Into the Light (15 page)

“I’m not sure she meant to tell me at all. I was moaning about my family, and she ran out of patience and decided to show me I didn’t have it so bad. If it was a contest, she would have won.”

Sutton laughed out loud. “Maybe I’m wrong and it’s too bad you’re leaving. Sneaking away to talk about books is one thing. Telling secrets is another.” He stepped back away from the buggy. “You’d better get going, or you’ll still be getting to town in the dark.”

Trey looked back once as Irene trotted toward the town road. He saw Sutton striding toward the fields, the small shape of a puppy at his heels.

T
REY DROVE TO
town with hat pulled low and shoulders hunched as if thin white clouds streaking across blue sky presaged foul weather instead of an unseasonably warm fall day.

Shining yellow and brilliant orange flashed in his peripheral vision from cottonwoods and low-lying bushes along the creek. Trey never turned his head. Irene trotted along the flat brown ribbon of road without interference or guidance.

Yes, landlords and stablemen had proved resistant to both entreaties and bribes when it came to a puppy, but spending a day and night — that had turned into two days — on the road in hopes Cal Sutton and his wife would take her...? Without the hope of finding out where he stood with the Suttons, Trey never would have done it.

The invitation to stay the night had led him to believe this branch of the Sutton family had no problem with what had happened between him and Deborah. Yet Cal Sutton’s last words had been a more effective warning off than threats and a gun barrel pressed between the eyes.

Damaged.

No matter how Trey fit together the few puzzle pieces he had, he came up with an ugly picture. Cal Sutton had killed Deborah’s father in front of her when she was seven years old. She spoke of the killing in a flat voice with no emotion, prized the gift of books from Sutton, and accepted him as part of the family she couldn’t bear to upset.

Trey could only think of one thing a man could do to a daughter that would justify killing and have her and her whole family acting like that. The thought brought waves of impotent rage and sickness. How had Sutton found out? Someone must have seen or heard something and told.

If only he could help her. If anyone knew about needing help, Trey did. From the search parties who had pulled him out of the jungle, to the nurses at Siboney, the doctors on the hospital ship and back in this country, Trey knew about needing help and getting it. Jamie claimed they had a mutual aid association going, but Jamie with his irreverent way of dishing it out, was the best help of all.

Shame sat heavy on Trey’s heart. A better man would ignore Sutton’s words. A better man could help a woman who so often fled into darkness find her way into the light.

Trey Van Cleve was going to leave Hubbell as soon as Jamie and his brother-in-law admitted their plan to sell automobiles was a pipe dream. Maybe he could talk Jamie into leaving with him.

They could winter in Arizona, head for Montana come spring, maybe even Alaska come summer.

“H
E DID WHAT!”

“He brought us a puppy,” Ginny repeated. “He said you told him to, and he stayed overnight in Beth’s room. I can see why you lied to everybody and sneaked away to see him. He is
so
handsome. His eyes are dark green. Not hard like a cat’s, but deep, and just so, so beautiful. Even if he is a Van Cleve, Pa says you can’t judge people by their fathers or where would he be? And after all, Trey left the ranch and isn’t going back.”

Trey?
Unwilling to hear any more of her cousin’s happy babble, Deborah interrupted. “He said that? He said he left the ranch for good?”

“Well, he didn’t say it, but he
implied
it, and he said he’s leaving Hubbell too as soon as he does some things, but maybe he won’t. I don’t want to go to normal school like Beth. I’m going to fall in love with a handsome man and marry him and live close to home. Do you think Trey is too old for me?”

Setting a bowl of hard cooked eggs on the table with a thump, Deborah gave her fifteen-year-old cousin a stern look. “Yes,
Mr
. Van Cleve is too old for you, and if he said he’s leaving, I’m sure he is. After all, he was gone for almost ten years before he came back last winter.”

“Maybe he’d stay for the right woman,” Ginny said dreamily. “He talked to me at supper and at breakfast, and not like I was a little girl either.”

Fond of her young cousin as she was, Deborah decided to get a breath of fresh air before she said something she’d regret. Oh, yes, Trey Van Cleve could charm a girl with talk, all right. Ninety-year-olds probably tittered and fell at his feet when they heard that voice. Seeing him and hearing him all at once would weaken the knees on females far older and wiser than Ginny.

Deborah shivered and folded her arms over her chest. Most of the families who’d attended church today had taken one look at the leaden sky and scampered for home. The Suttons and a few others were setting out lunch inside the Grange Hall, determined to enjoy family and friends for an hour or so in spite of the weather. No crowds today.

The cold bit through the fine wool of her burgundy dress, the one she saved for cold-weather trips to town when they stayed over. In the heavy gray wool she usually wore to church, she wouldn’t be standing here freezing, even without a shawl, but she’d dressed for church these last weeks as if he might....

Might what? Come back and take her for another ride down the road? She’d told him to go, and he’d gone. Soon he’d be far from Hubbell and from Kansas, and that was fine. That was good. Unlike Ginny, Deborah wasn’t dreaming of marriage. Some women weren’t meant to marry, and she was one. She had a cooler nature than her sisters. At least she recognized her deficiencies and wasn’t going to make some man miserable.

Before the occasional tear slipping down her face turned to more, she mopped up angrily and went back inside, where the old stove should finally be putting out enough heat to warm the building.

Finding a way to talk to Norah alone wasn’t easy, but Deborah managed as everyone packed to go home. She scooped up an armload of empty dishes and followed her cousin to the family wagon.

Norah made no pretense of not knowing what Deborah had in mind. “He seems like a very nice young man. Caleb likes him too.”

“He just drove up to your house and said, ‘Here’s a dog?’”

“Not exactly. He said he hoped we’d do him a favor and take her. They let some poor dog on the V Bar C have a litter and were going to kill the puppies. So Trey took them, and he and Mr. Lenahan found homes for the males, but no one would take the female. I’m glad you told him about our dogs. Caleb moped for months after Early died. He’d have done the same over Ashby, but now little Rosie has him charmed. He’s quite taken with her.”

Trey
, but
Mr.
Lenahan. Rosie wasn’t the only one who had them all charmed. “So he brought the dog, and he just stayed?”

“I invited him. He came from Hubbell to our place, so it was late afternoon when he arrived, and he was going to turn around and go back. Letting him do that would have been cruel when he looked so tired, and I’m glad he stayed. He was good company. He even drank a glass of goat’s milk without wrinkling his nose too much.”

“He’s, he’s an enemy. Everyone was upset with me for seeing him even when I didn’t know who he was. I promised never to see him again.” Deborah hated the shrill tone in her voice but couldn’t stop it.

“Not everyone.” Norah stopped packing things away and turned. “Sweetheart, you are a grown woman. If you want to see someone, say so and do it.”

“I don’t want to see him. I told you I thought he was someone else.”

“Then say no the next time he comes to see you.”

“He won’t. I told him how I feel, and Ginny says he’s leaving Hubbell again anyway.”

“He told us that. Everything is going to work out perfectly for both of you then, isn’t it?”

Before Deborah could answer, Jacey and Ginny arrived with the rest of the lunch leftovers, their father close behind. Deborah smiled brightly at them all and said her goodbyes. As soon as she was safely away, she stopped pretending.

How could her favorite cousin be so blind? Nothing was even bearable much less perfect. Having turned her quiet life upside down and made her miserable, charming Trey Van Cleve planned to disappear.

T
REY STARED IN
disbelief at the empty rack that usually contained the
Hubbell Herald
. “How early do I have to get here to get a newspaper?”

“Last week early. Old Richmond called it quits.” As he spoke, Mr. Lawson continued twitching a feather duster over jars of brightly colored candy.

That explained why the racks for the
Herald
had been empty at the café where Trey ate breakfast, the barber shop he’d visited afterward, and now here at the general store.

“I didn’t think Mr. Richmond would ever sell.”

“He hasn’t sold,” Lawson said, changing his technique to broad swipes as he moved on to the shelves along the wall. “He’s been trying to sell the whole shebang for a year. Last I heard he decided to sell his equipment piecemeal any way he can. Says if he can’t sell the building, he’ll rent it or burn it.”

“What’s he going to do?”

“He’s got half a dozen grown children married and living all over the county. Every one of them wants him to come live there. I guess he’s going to give in and pick one of them to bless.”

Trey had worked for a newspaper for a few months when he was in college, just sweeping up, delivering bundles of papers to newsboys, and doing other menial chores. Memory of the smell of ink on warm paper filled his nostrils as if he still held one of those bundles.

Maybe he’d stroll over to the
Herald
’s office and see if Peter Richmond would show him the press. Anything that would pass a little time and take his mind off of Deborah Sutton sounded good these days.

He had made his decision, logical, best for both of them. If he could help her — but he couldn’t. For all the hours he spent gazing into space trying, he was unable to devise a single plan that had any chance of convincing her to stop hiding in the midst of an overprotective family and venture out into the broader world. His world.

If only he had been able to leave Hubbell as planned. By now distance and new places would have begun to fade the memory of those secret meetings and the woman who was Deborah but not Deborah.

Leaving Hubbell would have to wait, however, for Jamie and Nolan had come up with a reasonable plan to visit half a dozen companies manufacturing automobiles, starting with the St. Louis Motor Company in Missouri, and ending with the Columbia Automobile Company in Hartford, Connecticut. They would then decide which company to deal with, order the motor vehicles, and spend time learning how to operate, maintain, and repair them.

So Trey would be staying in Hubbell long enough to help the new Hubbell Automobile Company begin business. Introductions to his father’s old cronies would help. They were the men in Hubbell who might buy something as frivolous as an automobile for no reason except to flaunt wealth.

Jamie could talk birds out of the sky when he was trying. Even so, Trey worried that men who could afford a horseless carriage might refuse to deal with an Irishman they knew had been a laborer at the mill only months before, no matter how well spoken or well dressed.

Time would tell, but right now, Trey was royally fed up with the extra precautions he’d been taking to foil further murder attempts. Between that and the lovely, unsuitable female whose memory haunted him, he could use a distraction. An hour or two learning about the newspaper business sounded like just the ticket.

P
ETER
R
ICHMOND REACTED
to Trey’s request to see the
Herald
’s press with hostility. Most of the citizens of Hubbell had become accustomed to seeing Trey here and there around town. More and more of them accepted him.

The open speculation as to why he lived at Jamie’s rooming house and no longer traveled back and forth to the ranch probably helped. After all, from Jamie’s reports, the speculation was extremely accurate.

Which meant Richmond must have a better reason for anger and suspicion than most townsmen. Instead of walking away without another word, Trey paused, intrigued by the way a smudge of dirt across one cheek and a hank of thinning gray hair standing straight up on the top of his head gave a man who must be in his sixties a boyish look. Admittedly a churlish boy.

Trey considered. How much did he really want a tour of this defunct small town paper? Enough to at least be polite. “I apologize for imposing, Mr. Richmond. It was inconsiderate of me.”

“Your father has no reason to care what happens here any more, but if you came to nose around and report to him....”

“I think you know better than that. I have no plans to speak to my father about you or your business.” Or anything else ever again, but Trey left that unsaid.

Richmond moved back out of the door. Trey accepted the unvoiced invitation and followed him inside.

“Why would you want to see what’s left of one more broke country newspaper?” Richmond said.

“The lure of the forbidden perhaps. I worked for a newspaper in Tennessee for a few months, and they never let me touch the press. When Mr. Lawson told me you’d closed shop, I decided this was a chance to touch yours before you sell it. I even thought I might inveigle you to show me how it works.”

The front room of the newspaper office they stood in was small, the upper two-thirds of the walls a brown that might be yellow under years of accumulated grime. Dark wainscoting on the lower third added to the gloom. A long counter divided the room in two. Behind it, a covered typewriter peeked out from heaps, piles, and towers of paper that covered every square inch of the surface of a large desk.