[Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm (29 page)

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Authors: Janette Oke

BOOK: [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm
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Holding his breath, Henry moved toward her. He certainly didn’t want to frighten her into silence.
“You did? Today?”
She nodded her head.
“Where?”
She looked down shyly. He was afraid she was not going to answer. At last, after adjusting the doll’s blankets, she looked up. “Over there,” she said with a nod of her head. “On the sidewalk.”
“What was he doing?” ,
She shrugged her little shoulders and looked up again. “Nothin’. Just walkin’.”
“Where was he walking?”
“That way.” She pointed.
“Did he tell you where he was going?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Henry said, discouraged. The few comments hadn’t brought much help.
She looked up again. “I’m Janey.”
“Thanks—Janey.” He turned to go.
“I know where he was going, though,” she said behind him.
He whirled. Was she just delaying the conversation, or did she really have some information?
“Where was he going?”
“Fishin’.”
“Fishing?”
She nodded vigorously, fumbling with her dolly’s dress button.
“How do you know?”
“’Cause. He had a fishing pole.”
“You’re sure?”
“Uh-huh. I saw it.”
A fishing pole.
Henry’s thoughts whirled. If it was true—if Danny had decided to go fishing on his own ... The creek was swollen with spring mountain thaw. Not the place for a five-year-old boy to be on his own.
Soberly he returned to the car. He had to escort Sam back to her folks’ house and get that search party down to the creek. But how? And he didn’t have a moment to waste.
“I think we’ll swing around to your folks’ place and see if he might have returned.” He hoped his voice didn’t give away his concern.
“What did the kids say?”
“Not one of the boys has seen him.”
He drove faster than he should have. As he pulled up in front of her parents’ house, he prayed they would be back home again. He also prayed that nothing would delay him. Every minute ...
Her father was on the front porch rubbing his knees. Henry turned to the young woman beside him. “Could you get me a drink, please? I’m awfully parched,” he asked her, hoping to have a brief conversation alone with the man.
She looked surprised at the request but went to do as asked.
He spoke quickly the moment the door closed behind her. “I just talked with a little girl who says she saw Danny heading down the sidewalk with a fishing pole.” He saw the man’s face go pale. There must be something to the story.
Mr. Martin said, “He came in—about eleven-thirty. Said, ‘Grandpa, I want to catch a fish.’ I didn’t pay much attention. Just nodded and said that would be nice. I had no idea he meant
now.
Sam was coming back through the door again, a glass in hand. Her father was holding his head in his hands.
She looked from the one to the other, automatically handing the water to Henry.
“What... ?”
Henry did hope her father would not say anything that would tip her off.
But he did. “Check the back porch,” he said to his daughter. “See if my rod is there.”
She looked confused but went to check.
“No, it’s not there.”
“He’s gone fishing,” he groaned.
“What do you mean?” Her eyes looked wild.
“He took my rod and went fishing.”
“Not to the creek?”
He nodded.
Henry stepped forward. “Now don’t—” He was going to say worry, but he knew that was senseless. “You stay here with your folks. I’ll be in touch as soon as we find him.”
“I’m coming.”
“There is nothing—”
“I’m his
mother.”
“Please—let us handle it.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I’m going to organize a search party—then I’m heading for the creek.”
“I’m coming.”
Henry knew it was useless to argue. He nodded his head, and she ran toward the waiting car.
It took only a few minutes to relay the information he’d gathered to the men in the office, then he climbed back in the car and spun around in the middle of the street, leaving a small dust storm in his wake.
They didn’t speak. There seemed so little to be said.
He drove as far as he dared, then they deserted the car and hiked on foot. He expected her to not keep up, but she would have rushed on ahead had he not scrambled to keep up with her.
They could hear the creek even before they could see it. For the most part, the deep banks still contained it, but the water was swift and churning. Dead tree limbs tumbled and tossed until a bend or a jagged outcropping of rock managed to snag them and hold them fast.
Normally he would have suggested they separate, each take a direction, but he could not do that. What if she spotted the boy—tried a rescue... ?
“I think we should try upstream,” he said, the first words since they had left town. She didn’t answer, just turned in that direction. He could see the anguish in her face.
It was hard walking. Many times the willows along the banks forced them to detour because of their tangled branches. Each time he would come back around as quickly as possible and scan the shoreline—the water’s edge, the rocks—for bits of color that didn’t belong there. Had he been with anyone else he would have advised them to look for anything that might resemble clothing—in or out of the water. He could not say that to her. She was already close to shock.
Now and then she accepted his help over rough terrain. But she did not complain, even when her hands became scraped from sharp rocks and her clothing was torn on a length of discarded barbed wire.
Once he found a bit of ragged cloth. Hesitantly he held it up, hugely relieved when she shook her head.
Now others began to join them. Soon the creek banks and the surrounding hills were dotted with people—ranchers and farmers, businessmen who had not stopped to change from their pinstripe suits, women, some still wearing their aprons, some carrying babies on a hip, older ones, younger ones, any who could walk and call were out looking for the little boy.
The sun dipped behind a distant mountain. Still they searched. Voices echoing back and forth through the hills calling, “Danny—Danny.” It was eerie. It was unreal. Now there were whispered comments and faces filled with fear. The same ones who had prayed to find the little boy now began to fear they might. Surely if he were still wandering the hills or following the swollen waters, they would have already found him.
Darkness began to descend. Henry was aware that little clusters had formed here and there. People were gathering. It soon would be impossible to see.
Rogers came to him. He motioned Henry apart from Danny’s mother and kept his voice low. “They’re wondering how much longer. Can’t see anymore tonight. We’ll need to take it up again in the morning.”
Henry hated to agree, but he had to. “Let them go. Have them check in with us in the morning. See if we need help again.”
As for him, he couldn’t quit yet, wasn’t ready to give up. He knew they had already covered every inch up and down the creek for miles.
He didn’t say anything when he moved to where Sam was listening to a neighbor woman. He waited for the older woman to move away, then stepped closer. “It’s too dark to see tonight. Why don’t you ride on home with someone? Try to get some sleep. We’ll ...” What would they do? He really didn’t know. He couldn’t make any ridiculous promises.
“What are you planning?” she asked, her lips trembling.
He hesitated. He hated to talk about dragging the creek....
He longed for a good dog or two. Maybe he could make a call and have some brought out to the area. But even as he considered this he knew a dog would have a difficult time picking up a scent. The area had been crossed time and again with any number of people.
“I thought I’d just look around for a little while longer—see if the moon comes up.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He knew she had no intention of going back.
They walked and called and stumbled their way in the darkness. Heavy clouds prevented the moon from lighting the world below.
At last he knew they had to stop. It was getting cold, and neither of them had a jacket.
“We’d better go,” he finally said. “We’ll start again as soon as the sun comes up.”
He could tell she was weeping again. There was no sound, but he saw her brush at her cheeks in the darkness. He wanted to comfort her, but he did not know how. He reached out a hand to take her arm. “Careful, it’s rough going here.”
She let him lead her back to the car without protest.
It felt good to be in out of the cold. He switched on the motor and started toward town. “Do you want me to take you to your folks?”
“No.” That was all ... just no.
“You might sleep better if—”
“I won’t sleep.”
He didn’t suppose he’d sleep much either.
“You think it’s my fault, don’t you?” she surprised him by saying.
“Your fault? How?”
“If I’d let him go with the boys.... If I had let you—”
“Don’t even think like that,” he interrupted. “That has nothing to do with this.”
“I’m not so sure.”
She buried her face in her hands, and sobs shook her frame. He had no idea what to do, so he kept on driving.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said, “but I can’t face ...”
He was silent.
“You were right,” she went on. “Danny does need to learn things—from a man.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Needs a role model. I know that. But I’m just so ... afraid. When... when his father died I decided I never wanted that kind of pain again. Never. It hurt too much. One minute I was alive and happy, and the next ...” She stared out the window to the blackness beyond. “The police came. A lot of me died that night. I would have died completely if... if it wasn’t for my faith. Somehow God would get me through it. I hung on to that. And Danny. Danny gave me a reason to live.”
He didn’t dare reach for her hand. Didn’t dare make comment. He had to give her the freedom to open her soul while he just listened.
“I left where I was living. Came here—to a new life. The folks had moved here, and Dad had a good business. But his hands—his arthritis—he couldn’t do it anymore. So I took it over. Even let them... change my name. It was a joke at first, but soon everybody just accepted it. Including me. I didn’t care. I wasn’t the person I had been before anyway, so I became Little Sam—or Young Sam—or Lady Sam. Soon it was just Sam.” She paused to blow her nose. “That’s not my real name.”
I know,
he wanted to say, but he said nothing.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s good to talk about it,” he encouraged her.
She sniffed again. “Yes ... you’d know about that. You’re a policeman.”
“I hope I’m more than that,” he said softly. “I hope I’m a friend.”
She seemed to think about that for a moment. “It does make a difference that we go to the same church. That we both believe.” She seemed to gain some confidence from that statement. “Guess that’s why I went on so. Not because you’re an officer, but because you are a fellow believer.”
“It makes a difference,” he agreed.
They reached the streets of the town. Lights still burned in the windows of many homes. Families—subdued and concerned for a little boy... and his mother.
“You’re sure you don’t want to stay with your folks?”
“I’m sure. If he comes home... he’ll come here.”
Henry walked her to her front door, wondering what to say, how to say it. He watched her wipe at her cheeks again.
Dear God,
he groaned silently,
if someone has to bring her the news that she’s lost her son, please don’t let it be me.
But immediately he changed his prayer.
If it has to be, help me. Help her....
“You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
“As much as I can be under the circumstances.”
He nodded.
She moved toward her door. He turned to go, when the light from the streetlamp illuminated something in one of the willow chairs.
He moved cautiously toward the chair and crouched down. The light fell over the face of a very small, very dirty boy, curled up in a ball, a fishing rod tucked in close. He was sound asleep. Henry straightened, his heart pounding, his mind tumbling with prayers of gratitude.

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