Song of My Heart (39 page)

Digging in his pocket, he withdrew his key and unlocked the door. He stepped over the threshold and paused, his gaze drifting slowly around the humble room. Not much to look at, he acknowledged. Unplastered walls, scuffed plank floor, hand-me-down furnishings—but it was his. He couldn’t deny a feeling of satisfaction as he moved on into the room.

On his ride from Clay Centre, he’d had plenty of time to think. To talk to God. To sort things through. Thanks to his time with Faye Hines and the prayers she and Estel had offered on his behalf before he’d left at noon, he had a clear vision of what he was meant to do. “I won’t be preaching,” he said as he hooked his hat on its waiting peg, “but I’ll be serving. Right here in Goldtree, if the fine folks decide to keep me.” If Mayor Hanaman decided his service here was done once he brought Asa Baxter, Sid, and Sadie to justice, then he’d seek another position as a lawman.

Thad smiled, his chest expanding with gratitude. God had certainly guided him to the Hineses. They’d been His ministering angels, His messengers. Thad might not know what would happen with Sadie, but he knew God was in control. The evidence of God’s hand during the past few days convinced him he had nothing to fear.

But he had a lot of work to do. He needed to locate and arrest Asa, Sid, and Sadie. He’d better see Mayor Hanaman first thing in the morning about feeding the prisoners—who knew how long they’d sit in the cellar room before the circuit judge arrived to hear the case against them and make his judgment.

He moved through the office toward his sleeping quarters. As he opened the door, a melody, carried by a sweet, lilting voice, reached his ears. He froze in place, holding his breath. With his head tipped, he strained to catch the words of the song.

“Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake to guide the future as he has the past. Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake; all now mysteries shall be bright at last . . .”

The song continued, but Thad’s rushing pulse covered the words. The music seemed to rise from the shadows and confirm the very conclusions he’d drawn on his ride home. Eager to hear more, he stumbled forward two steps, and his heels scuffed the floor. Abruptly the song stopped. Then a tentative query wavered: “Is someone there?”

Thad recognized the voice. He spun in a circle, his gaze seeking. “Sadie?”

Long seconds of silence fell. Then he heard her again. “Thad . . . is that you?” Her voice held a note of disbelief.

She was calling from beneath his feet. He dropped to his knees and tugged at the cellar door. But a padlock held it tight. Leaning close to the crack in the door, he called, “Sadie, what are you doing down there?”

“The mayor put me in here after I confessed I’d been entertaining gamblers.”

She was crying—her voice broke with sobs. Thad thought his heart might break. Even though he’d made the decision to lock her up himself, the reality of the situation crushed him. He pressed his palms to the wooden planks, wishing he could hold her. “I’m sorry, Sadie.”

More sobs rose. “Oh, Thad, you’re alive! You’re alive!”

Alive? What on earth had Hanaman told her? The sound of her distress tore him in two. He had to see her—to hold her and assure her. “Sadie, hang on—I’m gonna get the key for this padlock. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for a reply but raced out of the office and around the corner to the mayor’s house. His frantic pounding on the door brought a grumbling command. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t break down the door.”

The door opened, revealing the drowsy mayor topped by a striped sleeping hat that matched his nightshirt. His mouth was stretched in a yawn as he opened the door. “Who’s out—” He spotted Thad and gave a strangled yelp that almost knocked him backward.

Thad held out his hand. “I need the key for the padlock on my cellar door.”

The mayor shook his head, the tassel on his hat swinging like a pendulum. “W-w-what?”

“The key,” Thad repeated. “I need to open the cellar door.”

Hanaman looked right and left, his face cloudy with confusion. “Where’d you come from?”

“Clay Centre. Now . . . the key? I’m gonna need it if I’m to lock Baxter down there.”

“You caught Baxter?”

Thad blew out a short breath. “Not yet. I’ll be going after him soon as I have a way of locking him up.”

Hanaman finally seemed to come out of his stupor. “Oh! The key! Yes, yes, wait here. I’ll get it.” He scurried off, and Thad tapped his boot toe, impatiently waiting. Finally Hanaman returned. “Group of us rode out to Baxter’s house late this afternoon, but he wasn’t there. We think he might have hightailed it out of the county.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him,” Thad vowed. He held out his hand.

The mayor dropped the key into Thad’s waiting palm. His ruddy face glowed with wonder. “Good to see you, Sheriff. We all thought—”

Thad already knew what they all thought. He just didn’t know why. But he wanted to hear the story from Sadie rather than the mayor. He turned and bounded off the porch, then ran the distance to his office. His feet skidded on the floor as he rounded the corner, and he dropped to his knees to release the padlock. “I’m back! Sadie, I’m here!” His trembling fingers gave him some trouble, but he finally managed to pull the padlock free. Thad yanked the door open. “I’m coming down!”

He used only two rungs of the ladder, jumping the remaining distance. The moment he turned, Sadie dove into his arms. He held her close, just like he had the day she’d learned of her stepfather’s death. Now, as then, her tears soaked his shirt. But last time she’d wept in sorrow. He sensed these tears were ones of relief and joy. Feeling her shoulders heave and listening to her deep sobs, however, made tears prick in his own eyes. He rubbed her back, murmuring, “Shh, now. Everything’ll be all right. Shh, Sadie.”

“You’re alive. I can’t believe it. I thought . . .”

He guided her to the cot and sat, pulling her down beside him. His arm curled around her waist, and she nestled her head on his shoulder. Her soft yellow hair, shining in the lantern light, caught in his whiskers, but she made no move to pull away.

“Sadie, how’d everybody get the idea I was dead?”

Tears continued to rain down her cheeks as she shared about hearing a shot, Sid’s lone return, and then the other clues that had led to her belief that Sid had killed him and buried him.

Finally, she hiccupped, sucking in several breaths. “I’m so relieved Sid didn’t . . . I’m so relieved you’re alive.”

He embraced her again, kissing her hair. How he lamented the pain she’d borne, thinking him killed at the hands of her beloved cousin, but he couldn’t begrudge his time in Clay Centre. He’d needed that growing time.

“Here now, sit up.” He gently pushed her upright, then removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. She sat trustingly beneath his touch, her blue eyes locked on his as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He understood. He wanted to sit here holding her forever, but he couldn’t. He had a job to do. But as sheriff, he had the power to make a slight change.

“As you can see, I’m alive and well.” She rewarded him with a wobbly smile, and he went on. “And the first thing I’m gonna do is get you out of here.”

She drew back, alarm on her face. “No, Thad! I did wrong, and I have to pay for it.”

He crushed her to his chest. “Sadie, I know you gotta pay for it.”
Oh, God, let the judge be merciful to her, please. . . .
“But I can’t leave you down here in this hole.”

He rose, drawing her up with him and urging her toward the ladder. “I trust you not to run off. I’m taking you to the mercantile. While we wait for the circuit judge, you can keep working for Miss Melva and Miss Shelva.”

She paused at the bottom of her ladder, uncertainty marring her face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in trouble with the town council.”

“Town council’s gonna have to learn to trust my judgment.” He gave her a little nudge. “Go ahead now, get up there.” He waited until she started up the ladder before adding, “Besides, there’s somebody else who’s gonna need to take up residence here. Soon as I get you settled in your room, I’m aiming to bring him in.”

Asa tightened the last bolt, taking care not to crimp the copper tubing. Then he stepped back to admire his work. It had taken him most of the day, but he’d finally repaired all three stills. By morning, he’d be ready to start filling jugs again.

He turned toward the back chamber of the cave for one more look at the biggest still, snorting softly. He didn’t have any jugs to fill, thanks to Sid’s rampage. But he had barrels in his barn. He’d bring them over after he’d gotten some sleep. He could fill barrels, then transfer the beer to jugs when he’d gotten a new shipment.

That was something else he had to do—find somebody to operate his freight wagon. He cursed again, tweaking the coil on the still so it lay just so. Might not be easy to find somebody as easy to fool as that dumb kid from Indiana, but he’d manage. He always managed. He was like a cat—always landed on his feet.

He yawned, a mouselike squeak escaping his throat. It was late. Time to go home and get some sleep. Ambling toward the front chamber of the cave, he inwardly rejoiced at how well everything was working out. Sid was long gone, no doubt hiding after doing away with the meddlesome sheriff. The little singer gal was too scared to tell what she knew.

He grabbed a burlap bag and dropped in the tools he’d used to repair the stills. The metal tools clanked together in the bottom of the bag, echoing through the chamber. A spooky sound. Asa gave himself a little shake. No need to be acting like his goosey sisters, afraid of underground places. He slung the bag onto his back and headed through the opening into the star-speckled night.

A coyote howled, his lonely voice carrying on the light breeze. Asa hurried out of the cave. He had a gun strapped to his hip, but he didn’t care to use it. A gun blast at night carried for miles and would surely rouse somebody. He entered the clearing where he’d left his horse and wagon and came to a startled halt. He looked around in confusion, the bag’s weighted bottom bouncing against the backs of his knees. “Where’n tarnation is my wagon?”

“I moved it.”

Asa yelped in shock as someone stepped out of the shadows and directly into his pathway. He squinted through the murky light. Then he let out a grunt of irritation. “Sid Wagner! What’re you doin’ sneakin’ around here? I figured you were nigh on into Oklahoma Territory by now.”

Sid stopped within several feet of Asa. His unsmiling face glowed white in the muted light of the moon. “I’ve been around. Watchin’ you. Makin’ sure you didn’t skedaddle.”

Asa let out a bold laugh. “Why would I need to skedaddle? I got no reason to run.”

“Yes, you do. ’Cause I’m aimin’ to turn you in.”

Asa dropped the bag and balled his fists. He sneered at the boy. “You forget you’re in as deep as me. Deeper now.”

Sid’s brow furrowed momentarily, then cleared. “You’re right, I’m in deep. I been busy—collapsin’ your tunnel to the gamblin’ room—”

“You
what
?”

“—an’ stealin’ your bottles. But I did all that to keep you from doin’ more wrong.”

Fury boiled in Asa’s middle. He tasted bitter acid on the back of his tongue. “Why you miserable, ungrateful cur. After all I done for you, givin’ you a good job an’ bringin’ your cousin in? This is how you repay me?”

Sid went on calmly, as if Asa hadn’t spoken. “I already told the sheriff what you’ve been doin’. Now I’m willin’ to turn myself in. Take my licks.”

The boy’s final statement made no sense. “Sheriff? What sheriff? He’s dead an’ buried!”

Sid drew back, his jaw flopping like a fish gulping air. Color drained from his face. “McKane . . . is dead?”

Asa snorted. Had the boy gone loco? “Sadie told us—you put him in the ground yourself!”

“That’s where everyone’s mistaken.”

The voice came from behind Asa. He spun around. His boot caught in the discarded bag at his feet, tripping him. The fall took hide off the heels of his hands. He rolled over, cradling his hurting palms against his middle, and stared, wide-eyed, as a tall man topped by a cowboy hat stepped from the trees. Moonlight shone on the silver star pinned to his chest.

Asa gasped. “McKane! You ain’t dead?”

“That’s right, Baxter. I’m not dead. And I’m here to take you in.”

38 

F
inding you guilty of knowingly and deliberately producing illicit alcoholic beverages for the purpose of sale and profit, and for knowingly and deliberately providing the opportunity to indulge in games of chance, I seize for Five Creek Township all of your assets including your home, your businesses, and your personal belongings. I also sentence you to ten years of hard labor in the Kansas Penitentiary in Lansing.”

Two men bearing deputy badges took hold of Mr. Baxter’s arms and ushered the blubbering man out of Thad’s office. Behind Sadie, Miss Shelva and Miss Melva broke into wails of anguish. Sadie’s heart ached. She wished she could comfort her dear employers—they loved their brother so much. His punishment would no doubt hurt them as much as it did Asa. But she couldn’t leave her chair, where she’d been placed at the beginning of the trial as a defendant.