The bag felt heavy.  Grayson grinned, lifting it up and opening the latch of the bag.  It should feel heavy—it carried one thousand dollars!
      Laughing softly, he pulled out a stack of green money.  He could buy a ticket to anywhere; he could buy a real house.  After taking out a small roll of bills, Grayson snapped the satchel shut and pushed it into a cubbyhole in the wall.  He covered it with a faded print of someone’s sleepy grandmother.  In this old shack of his, no one would think to look there.
      Mr. Kirk, the balding friend of Laurie’s, thought the money was being safely stored away for a deal they had made.  “Safely stored here, it is,” Grayson said with a smirk, flicking his hat lower on his head and striding out the door.

      I don’t like to be crossed.  There was a grimace on Grayson Whittaker’s face as he slapped the cards down on the table.
      Jack’s eyes squinted in pleasure as he scooped up a large sum of Grayson’s money.
      “You’re a cheat!” Grayson spat out, leaning forward, eyes narrowed, teeth bared.
      Jack’s hacking laugh grated against Grayson’s nerves.  “Boy, you just don’t like to admit defeat!  You haven’t been playin’ the game long enough to understand it.”
      Grayson clenched his jaw and stood up.  Coldly, he turned without a word.  He would keep his calm.  He would be a civilized man and show this low-down thug the difference between them.  “Good afternoon,” Grayson said finally, politely.  He flipped his hat onto his head and marched out through the swinging doors of the saloon.
      The sun was bright and hot and only furthered Grayson’s irritation and anger.  “Where’s my horse?” Grayson grumbled, frowning at the empty hitching post.  He lengthened his pace, eyeing the horses on the other side of the street.  He would borrow that white horse, and if he were lucky, he would be able to keep it for a while.

Laurie thanked Mr. Gerson, exited the store with a package in hand, and made his way down the street.  His horse was in the livery stable getting new shoes put on, so he would wait it out as he sat on the bench on the front porch.
      Well, I might as well check and see how it’s coming, he thought, standing up.  Before he could reach the livery stable, he saw a man getting onto a white horse.  Laurie frowned.  Who was that?  It certainly was not obese Mr. Sewell, the man who owned the horse!
      Laurie set down his package and hurried towards the horse.  “Stop!” Laurie called.  Then Laurie recognized the young man.  Grayson Whittaker.  Laurie’s eyebrows lowered.  “Stop—now!”
      Laurie expected Grayson to whip the horse and go flying by in a flash, but suddenly, Grayson jumped down from the horse and was running away.  Laurie called after him, but now he was out of sight.  Laurie reached for the horse, tugging it towards the hitching post.
      “What do you think you’re doing?”
      Laurie’s head snapped upward.  Mr. Sewell was standing above him, deep lines etched downward from his mouth.
      “Sir, I was just putting the horse back.  Someone was trying to steal—”
      “I’ll bet they were!  I’ve always known you had an eye for this horse.  Why don’t you come with me peaceable-like to the sheriff?”
      “Mr. Sewell—”
      “Be quiet!  You’ll have yer say later. . . . I always thought you were too high-an’-mighty.  Legal businessman.  Fancy house, fancy wife.  Right smart.  Knew you must be hidin’ somethin’!”
      Laurie swallowed and resisted the urge to shout back.  “I don’t have anything to hide, Mr. Sewell.  I wasn’t trying to take your horse.”
      Mr. Sewell smirked.  “Raaiight—just like someone else—or was it a ghost?—was tryin’ to steal my horse and you stopped him.  Now, come with me, or I’ll drag you!”
      Laurie clenched his jaw and woodenly walked beside Mr. Sewell towards the jail.

     Grayson grinned.  How perfect—how utterly perfect!  The angelic Mr. Laurence, caught for horse stealing!  Grayson slapped his knees in the shadows of the houses and chuckled—then laughed—out loud.
     He turned and sauntered away, feeling sweat rolling down his neck.  Bothersome.  But what he had just witnessed more than made up for the heat of the day.

     Mr. Sewell’s big fist pounded on the desk in front of the sheriff.  “Mr. Laurance is a dirty thief!  Always knew he liked my horse.  He told me so lotsa times.  Bet he thought he could just get away with usin’ my Virginia—could just ride away and leave me stranded! . . . He probably lost his horse in a poker game and needed some way outta’ town!”
     Laurie blinked and swallowed, trying to keep his calm.
     Sherriff Berkley ran a hand over his grayish-white hair.  “Now, just settle down, Mr. Sewell!  Mr. Laurance has always been a respectable man and we need to hear his side of the story before we go accusing him too strongly.”
     “Thank you, sheriff,” Laurie said, letting out a breath of relief.  He quickly explained, “I was going over to the livery stable to get my horse when I noticed someone getting on Mr. Sewell’s horse.  It was a thin young man, who I later recognized as Grayson Whittaker, someone we—had a distant acquaintance with. . . . I ran back and yelled for him to stop.  Then, instead of riding off, he got off the horse and ran away.  I was trying to tie the horse back to the railing when Mr. Sewell found me.”
     Mr. Sewell frowned.  “That’s a—”
     “Sounds reasonable to me,” Sheriff Berkley said, peering at Mr. Sewell through half-squinted eyes.
     Mr. Sewell growled, “You can’t just let him go!  He’s lying—I know it.”
     “Well, do you have any evidence to back up your claim?” the sheriff asked.
     “Do you?” Mr. Sewell shot back.  “You’re just takin’ his word because he’s a fancy accountant!”
     “I’ve never known him to lie,” the sheriff said levelly.  “But I suppose some evidence wouldn’t hurt.”  He tapped a pencil idly on his desk.  “How about we go and see if Mr. Laurence’s horse is in the livery stable?  That oughtta’ show you he’s not lying and wouldn’t have need of your horse.”
     “Yes, please—Let’s go!” Laurie said.
     Mr. Sewell grumbled something unintelligible, then followed Laurie and Sheriff Berkley out the door.
     The summer sun felt like a scorching flame upon the men’s necks as their shoes scuffed through the dirt.  Laurie was eager to get to the livery stable, but the sheriff held his arm in check.
     When they reached the inside of the stables, Laurie pointed.  “There!  My—”  Laurie’s mouth remained open in shock, his confused eyes darting back and forth.  “My horse—he was there.”  Coming to life, Laurie rushed inside the stable and searched each stall, gazing at brown and spotted horses that were not his.  “Mr. Perrin!  Where are you?  Where’s my horse?”
     Tall, lanky Mr. Perrin emerged from around the corner of the stables.  A quizzical frown etched his brow.  “Mr. Laurence?  I haven’t seen your horse since last week, when you came here before.”

     Bess grimaced.  Nan was digging in the dirt by the creek, looking for a bug, again.
     “Nan, when will you ever grow up and be a civilized young lady?” Bess asked, curling her lip in disgust.
     Nan tossed her hair and replied sarcastically, “Does talking like that and walking with your nose in the air make you a civilized young lady?”  With a smug smile, Nan held up a squirming grasshopper.
     Bess huffed and turned on her heel.  It had been one thing after another.  Yesterday, Nan had insisted that Bess turn a cartwheel outside.  No one was around, she had said.  ‘It’s fun!’ Nan had smiled, then had turned a fast and easy cartwheel.
     ‘All right,’ Bess gave in, planting her feet in position and spreading her arms wide.  Before her courage could give way, she started to flip through the air. . . . Then, she had tumbled upside-down, her dress spilling over her face in puffy clumps, with her petticoats crumpling up above her.  Between Nan’s giggles, she had struggled to get up—then heard Dan’s voice.
     ‘Bess, is that you?  I thought you were a cloud!’ he laughed.
     Bess’s face turned beet red, and she had felt like punching someone in the nose.  Or two someones.
     Later, Nan had been snooping in her private belongings and had read some of Bess’s diary.  Then Nan had cracked the antique mirror that Bess’s mother had given her!
     Bess clenched her fists at her sides and marched towards the road leading to town.  A walk might do her good.

     Laurie’s hands were clammy.  “Mr. Perrin, I left my horse tied in here this morning!  Didn’t you see it?”
     “No, sir, I didn’t.”
     “Grayson must have taken it!” Laurie exclaimed.
     “He’s a raving lunatic,” Mr. Sewell said, shaking his head sadly.
     “Sheriff Berkley,” Laurie said, “you know I couldn’t have even thought of stealing his horse!”
     “I don’t know anything.  It’s your word against his.  But one of you has to be lying, and I’m beginning to think it could be you, Mr. Laurence.”
     Laurie took a deep breath and tried to think rationally.  “Well, even if I were guilty—which I’m not—what would the punishment be for attempting to steal a horse?”
     “Depends on the judge’s decision.”
     “But what do you think?”
     “Perhaps a couple of months in prison.”
     “Months?” Laurie echoed.
     “The punishment for stealing a horse is hanging.  Figure attempting to steal a horse is about as bad.  A few months would be a light enough sentence.”
     Laurie rubbed his forehead.  “It would seem like a lifetime, especially for a false charge.  You don’t even have proof of anything.”
     “True.  You haven’t been declared guilty, yet.  And, if it helps any, I have some doubts that you did try to steal his horse.  But I’ll leave that decision up to the court.”

     Grayson licked his lips nervously as he nearly bumped into Mr. Kirk on the road.  “Hello, Mr. Kirk,” he smiled politely.  “How are you?”  Grayson unobtrusively covered Mr. Kirk’s nameplate on the satchel he carried.
     “Hello—Grayson, isn’t it?  I’m doing fine, thank you.”  He looked Grayson up and down, then studied the features beneath the brim of the hat.  Grayson’s chin and mouth were frozen in the light of the sun, and the eyes were shadowed so much it was hard to see their color.  He did notice Grayson’s mouth twitch.  Not knowing the story of Grayson’s behavior towards Bess, Mr. Kirk assumed he was a decent enough boy.  Arrogant, perhaps, but decent.
     Grayson shifted.  “Good day, then.”
     “Just a minute,” Mr. Kirk said.  Grayson stopped midstride.  “This may not be my business, but I saw you a while back going down the street with a satchel.  You inherit some money?”
     “Uh, yeah, my—my great-uncle died.” Grayson said, trying to keep his eyes level with Mr. Kirk’s.
     “Well, the money’s a blessing, anyway.”
     “Yes.  Good bye.”  Grayson turned and left, letting out air he didn’t know he was holding.
     If Mr. Kirk suspected anything, he could be cooked.  The man might check out his story about his great-uncle’s death.  The fact was, Grayson didn’t have any living relatives except for one cousin in Oklahoma, and his great-uncle had died nineteen years ago.
     When he got back to his shack, he looked in the little cubbyhole, squinting pensively at the satchel.  Mr. Kirk’s name was embossed on it.  After a moment, Grayson’s eyes lit up.  He emptied the money from the bag and folded the satchel in his hands.
     He walked quickly behind the town buildings in the shadows of large trees.  He stopped when he came to Mr. Laurence’s house.
     He had stolen the money right under the noses of Mr. and Mrs. Laurence, and he had no doubt he could replace the empty satchel without trouble.
     He would have to buy another satchel to replace this one, however.

     Amy picked up a brush and studied the little still life she had set up before her.  A French vase filled with wildflowers, a peach, and a lace doily.  It seemed to be lacking something, but she wasn’t quite sure what.  Sighing, she dabbed her paintbrush into the white paint and applied a stroke over the sketch she had made.
     “Maybe another fruit,” she murmured, tilting her head and setting her brush down.  “I know it’s a bit late, but maybe I could add one or two of those strawberries. . . . Yes.”
     She hurried to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator cabinet Laurie had finally bought, and brought out a bowl of strawberries.  The ridiculous cabinet actually worked!  It kept things fresh for a few days, anyway.
     She took two ripe berries, one medium, one small, and returned the bowl to the refrigerator cabinet.  Trotting to the parlor, she arranged her berries on the table next to the peach, smiling at the bright red berries.
     She froze.  Was that a creak?  Probably just the wind in the trees, but. . . . She glanced out the window.  There was no wind.
     “Laurie?  Is that you?” she called.  He had gone to town, but he could be back by now.
     All was still.  Too still.  Laughing at herself, Amy shook her head and picked up a pencil to sketch in the strawberries.  Her hand was shaking.  This was crazy.  She was nervous in her own house!  Taking a deep breath to still the trembling, she determined to confront her fears.  Then she would know how silly she was being and she could relax.
     Marching toward Laurie’s study, where she thought the noise might have come from, she said, “I’m not afraid. There’s no one here.”
     She peered through the open study door.  The room was empty.  “See?  I told you!”  She smiled.  But somehow, she didn’t feel reassured, and her heart still beat a wild tempo inside her.

Part Two . . .