Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek (33 page)

She just felt so inadequate, Barbara admitted to herself. The reason she didn't trust others was not because she thought she didn't need anyone or that she should do it all by herself. She just did not have any faith that anyone would help.

There was a flash of red, and Barbara looked in the rearview mirror.

“What's—” Barbara started to say.

The sheriff had just turned on his siren.

Barbara pulled over. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for the sheriff to walk up beside the car and motion for her to roll down her window.

“I wasn't speeding,” Barbara said when she rolled down the window. “You can ask Mrs. Hargrove here.”

“Hi, Carl,” the older woman said as she looked over to see the sheriff, who had bent down so his face could be seen in the driver's-side window.

“I know you weren't speeding,” the sheriff said. “I just thought I should get that muffler hooked on a little better or you're going to be blowing black
smoke here soon. Then I'd have to give you a ticket for polluting the air.”

“We don't have time,” Barbara said.

“It'll only take fifteen minutes,” the sheriff said. “The thing needs to cool off a little before I do anything. Why don't you pull off on that road up ahead? There's a couple of trees down in that coulee. You and Mrs. Hargrove could take a little walk.”

“I have a can of peaches in the trunk,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “We could have a picnic.”

The older woman was already reaching up and un wrap ping the curlers she'd worn all morning.

“That's the spirit,” the sheriff said as he stood back up. “I'll meet you there.”

Barbara rolled her window back up. “The muffler's not that bad. He didn't have to stop us now.”

“Oh, I agree,” the older woman said as she took out her last curler. “Like I say. It's his emotions.”

“Well, if you count emotions as being stubborn, nosy, and hard to understand, then I guess it is.”

Mrs. Hargrove chuckled. “My husband and I went on a picnic with nothing but peaches back when we were courting.” The older woman looked sideways at Barbara. “Of course, that was before I'd learned to trust him.”

Barbara nodded. She hoped that man on the phone would understand about a lunch break. She supposed
she should be glad that it was only going to take fifteen minutes.

Before long, the sheriff slid out from under Mrs. Hargrove's car, stood up and wiped his hands on a rag he kept in his trunk for such purposes. They didn't have a highway patrol near Dry Creek and the sheriff had found it useful to learn a fair amount about fixing cars. Some times there just wasn't a tow truck around that could come and the sheriff was the only official who was there to help.

Of course, he always worked on Mrs. Hargrove's car anyway. He figured it would be good experience if he ever wanted to work for a museum. The mustard-colored car had been around for over thirty years, and its outside was starting to fade to a dirty yellow. The car's inside, under the hood, didn't bear thinking about.

Anyway, fixing a car always steadied him some, and he wanted to see how Mrs. Hargrove and Barbara were coming along. He looked down the slight incline where the two women had walked. Mrs. Hargrove had found a small blanket in her trunk and Barbara was spreading it on the ground now.

The sheriff figured that, unless it was something illegal, Mrs. Hargrove would get Barbara to talk about what was wrong. So far, that hadn't happened. He didn't have a good feeling about the situation at all. Barbara wasn't the kind of person to panic over
nothing. And he could see that she was just about as rattled as a person could be without spilling any secrets. He knew he should be pressing her to talk, but he just couldn't do it.

And that was why, the sheriff told himself as he started to climb down the shallow incline to where the women were, a sheriff needed to forget about having any friends.

B
arbara could still taste the peach juice on her lips when they got into Billings. The sheriff was still following them and Mrs. Hargrove was still being so nice that Barbara wanted to cry. It was all too much.

Barbara parked the car on a side street next to the prison. The sheriff parked his car right behind her.

“Will you stay with Mrs. Hargrove?” Barbara asked as she opened the car door and saw the sheriff already walking toward their car.

Barbara noticed that the coldness had left the sheriff's face. Now, he looked more weary and sad than anything else.

“I'm the sheriff. You can tell me what's wrong.”

Barbara shook her head. “I can't be seen with you. Don't follow me inside.”

The sheriff nodded. “You have your rights. I can't stop you from trying to see your ex-husband.”

“
Trying
to see him?” Barbara looked up. She'd never thought about being refused admittance. “They can't stop me, can they?”

“He is in jail,” the sheriff said. “They let you talk to him the other day because they were hoping he would tell you something.”

“But I need to talk to him—I—”

Barbara couldn't stand there any longer. She turned her back and started walking down the street to the prison.

“I'll call and ask them to let you talk to him,” the sheriff said.

Barbara turned around when the sheriff spoke. “Thank you.”

The sheriff nodded.

Once Barbara was inside the prison's main office, she knew she wouldn't have been allowed to see her ex-husband if the sheriff hadn't called. It wasn't the right time of day, and Neal wasn't scheduled for visitors anyway. They told her she'd have to wait almost a half hour, but they did agree to let her see him.

Neal looked surprised to see her. “I wondered who was here.”

Barbara waited for Neal to be seated at the Plexiglas division and for the guard to walk away before
she began to speak. “I need to talk to you. A man called on the phone. He has Bobby and Amanda and he says you have to talk to Harlow somebody and ask Harlow for more time. And to stop sending the notes. The notes were important.”

Neal's surprise deepened and then turned to caution. “Who told you I know any Harlow?”

“Please, Neal, you need to help. The children are in trouble.”

“Is this some kind of a trap?” Neal looked over his shoulder at the guard.

“Please, Neal, these are your children. They could be cold or worse.”

Barbara had never begged Neal for anything in their years of marriage. But she didn't care any longer. She couldn't afford her pride when her children needed her. “Please, pleas e—I'm so afraid of what will happen.”

Neal snorted. “You don't even know that some man has the kids.”

“I heard Bobby's voice on the phone. Please— I—”

Neal stood up and turned to the guard. “I need to go back now.”

Barbara watched as her ex-husband walked away from the partition. She'd never felt so much despair in all her days of knowing Neal. How could a father abandon his children this way?

Finally, Neal disappeared behind the prison door, and Barbara was the only one left at the Plexiglas divider. She slowly got up and started to walk to the door. For the first time, she was glad that Mrs. Hargrove had come with her into Billings. Barbara didn't know if she'd have the strength to drive the car back alone.

The prison didn't clank as much as she expected, Barbara thought to herself as she walked down the hall to the main office. But the floor was squeaky, and it did smell. She would never forget what hopeless ness smelled like.

The air outside the prison was as chilly as it had been when Barbara had entered the place almost an hour ago. She hoped the children remembered to zip up their jackets so they wouldn't be cold.

The sidewalk led Barbara down toward where she had parked Mrs. Hargrove's car. There was no grass anywhere.

When Barbara could see Mrs. Hargrove's car, she saw a man standing outside it with his back facing her. The man was leaning in the window and talking to Mrs. Hargrove. It looked like the sheriff, only Barbara knew it couldn't be. The man wasn't wearing a uniform.

As Barbara walked closer, she saw that the man was wearing a light denim shirt and darker denim jeans. A leather belt curled around his waist. One of
the ranch hands from Dry Creek must be in Billings, Barbara thought.

It wasn't until she got closer and the man stood up and saw her that she recognized him.

It was the sheriff.

Barbara had hoped to be able to get into the car without having an argument with him. Maybe she still could, she thought. The sheriff must be planning to stay in Billings and socialize or something. He was certainly never without his uniform in Dry Creek.

The sheriff didn't say anything as she walked closer. He just watched her.

Finally, when she was only a few feet away he spoke. “How did it go?”

Barbara nodded. “Fine.”

There was a silence. Barbara looked at the ground.

“I figure you don't want to talk to me because I'm the sheriff.”

Barbara looked up when he said that.

“But I was wondering if you could talk to me if I was your friend, Carl.”

Barbara blinked back a tear only to have another one fight to fall.

“I know you're in trouble, and I'd like to help. As your friend.”

Barbara hiccupped.

“I even went to a store and bought new clothes so I wouldn't scare you with the uniform.”

Barbara nodded. “They're nice.”

Finally, Carl opened his arms wide.

Barbara couldn't help herself. She threw herself into his arms. “Someone has my children and I don't know what to do.”

The tears were all over her face by now, Barbara noticed as she tried to wipe them away. She no longer felt chilled once Carl wrapped his arms around her. When she talked, she talked into his shoulder.

Carl rocked her a little as he stood there. “We'll find them. I promise.”

“You can't promise,” Barbara said as she at tempted to raise her head from his shoulder. “No one can promise.”

“I can,” he whispered. “I'll find them.”

Barbara was too exhausted to make any decisions. But that was okay, because Carl was doing everything that was needed. He called another sheriff he knew and arranged for the man to drive the county car back to Dry Creek. At the same time, he told the man that there had been a kid nap ping, but that he didn't want a lot of uniformed officers walking around Dry Creek as that could endanger the children who were missing. They made arrangements for one officer, who was already near Dry Creek on some
other business, to go there now, and others would come later.

Then Carl insisted on driving Mrs. Hargrove's car back home.

“Barbara can't be seen in my car,” he told the older woman, and she nodded as though that explained everything.

“If your legs would fit in the backseat, I'd offer to drive so the two of you could sit together back there,” Mrs. Hargrove said.

“I don't mind a muscle cramp or two,” Carl said. “But I thought Barbara would need to rest.”

Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “Seems to me she could rest just fine on one of those big shoulders of yours.”

Barbara wondered when they would stop talking about her as if she weren't there. She didn't protest too much though, especially not when Carl settled her in the backseat with his arm around her and her head on his shoulder.

“Now, tell me everything you can think of that might help the kids,” Carl said as Mrs. Hargrove started the car.

Barbara told Carl everything she could think of, from the eerie feeling she'd had that they were being watched to the color of the socks that Bobby and Amanda had each worn to school today.

“Did you think to call the pastor while you were
making your calls?” Mrs. Hargrove asked as she stopped at a traffic light. “Tell him we have a request for the prayer chain and that some little children need help urgently. The pastor will understand when you say we can't name names. But he'll get the calls going.”

“What's a prayer chain?” Barbara asked.

“It's a telephone list we use when we have an emergency prayer request. Each person on the list calls the person below them on the list until everyone knows they need to be praying.”

“They would all pray for Amanda and Bobby?”

Mrs. Hargrove snorted as the light changed and she started the car forward. “They prayed for Charley's bunions; they'll pray for Amanda and Bobby.”

Barbara couldn't imagine a whole town that would care about some one's feet enough to spend two minutes thinking about them, let alone praying about them.

“Does it work?”

Mrs. Hargrove was out on the open road now. “Well, we're still waiting on the bunions. The doctor says that Charley needs to give up his boots to get rid of the bunions. So now we're praying about the boots. Giving up his boots would be a big change for Charley.”

Carl made the call to the pastor. “A couple of other sheriffs—undercover—are coming to help me for a bit. The first one will be there in ten minutes. I'm going to ask him to go look in the pine trees on the old Gossett
place. There's some wrappers for antacid tablets there. I'd appreciate it if you'd point out to him where the Gossett place is. Then see if anyone knows where a person can buy that brand of antacid tablets around here. Sorry I can't tell you more. But I appreciate it.”

Once the call was made, there was silence in the car.

Barbara kept searching her mind for anything she could remember that would help her children. “They're just so little.”

Carl nodded. “We'll find them.”

Barbara raised her head from Carl's shoulder long enough to wipe at the damp place that had absorbed her tears. “Sorry about getting you all wet.”

Carl's arm tightened around her. “Denim dries.”

That made Barbara want to cry some more.

The town of Dry Creek came into view as the sun had almost set. Barbara realized she'd never driven into town at quite this hour. The sky was deep pink from what was left of the sunset. The whole town was lit up; it looked as though a light was turned on brightly in every room of every store and house in town.

“What's happening?” Barbara asked as they saw the lights.

Even the church was lit up. Barbara looked more closely. Maybe it was lit up even brighter than the other buildings. And cars were parked every
where around the church. “Is there a meeting at the church?”

“Not that I know of,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she drove the car past her house and stopped outside the church. “Let's see what it is.”

Barbara nodded. She wondered if something else bad had happened in Dry Creek. Maybe someone was sick or something.

The three of them went into the church together. It was Mrs. Hargrove though who asked Jacob what was happening. Jacob was standing beside the door with his hat in his hands.

“There's some little kids in trouble,” Jacob whispered. “Some of the women are praying. We think they might be lost some where. So we lit all the lights in town so they can see us if they come close, and the men and the women who are up to riding are out on horses looking for any strays.”

“They're not lost,” Barbara said and couldn't speak anymore. She had never known anyone to care about her and the children this much. They didn't even know it was Amanda and Bobby who were missing. They were ready to help any little children who needed them.

“They're not?” Jacob scratched his head. “We thought that when that other sheriff came asking about those wrappers for antacid pills that the children had
left them in some kind of a trail. That sheriff wouldn't tell us nothing about what was going on.”

Jacob looked at Carl indignantly. “You might speak to him about that.”

Carl nodded. “I might. Did he find out anything about those wrappers?”

“Marlene Olson said they sold that brand at the grocery store where her cousin works in Miles City. Not every store carries them, she said. Seemed proud of the fact, like it was some big deal,” Jacob said.

“Is that the Country Market?” the sheriff asked.

Jacob nodded. “That's the one all right.”

Barbara felt Carl pull away from her. “I've got to go change and do a few things,” he said. “I'll leave you here with Mrs. Hargrove.”

“You don't need to worry about me,” Barbara said.

“I know.” Carl smiled. “Maybe I want to though.”

Barbara didn't have an answer to that. Maybe she didn't need one, she thought, as she watched Carl walk away.

“How long did it take you to trust your husband?” Barbara asked, turning to Mrs. Hargrove.

The older woman smiled. “About as long as it will take you to trust Carl.”

Barbara sat in a church pew until the night was deep. Mrs. Hargrove and several of the other women still sat in the church, some times praying and some times
singing a song. Barbara wondered how she could feel such contentment and such anxiety all at the same time.

“I've made some more tea,” Mrs. Hargrove whispered as she came over and sat beside Barbara. “Are you sure you won't have some? Linda brought over some pie, too.”

“Oh, the bakery stuff,” Barbara suddenly remembered. “I never made any of the deliveries this morning.”

“Don't worry,” Mrs. Hargrove said. “You can have a day-old sale tomorrow.”

“Today, you mean,” Barbara said. The last time she had looked at her watch it had been one o'clock in the morning. Carl had been gone for over six hours now. “I wonder if Bobby and Amanda are sleeping.”

Mrs. Hargrove put her hand on Barbara's arm and squeezed it.

The phone rang some where in the distance.

“That'll be in the pastor's study,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she stood up. “I'll go answer it.”