thirty-three

It’s time to harvest the ginseng,” Creed announced at the breakfast table on a crisp early September morning. Delphy had been more attentive since their bedtime talk. She touched him whenever she passed by, and Creed felt like he had when they were first seeing each other—happy and a little nervous at the same time. Loyal had been watching them intently, as if he noticed something was different between them. He looked interested in Creed’s comment, eyebrows up.

“You’re not well enough to go grubbing about in the woods,” Delphy said, trailing a hand across his shoulders as she headed for the sink.

“Maybe not, but we need the money for Loyal’s tuition.” She sighed and slid a plate of eggs in front of him. He could guess what she was thinking. Still, he would not change his mind.

Loyal frowned at the mention of his school. He made a sign Creed remembered from the day they were working on Delphy’s pie safe. “That means help, doesn’t it?” Loyal nodded. “You want to help me dig ginseng?” Loyal gave a small smile that Creed hoped was pushing back the disappointment over his schooling. Creed smiled, too. “That’s exactly what I was hoping.” He glanced at Delphy. “Think you could pack us a lunch?”

“You’ll be extra careful? Sam Hacker is still out there somewhere.”

“You know I will,” Creed said, trying to sound calm and confident. Sam Hacker’s arrest was part of the reason Creed wanted to get Loyal out of town, though he couldn’t say anything about it yet. Virgil had tipped him off about his plans and swore Creed to secrecy. Delphy nodded and went back to peeling the last of the summer tomatoes she’d scalded for canning. Creed started to tell her more but thought better of it. The last thing he needed to do was to make Virgil mad again. He reached out to ruffle Loyal’s hair, but the boy ducked away. Creed let his hand drop. “It’s a fine day for being in the woods,” he said.

Excited to be digging ginseng with Father, Loyal tried not to hurry ahead. It was just the two of them going out to earn a living for the family. Mother hadn’t seemed all that pleased, but she’d let him come and that was all that mattered. He might have to go back to boarding school soon, but until he did, he wanted to have as many adventures as he could squeeze in. And while he wasn’t happy with Father’s decision, he still liked being in the woods with him. He quelled his smile. Not that he’d let it show overmuch.

Loyal eyed the rifle slung over his father’s shoulder. He’d said something about getting a squirrel for supper. Loyal guessed it had more to do with Sam Hacker still being missing. While Father wasn’t completely healed, Loyal felt safe and watched over nonetheless. He also felt like he was part of a complete family for the first time in . . . well, maybe ever. His parents were even sleeping in the same room now, like real parents were supposed to. He darted ahead to get a closer look at what he thought might be a ginseng plant. He touched the leaves and looked back at Father, a question in his eyes.

“No, that’s Virginia creeper. Looks a lot like it, though.”

Loyal nodded and kept moving. Finally Father stopped and pointed to a plant with green leaves in clusters of five and its crown of red berries in the center. He knelt down, grimacing as he did so, and beckoned Loyal closer. He knelt too. Father gently loosened the soil at the base of the plant. Loyal leaned down, and Father showed him places where the stem narrowed and swelled.

“Stem scars,” he said. Loyal motioned for him to repeat the phrase since it was new to him until he finally understood. “One for each year the plant’s been growing. Don’t dig unless there are at least four.” Father held up four fingers. Loyal nodded. “How many do you see?” Loyal ran his fingers along the stem, counting. He held up five fingers. “Good. Do you remember the way I showed you to dig it?” Loyal nodded again, and they spent several hours finding and harvesting plants. Father looked pleased when Loyal remembered to plant the seeds without being told.

Around noon, with a fair number of roots in their gathering basket, Creed pointed toward some rocks along a stream and held up Delphy’s lunch sack. Loyal made the sign for hungry that Creed had seen before. “Me too,” he said, mimicking the sign.

They sat and Creed opened the sack, but before he could pull out the food, Loyal laid a hand on his arm. He put his palms together in a sign for prayer. “Right. Yes. We should give thanks.” Loyal nodded solemnly. Creed licked his lips. At the table at home, Delphy would sign what he said. He’d just keep it short and wouldn’t bow his head so Loyal could see his lips.

“Father, we thank you for this day, the beauty of your creation, and for this food we’re about to eat. Amen.” Loyal held up a finger, thrusting it toward Creed in what was clearly a wait a minute gesture. Then he turned his eyes toward the sky and began moving his hands in what looked like dancing. He made small sounds as he gestured, and Creed guessed Loyal had a few other things he wanted to talk to God about. He ended with a rolling hand motion that ended in the sign for help. As he made the motion, he spoke in that loud guttural voice of his. “Amen.”

Creed was surprised to realize his throat felt thick and his eyes prickled. He’d never really thought about it, but God understood his son perfectly. Words, signs, or even just thoughts were something God understood without needing translation. Creed hadn’t been the father Loyal deserved and yet he had a Father who was perfect. The thought was both comforting and intimidating. Maybe Loyal didn’t need him.

The boy bit into his cold biscuit and watched leaves drift by in the stream at their feet. He saw a fish and made a sound of pleasure, thumping Creed on the knee and pointing. A huge smile spread across his face, and his expression made Creed think of laughter. He laughed too. Maybe Loyal didn’t need him. Maybe he needed Loyal.

Suddenly that school for the deaf felt like it was awfully far away.

This had been the best day ever. While Loyal was still frustrated that Father was making him go away to school, he’d loved every moment they spent together tromping through the woods. And a couple of times he’d caught Father looking at him with what appeared to be pride. Which made Loyal feel taller and stronger than he had in a long time. Now they were crouching at the foot of the mountain, rinsing ginseng roots in the icy water of a stream with the wide valley spread at their feet. Loyal was looking forward to supper and yet he wanted these moments to stretch out longer, too. When would he get to do something like this again?

Placing the last root in the basket, Father touched his arm. “I need to tell you something.” Loyal nodded. He’d gotten used to Father’s way of speaking and following his lips was easier now. Still, he was tired, and if Father had a great deal to say, this was going to wear him out. He got comfortable and focused on his father’s face.

“I talked to Virgil yesterday.” Loyal nodded. “He knows where Sam is hiding out, and I expect he has him in a jail cell by now.” Loyal’s eyes grew big. Was that why Father wanted to hunt ginseng today? To keep him out of the way while the sheriff went after Sam? “Judge Kline is going to want to hold this trial as quick as he can. Are you ready?”

Loyal squared his shoulders and nodded. “Good,” Father said. “Here’s how it will work. When you take the stand, there will be an interpreter. Judge Kline is going to clear the courtroom.” Loyal frowned in confusion. He wasn’t sure how those words went together. His confusion must have shown. “That means there won’t be an audience for your part of the trial. Virgil, Wendell, and I agreed there’s no reason to put you on display for the whole town.”

Loyal still didn’t understand. He signed Why not? Father furrowed his brow. “Wait, I know that one.” He snapped his fingers. “Why not. You’re asking why we don’t want an audience. Well, we want to make sure we keep you safe. The Hackers—” he paused, not wanting to worry Loyal unnecessarily about Earl—“and some other people might take issue with what you have to say.” Father’s face reddened, and he shifted like the rock he sat on was too hard. “It’ll sure make your mother feel better.”

Something unexpected rose up in Loyal’s chest. He tried to tamp it back down, but it wouldn’t go away. What was this feeling? His hands began moving as if he had no control. No. I’m not afraid. He stood and repeated the motions more emphatically.

Father stood, too. “Hold on there. I got the no part, but what else are you saying?” He held his hands out as if to quiet a child. Well, Loyal was no child. He worked his mouth, moved his tongue, and pushed out the words “not afraid.” Then he turned and headed for the house.

Creed thumped back down and watched the boy walk away, his back stiff and his head held high. Did he think Creed was suggesting he was a coward? That was the last thing he wanted him to think. Loyal was smart and kind and brave. And yet he’d promised Delphy he’d do whatever he could to protect their son—to keep him out of the public eye and away from anyone who might wish him ill.

Creed hung his head. He never could seem to get things right with Loyal. He was a fumbling fool of a father. And now he’d hurt his son when all he’d wanted to do was protect him. He stood, stretching where his healing flesh had grown tight, and grimaced. Sometimes healing hurt. That was a fact. Maybe he wasn’t trying to save Loyal from danger as much as he was trying to win his way back into Delphy’s good graces.

Hooking the basket over one arm, Creed began the slow trudge back toward town. He’d go see Virgil—tell him to call Judge Kline and let him know it wouldn’t be necessary to clear the courtroom for Loyal’s testimony. It was almost certainly going to get him in trouble with his wife, but he knew in his gut it was the right thing to do.

Creed felt like he’d walked a hundred miles by the time he got to Virgil’s office. He dragged himself inside and eased his tired body into the sheriff’s desk chair. The room was empty, and he hoped Virgil was in the back and would come on out. After a minute or two, Bud came through the door from a back room, head down as he read from a piece of paper. Someone came behind him, and Creed jerked—which strained his back—when he saw that it was Loyal.

Realizing he wasn’t alone, Bud stopped and looked Creed up and down. “You huntin’ the sheriff?”

“I am.” Creed tried to think how to ask what Loyal was doing there without sounding angry. He gave up. “Is he around?”

“Not back from Elkins yet. Today’s arrest didn’t go as smooth as he hoped.”

Creed tensed. “Is Sam in jail?”

“No. He’s in the hospital up in Elkins.” Bud waved a hand toward Creed. “Sounds like he got it worse than you.”

Now there were two issues Creed wanted to discuss. Bud didn’t give him time to formulate his next question, though. “Seems your boy here is determined to testify in open court.”

“What?”

Bud waved the piece of paper. Loyal looked uneasy but kept his chin up. “Wrote it out for Virgil.” He held the paper up and read, “I do not want the judge to clear the courtroom when I testify. Anyone who wants to should have the chance to see me when I tell the truth.” Bud smiled. “I like that. Wants people to see him tell the truth.” He looked from Loyal to Creed. “Sounds right to me.” He turned to Loyal and spoke in a slow, exaggerated way. “I’ll give this to the sheriff.” Loyal frowned and made a sign like he wanted Bud to say it again.

“Speak normally,” Creed snapped. “You make it harder for him when you draw the words out like that.”

Bud looked surprised—as did Loyal—but he repeated his comment, and Loyal nodded. Creed felt as weary as he’d ever been. “Hand me that paper.” Bud did, and Loyal stiffened with a suspicious look on his face. He watched intently as Creed found a pen on Virgil’s desk and added his own note to the page. This is fine with me, he wrote and then signed his name.

Loyal drifted close and read over his shoulder. He looked at Creed with raised eyebrows. “You’re braver than I ever was. I’m proud for folks to see that.” Loyal grinned, and the look on his face was worth whatever this might cost Creed when Delphy found out.

Creed leaned heavily on the desk. “Now, what’s this about Sam being in the hospital?”

Bud hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Apparently he decided he didn’t want to come in easy. Barricaded himself in a shed out there on the property where they’re putting in that Roosevelt community.” He shook his head. “Took a couple of shots at Virgil before he realized Virgil had reinforcements. Those federal boys shot that shed full of holes and put a few in Sam, too.”

“But he’s still alive?” Creed wasn’t sure what it would mean if their prime suspect was dead. “Last I heard he was.” Bud looked disgusted. “I was headed up there to help, but Virgil told me to keep an eye on things around here.” He frowned. “Probably meant you and your boy. Guess you’ve stirred things up pretty good.”

Creed flushed. “Yeah, well, he can’t blame me this time.” He then held an arm out to Loyal, and the two of them headed for the house.