The Shepherd's Voice (25 page)

“It sure is.”

“I’m glad you came. I assume your lovely wife is with you?”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Yes sir, she is. I came to get her a glass of punch. She was feeling a bit overheated.”

“Took a few turns around the dance floor, did you?” Simon frowned. “No, wait.” He waved with his hand to keep Gabe from interrupting him. “Kipling says my language is woefully outdated. He’s given me some pointers. What I should have said is, ‘Did you tote your frame onto the scud track’?”

“Come again?”

The reverend grinned. “It does sound a bit preposterous, coming from a man my age.”

“I haven’t a clue what it means.”

With a chuckle, Simon translated, “Did you escort your dance partner onto the dance floor?”

“Hmm. Take my advice, Reverend. Don’t listen to Kipling anymore.” Gabe picked up two glasses of punch, then faced the reverend again. “I’d better take Akira her punch. She’ll be wondering what happened to me.”

“Hope to see you both at church in the morning.”

Gabe walked away, muttering to himself, “Tote my frame onto the scud track.” Then he chuckled deep in his chest. Wait until he told Akira.

He craned to see over the heads of the milling partygoers. His wife’s distinctive red hair should have made her easy to find, but he couldn’t see her. She wasn’t seated with the older women or with the young mothers with babies and toddlers. She wasn’t near the raised musicians’ platform, and she wasn’t in any of the straw-strewn stalls.

He was growing anxious when he came upon Jane.

“She went outside for a breath of fresh night air,” she said in answer to his query. “I left her a moment ago, outside the doorway there.” She touched his arm. “Don’t let her stay out too long. The night’s turned colder than she thinks. She could take a chill. You don’t want her getting sick now.”

“No. Of course not. I’ll bring her back in.”

But he didn’t find her beyond the barn doors. He didn’t see anyone. Miss Jane was right. The night
had
turned cold. He could see a cloud of mist in front of his mouth when he breathed out.

He turned to go back inside.

Keep looking.

He didn’t know why he thought those words. He only knew they stopped him in his tracks.

And then he heard a sound. Nothing loud. Yet he knew it signaled something wrong. Something very wrong. Something with Akira.

He tossed the glasses of punch aside. Long strides carried him deeper into the moonlit night.

“No!”

Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, but in Gabe’s ears, in his heart, it was a ringing cry of desperation. He rounded several vehicles parked near the house.

“You’re not too good for that jailbird, but you’re too good for me. Is that it? Never givin’ me the time of day.” As the man spoke, his voice slurred, he yanked Akira toward him. Then he tried to kiss her.

Something feral exploded inside Gabe. He didn’t think. He couldn’t. He just reacted. He slammed his body into the man, and the two of them rolled across the ground, exchanging punches in a mad flurry.

Gabe thought he heard his name shouted from a distance. He wasn’t sure. He was sure of only one thing. He had to make certain this rotting piece of garbage—whoever he was—never touched his wife again.

Never.

His hands closed around the man’s throat.

“Gabe, don’t! Gabriel,
don’t!
”

An instant after Akira’s words registered through the red fury that possessed him, Gabe felt ironlike hands grasp his arms and haul him to his feet.

“He tried to kill me,” the man on the ground said between gasps. “He tried to kill me.”

“That wasn’t smart, Talmadge.”

Gabe glanced in the direction of the low voice, then realized it was Andy Newton who’d spoken. It was the sheriff who still held his upper left arm.

Slowly, the world righted itself. Gabe became aware of the buzz of voices behind him, and he looked over his shoulder. The barn seemed to have emptied. They were all standing there, all those who’d come to this farm to dance and enjoy the evening, staring at him. Staring at Gabe Talmadge, the ex-con, the convicted murderer.

“He was protecting me, Sheriff,” Akira said, coming to stand before them.

The sleeve of her dress was torn at the shoulder. Her hair had tumbled down, the pins lost. She looked ghostly pale in the moonlight.

Bravely, she continued, “Mr. Peck is drunk, and he … he …” Her voice faltered as she fingered the collar of her dress.

Peck. Danny Peck. Gabe should have recognized him, but he’d been too blinded by rage. He hadn’t cared who the man was. He’d only wanted to hurt him.

Andy released Gabe. “Take your wife into the house, Talmadge. I’ll be in to talk to you both in a few minutes.” He turned toward the onlookers. “Go back inside, folks. There’s nothing more to see. Excitements over.”

“You’re not gonna let him go,” Danny rasped as someone helped him to his feet. “He like to killed me. You seen him.”

Jane grabbed her brother’s arm as she watched Akira and Gabe walk away. “Zach?”

“It’ll be all right. Andy Newton’s no fool.”

She blinked away hot tears. “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, “don’t let this hurt that boy.”

Danny Peck made a vile comment about Akira, slurring his words but not so much he wasn’t understood. Jane heard several women gasp behind her, then heard the grumbling of some men.

“I think it’s time you got on home, Peck,” the sheriff said, his voice like steel.

“I wanna know if you’re gonna arrest that —”

“I said, it’s time for you to go. If I need to, I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

Through his fog of intoxication, Danny seemed to realize he’d stepped over some invisible line. He retrieved his hat from the ground and slapped it onto his head, then beat a wordless and hasty—if unsteady—retreat.

“You suppose I should go be with them?” Jane asked Zachary. “With Gabe and Akira?”

“No. Let them work it out ’twixt themselves. They’re man and wife. They gotta deal with these things as a couple.”

She nodded, fighting another wave of tears.

Zachary put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You worry too much.”

“But Gabe —”

“There isn’t a man here who wouldn’t have fought to protect his loved one from that drunken sot.”

“I hope you’re right, Zach.”

Akira wasn’t often afraid, but she had been frightened during her
brief struggle with Danny. Mostly because he’d caught her off guard. She’d been staring up at the clear night sky, enjoying the wash of white moonlight and the twinkle of stars against an ebony heaven, when he’d grabbed her, tearing her dress in the process. He’d been drunk and angry and beyond reasoning. That’s what had frightened her. The absence of reason.

But the look on Gabe’s face as they sat opposite each other at the Candleberrys’ kitchen table frightened her more than anything Danny had said or done.

“Gabe.”

He stared at his hands, palms up. “I could’ve killed him.”

“But you didn’t.”

He looked at her. “I reacted in violence.”

“You came to my aid.”

“I haven’t changed.” He got up and walked to the window. “I’m supposed to act like Christ would act. I’m supposed to act in love. Jesus didn’t strike out. He didn’t lose Himself in rage or try to hurt His fellow man. He wasn’t a constant failure at everything He did.”

“Neither are you.”

“It would have been better for everyone if I’d never come back.”

His words cut like a sword through her heart.

“All I’ll ever do is disappoint you.” He hesitated, then added, “And disappoint God.”

“You’re wrong. You aren’t a disappointment to Him. He loves you more than you’ll ever know.”

He turned toward her.

She stood. “You’ll never be a disappointment to me, either. I love you too.”

The door opened, drawing both their gazes. The sheriff stepped inside. He looked briefly at Akira, then toward Gabe. He removed his hat. “You okay, Talmadge?”

Gabe nodded.

“This incident could hurt your parole.”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t think it will. Peck was drunk as a skunk, and enough folks saw your wife’s torn dress —” He nodded apologetically at Akira. “Sorry.” He looked back at Gabe. “I figure most folks understood why you did what you did, even if they didn’t approve of the way you did it.”

“Then we can go home?” Akira asked.

“Yes.” He put his hat on his head again. “Keep away from Peck. He’s a fool and a drunk, and a drunken fool is dangerous.” He bent his hat brim toward Akira. “Evening.”

The door closed behind the sheriff, leaving Gabe and Akira in silence. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if she should go to Gabe or stay where she was. She didn’t know if she should speak or keep quiet.

Why did this have to happen
,
God? Why?

EIGHTEEN

Hudson set aside the letter from Rupert, then tapped his chin with an index finger as he contemplated its information.

That Gabe had lost his temper and attacked a man—in front of nearly the entire town, no less—could prove useful. According to Rupert, Gabe hadn’t been seen in town in the three weeks since the incident.

“Put your tail between your legs and ran away, didn’t you, boy?” he muttered with disgust. “I said you’d never amount to anything.”

He rose from his chair and strode to the window of his New York hotel room. He’d start home tomorrow, a week later than originally planned. He’d done everything he could here and in Washington. It was clear he would get no help from either the politicians or the men of business. It looked as though he’d have to do this himself.

And do it he would. Hudson Talmadge didn’t like to lose. Ever. He
would
obtain rights to the land north of the river’s fork, and he
would
build a dam and create a reservoir. He
would
control water rights for hundreds of miles around. He
would
control the lumber industry in the region. See if he didn’t. When the economy improved and people were once again building homes and farming
the land, they—private citizens and government alike—would have to come to him for their lumber and water. And they would pay a premium for it too.

He stared at the busy street below. Men in suits and felt hats, briefcases in hand, walked swiftly along the sidewalks, their heads bent into a brisk October wind. Few women could be seen among them; he supposed it was too cold and windy for most shoppers.

If Pauline were here with him, she wouldn’t let a little bad weather stop her from shopping.

Pauline …