Song of My Heart (38 page)

36 

A
sa flung himself from Percival’s saddle so fast he almost fell on his rump. With a muffled curse, he caught his balance and then stormed into the mercantile. The bell over the door clanged wildly, piercing his ears, but he hollered over the clamor. “You seen that no-good, lowdown, worthless piece of nothin’ I call my drayman?”

Two customers dropped their baskets and scooted out the door, inching around him as if they thought he might bite. He stifled a snarl. They just might be right.

Both of his sisters scuttled from different corners in the store, their long-fingered hands stirring the air and their faces wearing identical scowls of worry. Melva reached him first. “Asa, what’s got you all a-dither?” Shelva fluttered to his other side. The two of them patted him the way womenfolk tried to soothe a colicky babe.

He lunged away from their useless ministrations and flung an angry look around the store. “Where’s your clerk?”

The blanket covering the storeroom door waggled, and Miss Wagner poked her head out. “D-did you want me, Mr. Baxter?”

Asa pointed to the spot of floor in front of him. “C’mere, girl.”

Her face white, the girl scurried toward him.

Both Melva and Shelva clucked, shaking their heads in dismay. “Asa, Asa,” Shelva said, “mind your manners.”

Melva added, “Don’t know what’s got into you, speakin’ in such a way to a lady.”

Asa swung on his sisters. He’d never been one to holler—being soft and quiet had always served him well. But his lungs demanded exercise. “Go about your business an’ leave us be!”

With startled squawks, the pair bustled behind the counter and put their heads together, whispering and shooting flustered looks in his direction. Asa snorted—blame fool women, anyway. He grabbed Miss Wagner’s arm and dragged her to the hallway leading to the back door. Once out of sight of his sisters, he gave her a rough shove.

“Where’s your cousin?”

She rubbed her arm, tears glinting in her blue eyes. “I . . . I haven’t seen him today.”

Asa leaned close, squinting. “You sure? ’Cause if you’re lyin’ to me, I’ll—”

She shrank back. “I’m not lying! I saw him last on Saturday night. I . . . I’m worried about him.”

Asa balled his hands into fists. “You oughtta be worried. When I get my hands on him . . .” Clutching the hair at his temples, he growled. It had to have been Sid who’d dismantled his stills, smashed his jugs of beer, and tore apart his wine-making equipment. Nobody else knew about it. Except that sheriff. But the sheriff wouldn’t have destroyed everything. He’d want to use it as evidence.

Catching hold of Miss Wagner’s arm again, he gave her a vicious shake. “That cousin of yours shows his face around here, you tell him I’m huntin’ him. An’ you tell him he best come see me right away. Longer it takes, madder I’m gonna get. An’, girlie, when I lose my temper . . .” He clamped his jaws on the threat forming in his mind. He shook her again, then let loose. “You tell him.”

He turned and stormed through the mercantile. Melva and Shelva remained behind the counter, their long, skinny arms wrapped around one another. He shot them a murderous glare as he charged for the door, earning a round of confused whimpers. Just as he reached the screen door, it flew open and Mayor Hanaman stepped inside.

“Asa . . .” He yanked his hat from his graying head and glanced around the store. His eyes lit on the twins, and he nodded. “Ladies, I’m hoping you can help me. I’ve been asking up and down the street, but nobody’s seen him.”

Asa scowled. “You huntin’ Sid, too?”

The mayor looked confused. “Sid? No. I’m trying to find McKane. Cora said he set off on one of Kimbrough’s horses right after breakfast Saturday morning. But nobody’s seen him since.”

Asa wanted to leave, but the big man blocked his way. So he stood twitching in place while his sisters emitted little flustered exclamations of concern.

“M-Mr. Hanaman?” Miss Wagner’s hesitant voice carried from behind Asa.

He looked over his shoulder to see her slowly approaching, her hands pressed tight against her stomach as if she might be sick at any minute. She shot him a wary glance, then focused on the mayor.

“I . . . I know where you can find Th—Sheriff McKane.”

Hanaman leaned in, his jowls blotching. “Where?”

“Unless wild animals have . . . have disturbed his body, he’ll be lying in some brush about a mile east of town.”

Asa’s startled yelp was covered by his sisters’ shrill cry. Melva and Shelva raced around the counter to loom over Miss Wagner.

Mayor Hanaman’s jaw dropped. “Are you telling me the sheriff is . . . is
dead
?”

Miss Wagner nodded. Tears slid down her white face. “I believe so, sir. He stopped Sid and me when we were making a delivery to Macyville. And Sid . . .” She gulped. Her body quivered worse than a penny on a railroad track when the train was approaching. “Sid shot him.”

The mayor, Melva, and Shelva surrounded Miss Wagner, their combined voices creating a bigger commotion than a fox in a henhouse. Asa eased around the group and stumbled onto the boardwalk. He clutched his chest when the rapid
bumpity-bump
of his heart tried to bruise the inside of his ribs.

Sid had shot the sheriff. Asa’d told him something had to be done, and the boy had up and done it. A gleeful laugh formed in Asa’s throat, but he held it inside. With the sheriff gone, and everybody focused on the murderer, nobody’d be paying any mind to him. He could rebuild his stills. With luck, he might be able to produce enough liquor to satisfy his buyers before they decided to go to somebody else.

He clambered onto Percival’s back, grunting with the effort. No need to keep hunting Sid. If the boy was smart, he’d be in the next state by now. Asa had more important things to do.

“I suppose it’s possible animals drug him off.”

Sadie cringed on the buggy seat, wishing she hadn’t overheard the mayor’s statement. The mayor and two other men had borrowed one of Mr. Kimbrough’s buggies and asked her to lead them to the place where she’d seen Sid and Thad slip into the brush. The beautifully fringed buggy with its twin tufted seats and silver trim often served as transport for grieving relatives on the way to the town cemetery. Sadie hadn’t wanted to climb into it, but the men had insisted she go along. While Sadie remained in the buggy, the men searched the bushes. But after more than half an hour, they hadn’t found so much as a piece of torn fabric to prove Sadie’s statement.

Mr. Hahn turned a scowl on Sadie. “You sure this is the spot?”

Sadie leaned sideways a bit, making the leather seat squeak. “Yes, sir. Or very close to it.” She would forever carry an image of that break in the bushes. “You . . . you haven’t found anything?”

Mr. Easterberg stepped onto the road, shaking his head. “Not unless our sheriff suddenly grew a fur coat. All I found was the remains of a critter—a badger from the looks of it. But something tore into it good. Not much left.”

Mr. Hanaman and Mr. Rahn both joined Mr. Easterberg, their fine suits bearing bits of dried leaves and dust from their romp in the brush. Mr. Rahn rubbed his nose. “Well, Roscoe, as you said, animals might’ve dragged him off. But there’d be something left behind—animals wouldn’t eat his clothes or his bones.”

Sadie shuddered at the picture the man’s words painted. The fact that the men hadn’t discovered any evidence of Thad’s remains should have comforted her, but instead it proved her suspicion that Sid had buried Thad to hide his crime. How she hated turning in her cousin, but she couldn’t cover for him. She’d told God she would speak the truth and trust Him. Now she must keep her promise.

Drawing a deep breath, Sadie gathered her courage. “M-Mr. Hanaman, there’s something else to look for. . . .”

The three men all looked at her expectantly.

“You might seek what appears to be a grave.”

Mr. Rahn’s eyebrows rose while the other two exchanged a startled look. “You have reason to believe he might’ve been buried?”

Miserably, Sadie nodded. “I . . . I saw Sid very early Sunday morning. He was filthy—covered with dirt—and he admitted he’d been digging.”

The men shook their heads, muttering to one another. Sadie’s heart ached, but at the same time a bit of her burden lifted. Secrets lost their power when exposed to the light of the sun, she realized. If only sharing the secret hadn’t condemned Sid . . .

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Hanaman said, his voice low and stern, “I think we should cease our search for the sheriff and begin a search for Sid Wagner. He’s the only one who will be able to tell us where to find McKane’s body.”

Mr. Rahn and Mr. Easterberg expressed their agreement. The men joined Sadie, and Mr. Hanaman turned the horses, aiming the buggy for town.

Sadie gazed at each of the men and took a deep breath, ready to reveal the rest of her story. “I haven’t told you everything yet.”

Mr. Hanaman, his hands on the reins, jerked his chin in Sadie’s direction. “What else has Sid done?”

“Not just Sid, Mayor.” Sadie swallowed. “Sid, and Asa Baxter, and . . . and me.” Her shoulders felt lighter as the weight of her lies finally fell free. No matter the consequences, she would divulge every bit of the deceit, and trust God with the outcome.

Sadie huddled in the dirt-walled cellar beneath Thad’s living quarters. The mayor had given her a blanket to wrap around herself, but not even the thick wool could stave off the chill of the underground room. A tiny cot filled one whole wall, leaving a narrow space where she could pace back and forth. A peg pounded into the wall held a lantern, which provided a welcome glow. But it also cast light on the abundance of spider webs decorating the dingy room. Sadie tried to ignore them. She hated spiders.

Before climbing back up the ladder and locking the door behind him, the mayor had slipped a chamber pot into the corner and deposited a small basket of crackers, cheese, dried peaches, and a jar of water on the end of the cot. He’d seemed embarrassed, not even looking at her as he put the things in place, and then he’d offered gruffly, “I’ll be looking for somewhere else to put you. We won’t want you down here with Baxter and Wagner, once we find them. But for now . . .”

Sadie had thanked him, and he’d departed, leaving her alone. She glanced at the door overhead. Not even a sliver of light showed around its edges. It had been suppertime when she’d come down, but she had no idea how much time had passed since then. It felt like ages but might have been only minutes. The silence was nearly unbearable.

She wriggled around on the cot, trying to get comfortable. She wished she’d asked to bring a book down with her. She longed for her Bible. Papa had always said, “
Whatever you need, Sadie-girl, God will provide
.” How she needed the comfort available in the pages of God’s book. Closing her eyes, she sent her mind through the Scripture she’d memorized over the years.

The verses in the third chapter of John came easily, and a small spiral of warmth touched her when she recalled God hadn’t sent Jesus into the world to condemn it, but to save it. A verse from Second Corinthians about having sufficiency in all things so that believers could abound in good work made her heart ache with the desire to serve her God more fervently.

Something tickled her cheek, and she swatted at it. She opened her eyes and saw a black spider scrambling across the plaid cover on the cot. She let out a shriek and moved away from it, bringing up her knees beneath her chin.

As much as she wanted to believe God was with her and be brave, her heart pounded in fear. She clung to the blanket, fighting the urge to climb the ladder and claw her way through the door to freedom. She couldn’t bear being locked up all alone this way with no window, no means of determining time, with spiders crawling on her skin. She’d told the truth—she’d followed her conscience—and this was her reward?

“Choices bear consequences, Sadie-girl—both good an’ bad.”
Papa’s voice from long ago whispered through Sadie’s memory. Very rarely had Papa raised his hand to his children, but she remembered him applying the rod of correction to her backside when she’d blatantly disobeyed Mama. Afterward, he’d dried her tears and held her tight, assuring her he still loved her.

Recalling Papa’s strong arms wrapped around her, the comforting beat of his heart in her ear, Sadie once again experienced a wash of peace. Just because she must face the consequences of her actions didn’t mean God had abandoned her. Didn’t she have the promises from His word? He’d also promised she could do all things through Christ, who strengthened her.

Clasping her hands, she murmured, “If I must face a jail cell, I will do it, trusting in Your strength to see me through.”

The moment she completed the prayer, a song wound its way through her heart. Sadie sat up, lifting her face to the ceiling. Instead of seeing floor joists and a sturdy door, she imagined a blue sky, a bank of white clouds, and bright white beams bursting from the cloud’s belly. She opened her mouth and began to sing. “A mighty fortress is our God . . .”

37 

C
rickets chirped a welcome as Thad drew his borrowed horse to a stop right outside his office. He tied the reins, then gave the white stripe running down the horse’s nose a scratch. “Rest for a few minutes, boy. Before we head out again, I’ll take you to the blacksmith’s stable an’ find you something to eat. I don’t think Kimbrough’ll mind sharing some of his oats an’ hay with a visiting beast.”