The Shining Badge (3 page)

“Let me go!”

Jenny tried to pull her arm away, but Conroy only laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said. “Now, about that dance—”

“Let her go, Max.”

Conroy whirled quickly to see the bulky form of Noel Beauchamp, the sheriff. Beauchamp was a thickset man, with a deep chest and steady brown eyes. “You got nothin’ to do but annoy customers here at the store, Max? Maybe you need some time off.”

“Oh, Noel, I was just havin’ a little fun.”

“Go have your fun somewhere else.”

“Sure, Sheriff.”

Conroy turned and left, but his back was stiff with suppressed anger.

Jenny watched him go. “You made him mad, Sheriff Beauchamp.”

“Max is always mad. If he gives you any trouble, you let me know.”

“He was picking on Noah Valentine again, Sheriff,” Huntington said.

“I don’t think Max has enough work to do. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Jenny said, “Stop by and see us sometime, Sheriff.”

“I’ll do that, Miss Jenny. Your family all right?”

“All doing fine.”

Beauchamp smiled, wrinkles appearing around the corners of his eyes. “Your father’s going to be a daddy again. That’ll be quite a switch for him, won’t it?”

“He’s real nervous about it, Sheriff, but he’ll do fine.”

“I know he will.”

Jenny found Kat still staring at the knife case, and the two left the store. Kat babbled all the way home about the ghosts at the Townsend place.

Then switching the subject, she said, “Let’s go to the swimming hole. There’s still time.”

“No, it’s too late now.”

“But we’ve got a whole hour yet. That’s plenty of time.”

Although Jenny was in a hurry to get home, she was also hot and sweaty and the idea of a swim appealed to her. “All right, but we can’t stay long.” She pulled off the highway and followed an old logging road down to the river. Jenny had been delighted to find this private spot for swimming, where the river made a bend and was thickly bordered by first-growth timber, completely sheltered from the highway.

She parked the truck and the two changed into their suits behind some thick fir trees, then ran laughing into the river. For half an hour they sputtered and laughed, reveling in the coolness of the water. Finally Jenny decided, “Come on, we’ve got to get home.”

Kat protested, but ten minutes later they were dressed and Jenny was pulling the truck back onto the highway. Just as she turned, Kat suddenly cried, “See there? I told you the house was haunted!”

Jenny slowed the truck to a stop and turned to peer out the window. “Where?” she said.

“There!” It was almost dark now, but far away Jenny could see a light bobbing up and down in front of a house that was partly sheltered by tall trees. “That’s the Townsend place, and that’s a ghost!”

“It’s not a ghost. It’s somebody carrying a lantern.”

Jenny put the truck back in gear, and as they started off,
she scolded Kat. “Stop talking about silly things like ghosts! That’s probably just some coon hunter starting in early.”

“It’s no coon hunter. It’s a ghost!” Kat said firmly. “You’ll see when it comes over to haunt our place!”

CHAPTER TWO

Jenny Makes a Call

“Get away, Stonewall. Dogs don’t eat worms!”

Kat shoved at the huge dog, who had joined her as she dug for angle worms under the eaves of the house. She had discovered that the leaves gathered there made a rich black soil that made finding fishing bait much easier. Stonewall crowded in closer. He plumped himself down on her feet, and Kat shook her head with disgust. “How do you ’spect me to dig bait when you’re sittin’ on my feet? Get away!”

With some effort she shoved the big dog away, which was quite a task, since he weighed more than she did. He backed up the minimal distance and stood watching as she drove the spade into the ground, turned over a shovelful of the loose soil and then began grabbing the worms as they wiggled and squirmed to get away. With satisfaction she dumped them into a large can half filled with leaf mold and watched as they quickly disappeared. “You can hide down there if you want to,” Kat said with satisfaction, “but after a while you’ll be in the belly of a fish.”

The sun was dipping westward, and for a moment Kat watched with pleasure as it touched the ragged rim of hills to the west. The sun seemed to break like the yolk of an egg, spilling out and outlining the edges of the low-lying mountains before disappearing completely. She stood for a time absolutely still, which was unusual for her, and thought with satisfaction how much better her life was since they had moved from New York to the hills of Georgia. The adults
had had more difficulty adjusting, but she had loved the rural life from the day they had arrived. Now as the day’s heat came out of the earth, she waited until long streaks of light broke against the fading sky, and the shadows began to grow purplish against the mountains in the distance. A movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Clint coming from the barn. Throwing the spade down, she raced across the yard, driving straight through a flock of guineas that screamed their peculiar call as she scattered them. “Clint!” she cried. “Clint, it’s time for Little Orphan Annie!”

Clint Longstreet stopped and grinned down at the young girl, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. He was a tall, lanky man with gray-green eyes, sandy hair, and a face somewhat the worse for wear. His nose had been broken once in some forgotten battle, and a scar ran along the jawline on the right side of his face. He reached up to shove his straw hat back, revealing that the tip of his right little finger was missing. “Little Orphan Annie,” he said. “I don’t think I recollect promisin’ to listen to that program with you.”

Kat came at once and grabbed Clint’s arm and began tugging at him. “Yes, you did, Clint! Last night at supper you said you’d listen to it with me.”

Longstreet allowed himself to be pulled up the steps, remarking only, “Ma’ll kill you if you go takin’ those muddy shoes in the house.”

Kat kicked off the shoes, then said, “Hurry up, we’ll miss it! It’s almost time!”

The two entered the house. The front door opened down a spacious hallway, and Clint allowed himself to be tugged into the parlor. For once no one was in the room, and Clint settled down into a cane-bottom rocker cushioned with a garish orange cushion. He watched as Kat went over and turned on the radio, then remarked, “I’m glad we’ve got electricity and don’t have to fool with one of them battery radios. They always went out just when you wanted to hear a ball game the worst.”

“Be quiet, Clint, it’s starting!” Kat commanded. She came over and plopped down on the floor next to him, resting her head against his leg. The girl’s affection toward him was pleasing to Clint. He had been a bachelor until just recently, when he had married Hannah, and he had never had much to do with children. While he had helped take over the affairs of the Winslows after their lives had come crashing down, he had come to love Kat Winslow. He laid his hand on her shoulder as she listened and thought,
Maybe Hannah and me will have a little girl. Wouldn’t that be something!

As the radio gradually warmed up, a warbly tenor voice began to emerge from the speaker, singing,

Little Orphan Annie mania had swept across the country. Everyone was aware of the dramatic adventures of the small girl who shouted “Leapin’ lizards!” on the least provocation. The earliest episodes had been lifted directly from newspaper story lines, and the plots were relatively simple, Annie foiling the schemes of foreign agents and criminals of all sorts. Annie, along with her dog, Sandy, had captivated America’s children—and not a few of the adults.

Finally the announcer said, “Now for the secret message. Only Annie’s friends will be able to decode this. If you don’t have your Little Orphan Annie secret decoder ring, you’re missing out, kids. So send in those Ovaltine coupons.”

“Clint, come on!”

“Where we going now?” Clint protested as Kat pulled him to his feet.

“We’re going to drink some Ovaltine.”

“Ovaltine! I hate that stuff!”

“It’s good for you. It says so right on the box. Come on.”

Kat went over, turned the radio off, and again took Clint by the hand, tugging him toward the kitchen. “You’ve got to drink more Ovaltine if I’m ever going to get my Secret Decoder ring.”

“I’d rather pay cash money than drink that stuff.”

“It’s good. I like it.”

Missouri Ann was sitting on a stool at the kitchen table when the two entered, the ingredients for a pie out in front of her. Jenny, who had on a white apron over her dress, looked up and smiled. “What have you two been up to?”

“Clint wants an Ovaltine,” Kat announced. “A lot of it in a big glass.”

“No, I don’t,” Clint protested, but his protests were ignored. Kat went to the larder and pulled out a box, then fetched the largest glass in the kitchen. Pouring it full of fresh, sweet milk, she added two liberal spoonfuls of Ovaltine and stirred it. “Now, you drink all this, Clint.”

Clint made a face but managed to down the Ovaltine. “There, that ought to make you happy,” he said.

“You sure you don’t want some more?”

“No, I feel like that stuff’s in my blood.”

“I’m going to have some too.” The three adults watched as Kat fixed herself a glass of milk liberally laced with Ovaltine and drank it down, having to force the last few swallows.

“You’re going to pop,” Jenny warned.

“No, I’m not. And as soon as I get that Secret Decoder ring, you’ll see something. Come on, Clint, you can go help me dig some more worms. And then maybe later tonight we’ll go over to the old Townsend place and see the ghosts.”

“What ghosts?”

“The ones at the old Townsend place. It’s haunted. Dallas told me he seen some of ’em.”

“He
saw
some of them,” Jenny said quickly, “and don’t be foolish. There’s no such things as ghosts.”

“There are too. Dallas saw them—and so did you!”

“I think we’d better go dig worms,” Clint said, grinning. He turned, and the two left the room, Kat protesting loudly that there were
too
such things as ghosts.

“That child would argue with anything,” Missouri Ann said mildly.

“She’s certainly foolish about Clint.”

“Well, she ought to be. He’s nothing but a big toy for her.” Missouri Ann turned and looked fondly at Jenny. She had formed a real bond with all of her stepchildren, and she and Jenny had become very close indeed. She studied the girl now, admiring her fair, clear skin, for Jenny had the most beautiful complexion Missouri had ever seen. Jenny also had a trim, feminine figure, which was the object of male admiration everywhere she went. Suddenly Missouri asked, “Whatever happened to Clyde Bailey? He was coming around pretty often.”

“I wasn’t interested.”

“And Dennie Fulton—he came courting you for a time.”

“Wasn’t interested.”

Missouri Ann studied the young woman for a moment and said, “I think a pretty girl like you would be interested in gentleman callers. There’s lots of them around here if you’d just shake the tree.”

Jenny laughed. “I’d have no man that I’d have to shake out of a tree like he was a coon or a possum. Here, you’re going to teach me how to make this pie.” She looked at the ingredients on the table and shook her head. “I never heard of such a thing as a squash pie.”

Missouri Ann laughed, “Well, that’s because probably no one ever made one except me. I invented this myself.”

“Those big crook-neck squashes sure don’t look like they’d make a good pie.”

“Buttermilk doesn’t sound like it’d make a good pie either, but nothin’ better than good buttermilk pie.” The two women laughed a great deal, for Jenny knew almost nothing about cooking. She insisted on writing down every step, especially
the ingredients. “You never say how much you use of anything. You say ‘pinch of this’ and ‘a dab of that’ and ‘a little bit of something else.’ That’s all right for you, but I have to write it all down.”

“Well, write it down, then,” Missouri Ann said. “It takes two cups of milk, two cups of sugar, three eggs, and two cups of cooked, mashed squash—oh yes, you add a mite of ground cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg. Oh, I don’t know how much! A teaspoon of each, I guess. Then put in a little flour to thicken it.”

Jenny insisted on writing down the exact measurements. Then, under Missouri Ann’s directions, she combined all the ingredients. Finally she poured the filling into unbaked pie shells and baked them for fifteen minutes at a hot temperature, which was a little hard to judge in a wood stove. Then Missouri Ann said, “You’ll have to let it bake for about forty-five minutes more.”

“How will I know when it’s done?”

Missouri Ann was surprised at the question. “Why, you stick a knife in it. When it comes out clean, it’s all did.”

“You mean it’s all done, Missouri Ann.”

Missouri Ann laughed. “That’s right. I’ll never learn to talk good.”

“Well, you teach me how to bake, and I’ll teach you how to talk.”

“I don’t want your pa or any of you to be ashamed of me.”

Jenny went over and put her arm around the large woman. “We could never be that,” she said gently. “You’ve brought such joy into Dad’s life and into this house.”

Missouri Ann hugged the girl and said, “It’ll be noisy around here when the little one comes. I hope it doesn’t bother anybody.”

“A new Winslow come into the world,” Jenny said, her eyes sparkling. “It’ll be exciting.”

“It’ll be that.” Missouri Ann leaned back and placed her hands on her stomach. “I’m reckonin’ it’s a boy. He rides
high.” A thought came to her then, and she said, “All that foolishness Kat keeps spoutin’ about haunts and spooks and ghosts over at the old Townsend place, there’s nothin’ to that.”

“You think it was just tramps?”

“No, Dolly Cannon told me that the bank rented the old place out. It was just settin’ vacant, and nobody’s got the money to buy it. So, they rented it out to somebody or other.”