Hannah Grace (21 page)

Dusty loped back with the bone and dropped it at his feet. Jesse picked it up and heaved it out over the yard again, watching the dog dart away.

"That's a nice dog you got there."

Startled, Jesse leaped to his feet, an instinctual reaction he'd acquired from months spent on the run. A boy about his age and size stood at the edge of the yard, pail in hand. Jesse had spotted him on prior afternoons at the same time, cutting through the plot of land between Kane's Whatnot and DeBoer's Hardware. Until now, though, he'd managed to stay in the shadows. He mentally kicked himself for not noting the time more carefully.

"What's your name?" asked the boy, boldly crossing the yard in his direction. Dusty dropped the stick from his mouth and ran to greet the newcomer, not at all the intimidating watchdog Jesse had hoped he would be.

Jesse's mouth went as dry as the stick Dusty insisted on chasing. So far, he had spoken only to Gabe and Hannah; even with them, he barely dared utter more than a couple of words before his stomach tied into a pinching knot. Talking did not come easily to him, even though he couldn't explain why that was, exactly.

People plain scared him, and that was about the gist of it. It hadn't always been the case, but after his ma died, something snapped in him-something that got only worse when those hospital people hauled him off to a big home full of orphans. As if that wasn't enough, in May, some people put him on a train with a whole bunch of other kids to find him a new family. The last thing he'd wanted was a new family, but how could he argue with a bunch of adults who thought they had all the answers? Along the way, he witnessed fistfights on the train, his food was stolen daily by bullies, he was knocked to the ground by a big kid waiting in the food line, he listened to screaming children with runny noses, and, once, he got so sick with fever that he begged God to let him die.

At each new town, an agent urged Jesse off the train, then quickly pushed him to the side for an "inspection." Inspections usually involved orders to pull back his shoulders and fix his wrinkled collar. On occasion, the agent even spit-polished his dirty cheeks. In the end, though, the agent would frown, as if to say, "There's only so much one can do with a face like that."

Next, he'd push him into a long line with dozens of other children, each to be examined by the careful eyes of adults from the town. Some who arrived simply as husband and wife walked off as a family, taking with them a child, or, in some cases, several children.

Jesse could have tried harder to be polite in these towns, but he didn't want to imagine living with anybody but his own mother. "He's too frail for my taste," one woman said of him. "Must've had small parents." He'd wanted to spit at her, but the agent would have punished him on the ride back to New York, so he'd tried to think of other things-like when his mother was alive and they'd walked to Central Park to play on the big rocks.

Then, there was the tall, big-nosed woman with pimples who'd lifted his chin with a pointy finger and made him open his mouth. "That a cavity in there, or just a speck o' food?" she asked. "I ain't got money for takin' you to the dentist right off the bat." As simple as that, she dropped his chin and moved on, leaving him to send his tongue on a quick cavity search, only to find a tiny black bug that had somehow found its way into his mouth.

Big-Nosed Lady moved on down the line and selected a little girl with long, blonde hair. "You'll do fine," she'd said, taking her by the hand and marching off with her, as if she'd just found herself the cutest pup in the litter.

The boy now approaching him held a curious gaze, but he looked harmless enough. In fact, he looked about as dangerous as Dusty. Still, Jesse wasn't up for questions, the mere thought of which rattled his nerves. What if he asked hard questions: "Who's your real family?" "Where did you come from?" "How come you don't go to school?"

Jesse stuck his hands deep in his jean pockets and studied his shoes, which were unusually clean for a boy his age. In fact, the clothes Hannah and Gabe had given him showed nary a speck of dirt from play.

He lifted his face when the boy was within a few feet of him. The first thing he noted about him was the spray of freckles peppering his face-and then the grin that exposed a top row of crooked teeth. He wore knickers that came well above his knees and sported stain. His dirty shirttail hung out, covering the clips on his suspenders, and a tawdry cap was parked sideways on his dark brown mop of straight, poky hair. The boy reminded Jesse of how he'd looked only weeks ago, before Gabe and Hannah took pity on him.

Rather than ask permission, the boy helped himself to the top step, stretching out his lanky legs and tossing aside his dented lunch pail. Dusty's tail wagged like a flag in the wind as he licked the boy's freckles.

"Hey, it's okay by me if you rub those stupid things off'n my face, but my Grandma Hiles won't be too happy 'bout it. She says they're the diamonds God's gonna use for decoratin' her crown o' glory some day." He laughed and caught Jesse's eye, but Jesse remained silent and wary.

When it looked like Dusty might be wearing his welcome thin, Jesse nabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him to his side.

"He part hound or somethin'? He's a nice dog. Hey, I hear you been livin' with Sheriff Devil."

The misuse of Gabe's last name brought up his defenses. "Devlin," Jesse corrected him.

The boy shot him a sly smile. `Just checkin' t' see if you was payin' attention. I thought maybe you was missin' yer tongue or somethin.'

Anger brewed under his skin, but he remained careful not to let his mask slip. As much as he wanted a friend, he wasn't about to let down his guard.

"My name's William Bruce Hiles, but my ma and grandma calls me Billy B. You can, too, if you want. Or drop the B. Makes no matter. I'm nine. How old are you?"

Jesse pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and shifted his position.

The boy sized him up through narrow green eyes. "That's okay, you don't have t' tell me. I'll just tell you some stuff about me. My pa, he ain't around. Ma used to tell me he was dead, till I turned five, when I guess she thought I was old enough for the truth. He's in jail, 'cause he kilt his own brother, Tom Hiles, in a barroom. I wasn't even born yet, so I never met 'im, not that I'd want to, mind you. Ma said if I didn't hear the truth from her then some of chatterbox 'round town was bound t' tell me." He leaned forward to look past Jesse, through the clearing of trees just adjacent to an old, unused outhouse at the back of the Kane property. "See that little white story-and-a-half over there behind that big oak tree? There's a big red bush by the front step."

Jesse squinted to see which one he meant, as there was a block of houses all similar in features.

"Yellow door?" Jesse heard himself ask.

"Yep, that's the one. That's where Grandma Hiles, Mama, and me live. Grandma Hiles is my ma's mother-in-law. I have a sister ten years older 'n me, can you believe it? Plus, she's married. Mama says Katrina shouldn'ta got married so young, but y' can't talk blood out of a turnip-or somethin' like that. In other words, y' can't talk'er out of somethin' once she gets 'er mind made up. Mama's used to the whole thing now, though, and she likes Micah plenty. He's older than Katrina by five years, so that makes him twenty-four. Seems ancient, don't it?"

Jesse nodded, overwhelmed by all the words flying at him. Maybe he wouldn't have to worry so much about questions since Billy B seemed pretty intent on doing all the talking.

"Wanna know what we learned in science today?" Billy B asked.

Jesse's ears perked up. He'd always enjoyed science. Shoot, he liked all his school subjects and never once earned a poor grade. His ma used to call him a genius, but he'd never go that far.

He hoped his nod didn't show an abundance of enthusiasm. There was no sense in giving Billy B high hopes for earning his friendship, even though the idea seemed appealing.

Billy B scooted over and patted the space beside him on the top step. "First, you got to at least tell me yer name."

He might have known there'd be a hitch to getting a free science lesson. He sucked in a noisy breath. "Jesse,"

The boy raised his thick, brown eyebrows. "That's it? No middle or last name?"

"Ray. Jesse Ray Gant," he supplied. "I'm eight."

Billy B looked thoughtful. "Yer little for your age, but you'll probably grow tall when you get in the bigger grades. That's what happened to Joe Cort, you know. Everyone says he was a pip-squeak till he got in ninth grade. Just like that, he took off and never stopped till he was eighteen. Now he's somethin' like eight feet tall."

"Huh?"

"Well, I don't know my feet an' inches that good, but when you see 'im walkin' down the street, you know it's him."

Billy B slanted his eyes down to study a loose thread coming out of his pants. He gave the thing a pull, and several more inches came loose from the fabric. It didn't seem to bother him, though, as he set to winding the excess thread around his index finger. "You'd be in my grade, third-if you come to school, that is. I'm older'n you, but I flunked first grade. Couldn't read them big readers. All the letters kept turnin' 'round on me. I still don't get it very good, but I'm good at science. And world history, too. Those are my whiz subjects. Math's pretty easy, most days. What's your whiz subjects?"

Bored, but contented enough, Dusty curled up at the foot of the steps and closed his eyes.

Overhead, the wind rustled the leaves, which were fast turning from green to oranges and golds. In the gentle breeze, several more leaves broke free of their branches and settled to the ground, adding to the already orange-brown, crispy blanket.

"R-reading, I guess. W -what about-that-science lesson?" Jesse asked, still timid.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Okay. Mr. Middleton, ar teacher, took two balloons."

"You have a man teacher?" Jesse didn't know that men could be teachers.

"Yeah. Anyway, he takes these two balloons. One of'em, he blows up; the other'n, he puts a quarter cup o' water in first. Then, he blows it up."

"Young or old?"

"What-the balloons?"

"No, the teacher." He was starting to like this kid.

"Oh, old. He's around twenty-nine."

"That's not old."

Billy B rolled his eyes. "You want for me to tell you about the science lesson or not?"

For the first time in a long while, Jesse felt near to laughing. "Yes,"

"Okay, so he lights a match under the balloon with no water, and poof! The thing pops. Made Margaret Wilderdeek jump clear to the moon."

Jesse covered his grin with his sleeve.

"Then, he sticks a flame under the balloon with water in it-right where the water's sittin, you know, and guess what? That balloon didn't pop, even though he let the flame touch the balloon. It's 'cause the water in the balloon-what's that word?-absorbed the heat from the flame, so the rubber in the balloon didn't get too hot to break. Water is a good, um, absorber of heat. It takes a lot of heat to change the temperature of water. He told us other stuff about why water in teakettles takes a long time to boil and why the ocean helps keep land warmer in cold months, but he lost me there. Besides, I was still thinking about how Margaret Wilderdeek's face looked when that balloon popped."

This triggered an unexpected spurt of laughter from both boys, and, when it happened, the pair fused together like paper to glue.

They sobered in seconds. Billy B picked up the stick that Dusty had between his paws. When he did, the mutt leaped to his feet. Billy B gave it a toss and they both watched Dusty zoom off. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," said Billy B. "Some things take time."

A thousand rivers of relief flooded Jesse's veins.

Just then, the screen door opened and Hannah stood over them, a platter in hand. "I've brought you some cookies and lemonade."

"Cookies?" Billy B jumped to his feet quick as a cricket to survey the plate of cookies, no doubt looking for the biggest. "Mmm, sugar cookies, my favorite."

Hannah laughed. "Take two," she offered. Then, dipping her face down to study Billy B's, she said, "You're Katrina Sterling's little brother. Did you know she's best friends with my sister, Abbie?'Course, now that Katrina's married, I don't think they see each other quite as often as before."

Billy B looked thoughtful. "I know Abbie. She used to come over and tell us jokes. Gabby Abbie. That's what Kat calls 'er. She's real funny. My ma said she should be in show business."

Hannah laughed. "That's our Abbie:" She glanced from Billy B to Jesse. "Well, I see you two are busy talking, so I'll just set this tray down here and leave you be."

She winked at Jesse before turning to go back inside, and the tightness he'd felt around his chest for days slowly let up.

ctober had drained the last of summer's warmth, ushering in a cold start to the month ofNovember. Rufus shivered under his thin jacket and pulled tight the flank cinch on his horse's saddle. The critter balked and sidestepped, missing Rufus's big toe by an inch.