The Right Kind of Fool

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Watching the children there at her table, she felt a pang of regret. Maybe it wasn’t too late . . . No. She would not torture herself that way. If Creed wanted to put his family back together, he’d have to do a great deal more than spend a few nights and learn a few signs.

  Forcing a smile, she set a plate of cookies on the table and tried to be satisfied with the blessings in front of her.

  Once they’d eaten and Rebecca helped with the dishes, Mother suggested they go for a walk. Loyal squinted at her. Just that morning she’d acted like she wasn’t going to let him leave the house except to go to church. And now she was practically pushing him out the door. He shook his head. People were complicated.

  The house sat on the outskirts of town just beyond the Beverly cemetery. He and Rebecca strolled along past Cemetery Lane and onto Main Street. Loyal was gawking at the display in the window of the Beverly Market when Rebecca bumped his arm and tilted her head toward the old courthouse catty-corner to where they stood. Although the county seat had moved to Elkins before Loyal was born, the sheriff still kept an office in Beverly in the brick building with its double doors flanked by windows.

  Loyal spotted his father climbing into the sheriff’s car. He lifted a hand to flag him down, but the car was already pulling away from the curb and Father didn’t turn toward him. He wished he could yell or whistle—shoot, he knew he could—he just wasn’t quite sure how to manage it properly. He longed to know where the two men were headed and wished he was going with them. Then Rebecca poked him again and pointed to the public square, a grassy area on the corner across from them. This time he saw Michael standing near a tree, watching the sheriff’s car as if he were a spy.

  Rebecca tugged on his arm and motioned for him to follow her. They crossed the street and walked toward Michael. He jumped as they approached. Loyal guessed he didn’t hear them coming. He knew how that was.

  “Where’d you two come from?” the older boy snapped.

  Loyal didn’t see how Rebecca answered but could tell she was being sassy. Loyal bumped her and made the sign for what, then gestured toward Michael.

  “Yeah, what are you doing?” she asked. “Were you hiding from Sheriff White?”

  “No.” Loyal could see the annoyance in Michael’s eyes. And when he glanced at Rebecca, he noted caution in hers.

  “Then what?”

  Michael shrugged and slouched onto a nearby bench. “Just seeing what I can pick up around town.”

  “What do you mean?” Rebecca asked.

  Michael darted a look at Loyal and jerked a thumb at him. “He can’t hear, right? Like he has no idea what I’m saying?”

  Rebecca looked at Loyal out of the corner of her eye. “That’s right. Deaf as a post.” Loyal tried not to frown. He hated that saying.

  Michael leaned forward. “I’m trying to figure out what the sheriff knows about—” he paused and glanced around them—“you know. That day on the river. What happened.”

  “Do you mean, like, has he figured out it was us?”

  Michael’s eyes darted all around as he patted the air as if tamping down dirt. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

  A look of alarm spread over Rebecca’s face. “What if he thinks the wrong person did it? What if someone innocent gets into trouble?”

  Michael gnawed at his lip. “Best-case scenario, it just goes unsolved.”

  “But what if—?” Michael stood abruptly, cutting Rebecca off. “I don’t want to talk about this. You and your boyfriend go on now,” he said with a sneer. “I’m going to see if I can’t find some stuff out.” He stuck his thumbs in his pockets and sauntered down the street in an exaggerated way that Loyal supposed he thought looked casual.

  A soft touch drew his attention. Rebecca was looking at him with tears welling in her eyes. “How much did you see that day?”

  He hesitated, then shrugged, not sure how to tell her he’d just seen them running.

  “You saw everything?”

  Loyal thought for a minute. The sign for running might not make sense to her. He pointed at her and then moved his arms as if he were pumping them to help him run.

  “You saw us running away.” He nodded. “But you didn’t see . . .” She ducked her head, and when she looked at him again, a tear trickled down her cheek. He reached out to gather the moisture on the tip of his finger and shook his head.

  “It was awful,” she said. Loyal wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure what to do. Hug her? That seemed awkward. Although he also thought it might be kind of nice. While he was still trying to decide, Rebecca pushed a smile onto her face. “Thank you for being my friend,” she said and made the sign he’d taught her earlier.

  Loyal put his flat hand to his chin and moved it forward and down. Then he managed a smile of his own. He pointed toward the horseshoe pits in the square and raised his eyebrows.

  “Okay,” Rebecca said, “but my aim is terrible.”

  Loyal waggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together. He was delighted to see Rebecca’s posture relax. He’d think more about what Michael had implied, later when he was alone.

  eight

  The road to the Hacker family cabin was barely wide enough for the police car as they bumped over its many ruts and gullies. Creed considered that if they needed to leave in a hurry, they likely couldn’t do it by car.

  “What is it you plan to talk to Clyde and his boys about?”

  Virgil flicked him a look. “Whatever they want to tell me. You know there’s not much use in asking ’em anything straight out.”

  “Yeah,” Creed agreed. “Although they might tell us something straight out. Like ‘get off my property and don’t ever come back.’”

  Virgil laughed. “I thought you and Clyde were friends.”

  “If by friends you mean he won’t shoot me on sight, then yeah, I guess we’re friends.” He paused. “At least I think we are. You, on the other hand . . .”

  “Don’t go trying to make me feel overconfident,” Virgil said as the car broke through the trees and came out in a bare patch leading up to a surprisingly grand cabin that looked as if it had taken root and was now flourishing in the protected mountain cove. The Hackers might be backwoods, but they were also craftsmen. The two-story cabin boasted a stout front porch and railing made from rhododendron branches polished to a sheen. A hound bayed from under the front steps, and Clyde himself stepped out onto the porch. He was unarmed, but Creed knew there was bound to be a rifle or shotgun close to hand.

  As Creed climbed out of the car, he lifted his arm in greeting. Clyde braced his hands on his hips. “You bringin’ the law here for a reason?” he called out, making his long white beard jump.

  Creed shot a stay here look at Virgil and stepped closer to the porch. “I’m helping Virgil look into that shooting over at the bend of the river.” Clyde’s eyes narrowed. “A body can’t hardly stir on the mountain without you’uns knowing about it. We’re hoping you might’ve seen or heard something.”

  Clyde spit. “Or done something?”

  Creed shook his head. “Don’t have any reason to think that.”

  Clyde stood motionless for too many breaths, then seemed to come to a decision. “You fellers come in the house. Don’t have much of anything to tell you, but we can sit a minute since you come all this way.”

  Creed let out a gusty breath and waved for Virgil to follow him. The front room of the cabin was as handsome as the outside. The stone fireplace was a work of art with chunks of quartz worked in and polished until they gleamed. Clyde waved his visitors to chairs that were clearly handmade with skill and precision. Creed wondered if Clyde might trade him one to give to Delphy for Christmas.

  Now, what had made him think such a thing?

  “Heard about that government man getting shot down,” Clyde said, refocusing Creed’s attention. “Neither me nor my boys were over that way, but word gets around.”

  “You have any dealings with him?” Virgil asked.

  “Him and his pa
rtner sent word the government might like to buy up some of our land.” Clyde grinned. “Guessed they couldn’t find their way to the house to ask in person.”

  “You selling?” Virgil asked.

  Clyde got a cagey look. “Well now, that’d be between me and whichever one was doing the buying.”

  Virgil laughed. “Guess so. Main reason we came out here was because I was thinking you might get word that wouldn’t necessarily come to my ears.”

  Clyde cackled and stroked his beard. “I can see how being sheriff might make folks what you’d call reluctant to spread their tittle-tattle.” Virgil smiled and waited. Clyde got a philosophical look. “Thing is, I’d expect whoever done it to brag a little and ain’t nobody said nothing.”

  Virgil nodded. “So maybe it wasn’t anyone from around here.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You asked that partner of the dead man if he done it?”

  “He has a solid alibi.”

  “Bet Hadden Westfall has one, too,” Clyde said. He leaned forward enough that they could see the tobacco stains in his beard. “Easier for some folks to come up with an alibi than others.”

  “You say that like you know it for a fact,” Virgil said.

  Clyde settled back in his chair. “What I know for a fact is that money solves a whole passel of problems. ’Specially in these hard times. Maybe you oughta talk to somebody who’s got some.”

  Virgil nodded slowly. “Brought you a little something,” he said, passing the jar he’d shown Creed to Clyde. The old man took it and set it on a side table crafted from a section of tree that looked like it had been at least fifty years old when they cut it down.

  “Thank ye.” Silence descended, and Creed knew they were done here. He stood. “Good to see you, Clyde. Hope your boys are well.”

  “Fine as frog hair and ornery as a bear woke before spring,” he said. “If ever I did sell this land, it’d be for them. Reckon you’uns can see yourselves out.”

  Creed nodded and followed Virgil out to the car. As they walked across the yard, he got an itchy feeling like someone was watching them. Maybe more than one.

  “I’m betting there are at least two rifles pointed at our backs,” Virgil said in a low voice.

  “More likely three by now,” Creed said.

  Virgil huffed a laugh. They climbed in the car, and Creed didn’t fully relax until they hit the paved road.

  When Creed’s silhouette blocked the light coming in the back door, Delphy was annoyed to feel a thrill of happiness. After she’d told him in no uncertain terms that Loyal would not be accompanying him to his cabin on Rich Mountain, she thought she might have run him off once and for all. Now her traitorous heart reminded her that she still loved this stubborn, damaged man.

  “Got enough supper for one more?” he asked.

  She pushed a hank of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand and leveled a look at him. “How hungry are you?” she shot back.

  A smile quirked the corner of his mouth, but he subdued it. “I already ate once today so I’m not too starved.”

  She fought her own smile. “Come on in then. Loyal will be glad to see you.” He looked like he was about to tease her some more but thought better of it. Instead, he stepped into the lavatory. She could hear him washing his face and hands. She could say that much for him—he’d always been clean and respectful. The memory of how he always washed himself before coming to bed took her mind in a direction she didn’t want it to go. She wrestled her thoughts back to the here and now. No need to borrow heartbreak.

  After supper with a clearly delighted Loyal, they all went out to the front porch to enjoy the evening breeze. Delphy sat in her favorite rocking chair, breathing in cooling air that promised rain. Creed settled in the swing and patted the spot next to him for Loyal to sit. The boy wedged himself in sideways so he could keep an eye on both parents.

  Delphy let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Creed set the swing into motion. The creak of the chains made a soft music, and soon the autumn smell of smoldering tobacco filled the air as he lit his pipe.

  “Looks like it might rain,” Creed said.

  Delphy lifted a hand and made the sign for yes. She did it without thinking about Creed being hearing. She peeked at him and saw that he accepted the sign without comment. “I guess you’re here because of Virgil,” she said, signing for Loyal’s benefit.

  “That’s not the only reason.”

  “But it’s the main one.” She let her hands drop.

  “We went out to see the Hackers this afternoon.”

  Delphy rolled her eyes. “Well then we’re lucky you came back at all. You think Clyde had anything to do with that shooting?”

  “No. He wants us to think Hadden Westfall had something to do with it, though.” Delphy noticed that Loyal froze and watched his father intently. Hadden’s name interested him. She smiled. Maybe that had something to do with the man’s sweet daughter.

  Delphy stilled her rocking. “I can’t see Hadden being involved. Clyde just doesn’t like him.”

  “Probably. Anyway, he was in Elkins.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “It’s hard enough, Hadden losing his wife and raising those two children on his own. He doesn’t need idle talk and rumors circulating.”

  Creed frowned, which pleased Delphy. She’d been hoping to remind him that Hadden once courted her. Before a certain mountain man stole her heart.

  “I’m surprised the church ladies haven’t married him off,” Creed grumbled.

  Delphy smiled. “They probably have, he just hasn’t realized it yet.”

  Creed pushed the swing harder. “Oh yeah, who do they have in mind?”

  She shrugged and lifted one hand to her forehead and flicked it out—the sign for don’t know—and then she remembered to speak the words. Loyal giggled, apparently pleased to have taken priority with her signing.

  Creed opened his mouth, then closed it again, his eyes straying to the street. Delphy turned to see what drew his attention and saw Fred Rohrbaugh, owner of Rohrbaugh’s Store, hurrying toward the house.

  He waved at them and hollered, “Virgil says come quick as you can!” Creed stood and looked a question. The portly man stopped outside the front gate, with beads of sweat on his brow in spite of the cool evening air. “He said something about making an arrest and told me to send you over if you were to home.”

  Creed stood and moved toward the steps, speaking in a low voice. Fred darted a look at Delphy, and Loyal then answered too softly for her to hear. Loyal jumped to his feet to follow, but she snagged him by the collar and shook her head firmly.

  Loyal gave her a pleading look. She signed no emphatically and stood, tugging him through the front door. She aimed him toward the stairs and swatted him on the behind, pointing to his room. Loyal heaved a sigh and dragged up the steps. Delphy watched him go, eyes narrowed. Then she went to the window and watched her husband disappear toward the sheriff’s office. She heaved a sigh of her own and went to the kitchen to see what she could make for breakfast, assuming her husband spent the night. She might not be sure where they stood right now, but she’d feed him just the same.

  The handful of people in Virgil’s office all seemed to be talking at once. One of them—a man in a good suit—was a stranger. He sat in a chair looking pale and swiping his face with a handkerchief. Creed sidled over to the sheriff, who leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m arresting Hadden Westfall.”

  “You’re doing what?” Creed saw that Hadden was in the corner, shaking a finger in Deputy Bud Wallace’s face—which was bright red. Bud kept saying, “I don’t care.” Fred Rohrbaugh was trying to add his two cents to the one-sided conversation consisting mostly of Hadden explaining how Bud and Virgil were going to be out of work and generally hated by everyone in the county for the rest of their lives. The stranger had the look of a man who’d been on a week-long drunk.

  “That engineer up in Elkins, Gordon Shi
loh—he said Hadden left the meeting early. Said the secretary probably saw everyone else leave late in the afternoon and just assumed Hadden was with ’em.”

  Creed gave a low whistle. “Pays to be thorough.”

  Virgil looked pointedly toward the men gesticulating wildly and talking on top of each other. “Does it?”

  “Whyn’t you put a stop to it?”

  “Waiting on you. Plus, I expect you know it can be useful to just let people blow off some steam for a while. You never know what someone might say in the heat of the moment.” He glanced at the pale, sweaty fellow. “And with the federal government’s man showing up this evening sicker than a dog, I can use all the help I can get.” The man patted his forehead and closed his eyes.

  Virgil heaved a sigh, stood, and whistled loud enough for Delphy to hear back at the house. “Alright then,” he said when the men jerked their heads toward him. “Hadden, this doesn’t give me an ounce of pleasure, but until we sort things out, we’re going to have to make you a guest of the Randolph County Jail up in Elkins.”

  “The devil you will,” Hadden said. “I told you I was in Elkins when that man was shot.”

  “So you did. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to corroborate your story.”

  “I thought Miss Gillespie confirmed that I was there.”

  Virgil nodded. “She did. But then I asked Gordon to confirm that.” Creed saw hot color rise up Hadden’s neck. “Seems you left the meeting early.”

  Hadden clenched his fists. “There’s an explanation for that.” He darted a look around the room. “One that I don’t care to share in present company.”