The Shining Badge (29 page)

They had advanced on foot, pushing their way through the thickest woods Jenny had ever seen, and now Clay said, “Wonder what makes her think this fellow Hagan will do it? An undercover man puts his life out on the line almost every hour.”

Jenny hesitated. She knew Clay did not really believe in prayer, and she finally said, “Well, she thinks God gave her the name.”

Clay Varek studied the young woman in front of him. Her face was flushed from the walk, but she still looked beautiful. Stubborn too. He saw it in the corners of her lips and the upward tilt of her chin. “I can’t argue against that, but we’d better be careful. A lot of undercover men go bad. They take money from the law and get on the inside, and then they spill everything they know to the crooks.”

“I never thought of that.” Jenny’s brow wrinkled, but then she shook her head. “Let’s talk to him anyway.”

The two followed the twisting, winding road, which evidently was the remains of an old logging road. Finally Clay said, “It ought to be right here, but I don’t see anything.”

At that instant a voice called out, “Hidee!”

Both Clay and Jenny whirled, for the voice had seemed to come from nowhere. They stared at the man who stood in the shadows of the trees, not paying so much attention to his features as to the rifle he held in his hand.

“You folks lost?”

“No,” Jenny said rather breathlessly. “We’re looking for James Hagan.”

For a long moment the man did not say anything, and Jenny had a chance to examine him. He was small, not over five-six, and very lean. He wore a pair of worn khaki pants and a thin shirt that had lost all trace of color from many
washings. He wore a floppy hat, and from beneath the band, cinnamon-colored hair escaped. He had the brightest blue eyes Jenny had ever seen and a droopy cavalry mustache that hid most of his mouth.

“That’s my name,” he said, “but most folks call me Hooey.”

“I’m Sheriff Winslow and this is my deputy Clay Varek,” Jenny said quickly. “Your aunt Missouri gave us your name, Mr. Hagan.”

“Just Hooey’s okay. You know Aunt Missouri?”

“Oh yes, she’s my stepmother now. She married my father. Perhaps you’d heard.”

“I did hear somethin’ about that, but I wasn’t sure if it was so.” He turned to Clay and said, “I heard about your run-in with Clyde Wiggins. He’s a pretty mean feller.”

“Yes, I had to arrest him. He was selling moonshine liquor.”

“He’s a right touchy feller, and he’d steal flies from a blind spider, I reckon, but he’s a tough one.” His eyes came back, and he studied Jenny. “Never seen no woman sheriff, especially sech a purty one.”

“Oh, not that pretty,” Jenny protested.

“I reckon I know a purty gal when I see one, and you’re prettier than a pair of green shoes with red laces! When I heered tell of a woman sheriff, I thought you must be too ugly to catch a man. You take my cousin Velma. She’s so ugly she looks like she’s been hit in the face with a dead squirrel. Reckon thet’s what I was expectin’.”

“Could we talk with you awhile, Hooey?”

“Shore. Come on up to the house. Maybe we could find somethin’ to drink.”

The two followed Hooey Hagan as he made his way down the road. He led them to a two-room shack, and when the two stepped inside they exchanged glances. It was much cleaner than they would have expected.

“How about a sawmill lunch?”

“What’s that?” Jenny said.

“A can of sardines, a handful of crackers, and a bottle of soda pop. Or you could have some Arkansas chicken.”

“What’s that?” Clay said.

“I reckon you folks would call it bologna.”

“We’re really not hungry, Hooey. We came to talk business.”

Hooey’s bright eyes fastened on her. “Can’t imagine what business a sheriff would have with a critter like me.”

“Well, it’s kind of a hard thing to say, Hooey. I’m the first woman sheriff in this county, and I’m having a difficult time of it.”

“I reckon how that might be.”

“We’re trying to catch the bootleggers. That’s the main problem, but we’re just not getting anywhere with it.”

Hooey Hagan put his rifle down, and reaching into his pocket, he bit off a huge bite from a plug of tobacco. He replaced the plug and chewed thoughtfully while Jenny went on to explain the problem.

“I knowed one of your deputies,” he remarked. “The one that got kilt.”

“You mean Kermit Bing?”

“That’s the feller. I always liked Kermit. He plowed a straight furrow and went all the way to the end of the row. That other sheriff before you, Max Conroy—he ain’t worth no more than a bucket under a bull.”

Jenny was slightly amused by this but knew that somehow she had to convey the truth to this strange man. She decided there was no way to do that except to tell in plain words why they had come. “We need an undercover agent, Hooey.”

“Whut’s thet?”

Hooey listened as Jenny explained what an undercover agent was, and when she had finished, he said, “Whut in the blue-eyed world makes you think I’d do thet?”

“Mostly because Missouri said she prayed and God gave her your name.”

Hooey grinned. “That woman’s been prayin’ for me for as
long as I can remember. She tried to convert me since I could walk, but I reckon I jest ain’t convertible.” He turned to stare at Varek and said, “What you think about all this, Deputy?”

“I think it would be a dangerous job, Hooey.” Clay went on to tell some of his experiences in Chicago, and Hooey listened without saying a word. Finally Clay said, “It doesn’t pay much and it’s dangerous.”

Hooey was silent for a long time just studying the pair, and finally Jenny felt there was no point in staying any longer. “Well, you might want to think about it—”

“I liked that feller Kermit. He done me a turn once.”

“What was that, Hooey?”

“He caught me red-handed. I ain’t gonna tell you whut, but it would have been enough to send me away to jail fer a spell. I shore did dread goin’ to the pen, but that feller Kermit, he gave me a second chance. He turned me loose and made me promise not to do—whut it was I was doin’.”

“He was a good man,” Jenny said. “I think about him every day.”

Hooey Hagan stood quietly and then shrugged his thin shoulders. “I guess that made me turn the corner. I was pretty rough before that, but since then I’ve been walkin’ a pretty straight line. I reckon I’d like to do somethin’ to make it right with Kermit.”

“You know who killed him?”

“I reckon I do, Sheriff, but I ain’t got no proof. But I’ll tell you what I do have. My own still. I been makin’ shine, jes’ fer my own personal libation, mind, but I could up my production and make like I want to sell it to some of them Yankees.”

Jenny was stunned. “Does that mean you’ll help us, Hooey?”

“I reckon as how I will.”

Jenny suddenly felt that the load had left. “Here at least is a chance!”

Clay was staring at the small man. “It’ll be dangerous.”

“They shouldn’t’ve killed Kermit. He was a good man,”
Hooey said. “Now, tell me one more time what in the cat hair it is I am.”

“You’re an undercover agent.”

“Sounds important, don’t it?” Hooey said with satisfaction. “Now, I get in with the fellers that are breakin’ the law and make ’em think I’m one of ’em.”

“That’s right,” Jenny said, nodding.

“Well, I reckon as how that would be right interestin’. Everything that goes around the door can’t be Santa Claus, you know.”

Jenny blinked. She had no idea what Hooey was talking about, but she put her hand out. “Thank you, Hooey. I’ll tell your aunt that you’re with us.”

Hooey Hagan grinned, then sobered. “She’ll be all over me to git religion, she purely will!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Setting the Trap

When Clay Varek turned from the hallway and entered the large living room, he found Jenny sitting on the floor playing with Jamie. For a moment he stopped, and the fatigue that had settled over him after a hard day’s work seemed to vanish. There was something about the picture of the red-haired sheriff sitting cross-legged and drinking tea out of a tiny cup across from Jamie that pleased him. He thought suddenly of how his life had changed since he had agreed to become a deputy. The arrangement had worked out so well with Jamie, and he knew that the child was much happier and contented staying with the Winslows during the day. She had told him over and over how much fun she had playing with Kat and how the women of the house always took care of her and made her good things to eat.

“It looks like a tea party to me,” Clay said. “You mind if I join you?”

“I don’t think we mind, do we, Jamie?”

“No,” Jamie said. “Sit down, Daddy. We’re playing house.”

Clay sat down, crossed his legs, and took the small cup that Jamie handed him along with a matching saucer with a tiny piece of cake on it.

“Did you make this cake, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

Jenny winked at him. “I helped a little bit, but you’ll have to brag on it a lot.”

Indeed, Clay did brag on the cake and on the tea, which
was really iced tea without the ice. This was a moment of intimacy for him, and he had spent so much time alone that it seemed to sink into his spirit. He watched Jamie as she served the tea out of a tiny teapot, managing to spill most of it, and dutifully drank it. Finally Jenny got up, saying, “Tea party’s over.”

Clay got to his feet. He picked up Jamie and hugged her. “Time to go home.”

“Can I go to Sunday school?” Jamie asked suddenly. She reached up and put her hands on each side of Clay’s face and seemed very serious. “Tomorrow is Sunday school day. I want to go.”

“I’d love to take her, Clay, if you don’t mind,” Jenny said.

“That would be fine.”

“Would you like to go with us?”

“Yes,” Jamie cried, “you go, too, Daddy!”

For a moment Clay considered refusing, but Jamie was patting his cheeks and nodding her head up and down begging him. “All right,” he said. “I’ll go too.”

Clay turned to Jenny and saw a smile on her face and knew he had pleased her. She had invited him to church many times, and he had always found some reason for not going. And even now he agreed reluctantly. He had not been to church in years and did not know what to expect.

“I’ll come by and get you about nine-thirty,” Jenny said.

“Should I wear my uniform?”

“No, not unless you want to. I’ll have to because I’ll be going on duty as soon as church is over.” She came forward and hugged Jamie and, in doing so, managed to touch Clay. “I’ll see you both tomorrow morning,” she said.

As Clay left the house listening to Jamie patter about what she had been doing all day and about Sunday school, he thought,
I’ve got to watch myself. I’m getting pretty caught up with these Winslow folks.

****

The next morning, Jenny drove Kat, Clay, and Jamie to church in her county car. Hannah, Clint, and her father were coming a bit later in the truck, and Missouri Ann was staying home with the babies, who were all three fussy with colds.

During the adult Sunday school class, Jenny noticed that Clay seemed quiet but attentive. Afterward she asked him, “Did you enjoy the Sunday school lesson?”

“As a matter of fact I did. You didn’t tell me your father was the teacher.”

“He’s really become a student of the Bible over these last few years. I wish some of it would rub off on me.”

“I think you do pretty well.”

“Let’s go by and be sure that Jamie’s all right before the service starts.” The two made their way down the hallway, which was crowded with people coming and going from Sunday school rooms to the main auditorium. There was a babble of voices, and when they got to the children’s room, Clay stepped inside and saw Jamie sitting on a chair holding her doll Jemima, which she had insisted on bringing.

“Daddy, look. Jemima likes Sunday school.”

Clay smiled. “How about you? Do you like it too?” He went and knelt down beside her and listened as she chattered on about the Sunday school time. Clay was fascinated at how quickly she was picking up words. It was almost like magic to him, and now he said, “Well, we’re going to church. We’ll be back soon.”

“No, Jemima wants to go.” She held up the doll and said earnestly, “We want to go with you, Daddy.”

Clay hesitated, but Jenny said at once, “I’m sure she’d be very good. Some people take their two-year-olds into church. If you want to, I’ll help take care of her.”

“All right. If you’re sure it’ll be okay.”

“It’ll be fine. Come along. Bring Jemima, Jamie.”

Clay picked Jamie up, and the two left the children’s room. They made their way down the hallway and turned into the auditorium. It was filling up rapidly, and Jenny said, “Look,
there are a couple of seats.” She led the way down the aisle, turned in, and they took their seats. When Clay set Jamie down on the seat beside him, Jenny whispered, “I wanted us to get close to the side door.”

“What for?”

“In case Jamie has to go to the bathroom.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but I should have.”

“It’s all right. If she has to go, I’ll take her.” The service began almost at once, and Clay felt awkward and out of place. The song leader was a tall, handsome man in his fifties and had a rousing tenor voice. He urged the congregation to sing vigorously, and he called, “Let’s sing number eighty-two! You all know that one and it’s a good one.” Jenny handed Clay a hymnal.

“But you don’t have one for yourself,” he said. “Oh, I know all the words to that one. It’s one of my favorites.”

The organist struck a chord and the pianist on the other side of the platform chimed in, and the congregation all stood at the song leader’s signal and began to sing.

“You have a good voice, Clay,” Jenny leaned over and whispered.

“I used to sing in a quartet when I was a young fellow. I haven’t done much singing lately.”

“You ought to take it up again.”

“You sing pretty well yourself.” Clay looked down at the songbook and said, “You know all the songs in here?”