Hannah Grace

by MacLaren Sharlene

  "Can't tell you that for sure, miss. All I know is, the sheriff's one smart man. He wouldn't be issuin' all these orders if he didn't believe some kind of danger lurked."

  She wondered what other orders he'd doled out besides the ones intended to keep Jesse safe. A shiver shimmied up her spine. "You sure I can't interest you in some coffee?" she asked, turning back toward the house.

  "No, Miss Hannah, but I thank you for askin'. You best get back inside now,'fore you catch your death." His choice of words gave her pause, prompting her to lift a brow at him.

  "Oh, sorry, I meant 'fore you catch a cold," came his quick revision.

  "You s'pose folks is still expectin' some of Luis's family members to show up at the cemetery, Pa?" Roy asked as the threesome made their way down a narrow path carved parallel to the main drag leading into town. At the fork, they'd separate, then meet again at the Kane house, just as Roy had recommended. Earlier that morning, over a breakfast of dried bread and hot coffee, they'd rehashed their plan, then wiled away the rest of the morning in nervous anticipation.

  "I'm sure they're hopin' so."

  "Don't see what it would hurt for one of us to pay ar respects. I'd gladly go. It ain't like anyone knows who he is, or who I am, for that matter. I'd stay way in the background," Reuben said.

  He had been spouting offers to attend the funeral all morning long, and Rufus's patience had long run out. "How many times Roy and me gotta drill this through your grapefruit-sized head, Reuben? You ain't goin' to no funeral,"

  "He's my brother," Reuben whined.

  "I don't care if he's the king of Siam, you ain't goin'. We got no idea what folks is sayin' about us. Just 'cause we ain't heard no talk don't mean there ain't been somethin' in the newspapers. Shoot! If one of you jackrabbits could read, we might have some idea what we're dealin' with here,"

  "You can't read, neither," Reuben blurted.

  "Both ofyou shut your faces," Roy said, taking over Rufus's job as authority.

  Rufus spat a wad of tobacco juice out of the side of his mouth and clammed up, the ache in his chest still there, but not as pronounced as it was the night before. He heaved a few deep breaths and studied the darkening sky. "What happens if it rains?"

  "Nothin'. We proceed as planned," Roy said, sounding increasingly like the leader of the pack.

  Thirty or so yards ahead, they spotted the fork in the road. Something like a heavy rock settled in the pit of Rufus's stomach, making his throat dry up and his chest constrict.

  "Here's where we part ways," Roy said, voice strangely calm. He looked from Reuben to Rufus. "Everybody remember his job?"

  "Yeah, yeah," Rufus said, feigning confidence, even though his heartbeat fluttered in an unnatural rhythm, sometimes stealing his breath.

  Roy checked his pocket watch, then shot them both a menacing glare. Rufus hated that Roy had taken advantage of his weakened state and had taken over. "Don't nobody do anythin' stupid, y' hear?" He looked straight at Reuben. "If everything goes as planned, we'll split out of this half-cracked town before sunset,"

  A few sprinkles of rain fell on Gabe's sleeve. He watched them shimmer on the seasoned leather of his coat. A loose twig dropped from a nearby tree, Startled, Slate shifted his stance and tossed back his head. Gabe calmed him with a gentle whisper and a pat to his withers. The cemetery, situated several blocks from downtown on Lake Avenue, couldn't have been more eerily quiet as folks-mostly men, along with a few women in furry hats and long woolen coats-started to gather for Luis McCurdy's funeral service. Whether from sheer curiosity or genuine compassion, they came in hushed clusters, tying their horses to hitching posts at the cemetery entrance before coming in. Gabe couldn't fathom why they'd come unless the kid's notoriety played a part.

  He tipped his hat at those who passed: Mr. and Mrs. Gerritt, Peter Van Poort, Josh Herman, and, hobbling along behind them, good old Enoch Sprock.

  Gabe lifted his gaze to meet that of Harry, one of the detectives from South Bend. Harry would stand guard at the west entrance to the cemetery, watching for any suspicious behavior. Beside him on horseback sat Arend Fordham, one of Sandy Shores' oldest citizens. Every day, like clockwork, Arend watched the masses from his roost on the second floor of Dirkse's Dry Goods. A confirmed bachelor, he'd lived in the upper story apartment for the past forty years, and he rarely missed a thing around town. He knew virtually every citizen, just as they knew him. That's why Gabe had selected him to assist Harry as a sort of watchdog, an appointed deputy.

  And the oldster wasn't the only one he'd chosen. As a matter of fact, once word got out that Arend had a "job" helping to find the thugs, several other citizens volunteered their services, claiming they could spot a newcomer a mile away. Apparently, many citizens already had seen strangers; they just hadn't come forward to tell about it. One man finally divulged that he'd spoken with a young fellow in Sparky's Bar over in Columbus. Evidently, the fellow had asked a lot of questions about the drowning victim's funeral, then wanted to know about the Kanes, the sheriff, and the orphan boy and his whereabouts. Several bartenders admitted they had served a number of newcomers, not suspecting anything unusual, but after reading the article in the Tribune, they realized that a couple of the new customers had borne a tattoo on the left arm-a snakelike figure weaving around a name.

  Area merchants also claimed to have seen the criminals. With the help of Hank Groding, South Bend's chief officer, Gabe considered each report, wanting to be thorough and, at the same time, levelheaded. Yes, Gabe could swallow Cora Hesselbart's claim that Rufus McCurdy had visited Peter Van Poort's grocery store and purchased a slab of bacon and a dozen eggs, and even Eustace Buford's account of having seen one of the McCurdys come out of the bakery with a sack of donuts. But when Minnie Durham swore that old Rufus had come into her hat store looking to buy one of her lovely, feathered concoctions, he'd had to draw the line. That woman would stop at nothing to draw attention to her business.

  Besides stakeouts at the cemetery, Gabe and Groding positioned their deputies and volunteers at strategic places around town, giving them authority to act on their best judgment. They told them to consult supervision when possible, but to exercise independence, including the decision to use firearms, if faced with an emergency. Key street corners, access roads into town, saloons, markets, and restaurants all had someone's watchful eye covering them and their surroundings. Even churches received extra notice due to the notion that the thugs might consider them safe places for hiding out. Still, anyone with sense knew that it was impossible to cover every square inch of a town, no matter how many folks showed up to try.

  Gabe sighed and drew his collar close, wincing against the icy pellets of moisture hitting his face. How could he even be sure the crooks would make their move today? Sure, he'd hoped the funeral service would fish them out of their hiding place, wherever that might be, but it was a gamble. How long would he be able to hang on to his volunteer posse after today?

  "Lord, You promised in Your Word to give wisdom when we ask for it, and I'm asking for it right now. The citizens of Sandy Shores are counting on me to keep them safe," he murmured under his breath, even as he nodded at Alvin and Carlotta DeBoer as they hurried past him toward the main gate of the cemetery, apparently deciding the elements were not worth battling. And who could blame them? Blast! He wished the rest of those gathered around the freshly dug grave would follow suit. Any moment now, he expected the skies to start spitting big snowflakes.

  Certain the cemetery was filled with plenty of vigilant eyes, and noting nothing out of the ordinary, Gabe turned Slate around and headed east on Lake toward Sheldon. From there, he would head back toward town and make his way to the Kane house to see how Van was faring with his guard duty, and to assure himself that all was well with the people he loved.

  ufus dismounted his horse in an empty lot two blocks away from the house at the top of Ridge ,Street. He wanted to inch closer, but doing so would put him within view of several snooping neighbors. This way, he coul
d tie his horse to a tree at the back of the wooded lot, and no one would be the wiser. He took a gander at the Kanes' two-story house and wondered if his old ticker would hold out long enough for him to climb the hill. He looked at his watch. Five minutes till one. Good. He was ahead of schedule. He would park himself on that old tree stump over there, try to keep warm, and wait things out. Maybe a few minutes' rest would ease the awful pain building in his chest.

  Hannah gazed out the front window to watch the first hint of winter fall from the sky: tiny, fragile snowflakes, barely visible to the eye.

  "Wow! Snow! Billy B, come quick!"Jesse shouted. Hannah realized that an eight-year-old probably spots snow quicker than a goat eats grass.

  Billy B bounded into the front room behind Jesse, Dusty on his heels, and all three of them, minus the dog, crowded around the window, waiting to see if the flakes would stick.

  "The ground is still too warm for that," Hannah voiced when Jesse suggested they might build a snowman the following day. "We need several days of freezing weather, followed by a wet, heavy snow, the kind that balls up when you roll it on the ground."

  Hannah's mind drifted back to those innocent days of childhood-waging snowball fights with her sisters, building snow forts in the front yard, and sledding with Papa down Duncan Hill, then coming home to Grandmother's cinnamon biscuits and hot cocoa.

  It occurred to her then that she'd like nothing more than to do those things all over again, but this time with Jesse and-dared she hope-with Gabriel Devlin? Lord, I am waiting for a clear sign from You.

  "Ain't that guy awful cold?" asked Billy B, pointing at Jarvis Vandermueller, whose lanky body was propped against the old maple tree, hat low on his head as he hugged himself. "He was there when I got here this mornin.'

  "Why's he have to stand out there, anyway? What's he waitin' for?" Jesse asked.

  While Hannah tried to come up with a convincing response, Billy B beat her to it. "He's standin' guard so no bad guys can come on yer property, don't y' know? My ma tot' me she's heard talk about some criminals on the loose-right here in Sandy Shores. Says there was a big article'bout it in the newspaper. 'Course, I can't read good enough yet, so I ain't got all the details. But I do know there's lawmen keepin' watch all over the place."

  "Well, I wouldn't worry too much," Hannah cut in, hoping to change the subject. "How about I bring out the checkerboard? Anyone up for a game of checkers? Or we could play a game of caroms. Which do you prefer?"

  "Who are the bad guys?" Jesse asked, pulling back the curtain and pressing his nose against the frosty windowpane. A wave of frustration washed over Hannah at being ignored.

  "Don't know, exactly," answered Billy B, stuffing his hands in his pockets and puffing out his chest. "But my grandma calls 'em depraved and rotten to the core."

  "Checkers, boys? I'll make some hot cocoa, too, if you like. How does that sound?"

  "The only reason Ma let me come over today was 'cause she knows the sheriff's watchin' over things. Even the school board said no kids is to walk to school anymore without a big person bringin"im."

  Hannah sighed, not missing the sudden worry that sullied Jesse's cheery countenance. Had they been wrong to shield him from the truth? She might have known Billy Bruce Hiles would spill the beans.

  "I'm sure the school board is just taking precautions," she said. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?" She took them both by the hand to steer them out of the room.

  Just then, Helena exited the library, dust cloth in hand, a rare black smudge streaking her cheek. "Well, my stars, it is snowing," she said, voice uncommonly cheerful for the boys' sake as she bent to gaze out the window. "Would you look at that?"

  "I'm just trying to talk these boys into a game of checkers or caroms. Which do you think is the better choice, Grandmother?"

  Helena tilted her face in serious deliberation. "Hmm, I'd vote for caroms, if it were me."

  "You want to play?" Billy B asked her with high-pitched enthusiasm.

  Hannah regarded her grandmother, who, despite her plastered-on smile, looked as weary as a war veteran-and who could blame her? It had been a hairy few days.

  "Ah, well..." the older woman's brow furrowed.

  Hannah stepped forward and stole the dust cloth from Helena's hand, then took her by the arm. "Actually, I'm going to insist that Grandmother go upstairs to lie down for a while,"

  "What? Oh, goodness me, I couldn't do that. Why, I haven't napped since., .let me see, the summer of 1891, maybe.. .or was it '92?"

  Hannah laughed. "I didn't say you had to sleep, but a little rest would do you good. How about you go upstairs where it's quiet, and I'll bring you a nice cup of hot tea?"

  Helena's face turned pensive. "I suppose I could resume reading that book of memoirs on Jane Austen's life, and, I must say, reading during working hours does sound perfectly luxuriant. Almost like taking an afternoon bath. Can you imagine?"

  The two walked arm in arm toward the stairs. Behind them, Billy B muttered, "What's lux-uriant?"

  "Some kind of soap, I think," answered Jesse.

  Billy B had a loud, boisterous laugh, the kind that made a person want to join in, and that's exactly what Jesse did, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about the bad guys roaming Sandy Shores. Even Dusty barked with enthusiasm when Billy B whooped his excitement over dropping yet another carom into the pocket.

  "How many times have you played this game?" Jesse asked.

  Billy B shrugged. "A couple." Stick in hand, he bent over the board and took careful aim, one eye pinched shut.

  "More than that."

  "Okay, a dozen."

  "More,"

  "Shh, you're breaking my concentration."

  Jesse let a few seconds lapse. "Don't miss!" he said, right at the pivotal moment, throwing off his friend's aim.

  "Hey, no fair!" Billy B whined, dropping his stick and narrowing his eyes at Jesse in feigned anger. "I'm gonna get you for that."

  Jesse laughed. "No, you're not. I'm faster than you." And just like that, the two set off on a run through the house and into the dining room, Dusty barking and nipping at their heels.

  Hannah entered the room with a tray of cookies and two mugs of hot cocoa. "Okay, you two, time to settle down," she warned, not in a harsh way, though. Hannah didn't have a harsh bone in her body.

  When Billy B saw the platter of goodies, he immediately stopped the chase. "Hmm, yum," he said, running to the dining room table and pulling out a chair. "That cocoa smells good."

  Hannah set the items on the table. "I'm going to put Dusty in the backyard while you have your snack, then I'm going upstairs to check on Grandmother and to tend to some chores. You can call him back inside in a few minutes. No more running through the house, though, okay? Remember, Grandmother is trying to rest."

  "Okay," Jesse said.

  Billy B nodded. He was too busy shoving cookies down his throat to make an audible reply.

  Rufus huffed all the way up the hill, the pain in his chest mounting with every step. He pulled his wool collar closer, then clutched at the place where it pained him the most, the upper left side. He groaned aloud and winced at the inconvenience. He had a job to do, and he certainly had no time for dealing with a bothersome ache. Trying to ignore it, he trudged along, hoping no neighbors were watching from their closed up houses.

  When he was still several yards away from the Kane residence, Roy's familiar bird whistle stopped him in his tracks as he sought out the source. "Over here," Roy hissed through his teeth. Crouched behind a tree, he motioned for Rufus to join him. "I don't see that brainless brother of mine anywhere," he muttered when Rufus staggered over to the tree. "He's late. So help me, if he went over to that cemetery, I'll wring his skinny neck. He's gonna get us all kilt."

  Rufus had better things to worry about, namely staying in an upright position.

  "You drunk?" Roy asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  "No, I ain't drunk. It's that stupid indigestion I
been havin'."

  "Oh." Roy's icy gaze lingered but a moment before he turned his attention back to the Kane house. "There's some weasel standin' guard out front. I wasn't countin' on that. We'll have to figure out a way to get past 'im. I'll shoot 'im if I have to,"

  "Shootin' will draw attention,"

  "I ain't worried'bout that. By the time the authorities get here, we'll be long gone."

  "We gotta get back to ar horses. How you figure we'll be long gone? And how you gonna haul some squallin' kid down that hill without makin' a stir? This plan don't seem to be comin' together like it ought."

  "Stop yer worryin, you of fool. I got it all figgered out."

  Any other time, Rufus would have slapped his son's mouth. "What about Reuben?" he mumbled instead.

  Roy cursed and spat. "Far as I'm concerned, if he ain't here when the deed's done, we're leavin' without 'im."

  Nausea swirled in Rufus's gut as he realized how hard he had to work to snag a breath.

  "I'll circle'round back," Roy hissed. "If that coot looks like he's gettin' suspicious, throw somethin, a stone or stick, to distract'im, but whatever you do, don't let'im see you."

  "You're gettin' awful bossy, you know that?"

  "And if Reuben happens to show up, tell 'im to wait for my signal."

  "You'd think you was in charge."

  A snide grin spread over Roy's face. "Just practicin' up, that's all."

  "Pfff. You think you're somethin.'

  Ignoring the taunt, Roy poked his head around the tree, slinking low, then quickly darted across the street and disappeared behind a house situated three doors away from the Kane residence. The so-called guard was leaning against a tree, completely oblivious to the goings-on.

  When Rufus hunkered down behind the tree, preparing to watch for Roy's signal, a sudden cramp seized his chest. He'd known pain, but this one pierced him to his toes, slicing straight to his core. In an instant, his squalid world tumbled and turned and tipped on its axis.