Mary Connealy (110 page)

Just as Festus appeared ready to toss Charlie to the floor and turn on Grant, Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is a marriage license. The lady who threw herself at Pa is married. Her husband has been hiding out in her house all this time.”

The whole crowd froze. Eyes blinking, the parson reached between Charlie and Brewster’s burly stomach and took the paper.

Shirt Lady grabbed at the document.

The parson evaded her and stepped out of her reach. Then he looked at her, fire and brimstone in his eyes. “What is the meaning of this?”

She let go of Grant’s neck to wrestle the parson for the paper, but the parson blocked her. “I don’t know where the boy got that.”

Grant saw the cold, calculating look harden her features. He saw something close to pure evil as she dove for that paper.

Grant stopped her.

Charlie spoke into the stunned silence. “I deliver parcels all over town. The day Pa came to tell Prudence he couldn’t go riding with her, after she tricked him into asking her, I looked in her window after Pa told her he wasn’t interested in seeing her ever. I saw her with a man. A man standing with his gun drawn, held backward like he was going to hit someone with it.

“You, Pa, if you’d have gone inside. While you were talking to Miss Cartwright, I sneaked inside and hunted around. It didn’t take long to find that paper. I knew she was up to something, with all her lies and the way she chased after you. So I kept it.”

The parson held up the document for all to see. “That’s what this says. She’s married. It’s dated ten years ago.”

Hannah spoke up. “I saw a man in her room the first night I was here. The night of the blizzard. Then again one other time. I didn’t know her well enough to wonder who was there, and then I forgot all about it.”

Grant looked up to see Hannah pushing her way through the crowd, closer to him.

“And then, when I was delivering to the sheriff’s office, I found this.” Charlie held up a wanted poster with Prudence’s picture and a man’s, wanted for pulling cons up and down the Mississippi River.

Prudence slid quickly sideways and reached for the doorknob.

Grant slammed a flat hand against the door to keep it closed. The sheriff fought his way from the back of the crowd and grabbed Shirt Lady’s arm. “Let’s go across to the jail and talk about this.” He looked down at Charlie and studied the wanted poster. “There’s a good reward for these two. It looks like that’s yours if we can round her husband up.” Charlie said, “Give it to Pa.”

“No,” Prudence screamed. “It wasn’t me. It was my husband, Horace. He’s hiding in my shop right now. I’ll help you catch him.” Prudence’s voice rose until it was a wonder she didn’t shatter the schoolhouse windows. “He forced me to do this. He beats me. I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

Joshua looked more closely at the wanted poster, and his eyes sharpened as he rubbed his head. The stitches were gone, but he’d carry the mark all his days. “That’s him. I remember now. That’s the man who hit me with his gun butt and knocked me off that cliff.”

“We’ll want your testimony if it comes to a trial, Josh.” The sheriff tucked the poster in his shirt pocket.

“If?” Grant asked. “Why do you say if?”

“These two are wanted for a whole slew of crimes, and they’ve hurt some powerful people with their cons. That’s why the reward is so high. They’ll probably want to take them to trial in Mississippi. Here we can charge them with assault and attempted murder, but the charges back East would lock them up for the rest of their lives. I’d as soon see them found guilty back there and be done with them.”

The sheriff pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it in Prudence’s mouth. “We want to keep her quiet so we can snag her husband.”

“I’ll help you bring him in, Ned.” Harold went out. Several other men followed.

The door closed.

Parson Babbitt came to Grant’s side. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Grant. I know you well enough that I should have taken your side from the first second. It’s just”—the parson shook his head—“I’ve never seen a woman do something like that before. I can’t fathom that kind of public humiliation, and to force a marriage.”

“But why?” Gladys asked. “Why would she want Grant so bad?”

“Oil.” Charlie held up one more piece of paper. Grant really should scold the boy for all his sneaking around. “What about oil?” the parson asked.

“I found this paper right by the marriage license. Her husband’s been digging at the spring. Buckets of oil are worth money if you ship it out of LaMont. He wanted to own Pa’s land. She’d have married Pa. Then she’d be part owner.”

“B–but how would her being part owner do her husband any good?” Grant was still too befuddled to make sense out of any of this.

“She wouldn’t be
part
owner if you were dead, Pa.” Charlie scooted closer to Grant. It chilled Grant to realize the vicious plans Prudence and her husband had in store for him. But that chill was swept away as Grant realized his most recent problem child had finally truly joined the family.

Grant rested his hand on the young shoulders. All of the boy’s wiliness had paid off for Grant. All the sneaking and lying and stealing had saved the day. Grant knew he had to have a serious talk with the boy.

But maybe not tonight.

Brewster grabbed Charlie by the front of his shirt and lifted him off his feet. “I want you and all of yours out of this school.”

Grant’s stomach sank, and his eyes flickered to Hannah’s face. He was still going to ruin this night she and his children had worked so hard on. But he couldn’t let Brewster hurt Charlie. He reached for Brewster.

“You let Charlie go!” The tiny voice brought dead silence to the room.

Grant, along with everyone else, turned toward that voice. Hannah gasped. “Libby!”

Everyone in town knew about the little girl who never spoke. She charged straight up to Brewster and stood side-by-side with Charlie, her little fists clenched, her jaw tight and angry. Her tiny anger even stopped Brewster in mid-rant.

Grant couldn’t hold back a smile as he reached down and picked Libby up. “You spoke. Libby, honey—” Grant wanted to laugh and dance and spin the little girl around, but he didn’t want to scare her back into her shell of silence.

Charlie looked up at the little sister he’d ridden into town with. “Hey, Lib. You’ve got a pretty voice.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” Libby’s sweet smile bloomed.

Hannah came to Grant’s side and grabbed Libby out of his arms. “Oh, Libby, honey, honey, you talked!” She looked to be planning on the dance Grant had thought better of. He smiled as Hannah gave Libby a kiss on the cheek.

Grant saw the love and joy shining in Hannah’s eyes.

When Hannah glanced at him, her cheeks flushed a bit and she whispered, “Libby is my little sister.”

“Your sister?” Grant tried to add and subtract all that Hannah was telling him. “That’s why you tried to mess things up at the train station? You wanted her to come with you?”

“Not really. I mean, we had a plan that she’d just duck away from the train and get herself left behind. Then the two of us would hide. We knew no one would let me keep her if we asked permission, but we pulled the same trick in Omaha and it worked. Of course we were supposed to be in a big anonymous city. Not tiny Sour Springs.”

Hannah caught Grant’s arm, her touch gentle, her eyes warm. “We never dreamed anyone would adopt a little girl with a limp. When you took her, I could only think of Parrish, my adoptive father, and how cruel he was, how he made us work in the carpet mill then took all our money and barely fed us. I didn’t know a man could ever be so kind.”

Hannah’s hand settled on Libby’s back. “And now she finally feels safe. Safe enough to speak. Safe enough to fight a bully to protect her big brother.”

Grant took Libby back and was honored that Hannah let him have his daughter.

Libby twisted in Grant’s arms, glared at Brewster, and jabbed a finger right at his nose. “I’m not going to let you hurt my brother.”

“We’re not going to let it happen either, little gal.”

Grant looked past Libby and saw the parson, determined and focused right on Brewster.

The parson, a man of peace, took hold of the town bully. All of a sudden ten sets of hands were laid firmly on the bully’s arms and shoulders.

Will, Ian, Joshua, Doc Morgan, Zeb, Quincy, more and more people throwing into this fight on Grant’s side. He’d learned to expect the worst from this town, but now they were standing with him.

Festus’s hands were wrenched loose from Charlie’s shirt without any blows being landed. Charlie slipped away and the crowd closed around Festus.

The parson spoke for all of them. “God says to turn the other cheek, but tonight I think He’s on our side. He doesn’t expect good people to quietly stand by while a bully abuses a child. We won’t let you hurt one of God’s precious children.”

Festus wrenched against the hands restraining him.

“And they’re all his children, Festus,” Quincy Harrison added. “Wherever they were born and however they came to be in our lives.”

“Harrison, you’ve always been on my side.” Festus raised his glowering eyebrows at Quincy.

“And I’ve always been wrong,” Quincy replied. “I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’ll not side with you while you harm these youngsters. I’ll not stand by while you hurt this fine young boy or Grant or anyone else in this town.”

When Festus looked around and saw everyone in the town siding against him he quit struggling.

“Caring for children is a sacred trust.” The parson took his hands off Brewster and pushed Grant aside so he faced the man. Grant, holding Libby tight, gave way.

“God’s given that trust to you, Mr. Brewster. He’s given you children who can grow up hating like you do or loving as God wants them to.” The parson quoted: “‘But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.’”

They were familiar words. The parson’s voice was as clear as a night sky. As pure as God’s Son and His sacrifice of love.

“You will behave decently tonight or you will be thrown out. Your choice, Brewster.”

Festus didn’t answer.

“And from this day on,” the parson added, “if you harm Grant or one of his children or anyone else, you will answer to the whole town.”

The parson’s voice lost its edge and became softer, kinder. “Festus, please, if you only knew how much God loved you, all the turmoil would be gone from your life. God wants to fill you with His peace.”

“Peace?” A look of longing shone on Festus’s face so intense and personal that Grant felt he should look away.

“Yes. Do you stay in peace or leave this building?”

Grant saw the war inside Brewster and prayed. It was the first time in Grant’s life that he’d ever been able to pray for Festus.

Finally, into the endless quiet, speaking barely above a whisper, Festus said, “I…I’d like to stay.”

The parson laid his hand on Festus’s head like a baptism. “Good. I’m glad. And later I’ll walk home with you and your family. You’ve got some decisions to make about your life.”

“Can we have the pageant now?” Libby spoke into the silence, and the exasperation in her voice broke everyone into laughter.

Into the chaos Hannah spoke, “Let’s get on with it.”

Everyone filed into the schoolroom and settled into chairs. Grant felt the presence of the Holy Ghost in that room on that warm spring night.

The children lined up. All of them recited the old familiar story of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. It sounded fresh coming from childish lips.

The highlight of the night came near the end.

It was impossible that Hannah had planned for Libby to have a speaking role. But now, from the place she’d stood in the front row, singing along, Libby stepped forward. Reading from a slate, Hannah must have quickly written up for her, Libby’s voice rang out. “‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.’”

Grant prayed that he lived up to the Great Commission. He prayed that, in his own small corner of the world, he did teach. He did baptize. He did spread the word, at least to his own children, that God was with them.

The whole building finished the program with a quiet verse of “Just as I Am.” As the song faded, the parson said a quiet closing prayer.

When Grant saw Festus Brewster bow his head, Grant realized he couldn’t hold on to the foolish promise he’d made to himself to avoid Hannah. She deserved to be thanked for all her work and the new sense of closeness and community she’d brought to Sour Springs.

Grant went over and took her hand. “The pageant went perfectly.”

T
he pageant was a disaster.” Hannah smiled despite the fact that she was dead serious. “What are you talking about?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Grant objected.

“We had six little singers who kept running down to sit with their parents. I could barely hear the students saying their parts over the din. Gordy tripped over his robe, landed on Emory, and the two rolled down the risers punching each other. Benny and Libby got into a tug-of-war over the cross and ended up in a slap fight, and—”

Marilyn rushed up, interrupting Hannah. Grant’s daughter’s face blazed so pink Hannah could see the blush in the part of her white-blond hair. “I can’t believe I pushed that big paper stone, and it started rolling and knocked into Megan holding her baby. If Ian hadn’t moved so fast, I could have hurt them both.”

Hannah patted her shoulder. “It’s a good lesson to learn.”

“Why’s that?” Grant asked.

Hannah grimaced. “I have plans for a Christmas program next winter, and I considered asking Megan if we could use her baby.”

Marilyn gasped in horror and covered her face with her hands. “No, the poor little thing will never survive!”