Beyond All Measure (25 page)

TWENTY-TWO

Leaving Cherokee tethered in his usual spot outside the bank, Wyatt jogged across the street and headed to the sheriff’s office. Located across from the Hickory Ridge Inn, the building had weathered to a dirty gray. It sported a single dusty window overlooking the street and, inexplicably, a bear-shaped weather vane that always pointed south.

Wyatt cast a wary eye at the leaden sky. Two days of cold, hard rain had precluded his trip up to the ridge with Ada. Now the rain had slackened to a gray mist and the weather had turned unusually cold for so early in December. Maybe it would snow.

The chill wind tore at his coat as he mounted the rickety steps, pushed open the door, and stuck his head in. “Sheriff?”

Eli McCracken set aside his newspaper and motioned him inside. “I was just about to send word to the mill. I need to talk to you.”

“Same here.” Wyatt took off his hat, eased himself into the canebacked chair opposite Eli’s desk, and scanned the row of wanted posters lining the wall. Last year he’d been stunned to see the face of one of his sawyers from North Carolina staring back at him. The man was wanted in three states for bank robbery and attempted murder. Now Wyatt made a point of checking Eli’s rogue’s gallery from time to time.

“You first.” Eli rose stiffly and headed to the stove in the corner to refill his cup. “Want some coffee?”

“No thanks.”

“What’s on your mind?”

Wyatt withdrew a wrinkled sheet of paper from his pocket and slid it across the desk. “Somebody left this on Aunt Lillian’s back porch the night before last. She and Ada are terrified.”

Eli plopped down in his chair and scanned the note. “Did Miss Wentworth see who left it?”

“No. She gave chase, but whoever it was had too much of a head start.”

“Could be just a prank.”

“I don’t think so.” Wyatt described the earlier incident in which Lillian had seen a “ghost.” “I’ve begun to suspect the Klan may be involved.”

“I don’t blame you for being concerned,” Eli said, “but with nothing more to go on . . .”

“I realize there’s not much you can do. But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your eyes and ears open. People who do things like this often brag about it.”

Eli nodded and sipped his coffee.

“Maybe you could ride out there and check around, help keep an eye on the place. I try to get out there every day or two, but I can’t be there all the time.”

“I’ll do what I can, but it’s a long way out there.”

Wyatt watched rain misting the window. “That’s what worries me.”

“You could move Ada and Lillian into town, let them stay at the inn for a few days.”

“I thought about it. I thought about moving them to my place too, but I don’t have room. Besides, I don’t want to alarm them. And I sure don’t want whoever is doing this to think they can intimidate us. It will only make them bolder.”

“Maybe.” Eli set his cup down. “This Two Creeks business is making the whole town jumpy. It’s too bad someone with good sense can’t buy up the whole kit and caboodle and put the issue to rest.”

“I tried to buy it five years ago, but I never could find out who the actual owner is. It’s tied up in some kind of trust with a fancy lawyer in Nashville. All I got from him was a string of excuses.”

“Maybe you could try again if you’re still interested. A lot can change in five years.” Eli cleared his throat, opened his desk drawer, and took out a set of keys. “I’ve got somebody locked up who’s been asking for you.”

Wyatt frowned. “Is one of my men in trouble?”

“Come on.”

Eli led the way through a door at the back of the office to a dank room containing a couple of chairs and two cells. One was empty. In the other sat Jasper Pruitt’s clerk. He was perched on the edge of the thin, bare mattress holding his head in his hands. He didn’t look up when Wyatt and Eli entered.

“Powell?” Eli said. “I’ve brought Mr. Caldwell, like you asked.”

The young man finally raised his tear-stained face and nodded.

“I’m going to let you out. You can sit right there”—Eli indicated a chair—“and say your piece to Mr. Caldwell.” His hand rested ever so briefly on the revolver strapped to his hip. “You aren’t going to try anything stupid, right?”

Powell shook his head.

“All right then.” Eli let him out and waited till he and Wyatt were seated. “You’ve got ten minutes. I’ll be in the office.”

He left them alone.

Wyatt stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “What’s this all about, boy? How come Eli McCracken’s got you locked up?”

“I got caught stealing.”

“From the mercantile?”

“Yeah.” The boy’s voice cracked. “I would have got away with it too, but Miss Greer was working late at the
Gazette
and saw me taking my wagon around back. She snuck over there to investigate and saw me puttin’ stuff in the wagon. She ran and told the sheriff, and here I am.”

“I see. But what’s that got to do with me?”

“Sheriff McCracken don’t care why a person does something. He only cares about the law.”

“That’s his job.”

“Yeah, but I thought you might listen to my reasons and help explain it to him.” Powell dropped his gaze. “I seen how you saved those two boys from drowning. And Jacob Hargrove said you gave him a job after his ma died. Seems like you got a good heart, and well . . . I thought maybe you’d understand why I did what I did.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s Mr. Pruitt and the way he treats the colored folks. When a black woman comes to the back door wanting to buy a slab of bacon, he sells her some that’s about to go bad. And if she asks for a pound, he shaves a quarter pound off and charges her full price. It’s the same whether they’re buying nails or cheese or kerosene. They always get shortchanged.”

Wyatt nodded. Outside, rain dripped off the eaves.

“Anyway, since the talk started up about moving the coloreds off that land, they’re afraid to come into town. Scared they might be rounded up and not allowed to go back to Two Creeks.”

“How do you know all this, son?”

Powell compressed his lips and shook his head. “Can’t tell you that, Mr. Caldwell. Don’t want to get anybody in trouble.” His eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t let ’em starve, could I? So I’ve been loadin’ up my wagon ever’ so often and leaving food down in Two Creeks.”

“How long has this been going on?”

The boy shrugged. “Couple of months, I reckon. Mr. Pruitt blames the coloreds for stealing from him. But it wasn’t them, it was me.” He jumped up and began to pace. “In the Bible, doesn’t it say to feed the hungry? I know it’s wrong to steal, but I couldn’t figure out any other way.”

He flopped into his chair. “I was trying to do something good, but I made a mess of it. The sheriff won’t listen. I was hopin’ you might see my side of it.”

“You’re right about feeding the hungry,” Wyatt said. “But the Bible also tells us that when we’ve wronged someone, we’re to make amends.”

“But Mr. Pruitt is wrong too! When he overcharges people, isn’t that stealing?”

“In my book, yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that you took his merchandise and—”

“I have to pay it back. I know that. But Mr. Pruitt says I can’t never come back into his store. Without a job I can’t pay anything back. I was hoping—”

“Wyatt?” Eli opened the door. “Is everything all right in here?”

“We’re just finishing up.” Wyatt rose and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Come on, Powell.” Eli ushered the boy back into his cell, and he and Wyatt returned to the office.

“Well?” The sheriff poured himself a third cup of coffee. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Eli. I guess I’m thinking that the Lord moves in mysterious ways.”

“Huh?” Eli moved to the window and scanned the street.

“That boy back there just may have bought us more time. Now that Jasper can’t blame the coloreds for stealing, he doesn’t have as strong an argument for wanting to displace them.”

“Maybe. But he isn’t the only one who wants them gone. He’s just the most vocal.” Eli turned from the window and pinned Wyatt with a worried gaze. “We need a solution to this mess before it splits Hickory Ridge wide open.”

Wyatt nodded and picked up his hat.

“I’ll ride out to your aunt’s place this afternoon,” Eli said, “and take a look around.”

“I’d appreciate it. I’ll see you.”

Wyatt left the office and headed back to where Cherokee stood patiently in the cold rain. On the long ride back to the mill, he turned the problems over in his mind.

The situation with the Powell boy was easy. Wyatt would offer him a job at the mill and see to it that Jasper Pruitt was repaid for his losses. But thinking about Ada and Lillian and how to keep them safe, about how to resolve the problem of Two Creeks, about Ada’s desire to visit the mixed-blood girl at the orphanage left him with a chill that he couldn’t blame on the weather.

TWENTY-THREE

The afternoon of the Christmas pageant came down cloudy and cold, with a rare hint of snow in the air. Ada, Lillian, and Mariah gathered early at the church to prepare for the evening’s program. Carrie was at home making a huge vat of cranberry punch. Bea, who was still occupied at school, sent Jacob Hargrove over to help the women secure extra lanterns to the walls and attach swags of fresh greenery above the windows and doors. While the boy busied himself with hammer and nails, Mariah set baskets filled with holly along the edge of the temporary stage the pastor had erected. Lillian placed candles near the spot where Mary and Joseph, played by Jacob and Sabrina, would stand.

Lillian waved Jacob off his ladder and led him to the center of the stage. “You be careful tonight and don’t stand too close to these candles. We don’t want you and Sabrina going up in flames.”

“I will.” He gave them a sheepish grin. “We came over here last night and practiced our lines. I don’t want to forget anything and mess up the pageant.”

He looked up at Mariah. “Where do you want this mistletoe, Mrs. Whiting?”

“Traditionally it goes above the door, but why don’t you let me keep it for now.”

Jacob handed her the clump of green with its tiny white berries. “Is it true that if you kiss a girl under the mistletoe, she’ll marry you?”

“Why, Jacob Hargrove! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of proposing!”

The tips of his ears turned bright red, and he ducked his head. “No ma’am. Not right now anyway. But I was thinking about proposing a proposal . . . sort of a promise of one for later on, I mean. After school and such.” He looked out the window. “School’s prob’ly let out by now. I have to go get my little sister.”

“We’ll see you tonight,” Ada said. “Thank you for helping.”

Jacob buttoned himself into his coat. “Miss Ada?”

He took a small pelt from his pocket. “Caught this mink last week. I thought you might could use it for one of your hats.”

Ada ran her hands over the soft fur. “This is beautiful. You must let me pay you for it.”

“No ma’am. It’s a gift.” His face reddened again. “I got to go.”

Mariah smiled as he loped across the churchyard. “He’s so in love he can’t see straight, poor boy.” She draped a red paper chain across the front pew and sat down. “I remember being in love at that age. His name was Albie Fitzgerald, and he was the milkman’s son. Such beautiful eyes.” She pretended to swoon and the women laughed. “We were old enough to be in love, and too young to do anything about it.”

“Well, we’d better do something about finishing these decorations if we want to be ready by tonight.” Lillian consulted the watch that hung around her neck. “It’s after four o’clock already.”

The women completed their preparations and retired to their quilting room, which was now stuffed to overflowing with costumes, a carved life-sized Christ child, and a table for holding refreshments. Earlier in the week, Patsy Greer had printed programs listing the names of all the children in the pageant, as well as all of those from the orphanage who would be singing beforehand. On the cover was a picture of a single glowing candle and the words “A Blessed Christmas in Hickory Ridge.”

“These are pretty.” Mariah picked up a program and opened it. “There’s Robbie’s name. For a while, I was worried he would balk at portraying a shepherd. He took one look at the costume I was making and announced that he wasn’t wearing a dress.” She frowned. “This is odd. Patsy forgot to put in Sophie’s last name. She’s the only child without one.”

Ada glanced at the program, dismayed. “She didn’t forget. Mrs. Lowell said they’ve never known her last name.”

“I don’t see what can be done about it at this hour,” Lillian said. “It is a shame that the child will be singled out, but it’s too late to reprint them.”

Ada rummaged through her bag. “I have some pencils in here somewhere.”

“Ada, what are you doing?” Mariah asked. “You can’t mark out the other children’s names! Their parents will be furious!”

“I’m not erasing their names. I’m giving Sophie one.”

She handed each woman a pencil and a stack of programs. “Write the name Robillard beside Sophie’s name.” She spelled it out for them. “Make it match Patsy’s printing as nearly as you can.”

The women bent over their task, and half an hour later the programs were done and stacked neatly on the table.

Mariah rose and looked out the window. “I can’t believe it! It’s starting to snow.” Her brown eyes shone. “I can’t remember the last time it snowed for Christmas in Hickory Ridge.”

Watching the falling snow collect on the winter-brown grass, Ada felt an unexpected jab of homesickness.

“Are you all right?” Mariah put her arm around Ada’s shoulder.

“I was remembering the winters of my childhood. Before my mother got sick, we used to bundle into our cloaks and robes and take the sleigh out for evening rides. Once I counted a hundred candles burning in the windows of the houses on our street. It was like being inside a painting.”

“Pastor’s here,” Lillian announced, turning from the window. “And here comes Bea and her bunch.”

Half an hour later the church was filled to overflowing. Freshly cut pine boughs scented the air. Banks of candles bathed the church in soft, flickering light. Tables sagged beneath trays of baked goods and bowls of cranberry punch. The children taking part in the pageant rustled and wiggled and finally arranged themselves at the front of the church, their faces glowing with excitement. Mariah sat at the piano, her music at the ready. The orphans filed in, shiny-faced and solemn. From her seat in the third pew, Ada caught Sophie’s eye and winked. Sophie winked back.