Chapter Thirty-One

They formed a simple plan. Kate and Bonnie would go out to Best Acres. If they were fortunate, they’d find Artie with birdseed sacks in his truck. If not, they could at least confront him with the book, the decreasing sacks of seed in his supply barn, and the notes Bonnie had taken to show how the bird population had been affected through the countryside. What would happen after that, they didn’t know.

Neither Livvy nor Kate thought Artie would do any harm to the women, but then they hadn’t expected any of the activities they now suspected him of doing. Bonnie had rattled her cane to remind them that if he had set the trap, even if he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, she had indeed been hurt.

So they preprogrammed Livvy’s number on Bonnie’s cell phone, just as it was in Kate’s, and agreed to call and check in with Livvy later. If they felt even the least bit threatened, they would call the sheriff.

It was a short enough drive from the library to the old winding road that went by Best Acres. As Kate made the turn that would take her down the familiar route, she centered her thoughts on what she needed to accomplish next.

“Do you think there might be a chance we’ll pull up to his house and find him loading birdseed to take out to one of his fields?” Kate visualized the unsophisticated map in the brochure and tried to imagine how they would go about systematically finding him if he wasn’t at his house.

“One of his fields?” Bonnie paused, a new scarf from the Mercantile thrown over her fresh hairdo, ready to be tied under her chin. “Do you think he’s been feeding them in more than one spot?”

“If that’s the case, it’ll only make it harder to catch up with him. The best way to get to the bottom of this would be to find him with the extra birdseed in his truck.”

“Unless he up and confesses.” Bonnie swiftly looped the ends of her scarf over, under, and through to draw them into a neat, tight knot.

“Unless he confesses,” Kate murmured in agreement. “That would be the easiest, of course.”

“From what I’ve seen at my home bird feeders, the prime times for birds to come out en masse to feed at a place where they expect seed would be early, early morning and late afternoon.” Bonnie shifted restlessly in the seat, her face to the window as they made the short trip along the old highway. “It’s after three. Of course, I can’t say for sure, but it’s got to be getting close to the time he’d be heading out to feed the birds. I’ll bet we find him loading up.”

“I hope so,” Kate said, though some small part of her hoped that wasn’t the case at all.

Since she’d first laid eyes on Artie Best’s sweet home, she’d felt a kind of sympathy for him. The story about his ill-fated romance with Joanie only added to her sense that he was just a lonely soul looking for a second chance. How many of God’s children could that describe?

Kate looked up at the leaves, which had started turning yellow and orange, fluttering and breaking free of the limbs that had once sustained them. The number of people with aching hearts, in need of hope and understanding, probably outnumbered the birds in the sky.

Kate prayed that God would work through her to remind everyone she encountered that Christ had come to heal the brokenhearted. She had come to the conclusion that it was this state of mind, or rather this state of heart, that had led Artie to take drastic action—if in fact he’d taken any action. She’d seen firsthand the impassioned debate in the online birding communities. She suspected he had come up with this plan to protect the rare sparrows from those who wanted to trap and keep them in captivity. Or perhaps he was so angry that he did want revenge on Joanie’s Ark, as Dot had suggested.

Suddenly Kate stopped the car. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? The best way to get to the bottom of this wouldn’t be to find Artie with seed in his truck; the best way would be to actually catch Artie in the act of seeding his fields for the birds.

Bonnie, startled, gripped the handle of her cane. “What are you doing, Kate? Aren’t we going to see Artie?”

“Maybe, if we have to. But I think, first, we ought to give Artie a chance to come see us.” She put the Honda into reverse, backed up a few hundred yards, then steered it onto the slightly sloping shoulder of the old road and parked.

“This is close to where I parked the day I hurt my ankle.” Bonnie looked around. “What are you up to, Kate?”

“The first day you took me bird-watching, we saw Artie Best driving through a field in his truck. So we know he comes out this way. Later, you tripped over that fishing line near this spot.”

“Yes. Because I saw a male umbie hopping around on the ground as I got out of the car.”

“And I think I saw one too, when I came out to investigate with Paul, Dud, and Charlene.” Kate unbuckled her seat belt and opened her car door. “Which means there’s a good chance that we’re very close to one of the places where Artie has been feeding the birds. We tried to avoid this area from the start because the map had always said to give Best Acres a wide berth, but that day you were following an umbie and didn’t pay that any heed.”

“Of course. All we have to do is find it and wait for Artie to show up.” Bonnie opened her door and began the complicated work of getting herself out.

Kate shut the car door quietly and came around to offer her friend some assistance. “Do you think you’re up to it?”

“I’d like to see somebody try to hold me back,” she asserted as she planted her cane on the ground and stood. “Besides, do you know what you’re looking for?”

“Well...” Kate took Bonnie by the elbow to support her as they made their way through the brush and uneven terrain along the road. “A whole lot of birds?”

Bonnie laughed. “So he would need a large open area with trees and bushes close by for the birds to watch from and retreat to.”

“The bushes near where we found the fishing line looked down a hill to Artie’s house, so that wouldn’t be the place.” Kate looked around, then raised her hand and pointed. “There are plenty of trees over that way.”

“If we see any birds at all, it’ll be a good indicator.” Bonnie moved ahead. “The birds will never have gotten all the feed, so there should be some left on the ground. And if he has used something with sunflower seeds in it, there will be discarded shells everywhere. Keep your eyes peeled for the signs—birds, seed, and—”

“Artie Best standing in a field throwing seed from a bag.” Kate finished her friend’s sentence as she pushed aside a leafy branch to reveal the very thing she had just described.