“betrothed” – the Potters, father and son – would come back up to persuade him to adopt their current business agenda.
And oh yes.
They were actually stupid enough to think they’d make him cooperate by beating him up. The jerk in the cowboy hat had been particularly happy to slug him twice in the face while yelling about what he’d probably done to his girl. With, of course, Buck couldn’t help thinking, the permission of her grandpa. After they finished this round of beer they’d be back again.
It could go on all afternoon, he thought, checking the slant of the cloud-covered sun. In the meantime, there was the Living Christmas Tree waiting down at the courthouse, and soon, Junior Whitford’s committee. And, Buck remembered with a groan, the Atlanta TV cameras. It was too much to hope for a miracle, that the news crews would stay away.
Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of a persistent, slight movement in the trees. Now, as he squinted against the gray light he saw it was the Scraggs dog back there, hiding and watching him.
Fat lot of good the animal had done him. Since it had fallen or been thrown from the truck, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of it. Certainly not while the Scraggses and Potters were beating their current revised business demands into him.
Now that the blood from his cut was no longer seeping into his eye, Buck could see the dog better. The thing knew it, too: it lifted that huge black tail and whacked it in the pine needles several times.
Suddenly inspired, Buck lifted his handcuffed hands and wiggled one finger.
To his surprise the Scraggs dog obeyed, crawling on its belly until it was at the edge of the trees but still in the shade.
Well, that was progress. Hope began to stir, unwillingly. “Go get Farrie,” Buck whispered hoarsely.
The dog wagged its tail again.
Damn, it was too much to hope the thing had any sense! He remembered the time when the little sister was hiding, and Scarlett’s remark that the dog knew where she was but wouldn’t tell. He’d half believed it, then.
“Listen, I need help,” Buck rasped. He realized he was pleading with a dumb animal. “Go get help, understand?”
The Scraggs dog wagged its tail again.
Despairing, Buck suddenly had a bright vision of the one good thing he could think of in spite of the Scraggses and in spite of everything. A warm, lovely presence that put its slender arms around him and chased away his misery, his humiliation, the terrible cold.
“Go,” Buck told it, “get Scarlett.”
When next he looked, the dog was gone.
Sixteen
Scarlett had not only fixed lunch, she’d peeled a bowl of apples and made two apple pies with fancy lattice crusts, but she still felt jittery. Farrie sat at the kitchen table and watched as she started on a package of Betty Crocker brownie mix she’d found in the Grissoms’ pantry.
“If you’re going to sit around in that Spirit of Mistletoe dress, you’re going to have to be careful,” Scarlett said as Farrie took the brownie bowl to lick. “It’s too late to wash and dry it if you spill something.”
Farrie nodded, busy with the chocolate batter. She’d kept her plastic mistletoe headdress on, so ready for her big night that she couldn’t bear to take any part of her costume off.
Although they both jumped, it was something of a relief to hear Demon’s wild barking, followed by the scratching at the back door. The next instant they knew what it meant.
“Something’s happened to Buck,” Scarlett cried.
They both raced to open the door. Demon came hurtling in, not stopping to be petted, circling the kitchen table and barking.
“She don’t want to stay,” Farrie shouted.
Scarlett bent to touch Demon’s coat. It was icy cold. “She’s been out somewhere with him. I know Demon would never leave Buck unless something’s happened!”
Suddenly Scarlett knew what that look meant in Devil Anse’s eyes that morning when he’d gotten out of the pickup truck at the Living Christmas Tree. Those eyes that singled her out held a warning not to do anything, no matter what happened.
The dog circled the table again restlessly, still barking her low, rasping
Scarlett leaned over it. “Where’s
Demon barked again and raced for the door. The dog sat down in front of it, tail pounding furiously.
Farrie threw up her hands, her face wrinkled in anguish. “Something’s happened for sure, Scarlett!” she screeched. “Is it Devil Anse? Is he going to hurt Sheriff Buck?”
Scarlett’s legs gave way under her and she had to sit down. Something awful had happened to Buck. She could guess what that was, since Demon had come back without him.
Oh, glory, she prayed fervently, don’t let Devil Anse do anything to Buck! There was no limit to what her grandpa could do, mean as he was!
Scarlett looked slowly around the kitchen. It had all been a dream, she thought. A dream that someone like Farrie and herself could live in a real house, so solid and comfortable, and full of love, like real people. Without being discovered for what they were.
What had just happened – what had probably happened to Buck by now if Devil Anse had him – proved that, all right.
She took a deep breath. “We’ve gotta stop Grandpa,” she said, looking across the kitchen table at Farrie. “Buck’s been good to us like nobody else has ever been.”
She saw her little sister think it over a minute. Then Farrie nodded in agreement.
“And if we do,” Scarlett said slowly, “we can never come back.”
Farrie’s eyes widened. “Whatcha going to do?”
Scarlett shrugged, a little sadly. “I guess you could call it burning our bridges behind us.”
This time, they both knew, Devil Anse had gone too far. Sheriff Buck Grissom was different. He was different because Scarlett loved him. And if Devil Anse thought he could do anything he wanted to Buck, he had a big surprise coming.
“If Devil Anse hurts Buck,” she vowed as she untied her apron, “I’m going to make him sorry that he ever had any kin at all.” She started toward the hallway. “What’s in that gun case in the den?”
