Song of My Heart (37 page)

Halfway back, Faye suddenly asked, “Thad? Afore Estel came in this mornin’ a-hollerin’ about bad news, you told me there was lots of things wrong.” She touched his arm. “Anything we can do to help?”

Can you turn back the clock and keep Sadie from partnering herself with a bootlegging gambler?
The question quivered on the tip of his tongue. Helplessness tangled his stomach in knots. He tugged the tie from around his neck and released the top button on the shirt, giving him room to swallow. “It’s kind of you to ask, but there’s not a whole lot anybody can do.”

“Got anything to do with the business that brought you to town?” Estel asked, leaning forward to peek past his wife.

“Yes, sir.” Thad kicked a rock, sending it skittering far ahead. “I’m gonna be depending on the marshal to help me know how to proceed.” He released a rueful chuckle. “I’m pretty new to sheriffing. Not always sure of what’s right.”

“You read the Bible, don’tcha?” Faye’s eyes crinkled as she squinted up at Thad. She waited until he nodded. “Well, then, of course you know what’s right. You just do what’s written in God’s book. Long as you follow His teachin’, everything’ll come out just fine.”

Thad searched his memory for verses that would help him know how to handle the situation with Sadie. Several crowded his mind—Scriptures on granting mercy competing with those avowing justice. But which was appropriate? “I reckon I better just talk to the marshal.”

“But—” Faye started.

“Now, Faye.” Estel cut her off with a gentle admonition. “We don’t know the whole story, an’ it appears Thad here wants to keep it to hisself. So don’t be pushin’ at him. Let him be.”

Faye’s wrinkled cheeks turned rosy. She flicked a penitent glance at Thad. “I apologize if I seemed nosy. Just hate to see a nice young man like yourself so befuddled.” She patted his arm. “You talk to the marshal, Thad. I’m sure he’ll give you all the help you need.” The stable loomed just ahead, and Faye hurried her steps. “I need to get our lunch on the table. I reckon you’ll want to go check your horse. While you’re doin’ that, I’ll be sayin’ a prayer for you an’ for the marshal, that whatever you decide’ll be the most God-honorin’ way of handlin’ the problem. Whatever the problem is.”

35 

T
had propped his ankle on his opposite knee and hooked his elbow over the back of the spindled chair. The marshal had ridden into Clay Centre Sunday afternoon, prisoner in tow, but he’d asked Thad to wait until Monday morning to discuss the situation in Goldtree. Thad had agreed, but he’d shown up at the office first thing, eager to seek the more experienced lawman’s advice.

Bless Faye’s heart,
thought Thad as he pondered how she’d broken her usual practice of resting on the Lord’s day and laundered his clothes Sunday afternoon while he hunkered, embarrassed, in Estel’s tattered robe so he could meet the county marshal without feeling ashamed of his appearance. Taking in the marshal’s crisp suit and polished boots, Thad sent up another prayer of gratitude for the Hineses’ generosity.

“So you’re saying this man’s making beer and wine in a cave, and shipping it all over Kansas?” Marshal Abbot’s eyes glinted with anger.

Although the marshal was brusque, Thad felt at ease with the man. They had a common goal—bringing an end to illegal operations. “That’s right. I found the beer-brewing equipment myself, but his worker told me about the wine.” Sid’s remorseful face flashed in Thad’s memory. “He also told me there’s gambling going on one night a week in the opera house—seems there’s a tunnel leadin’ from Baxter’s barn to the cellar under the mercantile, where the gambling takes place.” Thad winced, thinking about Sadie entertaining the gamblers. He hadn’t yet mentioned Sadie’s involvement. He was half scared what the marshal would say.

“Well, Sheriff McKane, sounds like you’ve got enough evidence to bring Asa Baxter to trial. I’ll send a couple of my deputies to hide out at the Baxter place tomorrow evening and round up the men who try to make use of that tunnel. But you don’t need to wait for them—head on back to Goldtree and take Baxter into custody.”

Thad sucked in a breath. “What about those who’ve helped him?”

“Them too.” Marshal Abbott spoke forcefully. “A judge might not see ’em all as equally responsible—especially the one who turn-coated and let you know what was happening—but it’s not for us to decide. So round ’em all up.”

Thad’s chest constricted. “Yes, sir.”

Marshal Abbot frowned. “You have a jail over there?”

“Of sorts. Just a little cellar under my living quarters. But I can lock the door on it, so if I put them down there, they’ll be secure.”

“Fine.” The marshal opened the middle drawer on his desk and withdrew a pencil and paper. “I’ll get a wire sent today to the circuit judge, telling him the situation and asking him to contact you to set up a trial date.”

Thad didn’t like to think of Sadie holed up in that dreary cellar for a long period of time. “When do you think that might be?”

“Depends on what else he has to tend to,” Marshal Abbot said, scribbling on the paper. “Might be a week. Might be a month. But he’ll get there in due time—he’ll be eager to see these perpetrators brought to justice.” The man sent a wry grin across the desk. “Judge Bradley worked hard to bring prohibition to Kansas. He’ll be banging his gavel with zeal at this trial.”

Although Thad knew he should celebrate seeing justice served, his heart felt heavy as he left the marshal’s office and scuffed back to the livery. A judge who’d battled for prohibition would be bent on vengeance rather than mercy. Sadie was doomed.

Thad heard a ringing clang as he approached the livery. When he entered the barn, he spotted Estel bent over his anvil, bringing down the hammer on a fiery red horseshoe. Thad watched the man plunge the horseshoe into a nearby water bucket. Steam billowed and a sizzling
sssssh!
sounded. As soon as the noise died away, Thad called Estel’s name.

The man turned. “Thad!” He held the tongs with the horseshoe pinched in its grip aloft. “Workin’ on that shoe for Thunder. Just about got it ready to fit.”

Thad ambled closer, examining the bent piece of iron. “That’s good, ’cause I’m needin’ to get back to Goldtree quick as possible.”

Estel pulled his lips into a grimace. “Well, now, Thad, just ’cause the shoe is pret’ near ready don’t mean Thunder’s ready.” He tapped the bow of the horseshoe with the tip of his gloved finger as if testing it. “The swellin’ in his leg is down a heap this mornin’, thank the Lord, but I wouldn’t be making him go trottin’ back to Goldtree ’til it’s completely gone.”

“How long?” Thad hadn’t meant to bark, but his question came out sharp.

Estel shrugged. “Hard to know.” He spun and marched toward the stall where Thunder contentedly munched from the feed box. “Not today, though. I’d say tomorrow at the earliest.”

Thad jammed his hands deep into his trouser pockets and stifled a growl. Without a word, he turned and left the barn. He’d already been gone from Goldtree for three days. What if Asa knew Thad was on to him? The man could be in Nebraska by now.

He reached the Hineses’ house and knocked on the door. Faye’s cheerful voice called for him to come on in. He entered and marched past the woman, who sat at the table with a pile of mending in her lap. Yanking up the pot and a cup from the stove, he poured himself some coffee, then took a big gulp. The liquid nearly scalded his tongue. He let out a hiss of surprise.

Faye’s soft chuckle sounded. “Careful there. That pot’s been boilin’ for near an hour.”

Thad smacked the cup down, sloshing black brew across the stove’s surface. He should clean up the mess, but instead he paced to the single window and looked out across the sparse grass yard to the street. A groan left his throat.

“Your dealin’ with the marshal not go well?”

Faye’s sympathetic voice cut through Thad’s irritation. He turned to face the older woman. “My dealings with the marshal went fine. I know what I gotta do.” A band of regret wound itself around his chest, squeezing the wind from his lungs. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d do it. It was his job.

“Then why so glum?”

Thad tromped to the table and sat, propping his elbows on his knees. “ ’Cause I have to wait.” Seemed he was always waiting. Waiting for his pa to quit his drinking ways and become a loving father. Waiting for his chance to step behind a pulpit and preach. Waiting for a lame horse to heal so he could arrest Asa Baxter and fulfill his obligation to Mayor Hanaman. Waiting for his heart to stop pining for Sadie . . .

“Y’know, Thad,” Faye offered softly, working her needle in and out of the shirt in her hands, “waitin’ serves a purpose. Patience is a virtue, but we don’t learn it no other way than havin’ to practice it.”

Thad grunted.

The woman laughed. “I’ve lived a heap longer’n you. Sometimes bein’ older means bein’ wiser. You could tell me what’s wrong. Might be I could offer some advice.”

Thad examined Faye’s face. Although many womenfolk he’d encountered seemed eager for details so they could gossip, he believed she genuinely wanted to help. And he could use advice. With a nod, he opened up and shared everything. Except how he’d fallen in love with a young woman who would soon be arrested and brought to trial. He didn’t want to talk about that.

Faye’s hands had fallen idle while he talked. Now she sat back and gazed at him, wide-eyed. “Why, Thad, you been called into the ministry of the Lord?”

Thad blinked twice, startled by the question.
Called?
“Well . . . yes. I reckon so.”

Her brow puckered. “You reckon or you know?”

Did it matter? Doing good was doing good, no matter the reason. Thad shrugged.

Faye shook her head. “Thad, you gotta
know
. If you ain’t been called to a service, you won’t be happy doin’ it. It’ll be a trial rather than a blessin’. An’ it’ll keep you from doin’ what the good Lord planned for you.”

Thad threw his arms wide. “But I have to preach.”

“
Have
to, huh?” She tucked her chin low, sending him a puzzled look. “Why?”

Thad looked away, fiddling with the star pinned to his vest. “I got a lot of sins to make up for.” But he didn’t want to explain those sins. His father’s illicit behavior would shock this dear woman.

Faye clicked her tongue on her teeth, shaking her head slowly. Lantern glow gave her white hair the appearance of a halo. “Thad, Thad, Thad . . . didn’t you tell me you’re a believer?”

Thad nodded.

“Well, then, whatever happened in the past is gone.” She pointed to a narrow shelf across the room. “Fetch me my Bible. Lemme show you somethin’.”

Thad followed her direction, and she carefully turned whisper-thin pages. Her face lit. “Ahh, here it is. In Titus, chapter three, the fifth verse.” Her finger underlined the words as she read. “ ‘Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us.’ ” She pinned Thad in place with a fervent look. “Our lovin’ Father washes away every stain. There ain’t one thing you can do to make up for past wrongs . . . an’ you don’t have to, ’cause Jesus already took care of it when He hung on the cross.” A tender smile graced her lined face. “But you got to let go of those past wrongs, too, or they’ll forever keep you bound up.” She reached across the table and cupped Thad’s hand. “Sometimes, Thad, before we can find freedom, we gotta forgive ourselves.”

A snippet of a conversation he’d had with Sadie winged through his memory—she’d asked if it were possible to make amends for someone else’s sins. And suddenly he realized the answer was no. Why hadn’t he seen the truth before now? He’d chosen the ministry for all the wrong reasons.

Forgive me, Lord, for being so shortsighted.

He turned his hand to give the woman’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Faye, you are a heap wiser than me.”

She laughed, squeezed his hand back, and pulled loose. “Nice to know these white hairs on my head are more’n window dressin’. Now . . .” She set aside the mending and pushed to her feet. “I best be puttin’ some lunch on the table. Estel’ll be in soon, an’ he’s always hungry as a bear after a mornin’ of labor in the stable.”

Thad rose, too. After his churlish behavior, he owed the livery owner an apology. “I reckon I’ll go over an’ see if he needs any help.”

Faye waved her hand in reply, and Thad quick-stepped across the yard. The clear sky of early morning had changed during his time talking with Faye. A hot wind pushed billowing puffs of white across the blue expanse. Thad paused for a moment to examine the sky, wondering if the wind would send the clouds on or let them stay long enough to drop some rain. He didn’t look forward to a wet ride, but the farmers could use the moisture.

Estel was in the stall with Thunder, the horse’s foot resting on the man’s knees. As Thad approached, he dropped the horse’s foot to the floor and straightened, one hand pressed to his lower back. He turned and gave Thad a relieved grin. “Fits fine. Just fine.” He patted Thunder’s flank. “An’ the swellin’ looks even better now than it did this mornin’. I’m gonna put some burlap soaked in cold water on his leg to speed things up.”

“So I can maybe ride out tomorrow, then?” Thad asked hopefully.

“Nope.”

Thad jolted. “Nope?”

Estel rocked back on his heels, a teasing grin twitching on his grizzled face. “You can ride out today.” He scratched his head, his expression turning sheepish. “Shoulda thought of it earlier. I was so caught up in seein’ to your horse . . . but if you’re wantin’ to, you can borrow one of my horses an’ ride it to Goldtree.”

Thad had noticed the three horses in stalls on the other side of the stable, but he’d assumed Estel was boarding the animals. He wished he’d known they were for borrowing—he could be long gone by now. But if he’d left earlier, he wouldn’t have had his moments of time with Faye. Her words of wisdom, accompanied by truths from God’s word, had begun a healing deep within his soul. He wanted to examine the Scripture again and do some praying, but he believed he’d soon have answers to questions that had burned unanswered far too long.

He flung his arm around Estel’s thin shoulders. “Estel, you and your sweet wife are angels on earth. There’s a lot of work waiting for me in Goldtree, so I’ll borrow one of those horses.” A lump filled his throat. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”