nineteen

Delphy was weary of being alone with her own thoughts. The notion that she might have played a role in Creed drifting out of her life—not to mention Loyal’s—was weighing her down. She alternated between anger, sorrow, and frustration. She hadn’t had this many emotions bottled up inside her since she’d been pregnant. And this time she wouldn’t even have a babe to show for all the aggravation.

Unable to focus on chores, reading, or much of anything else, she jumped when she heard a sound at the front door. She rushed to fling it open and thought for half a moment that she’d conjured Creed Raines. But no, the worn-out-looking man with sagging shoulders and disheveled hair had brought himself to her door. Their door.

“Where is he?” She peered past Creed, hope fading as quickly as it had sprung up.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Her jaw tightened. “It’s your house, isn’t it?”

“It was yours first.” Well. That was true enough. He stepped inside and stood there, looking ill at ease. “Mind if I sit?” She didn’t speak, just motioned toward the front room with its faded sofa and side chairs flanking the fireplace.

An unguarded look passed over his face. It might have been hope or a sweet memory, but he gave himself a shake and sat at the end of the sofa. “I want to tell you something, but you have to trust me.” The words were not what she’d been expecting.

She moved closer but didn’t sit, feeling too tense to relax. “Trust is a tender thing right now.”

He nodded. “I know that. I’m trying to do what’s best for our son and I’m hoping you’ll go along with me.”

She folded her hands under her chin and closed her eyes, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt but fearing he would disappoint her again. “What if I don’t agree with what you think is best?” She opened her eyes and bit her lip.

Creed rubbed his palms on his britches legs. “I guess you’ll do what you think is best then.” He looked deep into her eyes. “And I won’t stop you.”

She sank into one of the chairs. Maybe she could trust him. “I’m listening.”

“I know where the kids are.” She gasped and leaned forward, but he held up a hand. “I’m acting like I don’t know. I’m keeping it from Virgil.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why would you do that? Virgil’s a good man. On the side of the law.”

Creed nodded. “That’s right. And he’d bring those kids in, because that’s the right thing to do from the law’s perspective.” He drew in a deep breath as though it would give him the words he needed to convince her. “But I’m trying to do what’s right from a father’s perspective.”

She dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying. These were the sorts of words she’d longed to hear from him. “A father is just what Loyal needs right now. I’m afraid I’ve . . .” Her voice faded away. How could she say what she’d been thinking?

Creed didn’t press her. “It’s what he’s always needed. I’m just sorry he’s had to go—” Creed choked, then cleared his throat—“to go without.”

Delphy steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips, fighting for control. “Are you going to tell me where he is?”

“He’s up on Rich Mountain with Hadden Westfall’s kids. They’re all tangled up in this shooting business.” He shook his head. “I just can’t help feeling like I need to figure this out before Virgil questions them.”

“Are they safe?” She could feel her defenses falling and found she was relieved to let them.

Creed’s lips quirked. “Hadden talks like that boy of his is no-account, but he’s shown Loyal and his sister how to set up a pretty little camp.” He laughed. “And our boy is teaching ’em how to talk with their hands. Shoot, I’d say they’re better than safe.” He reached for her hand. “They’re enjoying themselves.”

Delphy took in a great, shuddering breath and let it out, feeling a piece of her mother’s heart yield. “It’s no small thing for me, but I think, maybe, I can trust you in this.” She laced her fingers with his, feeling daring as she did so. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Creed lifted her fingers to his lips and held them there. “I won’t,” he said. Then he drew her, slowly and surely, into his arms. And she went. Gladly.

The next morning, Creed rose early while Delphy slept on. Though she hadn’t invited him to her bed, he’d seen a softening that made him think he had a chance to win his way back into her heart. This half-life they’d been living was no longer enough for him and he had the notion it wasn’t enough for Delphy, either. He wanted his family back—in every possible way. And he figured the first step toward that was to put this murder behind them. Of course, to do that, they needed some answers. And he aimed to get them.

The cool of the morning let him make good time up the mountain to check on the kids. He approached stealthily. Michael was at the creek with several fish on a stringer. Creed shook his head. That boy’s father had made some wrong assumptions about his son. Maybe that could be put to rights, too. Up the hill, Loyal and the girl still slumbered on either side of their now-cold campfire. He watched longer than he needed to, enjoying seeing his son so at ease in these woods he loved. Finally, the sun rising, he eased back down the mountain and set off for town at a lope.

Virgil was already in his office. “You ready to lead the search party?” he asked. “I need to get up to Elkins to see about Otto’s trial. Might have to delay it until we find those kids.”

Creed steeled himself. He was about to take a risk. Virgil was a good friend, but what he was going to ask . . . having been the sheriff, he knew he was putting Virgil in a tough spot. “What if I told you I know where the kids are?”

Virgil jerked his head up from the file folder he was sifting through. “I’d want to know why they aren’t standing here beside you.”

Creed’s mouth felt as dry as plowed ground in August. “I might be reluctant for just anyone to know they’d been found.”

“Just anyone like who? No. Wait. Like a particular fella who’s been pushing us hard to interview your son?”

Creed nodded, unable to work up enough spit to speak. Virgil was either about to go along with him or about to arrest him and throw away the key.

The sheriff let out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re worse than a woman to wear a man down.” He tilted back in his chair until it groaned. “Tell me what you’ve cooked up.”

The smell of fish cooking over an open fire woke Loyal. He stretched and rubbed his face. He was getting used to sleeping on the ground. His muscles didn’t ache as much, and he’d slept without dreaming.

Michael squatted by a small fire. He had fish skewered on sticks stuck in the ground so that they leaned over the flames. Although he stared intently at their breakfast, Loyal had the notion the older boy was thinking of something else.

Rebecca stirred and stretched, finger-combing her hair and tying it back with a wilted ribbon. She smiled at him, and he suspected she was enjoying herself almost as much as he was. He glanced back at Michael and frowned. Something was troubling his new friend. He moved closer and, when Michael looked up, made the sign for what?

Michael shook his head. “I’ve been thinking.” Rebecca joined them, exclaiming over the fish. Michael handed her one, and she peeled the skin back to nibble at its flaky flesh. Loyal took one and did the same. Even without salt, it was still really good.

What thinking? he signed, juggling his breakfast as he did so.

Michael moved away and sat on a rock. He didn’t eat. “It’s not right to let Otto take the blame for what I did.”

Loyal nodded. He agreed, but he sure could understand why Michael wouldn’t want to tell the truth.

“I’m thinking I should tell Sheriff White what happened.”

Rebecca must have cried out, because Michael went to her and patted her like he wasn’t used to doing it. “It’ll be alright,” he said. “I’m just a kid so probably they’ll go easy on me. Plus, it was an accident.” He pulled his shoulders back and stuck out his chin. “Maybe I’ll only have to serve a little bit of time in jail.”

Tears ran down Rebecca’s face and she abandoned her breakfast. “But you don’t have to,” she said.

Michael bowed his head, then looked up again. “I think maybe I do. I’ve been trying so hard to keep anyone from finding out. But now that Loyal knows, it’s kind of a relief.” He rubbed at a mosquito bite on his arm. “I’ve been feeling rotten. And Dad thinks I’m useless anyway. At least Otto’s good for something around the house.”

Rebecca protested some more, but Loyal wasn’t paying close attention. He’d long thought Michael was a jerk. But out here in the woods he’d become someone different—someone he liked. And when he really thought about it, he guessed Michael was doing the right thing. He stood, drawing the attention of the other two, and made a fist with his right hand, his thumb sticking out. He pointed the thumb toward his belly and drew it up to his chest. As he did so, he wet his lips and spoke the word “proud.” Then he pointed at Michael.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have said the older boy looked like he was about to cry.

By midmorning, Bud was leading a handful of searchers down the river they’d searched up the day before while Virgil and Creed were on their way to Elkins. Earl was staying in a boardinghouse there, and Creed had some questions for him.

“You sure it’s a good idea for you to do this on your own?” Virgil asked for the third time. “Might be better if any questions were what you’d call official.”

“Earl waves that word official around like a cattle prod.” Creed smoothed his mustache. “I’m thinking it’s time to have a regular old man-to-man conversation.”

Virgil gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “You gonna get me into trouble with this? And by trouble I mean worse than I’m already in?”

Creed felt sweat prickle under his arms. Truth be told, he wasn’t all that sure about his plan. He just knew he needed to extricate his son from this mess and he was willing to try just about anything to do it. “My plan is to get us all out of trouble.”

Virgil grunted. “We all know what the road to hell is paved with. Just try not to build too many more miles.” He pulled in at the county courthouse in Elkins, saluted Creed with two fingers to his forehead, and went inside. Creed understood that sign well enough—it said You’re on your own now.

Well and good.

Creed ambled down the street, considering what he knew. Eddie Minks had been shot twice while scouting for a government homestead project. Hadden Westfall might or might not have been willing to sell his land for the new community, which meant he might or might not have had a reason to shoot Eddie. The fact that he’d lied about his alibi sure didn’t look good. Otto, on the other hand, had confessed, except his motive and ability to commit the murder stretched credulity. And then there were Michael and Rebecca who had surely been at the scene that day and had ended up with the gun that was likely the murder weapon—but how?

Creed kept circling back to the same notion. If he wanted to know who shot Eddie, he needed to come up with a good reason why someone wanted him dead. And Earl seemed the likeliest candidate to point him in the right direction.

Swinging up onto the porch of the boardinghouse, Creed lifted a hand to knock. But before his knuckles hit the wood, the door jerked open. A woman stood there, eyes wild and hair coming loose from its twist. “Who’re you?” she blurted.

“Creed Raines. Up from Beverly to see Earl Westin.”

She pushed out onto the porch and eased the door shut behind her. “Do you know anything about what happened to Eddie?”

Creed wet his lips. Who was this woman? “That’s what I came to talk to Earl about.”

She took his arm and turned him down the steps. “Come with me,” she said. Although mystified, Creed had the sense this woman might be someone he should talk to. She led him several houses down and then turned onto a side street adjacent to a small park. She plopped down on a bench, looking back the way they’d come.

“Sorry son of a gun won’t tell me anything.” Tears stood in her eyes. “Me and Eddie was getting married soon as he’d earned enough to set us up. I came down from Pittsburgh to see Eddie got buried proper.” She dashed away a tear that had escaped. “And to claim what’s mine. Eddie said everything he had was mine as much as his—just needed a marriage license to prove it to the world.” She laid a hand across her stomach, and Creed realized it was rounded more than might be expected. “But that ornery cuss Earl says I’ve got no claim and should leave him alone.” She turned deep blue eyes on Creed. “What happened? Who killed my man? The way he’s acting, I’d almost think Earl done it.”

Creed debated what to say. “Well, the sheriff’s investigating Eddie’s death as a murder, and there’s a fella who’s confessed to doing it.” She put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. “He says he thought Eddie was trespassing on his boss’s land and was just trying to scare him off.”

“Why wouldn’t Earl tell me that? He acted like it was all a big secret.”

Creed shrugged. “Most folks know that much. The fella’s trial is supposed to start on Monday.”

Her eyes took on a steely shine. “You say that like there’s more to know.”

“Maybe. Hey, can you tell me how long Eddie’s been working for the government?”

“’Bout two and a half years. But he just started this scouting business when Earl talked him into it. He had a nice comfortable office job before.” She rubbed along the side of her belly as though something ached there. Creed remembered Delphy doing the same thing when she was pregnant with Loyal. He felt a pang for this woman and her grief. “Eddie said the job paid a whole lot better and we could get married that much sooner.” She sighed. “And I believed him when he said we’d be wed by now.” She ran a hand over her belly again, sorrow cutting lines at the corners of her mouth.

“Don’t guess I ever thought about government jobs paying all that well,” he said. “Steady work, sure, but not the sort of thing that’d make you rich.”

“Yeah, me neither. But Earl, he flashed money around and got Eddie excited about it. They used to meet up of an evening and ‘make plans’ as Earl called it. Never did understand why they couldn’t do that on regular work time. Took Eddie away from me many an evening.”

The combination of easy money and off-the-clock planning made Creed think he might have hit on something important. He just wasn’t sure what it was. “Can you think of anyone who would’ve wanted Eddie dead?”

“No,” she said, tears rising again. “He might’ve aggravated somebody now and again. He had a wicked tongue when he let it get the best of him or when he’d been drinking. But I don’t think he ever made anybody that mad.” She gripped Creed’s arm. “Do you think he suffered?”

Creed pictured the hole in the man’s chest. “No. I think it was quick.”

She nodded and released his arm. “Why’d you want to talk to Earl anyhow? You the police? You think he knows something important?”

“I’ve been giving the sheriff a hand, but I’m not the police.” He patted her arm. “We’re going to figure out who did this and why.”

“Can I have Eddie’s things?”

“What things? Do you mean his suitcase from the boardinghouse?” As far as Creed knew, Virgil still had the small bag with its toiletry kit and a change of clothes. Maybe it was sentimental to this woman.

“I mean his gold watch that belonged to his daddy and that little notebook he carried around.” The ghost of a smile softened the lines in her face. “He mostly used it for work, but he did these little sketches for me sometimes—flowers, animals, things he saw when he was out looking for property. He could draw the purtiest pictures.”

“I, well, I guess I can let the sheriff know you’d like to have them. Say, what’s your name?”

“Christine Mankin.” She shook her head. “Wasn’t going to be hard to switch from Mankin to Minks. Now . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’m real sorry for your loss,” Creed said. “I’d best be getting back, though. The sheriff will wonder what happened to me.”

She nodded and shrank back against the bench. “You go on then. I’ll leave my forwarding address at the boardinghouse when I go. The lady what runs it let me use Eddie’s room since he’d paid in advance, but that runs out on Monday.”

Creed felt like there should be something more for him to do for this woman, but he couldn’t think what. He stood and took a step away, then turned back. “We’ll find who did it.”

“I hope you do,” she said. “’Course my knowing won’t put food on the table.”

Creed bit his lip and headed back the way they’d come. He guessed there were harder things than having a son who couldn’t hear.