The Right Kind of Fool Page 16

  Earl went from pale to ruddy. “Oh. That. Yeah, he used to doodle in some little book of his. Haven’t seen it since he got killed. Guess he must’ve lost it.” He swallowed audibly and coughed. “Why?”

  Virgil shrugged. “Oh, probably nothing. Just being sure to follow up on all the details. Say, I guess working for the government pays pretty good.”

  Earl choked and thumped his chest. Once he regained his breath, he glared at Virgil. “I wouldn’t say that. Better than a lot of jobs these days, but it won’t make me rich anytime soon.”

  Virgil nodded and pursed his lips. “Right you are. Guess if you wanted to get rich, you’d have to figure something else out.” He stood and smiled. “Me, I guess I’ll stick to sheriffing. Doesn’t pay good, but at least when somebody shoots at me, I know why.”

  Earl laughed weakly, like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. Creed took a breath to speak but got cut off by another look from Virgil. He rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

  “We’ll be seeing you around, Earl. Hoping to get that trial under way next week.”

  Earl surged to his feet. “Not until we interview that boy of his,” he said, jerking a thumb at Creed. “When’s that gonna happen?”

  “Oh, me and the judge are gonna do that interview on Monday,” Virgil answered. “Just had a nice visit with him and it’s all taken care of. We’ll have an interpreter and everything.” He grasped the doorknob. “I guess that means old Tom can go on home.” He grinned at Earl. “There’s some good news you can share.”

  Creed trailed the sheriff out of the house, feeling like he was going to burst if he didn’t speak. “Why didn’t you ask him about Christine, and what do you mean ‘the judge is going to interview Loyal’?”

  “Now, Creed, don’t give yourself apoplexy. You’re just gonna have to trust that I’ve questioned one or two folks over the years and know what I’m doing. As for talking to Loyal, that’s something we have to do, and I would’ve thought you’d rather Judge Kline asked the questions.”

  “Well, I would. I just wish you’d talked to me first.”

  Virgil gave him a withering look. “You haven’t exactly consulted with me on several decisions you made. How’s it feel?”

  Creed grunted. “Fine. I guess I can see what you’re up to. You think that notebook is important? Maybe Earl’s lying about knowing where it is?”

  “I do think it’s important, and I’m afraid our man in there is telling the truth when he says he hasn’t seen it. And I’m pretty sure he’s hoping we don’t see it, either.”

  They walked in silence until they reached the sheriff’s car. “You need to go fetch those kids now, Creed. We can bring ’em into Elkins. The judge said they can stay with him, so they’ll be safe.” Virgil looked pleased with himself. “His wife is real partial to young’uns, and their own grandchildren live all the way in Tennessee. I reckon this might even be fun for ’em.”

  Creed didn’t know about that, but he realized Virgil wasn’t going to let him call the shots this time.

  twenty-one

  Creed stared at the remains of the kids’ campfire. It had been carefully extinguished—raked for any embers and doused with water. Sweat ran down the back of his neck and it had little to do with the heat of the day. He’d searched all around, thinking they’d be down at the creek or up on the bald. Nothing. No sign of them. Or rather, lots of sign, yet all of it pointing to their responsibly breaking camp and moving on.

  But where?

  He went to his cabin next, hoping maybe they’d gone looking for him. Nothing. Frustrated and maybe even frightened, he backtracked. That was when he saw something glint in the light filtering down through the trees. He stooped to pick it up—a Boy Scout compass. It seemed like just the sort of thing a boy like Michael would carry with him. Had he dropped it by accident? It was clean and dry like someone had just set it down for a minute, planning to come back. He opened his mouth to holler for the kids, then snapped it shut. Loyal couldn’t hear, and the Westfall kids wouldn’t know whether or not he could be trusted.

  Creed began to make a careful search in widening circles. Pushing aside branches, he spotted a narrow trail leading around the mountain at a slight downward angle. Might be a critter trail. Then again . . . He pocketed the compass and set out to see where this trail might lead.

  It was getting dark as Delphy sat at the table, her Bible open before her and a cup of cold coffee sitting forgotten. When she heard Creed thump onto the back porch, she forced herself not to leap to her feet and meet him at the door. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she knew something wasn’t right.

  “Where’s Loyal?” she whispered. “When are you bringing him home?”

  He licked his lips. “Got any hot coffee?”

  “On the stove,” she said, pointing with her chin.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat next to her at the table. “Judge Wendell Kline up in Elkins is going to interview Loyal. Me and Virgil found out some new details about Eddie Minks that might shed light on him getting shot. Earl could be mixed up in it somehow, so the judge said the kids could stay with him.”

  “So Loyal’s with Judge Kline in Elkins?”

  Creed slurped his coffee and sucked in air. Good. He’d probably scalded his tongue. “Well. No. Virgil sent me to fetch the kids from their camp and take them up there.”

  Delphy wanted to scream. “Creed Raines, stop giving me unnecessary details and tell me where our son is!”

  He took another swallow of hot liquid—and flinched when it hit his already-scorched tongue. “I don’t know.”

  “What?” She could hear a buzzing in her ears and laid both hands on the table to ground herself.

  He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I went to their camp and they were gone. Looked like they’d tidied up after themselves, so I guess they made plans to move somewhere else. I found a compass and thought I might’ve hit their trail, but it petered out.”

  She didn’t know what she intended until she heard her coffee cup shatter against the wall and saw coffee run down, staining the wallpaper. How many times was Creed going to make her lose her temper like this? She didn’t speak, didn’t trust herself to form words past the shaking of her whole being. Creed lifted a hand as though to comfort her, then drew it back.

  “Find him.” She ground the words out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to lay eyes on you again until you’ve found our son.” She stood and took two steps toward the hall, stopped, and turned back to pin him to his chair with a look. “And I’m not altogether certain I want to see you then.” She knew she should stop. Should measure her words before unleashing them, but she couldn’t. Or maybe wouldn’t. She’d had such hope . . . had trusted this man . . .

  “Maybe this farce of a marriage has gone on long enough. I thought . . .” She choked on a sob. How could she tell him that she’d thought he still loved her? Still wanted her. That they still had a chance to be a family. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is that you find Loyal and return him to me.” Her face crumpled. “I trusted you,” she cried, then turned and ran upstairs.

  Creed had rarely spent a more miserable night. Virgil had been almost as mad as Delphy. He’d left him to spend the night in the makeshift cell that had recently held Otto. Creed tried to blame his sleeplessness on the narrow cot and thin mattress but knew it was fear that haunted him. Had he lost his son? Had his desire to keep the boy safe caused him to repeat his past mistakes in a new way?

  He tossed and turned, then finally heaved himself to his feet and walked out into the night. He stood on a street corner, taking in the town sleeping all around him. Stars pricked the sky, and he could smell the damp of the river. He stared into the darkness until his eyes adjusted and he could make out the silvery outlines of buildings and trees. Now if only he could make out his own motives.

  When he’d argued in favor of leaving the kids on their own, had he really thought them safer? Or was he still trying to keep Loya
l tucked away from the world? He’d vowed never to pressure Loyal to do or achieve anything again. The trial was the talk of the town—every bench would be filled, and Loyal would be front and center. The pressure would be enormous. And while a judge like Wendell Kline would treat him with kindness and compassion, what would other folks do? What kind of questions would Loyal be asked? Could he handle being in the spotlight like that? Creed had long thought of Loyal as fragile—easily broken—and while recent days had shown him how strong and resilient the boy could be, he didn’t want to risk pushing him too far.

  Truth be told, he’d hoped that if Loyal and his friends stayed hidden away, something might happen to make Loyal’s testimony at a trial unnecessary. Truth be told, Creed was just stalling.

  A mourning dove started its melancholy call down near the river. He thought about how Loyal would never hear such a sweet, sorrowful sound. And then it occurred to him that Loyal probably wasn’t wasting much time wishing he could hear something he didn’t even remember. No. His boy had been busy learning to talk with his hands. To understand more with his eyes than most people did with their ears. And even now, he was out there, somewhere, standing by his friends.

  Creed ran determined fingers through his hair and turned toward the first hint of light showing in the east. He wasn’t going to waste any more time, either. He’d find Loyal, and he knew no matter what happened next, he’d be there for his boy.

  At first, Loyal figured pretending he wasn’t scared might keep him from really being afraid. Now he was just too interested in what was going on to be afraid anymore. They’d followed the men for miles and miles until they popped out in a clearing with the best-looking cabin he’d ever seen. It was two stories tall with an attic window on top of that. A porch wrapped around three sides of the house with a railing made from rhododendron branches polished until they gleamed. There was a row of rocking chairs on the wide porch. An older man with a long beard stepped outside and looked them up and down.

  “You Hadden Westfall’s young’uns?” he asked Michael. His lips were hard to read with the whiskers growing around them. The older boy nodded and jammed his hands in his pockets. Because they were shaking, Loyal saw.

  The man eyed Loyal. “And you belong to Creed Raines.” He looked thoughtful and pointed at his ear. “The one what can’t hear.” Now it was Loyal’s turn to nod. “You can tell what I’m saying by watching me, can’t you?” Loyal nodded again. The man threw his head back and laughed. “If that don’t beat all. I can think of one or two uses for something like that.” He hooked a hand in the screen door and jerked it open. “Come on in then. Bernie will get you fed.”

  Now they were sitting at a table cut from a single piece of wood that was at least three feet wide and ten feet long. The edges were still covered in bark that, like the porch railing, had been rubbed to a silky sheen. Loyal guessed this was how God’s furniture would look—like the thing it came from, only better.

  A woman with long gray hair in a single braid down her back bustled around and set plates of food in front of them: green beans and new potatoes cooked with bacon, thick slices of bread, fried squash, sweet pickles, baked apples, and a pitcher of milk. Although Loyal had thought they were doing fine feeding themselves out in the woods, they all three fell on the food like they hadn’t eaten in days. Rebecca was carrying on a steady conversation with the woman, who looked tickled to have someone to talk to. But Loyal didn’t pay much attention. He was too busy shoveling food into his mouth.

  Then he saw a word—notebook. His fork paused on its way back to his plate, and he watched as Rebecca pulled the little notebook she’d showed him from her pocket. He’d forgotten all about it and wondered why she’d brought it with her.

  “It’s got nice drawings. And there are still plenty of blank pages,” Rebecca told the woman. “I thought I might try to draw something, too.”

  The oldest man who’d been eating with them held his hand out for the book. He flipped through the pages one by one, then nodded, a grim smile emerging from the depths of his beard. “I’ll be dogged,” he said and looked at each of them in turn. “You’uns need to stay here for now. It ain’t safe for you to go back to town. And with a coyote on the loose, you don’t need to be sleeping outside.”

  Loyal missed what he said, but Michael must have asked about the coyote. The man’s mouth tipped up in a lopsided grin. “This coyote’s got two legs.” He turned to Loyal. “Sam will fetch your pa, let him know you’uns are safe and welcome to stay here as long as need be.” His eyes shot sparks. “Best way to catch a coyote is to wait for him in the last place he got a good meal. Ain’t never had much for ’em to eat round these parts.”

  Loyal wasn’t quite following all the talk about two-legged coyotes, but if one of the men was going to get his father, well, then everything would be fine. Now that Michael wanted to tell the truth, Father would know what to do. And until then, the food here sure was good.

  twenty-two

  It was past noon and Creed had been walking for hours. He’d started at the kids’ camp and planned to search all of Rich Mountain if need be. Then he’d search all of Randolph County. Shoot, he’d search the entire state if that was what it took. Of course, Virgil would probably string him up before then. He hadn’t told the sheriff his plan—just started walking as soon as he could see to put one foot in front of the other.

  Stopping to rest in the shade of an oak tree, Creed nearly jumped out of his skin when someone spoke. “You huntin’ them kids?”

  Jerking his head around, he saw the man step out from the shade of a huge rock. “Where’d you come from?” he asked. If he wasn’t mistaken, this was one of the Hacker boys.

  “Been watching you awhile now.” He spoke around a sassafras twig he was chewing on. “Thought I might have to go all the way to town after you. Glad you was out here stumbling around.”

  Creed frowned. He was a better woodsman than most and didn’t appreciate this not-so-subtle criticism. “You know where my boy is?”

  “Sure enough. Pa sent me to tell you your boy and them other two are at the house.”

  “I guess your pa would be Clyde Hacker.”

  He nodded, removing the twig from his mouth. “I’m Sam. Don’t guess we’ve run into each other in a while.”

  “You boys aren’t what you’d call well known for socializing.”

  Sam grinned. “That’s so. You want to follow me on back to the house?”

  “If the kids are there, I do.”

  “C’mon then.” He started down a nearly invisible trail and then glanced back over his shoulder, a glint in his eye. “I’ll try not to get shut of you between here and there.”

  Creed gave him a sour look. He guessed he could find the Hacker family home just fine. A heavy gray cloud blew in as they started out. Sam looked at it like he was suspicious of it, while Creed hoped it might cool them as they moved through the trees. It never let go any rain, though, and an hour later he’d changed his mind about being able to find the Hacker place. He had a suspicion Sam was taking him on a circuitous route, probably so it would be harder for him to find the place on his own next time. He was aggravated not only by the lack of trust but also by the loss of time. He was about to suggest that Sam quit leading him in circles when they popped out behind a massive barn. As they walked around it, Creed noticed there weren’t any windows, and the doors were shut up tight. Which would be a misery for any animals inside. But then he doubted that was what the silvered wood hid from prying eyes.

  Clyde sat on the porch, legs crossed and fancy carved pipe dangling from his lips. He took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed the stem at Creed. “That boy of yours makes up for what he can’t hear with what he can see. And I don’t just mean with his eyes.” The old man stood and waved Creed toward the door. “He’s inside, learning my woman to say her alphabet with her fingers.” Clyde shook his head. “He’s a wonder.”

  As much as he wanted to go in and check on Loyal, Creed paused and eyed
Clyde. “You think so?”

  “Don’t you? Any fool can hear what folks say—that boy can see what they mean.” His beard waggled as he shook his head. “Beats all I’ve ever seen. You must be right proud.”

  Creed swallowed hard. “I am,” he said, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. “Now, why in the world did you bring him here?”

  Clyde ran fingers through his beard. “Whyn’t you come on in the house and we’ll talk through it.” Creed frowned but didn’t see much other choice. He followed Clyde through the door.

  It tickled Loyal how hearing people wanted to watch him say things with his hands. Like he could do some kind of special trick. Rebecca had picked up enough that the two of them were able to carry on a simple conversation while the woman with the gray braid—Bernie was her name—tried to guess what they were saying. They were all smiling now. Even Michael looked like he was having a good time.

  Loyal was signing Rebecca is my friend when he sensed someone coming up behind him. The presence felt familiar and he turned to see his father standing there. He felt such a surge of joy it lifted him from his seat, and he flung his arms around Father’s waist. After a moment’s hesitation, he felt arms settle around his shoulders, and for a heartbeat it was just the two of them. Then he felt the rumble of Father speaking and looked up.

  “. . . looking after my boy.” Father released him and tousled his hair. “But it’s time I got all these young’uns back to town.”

  The older man moved to the door and crossed his arms. “I think there’s something you need to see before you do anything so foolish as that,” he said. Loyal had to really focus to read his lips with all the hair blurring his words.

  Father bristled. “What do you mean?”

  “We’d been hearing those three out there in the woods and thought to let ’em be. But then I got to thinking about what’s going on with that government feller getting killed. Heard his partner’s been asking lots of questions.” The man narrowed his eyes. Loyal shifted closer and watched his lips intently. “It come to me he might be trying to tangle these kids up in that mess.”