You do have extra horses, right?"
"At the livery," Gabe said. "Enoch'll have 'em ready and waiting for us as soon as we come through the door. He's expecting us, in fact."
"I'll be happy to tag along," chimed the fellow known as James, a man about Gabe's age. He had a full beard and a husky build, looking more like a woodsman than an officer of the law.
"Good idea," said Howard. "James, Shorty, and me will go with Sheriff Devlin here. Harry, you stay back and scout out the town, drop in on a few establishments, chat with some bartenders and shopkeepers, see what you can learn. Might be you'll get somethin' out o' someone that ain't been discovered yet."
"How'bout us, boss? What should we do?" asked Gus van der Voort, speaking for himself and two other Sandy Shores deputies. The two who'd worked the night shift, Randall Cling and Fred Van Dam, went home for some rest, knowing they might be summoned back on duty.
"Gus, I want you to take a ride around the outskirts of town," Gabe said. "See if you spot anything unusual-fresh camps, suspicious tracks of any kind. If you happen to see anyone out and about, ask if they've noticed anything peculiar-for instance, strangers poking their noses where they don't belong. We're looking for anything that might give us some new insights."
"You got it, boss."
He turned to his other deputies. "Clyde, you stay here and tend to office calls." Clyde nodded. `And Van, I want you standing guard out at the Kane house. If anybody comes nosing around, stop 'im in his tracks. I'm putting a twentyfour-hour watch on the place, meaning no one's to come within twenty feet of that house, you understand?"
"What if I know 'em, boss?" he asked, ever the conscientious soul.
Gabe held his patience intact. "Use your head, Van. Common sense will be your guide."
With a snap of his head, Jarvis "Van" Vandermueller straightened his narrow shoulders and pulled back his jacket to lay a palm to his gun handle. "You can count on me, Sheriff"
Gabe nodded, hoping he was right. His deputies were good men, meticulous and hardworking, although Van sometimes worried him with his sense of self-importance. He wouldn't say any of his men was accustomed to hauling out his gun, either, except for a thorough cleaning, another point of concern. Gabe whispered a silent prayer that God would fit them all with supernatural armor, strength, and wisdom.
The men finished their coffee, dialogued a bit longer, then sauntered out the door, boot heels pounding against the hardwood floor and making them sound like a herd of buffalo tramping down the hall. Kitty shot Gabe a curious-as-a-caton-the-prowl look when he passed her desk, and he knew she wanted nothing more than for him to stop and give her all the details. Instead, he tipped his hat at her and said, "I'll be back later, Kitty. Help our friend Clyde hold down the fort, okay?" He winked at Clyde.
"Sure, but..." She lifted a hand to protest, but he closed the door behind him without letting her finish.
The big house at the top of the hill appeared quiet and peaceful, if not completely deserted. Not even a trace of horse droppings littered the surrounding area, making Gabe wonder if he'd dreamed what he'd seen yesterday. A thick blanket of dead leaves made it impossible to even distinguish horse tracks.
They dismounted their steeds and set off in various directions, guns at the ready. Howard headed for the barns, James to the front yard overlooking Lake Michigan's unusually still waters, and Shorty in the direction of some outbuildings. Gabe made for the house, where he intended to do some window gazing to check for any evidence of break-ins.
An eerie sense crept up his spine. Something didn't feel right, and he meant to find out what that was before leaving the premises.
Although Hannah had thought boredom might set in, Grandmother put an end to that worry by lining up enough jobs to take her into 1904-everything from sweeping the cellar and taking an inventory of canned goods to scrubbing floorboards, cleaning out the fireplace, and dusting under the lid of the family's old upright piano. By afternoon, she was stretching her aching back muscles and longing for work in the Whatnot.
She had seen Jesse at lunchtime, when he'd appeared just long enough to wolf down a sandwich and gulp a glass of milk. As suspected, Helena had put him to work sorting old books, arranging them in alphabetical order.
"Grandmother Kane says I don't need to hurry none. Says there's enough books up there to take me a month of Sundays." While he chewed, he started rattling off a running list of the titles he had come across-leather-bound volumes by Shakespeare, Black Beauty, The Prince and the Pauper, and even Beatrice Harraden's Ships That Pass in the Night-all books Helena had given her granddaughters to read.
"You've heard of these books?" Hannah asked Jesse, bending over the stovetop to scrub it clean.
She heard him drain his milk glass and place it on the table with a clink. "Ma read most of them. If she wasn't readin' her Bible, she was reading some book or another."
"No wonder you're such a fine reader. You inherited your love of words from your mama."
"Yep. May I be excused now?" he asked in a rush.
Before she'd even finished nodding, he'd bounded up the stairs again. Now, according to Helena, he'd found a spot under Grandfather Kane's moth-eaten army uniform to lose himself in a tattered copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, one of Hannah's old favorites, and fallen asleep with his head on an old quilt.
Hannah first discovered Jarvis Vandermueller while she was dusting off the front windowsill. She paused in her work and wondered what Gabe would think if he knew his deputy was napping under a tree, legs crossed at the ankles, unsmoked cigarette hanging from his mouth. His horse, on the other hand, looked to have been busy for hours nibbling at a tree and nearly stripping it of its bark, as well as grazing on some shrubs. Grinning to herself, she walked to the kitchen. What that poor man needed was a plate of cookies and a tall glass of lemonade to wake him up.
A cold blast of air assaulted her ankles when she opened the door and made her way down the porch steps, platter of cookies and pitcher of lemonade in hand. Van never heard her approach, but when she called his name, he jumped to attention like a soldier caught with his pants down, stuffed the unlit cigarette in his coat pocket, and cleared his throat.
"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you."
"Miss," He tipped his wide-brimmed hat at her and stumbled over a twig. "'Case you're wonderin' what I'm doin' here," he said, gathering his wits while dusting off his pants, "the sheriff sent me over to keep an eye on things."
"Ah, well, isn't that nice? Though quite unnecessary, I'm sure. I've seen no activity, have you?"
"Not a thing," he said. "But the sheriff, he don't want to take any chances with strangers comin' around stirrin' up trouble."
She might have asked him how he planned to stop them while napping under a tree, but she decided not to embarrass him further. "Your horse-he's been eating my grandmother's shrubs." She nodded at the big black galoot behind him.
Van twirled on his heel. "Bartholomew, you of thief. You can't be eatin' off other people's property." The horse raised his head and snorted. "Sorry 'bout that, miss. I trust they'll grow back."
She laughed, even as the horse went back to feasting on the greenery as if it were a bed
of oats. "I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure they needed a good fall trim, anyway. I just hope he doesn't get sick."
"Pfff, Bart? He'd eat the tar off a roof if he could reach it. What's you doin' out here on such a cold day?"
She extended the platter of confection and the jug of lemonade with the upturned tin mug on the spout. "I've brought you a snack."
"What? Well, ain't that nice of you. Hope you didn't go to any bother."
"No trouble at all. These are Grandmother's chocolate mountains, in case you wondered."
"Oh, my, the real deal? I confess I bought a dozen of 'em at last summer's fair. My wife made oatmeal raisin, don't you know." He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't tell my Rosie, now, but I daresay Helena Kane's chocolate mountains beat out hers by a long shot. Why, they were the talk of the town for days."
Hannah laughed and shivered at the same time. "Your secret's safe with me, Van." Giving a slight turn, she said, "Well, you looked like you could use a break."
It was facetious of her, but she simply couldn't help herself.
His sunken chest swelled as far as it could go, which wasn't saying much for Jarvis Vandermueller's narrow frame. He raised his proud chin as she'd expected him to do. "Well, it does take a mite out of a man standing watch by the hour, never quite knowing when danger might strike,"
`Absolutely." She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.
Not even the slightest breeze raised the hem of her skirt, but she wrapped her long-sleeved arms about her waist to hold in the warmth. A cold nip in the air meant a strong chance for Sandy Shores' first snowfall, early as it was in the season.
"Well, you enjoy those cookies, Van. I best get inside before my nose-"
"Hannah!" Jesse took a giant leap off the side of the porch and ran to her. He wasn't wearing a hat, but at least he'd thought to put on his winter coat, which was more than she could say for herself.
"Well, lookie here," said Van. "You're growin' right tall since you moved to Sandy Shores, young man. You think it's the drinkin' water what's doin' it?"
Jesse angled the deputy with a curious look. "He's just teasing you, Jess. Say hello to Mr. Vandermueller."
Jesse raised a hand. "Hello, sir. I seen you before-and your big horse." Jesse's eyes meandered to the giant Morgan. "He must really like to eat-bushes,"
"He likes to eat most anythin, I'm afraid,"
One corner of Jesse's lip shot up. "I bet he wouldn't go for Gabe's cookin' that much,"
"Jesse Gant, you take that back," Hannah scolded, barely controlling the urge to laugh. "It can't be that bad. You eat a nice hot meal every night, don't you?"
He tipped his head to one side before nodding, nose wrinkled, one eye tightly shut. "Sometimes it's burnt, though."
Van laughed for both of them. "Sheriff's told us he can't cook worth a mound o' dirt, miss. By the look o' those lunches he brings into the office, I'd say he might be right."
"Gabe needs a wife," Jesse shot out, looking directly at Hannah when he said it. "He even said so hisself."
"Did he now?" Van asked with apparent interest. He downed another cookie. "He say he has anybody in partic'lar in mind?" he asked between chews.
Despite the bite in the air, Hannah felt a certain heat rise to her cheeks. Now would be a good time to turn tail and head for the house, but, oh, how she wanted to see how this conversation played out.
"Yep!" Jesse said, taking a cookie when Van stuck the plate under his nose. He bit off a good-sized chunk and chewed thoughtfully. "But I'm not supposed to talk about it."
"Oh. Must mean he has someone in mind, then," Van said. "My wife's been beggin' her cousin Corinne to come visit from Saginaw. I'm pretty sure she wants to hook the two of them up. I s'pose I should tell her to lay off, huh?"
Jesse wiped his crumb-covered mouth with his sleeve. The lad had a ways to go in the manners department. He lifted his gaze so his eyes met with Hannah's square on. "Yep, you best tell her he's got someone else in mind,"
Hannah shivered from head to toe-a full-out shudderand she couldn't blame the cold entirely.
"Well, good day, Van. I should think you could leave any time now," Hannah said, preparing to turn.
"Oh, no, miss. Not until my shift ends. There's to be a twenty-four-hour watch on your place."
"Twenty-four-but that seems like such a waste of the department's time,"
"How come you're watchin, anyway?" Jesse asked.
The sound of horse's hooves coming up the hill had all of them turning, and Van quickly set the platter of cookies and pitcher of lemonade on the ground. He rose to his full five and a half feet. "Hey, boss. Any news on the home front?"
Rather than a friendly greeting, all any of them got from Gabe was a stern look. To Hannah, however, the look was scalding. "What are you doing outside?"
She tried to relax, pasting a smile on her face despite her annoyance. "Enjoying the brisk air."
"Jesse, you and Hannah go inside right now," he ordered.
"But I just got out-"
"Go."
His tone did not allow for arguing, so neither of them tried; they just swiveled on their heels and made for the door.
Hannah's insides tensed as she laid a hand on Jesse's shoulder and guided him toward the house. Had Gabe found the McCurdys-or, worse, had someone else drowned or come to an entirely different cruel fate? When she glanced back at Gabe, he had dismounted his horse and was giving poor Van the what for, something about having told him to make sure they stayed inside.
Lord, give me patience with that man, and most of all, take away this growing love I have for him if it's not part of Your greater plan for me.
"What we goin' to do now, Pa?" Roy asked, stoking the flames in the little brick fireplace.
"We're goin' to sit tight for the night, plan out ar strategy," Rufus said, sitting back in a grungy old chair, the only piece of furniture in the whole place save a rickety table and a couple of empty crates. Not even a single cot graced the oneroom shanty.
"Why'd we have to leave that nice house in such a hurry?" Reuben asked.
"I told you, blockhead," Roy answered for his father. "I saw the sheriff on that bluff looking up at the house. He was with your girlfriend from Kane's Whatnot and that bratty little kid we're trying to get ar hands on,"
"She's not my girlfriend, and I doubt he even saw you, you idiot,"
"Shut up. He saw me, all right-looked me straight in the eyes. 'Fact, whatcha want to bet he came snoopin' around up there first thing this mornin'? Won't find nothin, though, right, Pa? We spiffed that place up right fine. That was smart thinking, throwin' the horse dung over the cliff" Roy laughed and spat on the dirt floor of the run-down hunting shack they'd found in the middle of a deserted piece of land a few miles east of town. A covey of pine trees out back shielded the horses from any passersby.
"I ain't stupid," Rufus said, belching after a supper of sausage and sauerkraut before guzzling down the last of his bitter ale. He stared at the crooked ceiling and hoped it wouldn't rain tonight, knowing they'd get wet if it did.
"So, what's ar plan?" Reuben asked.
Rufus tossed the empty bottle to the floor and wiped a hand across his mouth. "I'm thinkin' on it," He hated that he didn't have a true game plan and hoped it didn't show in his face. Fact was, the ale he'd been drinking lately had made it hard for him to put two thoughts together, let alone a sensible plan. "I need a smoke," he complained, wishing his boys would quit looking at him like he was some kind of monkey in a cage. He felt his pockets and panicked. Where were his smokes?
Roy reached into his hip pocket and threw him a handrolled cigarette. "It's my last one," he said with a begrudging tone.
"It ain't like you don't got any time on your hands for rollin' more, you big horse's rump," Rufus said.
"So, what is your plan, Pa? You got one?" Roy asked, ignoring the remark,
"Would you stop askin' me? I told you, I'm thinkin'!" Rufus let loose a powerful curse and a sharp pain hit him square
in the chest, nasty enough to steal his breath away.
He snatched hold of the spot with both hands. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced pain in his upper torso, but this time seemed more pronounced. He dug deep for a decent breath of air.
"What is it, Pa? You look like you just seen a spook," Reuben said.
Gradually, the pain started to let up. "Nothin'," he said, glad when he could breathe again. `Just a little indigestion, is all. It ain't nothin:"
Any concern either of his boys may have had for him was short-lived. Both retrieved their bedrolls, Reuben unrolling his first and tossing it in front of the fireplace.
Roy scowled. "You can't sprawl out there and block all the heat. Move over."
"I ain't blockin' it," To appease his older brother, Reuben made a slight shift to the side,
"You only moved two inches,"
"Did not,"
Roy kicked Reuben's bedroll over another two feet,
"Keep your grubby boots off my bed,"
"Would you two stop bickerin'? Yer yappin' reminds me of a couple of stupid girls."
A semblance of peace settled over them while Reuben and Roy situated their beds. Rufus lit his cigarette and took a couple of satisfying puffs.
"You got any ideas about how we're goin' to nab that kid tomorrow?" Roy asked again.
Rufus rolled his eyes to the ceiling and took another long drag, then blew it out slowly. "'Course I do. I'll tell you mine after you tell me yers."
Roy's face split into a cold, hard grin as he lifted a brow and sat down, legs tucked under him. "So, we each come up with a plan and then vote on the best one, is that it?"
"Seems fair."
"Wait, I don't got any plan," Reuben said in a huff "I figured Pa'd come up with one."
"'Course you don't have a plan, jarhead. You never do," Roy said.
"Shut yer face," Reuben muttered through his teeth, dropping onto his makeshift bed and turning his back to both of them. "We oughten t' be doin' nothin' on the day of ar brother's funeral. It's plain disrespectful, if y' ask me."
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