Hannah Grace (38 page)

"What? Then when?"

"No. I mean, I can't-ever-marry you. I don't love you, Ralston, just as you don't love me,"

"Hannah, that will come in time. Lots of couples marry without all the essential feelings in place. You're simply not thinking straight right now."

She smiled. "Actually, Ralston, I'm thinking straighter than I have in a very long while. I've decided I need to spend more time with the Lord, concentrate on reading His Word. I mean really reading it. I haven't been doing that as I should. All my life I've read the Bible very dutifully, almost ritualistically. And in all that time, I haven't truly allowed the Word of God to speak to me."

"What?" The very nature of his question indicated his lack of spiritual depth and understanding. "It's that sheriff, isn't it?" he complained, as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "Ever since he and that-that orphan came to town, things haven't been the same between us,"

She swallowed that bit of truth, pondering it in her mind. "You might be right about that, but lest you think I'm calling an end to our relationship strictly because of the sheriff and my love for that little boy, let me clarify something. I don't love you, Ralston, and I can't marry someone I don't love. Therefore, I can't marry you. Moreover, I've thought for the longest time that marriage would bring a certain sense of completion to my life, but, really, God alone can truly complete me. Right now, I want to focus my attentions on living my life for Him, learning what it means to be content,"

Ralston Van Huff clearly didn't get it. Dumbfounded best described the look he gave her. "But I-I truly need a wife," he whined. "It's the matter of my inheritance. If I-we..." The poor man looked near tears.

She patted his arm. "Yes, I know you wanted to marry me to get to your inheritance"-the notion should have angered her deeply-"but there are other women out there, Ralston-women who will probably jump at your proposition. And a proposition is exactly what that was, by the way-a proposition, not a true marriage proposal. Next time, clarify your intentions, and perhaps you'll find a woman just as money-hungry as yourself."

He didn't argue her suggestion, nor did he even take offense by it; he merely nodded absently.

"Well then, I guess this is good-bye," he said with little emotion.

How awkward, and yet how simply freeing. They actually smiled at each other before he pushed himself up and headed for the door, She watched him snatch his coat off the rack and put it on. What a truly pathetic scenario. He had used her, really, and, for a time, she'd actually fallen into his scary, black trap. Thank You, Lord, for pulling me out of that. May I never again jump into something without first seeking Your perfect, divine purposes. And that includes Gabriel Devlin. Give me a clear head where he is concerned, Lord. Let me seek You first, above all else!

Hand on the doorknob, Ralston gave her one last look. "For what it's worth, I did enjoy your company."

She sat with hands folded, `And I yours." It was, after all, partially true.

abe wouldn't say Hannah treated him with a particular chill the next morning, but neither did she lavish him with a blanket of warmth. Rather, she greeted him cordially and with a sort of serene aloofness, as if she could easily take him or leave him. The whole thing caught him off guard, stole his sense of confidence. He'd thought they'd made progress yesterday, especially after spending a delightful afternoon together. And now this-this strange civility.

Unfortunately, he'd had no time for socializing at the door, nor had she, by the look of her flour-covered hands. In haste, she ushered Jesse inside and told him Grandmother Kane anticipated his arrival up in the attic. Eager to learn what awaited him, Jesse made a mad dash for the stairs, and Hannah, granting Gabe a smile that was friendly enough, thanked him for bringing Jesse by and promised to have him ready and waiting when five o'clock rolled around. She then curtly wished him a good day and closed the door. Any other time, he might have stopped the door with his foot, but he'd had South Bend detectives waiting for him at his office, so he'd walked away feeling baffled, if not slightly rebuffed.

Four plainclothesmen were waiting in the courthouse lobby when he walked through the front entrance, all looking eager to know what he could tell them about the McCurdy gang and their alleged presence in Sandy Shores. After a brief round of handshakes and introductions, they went to his office, where they made small talk while Kitty delivered tall mugs of steaming coffee and Gus and a few other deputies gathered enough chairs for everyone to sit in. Once they were situated, Gabe told them about the drowning victim, Luis McCurdy, and the graveside service they'd scheduled for tomorrow afternoon; about the young stranger in Kane's Whatnot he suspected was a McCurdy; and about his recent visit with George Vanderslute. He also brought up the matter of Jesse Gant-his being a witness to the South Bend murder-and his strong suspicions that the McCurdys meant to capture and kill the boy.

"You think any of them will show up at the cemetery tomorrow, maybe lurk in the shadows?" asked Howard, who seemed to be the one in charge, thumbs hooked in his suspenders, cigar drooping out of the corner of his mouth. He'd crossed a portly leg over the other and tried to look comfortable.

"I seriously doubt it, but I intend to be on the lookout, just in case," Gabe replied from behind his desk. "In the meantime, I have another lead worth checking." He proceeded to tell them about the horses he'd spied in the backyard of the massive summer cottage just yesterday and the movement he'd detected on the other side of the drapes.

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.