B y Friday, supplies had run low, and, with no more clues, Sheriff Wright decided to round everyone up and head back. Artie left the mountains and started for home with a heavy heart. The closer he got to his family, the slower he wished he could go. He dreaded giving his news.
A heavy and oppressive atmosphere hung about the house. He found Theo and Hazel in the parlor, both reading in absolute silence. Hazel dropped her book to the floor at the sight of him, running to jump into his arms. She buried her face into his shoulder when he lifted her, while Theo stood.
The brothers exchanged looks, and Theo sat back down, dropping his head into his hands. Hazel sat up, her hair frizzy from being neither brushed nor fixed, and held her brother’s face between both of her hands.
“Did you find Daddy?”
Artie tried to sound less discouraged than he felt. “Not yet, Sparrow.”
Her dark eyes narrowed onto his face. “Do you think Daddy is alive, Artie?”
Theo looked up at him.
Artie thought of the blood, the torn and scattered belongings, the broken plant life. He wanted to answer in the affirmative, but he could not promise it would be truthful. He sighed, unable to smother it as he wished.
“I don’t know, Sparrow. Only God knows right now.”
The child cocked her head and Artie couldn’t help noting the dark circles under her eyes. She looked far too weary and pensive for a seven-year-old. He pulled his sister closer and let her lay against his shoulder.
“Is no one else home?”
Theo straightened with difficulty. “Myrtle is asleep. Far as I know, anyway. It’s the only time she stops crying.”
Artie felt Hazel’s arms tighten around his neck.
“Fred hasn’t come back from Flagstaff yet, so he hasn’t been around at all.”
“Has he been telegraphed or telephoned?”
Theo frowned at the floor. “I didn’t think of it. I’m not sure where he’s at in Flagstaff or why, so I doubt if he could be.”
The siblings grew silent. The curtains rustled with the breeze from the open windows and the braying of goats came in from the pens. The rooster crowed.
Theo finally stood. “Why don’t you wake Myrtle and tell her that you’ve come back. I’ll go take care of your animals.”
Artie wanted to protest, but he didn’t think that, after all, Theo would be a good choice for delivering unpleasant news to their stepmother. He nodded. “Only, Hazel should go with you.”
Theo’s eyebrows drew together for a flash of a second, but Artie didn’t have to voice his half-prepared argument. “She can feed the chickens again, I imagine.”
Artie found his stepmother alone in her room, draped across the bed in despondency. When he tapped on the open door, she raised a wild face from her pillow, then flew across the room. She nearly knocked him down as she hugged him, further startling Artie. She stepped back, her hands still holding tight to his shoulders.
“Charles. Your father. You found him?”
Artie winced. The woman’s hair stood out in every direction. Her eyes were wide, and she gripped him so hard that her nails dug into his shoulders.
“I think you should sit down.”
“No. No, no, no.” She held onto him more tightly. “No, Artie! He has to be alive! Don’t tell me that you found his body!”
The growing shriek of her voice made Artie glad that Hazel had gone with Theo. He gently made the woman sit, trying all the while to calm her.
“We haven’t found him at all. We found some of his belongings and signs of a struggle, but nothing certain either way.”
“But, but, but you’re back! How could you come back without him?”
Artie shook his head. “Not enough supplies. We have no idea where else to look either.”
Myrtle put a hand to her throat.
“Sheriff Wright plans to work with the sheriff from the next county and send out another posse.”
“Are you going with them?”
Artie pushed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know yet.”
Myrtle clasped his arm with both of her hands. “You must find him, Artie. You must find him. And alive. You really must!”
Artie didn’t know what to say. Exhausted and worn down, he managed to excuse himself shortly, returning to the deserted parlor. He collapsed onto the sofa and closed his eyes.
Lord in Heaven, what do I do next? I don’t have any idea. Any plans. I don’t know where Dad is or how he got there or how we’ll find him. I don’t know what we are… going to… do…
His thoughts drifted away, and exhaustion took over. His siblings found him there some time later, sound asleep, oblivious even to the echo of Myrtle’s renewed cries.