12

Hank was beyond frustrated. He’d planned to head back to West Virginia no later than December eighteenth. Now it was the nineteenth, and the men on the Wateree job were making his life a misery. He’d tried to chalk up men missing work as well as deadlines to the holidays, but his Christmas cheer was about to run out.

He stomped into the main office in Myrtle Beach and headed straight for Judd’s desk. George Heyward was technically still in charge of Waccamaw Timber, but he’d been leaving more and more of the actual timbering up to his son-in-law, with Hank as his right hand and no hope of ever advancing beyond that. Though Judd hated being in the office, he recognized it as a necessary evil if he was going to keep up with all the timber tracts—including the one they’d just agreed to purchase in West Virginia.

Hank hit Judd’s door with the butt of his hand and burst into the room. “How am I supposed—?” He stopped talking as Larkin leapt from her husband’s lap, her cheeks gone rosy.

“Why, Hank Chapin, didn’t your mother teach you to knock?” She smoothed her skirt with one hand and tucked hair that had come free of her ponytail behind her ear with the other. Judd just grinned.

Hank snorted. “Well, I know your mother taught you never to make out in a place of business.”

Larkin made a face at him. “I’ll kiss my husband wherever and whenever I want.”

Judd tilted back in his leather chair. “And I’m sure not going to try to talk her out of it.” He hooked a hand around Larkin’s waist and drew her to his side. “Sweetheart, based on the steam coming out of Hank’s ears, I think we’re going to have to talk business for a few minutes. While Hank knows I prefer your company to his, I’m guessing I’d better give him some time.”

Larkin flipped her ponytail and gave Hank a sassy look. “Oh, all right, but only because I’m due to pick Lavonia up from Mother’s.” She bent down and gave Judd a final kiss. As she passed Hank on the way out, she reached over and squeezed his arm. “Don’t let the world get you down, Hank. God has everything worked out already.” She winked at him. “And I’ve told Him more than once what I think those plans ought to be.”

Larkin gone, Hank slumped into a chair across from Judd’s desk. “You have your hands full with that one. I always figured she’d marry a doctor or a lawyer, but I sure am glad you showed up.”

Judd rubbed a hand across his mouth, looking thoughtful. “I am too, and you know, finding a girl and getting married was just about the last thing on my mind that day you met up with me on the Greyhound bus.” He leaned forward, his arms on his desk. “Larkin’s got a point about God having plans.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t doubt it. But in the meantime, I’ve got to get that crew down on the Wateree to do more than talk.”

“Why?”

Hank loved Judd like a brother, but at that moment he thought he might boil over. “Why? Because we have a quota to meet, a deadline coming up, timber to get to the mill. What do you mean, why?”

“I mean, why do you have to do it?”

Hank felt the fire go out of him. “It’s my job.”

Judd nodded. “So it is. And it’s my job and it’s the job of that Leroy fella we hired back in October.”

“Aw, Leroy’s still learning the ropes.”

“I learned ’em by jumping in with both feet and paddling as hard as I could. Might be Leroy could do the same.” Judd settled back in his chair and crossed his hands over his middle. “Seems to me you’re a man who doesn’t know whether he wants to cut bait or go fishing and so you’re trying to do both.”

Hank rubbed at a headache starting right between his eyes. “You could be right. It’s just . . . what if I wanted to get out of timbering?”

“You’re a right handy fella. I reckon you could do whatever you put your mind to.”

“But it would mean leaving Waccamaw Timber.”

Judd nodded. “In order to do something else, I can see where that would be necessary.”

“You wouldn’t be upset?” Hank gripped the arm of his chair. He hadn’t planned to have this conversation until after Christmas, but here it was, out in the open.

“Well, I hope you might stick around to make sure ole Leroy doesn’t go under before you leave, but following your heart—and God’s leading—seems like the right road to take.” He rerolled the cuff of his work shirt. “And it’s occurred to me that when Larkin hitched her wagon to a mountain man, it might have put a crimp in your plans. Seems like if neither Ben nor Larkin stepped up to the plate, you might have been in line to sit in this chair.” He thumped its leather-wrapped arm. “I’d be glad to run this business with you as partner, but it’ll be a while before I’m in a position to offer that. You always struck me as the sort of fellow to know what you want—if it’s something other than Waccamaw Timber, I’ll help you any way I can.”

Hank’s mind was racing. He could stay on with the timber company while he lined up some customers for guns. He figured six months would be enough time to train Leroy and to make sure he wasn’t jumping off a cliff. And while Judd’s hint at a future partnership was tempting, it also clarified the idea that what he wanted was to run his own show—not someone else’s.

“Hank, I can smell that engine in your head burning oil. Slow down, take some time, and think things over.” Judd found a piece of paper on his desk and ran a finger down a list. “You’ve got some holiday time coming, plus we’d planned on you heading back to West Virginia to tie up any loose ends on that new tract. How about you get that done and then take some time for yourself. Hunt some more.” He grinned extra wide. “Check and see if Fleeta’s got that gunstock carved for you yet.” He winked. “I won’t be expecting you back until after Christmas.”

“But what about—?”

Judd held up his hand. “I’ll handle it.” He smiled. “Or maybe I’ll put ole Leroy to the test. I think that boy’s got grit.”

Hank started to protest again, but then thought better of it. He felt lighter, freer than he had in a long time. Judd had just given him room to decide about his future. It was the best Christmas gift he could ask for. He pictured Larkin snuggled in Judd’s lap, and his thoughts turned to a certain dark-haired beauty with a smudge of gun oil on her cheek. There was a lot of future to think about.

He reached across the desk to shake Judd’s hand, but his friend got up and came around to him, grabbing him in a bear hug.

“You’re my best friend in South Carolina,” Judd said. “I hope that will never change.”

Hank thumped Judd on the back. “Can’t see why it would.”

“Oh, and if you need a place to stay up there in West Virginia, I know Abram and Lydia would be proud to have you.”

“Sounds like just the medicine I need,” Hank said.

Fleeta pulled an old candy tin out from underneath the grain bin in the barn. She’d first found the hiding place when she was six years old. For years it had been her special spot for stowing pretty rocks, a broken pocketknife, bits of ribbon, or other treasures. Recently she’d started keeping her savings here. Elnora had been after her to open an account at the bank, but Fleeta liked to keep her money where she could see and touch it. She counted it all for the third time, coming to the same total. She’d take all of it to Bud and hope he’d be willing to wait until she got her next payment from Hank for the rest.

Her heart beat like a moth against the glass of a lantern. She rarely spent money, much less the entirety of her savings. She wished her parents were around to guide her. Surely they would know if she was making a wise decision or not. She pressed her hand to the place just above her heart where she could feel the outline of her mother’s brooch. Maybe, in a way, they were with her.

Impatient with her own useless wishing, Fleeta stuffed the cash in her pocket and turned toward the door. Albert had finally gotten his motorcycle running again and offered to take her to Bud’s in the sidecar. Fleeta would have preferred riding the motorcycle on her own, but she didn’t dare suggest it.

She bundled up and jogged out into the farmyard, where Albert was revving the Indian. He’d folded an old blanket in the sidecar, and Fleeta burrowed underneath. Albert had rounded up a pair of riding goggles from who knew where, and he grinned at Fleeta from behind them.

“Ready?” he hollered over the coughing roar of the engine.

Fleeta nodded and held on tight as Albert unleashed the motorcycle. She saw Jack the blue jay swooping through the air after them.

They got to Bud’s much faster than Fleeta had on her own. She climbed out of the sidecar, her knees weak and her hands sweaty. She told herself it was a combination of Albert’s driving and her excitement over seeing her dream come true, but her dry mouth felt more like fear than excitement. Bud met them out front, a duffel slung over his shoulder.

He didn’t waste any time on howdies. “My aunt Gertie’s sick—I’ve got to get on over there and see what I can do to help. I’ll be gone about a week. You want to do this when I get back? I’m not quite ready to hand her over today.”

Fleeta counted the days. “I was hoping to sign the papers before Christmas so I could open up on January first.”

“I know—you mentioned something about that. We can take care of business right now, and I’ll send Aunt Gertie’s girl over here to clean it up and let you know it’s ready before the week’s out. How’s that sound?”

Fleeta fidgeted and glanced at Albert, who shrugged his shoulders. He was no help. “All right, let’s get our business done and I’ll be looking for—what’s her name?”

“Mary. You probably ain’t met her before.”

“No, I don’t think I have, but I’ll be looking for her before Christmas. Let her know I’ll be glad to help with whatever needs doing.”

Bud nodded and whipped a piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Got the paper work right here. Says you’ll pay me the sum we agreed upon and then you’ll have full use of all my equipment and this here building for the next six months at which time we’ll revisit the agreement.”

“About that.” Fleeta shifted from foot to foot. “Turns out I had”—she darted a look at Albert—“an unexpected expense. I don’t quite have the full amount we discussed.”

Bud spat a stream of tobacco juice. “Doggone it, how much do you have then?”

Fleeta told him.

“No, no, that ain’t enough.”

“As soon as I get the final payment on a job I’ve been doing, I’ll be able to give you the rest. Probably as soon as you get back from your aunt Gertie’s.”

Bud heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna need some kind of assurance you plan to pay the rest. Don’t you have anything else of value you can give me for collateral?”

Fleeta felt the weight of her mother’s pin and slowly reached for it. She noticed Jack fly over and land on the far corner of the porch roof. He peered at them with those hard, black eyes of his, and Fleeta felt almost as though the bird was accusing her of something. She reached a trembling hand inside her shirt and pulled out the luckenbooth. The sharp point pricked her flesh as she removed it.

Bud’s eyes lit up for just a moment, but then he got a cagey look. “That a real jewel there in the middle?”

“It’s an amethyst.” Fleeta tilted the brooch in the sunlight so that it glinted. “I’ll want it back as soon as I bring you the rest of the money.”

Bud reached out and took the brooch, turning it around and around in his hands. The stone caught the sun and looked almost alive. Fleeta swallowed hard. She hated to part with the pin even for a week, but she’d get it back just as soon as Hank gave her the rest of the payment he’d promised.

Bud tossed the brooch high, caught it as it tumbled through the air in a glittery flash, then flipped it again. This time, as the pin tumbled through the air, Jack swooped down and snatched at it.

“Whoa there. Dadgum bird.” Bud tucked it in his pocket. “I reckon this’ll do. Now if you’ll just sign that paper, I can be on my way. Aunt Gertie’s not going to get better while we stand here jawing.”

Fleeta took the paper and began reading—it looked fine, but she knew she should read every word. “Can we step inside while I look this over?”

“Already locked her up and I got to get on the road.” He reached for his pocket. “If’n you need more time, we can do this after Christmas.”

“No, no, that’s all right.” Fleeta took the ink pen Bud offered and scrawled her signature at the bottom of the page, then handed over the cash.

Bud took the pen and paper, tucked them back in his pocket, and thumbed through the roll of bills Fleeta gave him. He nodded his head once, shook Fleeta’s hand, and trotted toward his truck, tossing the duffel in the back with a thud. “I’ll send a copy of that paper back with Mary.” He climbed in the truck, rolled the window down, and leaned his head out. “Good doing business with you.” He waved toward Jack, still sitting on the porch roof. “And watch out for that dumb bird—he’ll steal anything shiny you leave lying around. Stole a perfectly good punch just last week.”

Fleeta raised her hand in a wave. “Hope your aunt’s better real soon.”

“Thank ya,” Bud said and drove away.

Albert turned to Fleeta. “Thought there’d be more to it than that.”

“So did I.” Fleeta stared after the truck, then looked back at the ramshackle building. “Think you can help me fix this place up?”

“Don’t see why not,” Albert said. “Probably not half so hard as getting a motorcycle to run.”

Fleeta went over to the porch, which was badly tilted. Leveling that up would be the first order of business. She peered in the front window, but the shade had been drawn. She tried the next window and found the same.

“Guess Bud didn’t want anyone to see what kind of mess he left the place,” she said. “Good thing he’s sending Mary over to red it up.”

Albert stomped his feet and slapped his hands together. “Let’s head on home. I’m freezing out here, and the ride back isn’t going to warm me up any.”

Fleeta felt reluctant to leave. This was her place of business now, and she longed to go inside and start setting it to rights, but she supposed there would be time enough for that later. With a last, longing look, she tucked herself back into the sidecar and dreamed all the way home about the guns she’d shape.