thirty

There was so much blood. Loyal sat, wide-eyed, wishing he could do something to help. They were inside Clyde Hacker’s house now. Bernie wiped more blood on her apron and moved a lamp closer to Father’s still form. Her head bent forward, making it hard to see what she was saying, but he didn’t really need to know. He could see more than he wanted to.

Father was curled on his side on top of the kitchen table, stripped to his waist. His eyes remained closed, his mustache a dark slash against his pale face. Bernie had boiled a kitchen knife that she was using to cut into Father’s back where Sam shot him. Loyal wanted to look away with everything in him but couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman’s sure movements. Virgil stood nearby, his face serious.

Finally Bernie raised her head, a grim smile on her face, and held up a bloody bit of metal. The sheriff held out a handkerchief, and she dropped the bullet into it. She then reached for a needle and thread that she’d also boiled and began sewing up Father’s wound. Loyal swallowed the sick feeling rising in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he must have swayed because Virgil was suddenly there, a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to ask if Father would be all right. The question must have shown in his eyes.

“He’s lost some blood, but I think he’ll be okay,” the sheriff said. “We’ll get him home to Delphy just as soon as he’s stitched up.”

Bernie filled a basin with clean water and began wiping away all traces of blood.

Clyde stepped into the room and approached Virgil. “Glen followed a blood trail a ways. Lost it in the dark.” He shook his head. “Sam’s always wanted more. Wanted what everybody else has. I don’t think he meant to kill anybody.”

The sheriff frowned. “Whether he meant to or not, he’s in some pretty deep trouble. What was he doing with Loyal out there in that springhouse?”

“Glen said he was after Creed’s sang patches. Thought the boy could show him where they are.”

Virgil shot Loyal a look. “Is that right? Was Sam after your dad’s ginseng?”

Loyal nodded. He wanted to tell the sheriff that Sam was also the one who’d shot Eddie Minks, but he was too exhausted, too wrung out to figure out how to tell him. And maybe he shouldn’t do it in front of Sam’s father anyway. He just wanted to go home. Tears rose up behind his eyes, but he fought them back. He wasn’t going to look like a baby in front of the sheriff or Clyde Hacker. He went to Father, laying a hand on his chest to feel his heart beating and the rise and fall of his breathing.

A hand settled on his shoulder and it felt so like Father’s that he had to squeeze his eyes shut again to keep the feelings bottled up inside. When he opened his eyes, Virgil said, “Let’s get you two home.”

Loyal nodded and held the door open for the sheriff and Mr. Hacker as they carried Father out to Mr. Hacker’s wagon for the slow, painful ride into town.

Creed could smell lavender. And he could hear someone singing a hymn, low and sweet. He started to open his eyes, then waited. Strong yet gentle fingers stroked his face, the shadow of his beard. It was so tender he felt tears prick his eyes. So he opened them.

And there she was. Delphy gazed down at him with a look of gladness that made his heart sing. “Hey,” he said.

She pressed a fist to her mouth, tears filling her eyes. “Hey,” she whispered back.

He lifted a hand to catch a tear as it reached the tip of her chin. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” she said, more tears wetting his fingers.

He tried to laugh, but pain stole his breath.

“Don’t move. You’ve been shot.” She pressed gently against his shoulder as if he was going to try to sit up. Which he wasn’t.

“By cupid’s arrow you mean,” he said, managing a grin.

She choked on a laugh. “You’re terrible. Nearly killed and still flirting with me.”

He caught her hand in his. “I’ll always flirt with you.” He tugged her closer. Made her lean over him so that he could feel her breath against his cheek. “Kiss me, Delphy.” She pressed her lips to his forehead. “That’s not what I mean.” He curled her hand against his bare chest and drew her closer until he could taste the sweetness of her lips. She let him, then drew away, flushed and a little breathless.

“Some invalid you are.”

“Some nurse you are—I think I’m healed.”

She laughed and turned as someone else entered the room. Virgil came into view, worry etching his brow. The wrinkles smoothed when he saw Creed with his eyes open and maybe a little color in his cheeks.

“Thought we might lose you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to get shut of you a time or two, but not like this.”

Creed grimaced as he pushed himself higher on the pillows in . . . glory be, he was in Delphy’s bed. The bed that was his before . . . well, before he’d turned into such a fool. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“Don’t I know it.” Virgil laughed as he pulled a chair over to sit beside the bed. “Guess you’re planning to live through this, then?”

Creed glanced at his wife, who now stood in the doorway. “I can think of a few reasons why I might want to live a long time yet. Guess I’ll stick around.” Delphy smiled and left the room, promising him she’d be back soon.

Virgil nodded. “Bud and a few others are tracking Sam Hacker this morning. Soon as it got light, they set out to follow last night’s blood trail.”

“Who shot him?” Creed asked.

“I did. Should’ve aimed to kill. My daddy always said if you’re willing to shoot a man, you’d better be willing to kill him.” He shook his head. “It’s harder than it sounds.”

Creed nodded, then groaned without meaning to. He felt like someone had tried to cut him in half with a rusty saw blade. “If Sam hurts as bad as I do, he might be wishing you’d done him that favor about now.”

Virgil sat with his head down, hands clasped loosely between his knees. “I expect you saved Loyal’s life.” He paused. “I don’t know who Sam was aiming at, but he sure enough would’ve struck down that boy if you hadn’t jumped in the way.” He lifted his head, and his eyes bore into Creed’s. “I thought you were a fool to go down there on the off chance Loyal was in that springhouse. But I guess you were the right kind of fool.” He shook his head. “I’m just glad you didn’t let me stop you.”

“So am I,” Creed said. “About time being a fool worked out for me.”

Mother wouldn’t leave him alone. Loyal was used to her hovering and doting on him, but this was too much. Every time she drew near, she reached out to touch him—his hair, his shoulder—and he wanted to duck away but made himself tolerate the extra attention. Of course, when she wasn’t hovering over him, she was tending to Father.

She hadn’t let him venture up the stairs yet. He’d wrenched his ankle when he rolled his foot on that tree branch and it was swollen up now. He’d walked on it fine the night before, but by morning it looked like a plum had been tucked under the taut skin. Mother bathed it in witch hazel and wrapped strips of cloth snug around it. She made him sit on the sofa with the foot propped up on a pillow. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at nothing in particular.

Rebecca slipped into the room. She smiled and handed him a book. It was The Missing Chums, a Hardy Boys mystery that had come out that spring. Loyal had already read the first three books in the series and had been hoping to get this one for Christmas. He smiled and made the sign for thank you. Rebecca lit up and signed you’re welcome.

Loyal wanted to ask where she got the book, but it seemed like too complicated a question in sign language. While Rebecca had been quick to pick up what he’d shown her, they hadn’t gotten that far. So instead he waved her into a chair near the sofa, where Mother had told him in no uncertain terms that he was to stay. You okay? he signed.

Rebecca’s smile lit the room. “It’s so neat that I know what you’re saying. Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry you got hurt, though.” Her smile faded, her expression turning serious. “It was very brave of you to try to find out the truth.” She made the sign for brave without seeming to realize she’d done it. Loyal smiled and ran a hand over the cover of his new book. She really was turning out to be a wonderful friend.

He signed Where’s Michael? She nodded, looking pleased that she understood. “He’s doing your chores, I think. He said he wanted to help, so your mother sent him out to weed the garden.” She grinned. “I gathered the eggs and fed the chickens. I help with that at home sometimes.” She twisted her hands in the fabric of her skirt. “I like your mother. She’s really nice.”

Loyal smiled, chewed his lip deep in thought, and signed Michael not kill. The sign for kill was a sort of stabbing motion. He hadn’t taught it to Rebecca, but he thought she might understand it anyway.

Rebecca cocked her head and considered his motion. “You’re saying Michael . . . Oh!” She brightened. “Does that mean to kill someone?” Loyal nodded. “Michael didn’t kill that man.” She frowned. “But we knew that already.”

Loyal looked around as if someone might be watching him in his own house, then signed I know who.

Rebecca leaned forward. “You do? Who is it?”

Loyal couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across his face. Rebecca understood him so easily. He’d never met a hearing person who learned to communicate with him this fast. He sobered again. This was serious business. He spelled S-a-m.

Rebecca gasped. “Have you told the sheriff?” Loyal made the sign for no. “Are you going to?”

Movement drew Loyal’s attention, and he saw the sheriff filling the doorway. He swallowed hard and read the words Virgil spoke. “Are you going to tell me what?”