Part Two

(Written from July to August 14, 2002)

     Bess had calmed down enough to tolerably enjoy the walk.  It was a hot day, but she walked in the shade of the trees beside the road.  Wishing she had her hair up in a bun, she flipped her hair over her shoulders for the second time, squinting to block the sunlight.  Maybe she would go see her parents.  It was a long walk to their house, at least for what Bess was used to.
     Pausing in the shade for a moment, she heard a mockingbird from above.  She tilted her head back and spotted the bird among the leaves.  It was tipping its head back and forth, one moment warbling like a lark, the next like a crow, and the next like a chickadee.  Bess smiled.  If only she could sing that well.  She recalled Nan’s honest words about her singing.  ‘You can’t sing, Bess.  You sound terrible.’  At first the words had stung, but then she realized Nan was the only one brave and kind enough to tell her the truth she needed to hear.
     She sighed.  Yes, Nan really was a good friend.  She had some annoying habits, but when it came down to it, she was a true friend.
     She kept on walking.  She was hot, but she felt like seeing her mother again.  She would ask her if there were any more concerts coming up that they might attend.  She loved Mozart and Bach.  Maybe she could even coax Nan to go.  She smiled at the thought of Nan rolling her eyes and saying, “What would I want with Mozart?  Sittin’ still for hours an’ watchin’ a bunch of fancy people playin’ on their instruments. . . . No, thanks!”  But she thought Nan would have a good time, anyway.  Nan did like music—at least Nat’s violin playing.
     Bess walked faster, knowing she was almost to town.  She was excited at the prospect of going to a concert with Nan.  She would ask her mother if they could buy a fancy dress for Nan, too.  Nan had to enjoy that, even if she was a tomboy.  Every girl liked pretty clothes.
     She turned the last bend that led into town.  Picking a blue flower from the side of the road, she stuck it in her hair, giggling.  She didn’t care if she looked foolish!  Mother would like it, anyway.
     Bess felt her stomach lurch.  She froze.  Ahead of her, walking toward her, was Grayson Whittaker!

      I hope she didn’t suspect anything, Grayson thought.  But how could she?  She didn’t see him.  He had made sure he ducked out of sight—behind the desk—when Amy came to look in the room.  Grayson strode back into the streets of town.  He bought another satchel and stored it in his cubbyhole.  Now he was going to buy the biggest beer he could order and try another game of poker.  He might have better luck with different players.  The rest of the thousand dollars he was saving.
      His boots scuffed the dirt, sending up puffs ahead of him.  He needed a bath.  This weather made him sweatier than a hog and twice as greedy.
      When he was about to turn in to the saloon, he saw something.  A pretty girl.  He squinted.  Wasn’t that the same girl—it was!  Bess, he remembered.  The way she had treated him before still boiled his blood.  She would pay.  She would pay!

      Bess was still frozen.  She couldn’t move.  Her heart raced.  She felt like a rabbit caught in a trap, pinned down, unable to move a muscle.  She could scream.  She opened her mouth a crack—her throat was dry.  He was so close, now.  Just a few feet away.  She screamed.
      It wasn’t very loud, and Grayson was upon her the next second, his slimy palm slapped against her mouth.  She wiggled in his arms, tugging back and forth, kicking.  He quickly pulled her off the road and into the bushes.  Her feet flailed at him, but he didn’t seem to feel them.
      He was bigger than she remembered.  And dirtier.
      “Come with me, my sweet tiger,” he said, his eyes mere slits as he dragged her along.
      Her cries were muffled against his tightly clamped palm.  She tried to bite him, but couldn’t get her teeth around his flesh.  She tasted dirt, and smelled sweat.

      Mr. Kirk knocked on the front door of Laurie’s house.
      Amy opened the door.  “Hello, Mr. Kirk,” she said.  “Come in.”
      “Is Laurie at home?” he asked, taking his hat off and running a hand over the few strands of hair that crisscrossed the top of his scalp.
      Amy clasped her hands together.  “No, he hasn’t come home, yet, but he should be here any time.”  She couldn’t keep the hesitation from her voice.
      “Do you know where he went?”
      “He said he just wanted to get his horse shod and get a couple of things at Mr. Gerson’s store.”
      “Thank you,” he smiled, flipping his hat back on and exiting.  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Laurence.”
      After following the trail, Mr. Kirk was about to give up on finding Laurie when the sheriff spoke up.
      “I think I just heard you asking for Laurie.  He’s in jail.”
      Mr. Kirk’s mouth dropped open.
      “Nothing’s proven, yet, but he’s being held for further questioning and we’re doing more investigation.”
      Mr. Kirk headed for the jailhouse.  “Laurie?” he exclaimed, hurrying back to the cells.  “Laurie, what is this all about?”
      Laurie was sitting on a cot with his head in his hands.
      He barely looked up.  “Mr. Kirk.”  He sighed.  “This is all a stupid mix-up.  I can’t understand it . . .”
      “Well, what are the charges?” Mr. Kirk asked more gently.
      “Attempted horse stealing,” Laurie said flatly.
      “What happened?”
      Laurie recounted the story.  “I don’t know how Mr. Perrin didn’t see my horse . . . unless Grayson somehow took it and threatened Mr. Perrin to keep quiet. . . . That must be it.”  He slid a hand across his face.  He felt tired.
      Mr. Kirk gripped the bars and nodded sympathetically.  “You’ll be aquitted, I’m sure.  There was only one witness to your alleged crime, and he didn’t really see much.”
      “I hope you’re right, Mr. Kirk,” Laurie said.  “Could you—please tell my wife to come see me?  Bess needn’t know, yet, but I want to see Amy.”
      “Of course,” Mr. Kirk replied, nodding and turning to go.  He stopped for a moment.  “You’ll be fine, Laurie.”

      Amy’s heart felt like it was tearing.  “Jail!  My Laurie’s in jail?”
      “It’s just temporary, I’m sure,” Mr. Kirk soothed.
      Amy didn’t stop to put on a hat or get a parasol, or even to say goodbye to Mr. Kirk.  She flew on shaky legs, feeling as if she were tumbling inside of a nightmare.  She stumbled past the sheriff, then stopped.  “Sheriff, give me the key!  Putting my husband in jail!”  Angry tears pricked her eyelids.  “You should be ashamed!”
      “Now, Mrs. Laurence, I had to do it. . . . Here’s the key.  I’ll unlock the cell for you.”
      Amy flung herself into Laurie’s open arms.  “Oh, Laurie, what have they done!”
      Laurie laughed dryly.  “Shouldn’t you be asking what I’ve done?”
      “I know you would never do anything to warrant jail!  Oh, Laurie!” she cried, squeezing him tighter.
      He smoothed her hair.  “Maybe I should be put in jail more often,” he murmured, smiling.
      She glared at him, then softened slightly.  “This is serious,” she reminded.
      “I know.  That’s why I need to find any happy thought to hold on to, and you are a very happy thought.”
      Tears rolled down her cheeks.  “Laurie . . .”
      He kissed her deeply.  “Now, what were you going to say?”
      She smiled shakily.  “I love you, Laurie.”

      Mr. Kirk had talked to Laurie again, this time about the investment deal they had made.  It had slipped his mind, before.  “I need some of the money back,” Mr. Kirk had told Laurie.  “I’m a bit short on cash, and I will pay it back next week, when my buyer pays me.”
      “The bag of money is in my desk, bottom drawer on the left,” Laurie told him.  “The key is hiding in the hall beneath the chair.”
      Mr. Kirk was looking beneath the chair, now.  His chubby fingers grasped the small iron object, and he made his way to the study.
      Amy had said hello and was in the parlor painting.  She heard his footsteps lightly, then a squeak.  Her hand paused mid-stroke.  It was the same sound she had heard before . . . she was sure of it.  Was that the desk drawer’s squeak?  She set her brush down and went to the study door.  She frowned as she saw him picking up the moneybag from the drawer.
      Then she saw Mr. Kirk frown.  “It’s empty!”
      “What?” Amy gasped, rushing to his side.
      He opened the bag and held it up.  It was indeed empty.

      “Tommy, could you go find Bess for supper?”
      “Yes, Mrs. Jo,” Tommy said, scooting up the staircase.
      “I’ll help, too,” Nan put in, running after Tommy.
      After a few minutes, they came back.  “Couldn’t find her in the house.”
      “She was taking a walk this afternoon, so maybe she’s still outdoors . . .” Nan mused.  They hurried out the front door.
      Jo went to the kitchen where Asia was stirring chicken soup and cutting slices of bread.
      “The kids are trying to find Bess, but they should be back soon, so don’t worry about it getting cold,” Jo advised.
      “Okay.”  Asia shrugged her shoulders, then murmured to herself, “This house is one late meal after anothah.”
      Jo smiled and left the kitchen.  Some of the boys were setting the table but they didn’t seem to be getting it done very fast, so she joined them.
      The front door banged open, and an out-of-breath Tommy yelled, “Bess is gone!  We can’t find her anywhere!”
      After the initial alarm, questions and skeptical voices broke out.  Jo tried to quiet them and take control, but she felt herself caving in to the fear along with the others.
      Amid the confusion, Nan spoke up, “I saw Bess in the woods this morning . . . by the creek.  We looked there, but couldn’t find her—”
      Dan needed no further persuasion, and he was up and headed towards the door.  He put his hat on and said with a determined set of his lips, “I’m goin’ to look for her!”

      The thumping of his heart would not go away.  It pounded in rhythm with his horse’s flying hooves.  Bess, where are you?
      “Bess!” Dan shouted, flying past tree limbs, ducking under branches.  Maybe she had headed towards town, to her parents’ house.
      He yanked his horse to the right, nearly falling off the rearing back of his animal.  “Sorry, Cindy—this is important,” he whispered to the horse.  He dug his heels into Cindy’s flanks and hurried towards town.  Dan got down low on the horse, Cindy’s mane bobbing up into his face, teasing his nostrils with horse smell.
      He only slowed slightly when he got to town, but was careful to avoid the buggies and few people who wandered the streets.  A minute or so later, he reigned to a halt in the Laurence’s yard.
      He pounded on the door, then tried to calm his labored breathing.
      Amy opened the door, worry lines creasing her forehead.
      “Bess is gone.—Have you seen her?” Dan asked, panting.
      “No,” Amy answered, her eyes wide and her frown deepening.  “It’s not like her to go off by herself, is it?”
      “Nah, not really,” Dan said, wiping his brow, fighting his rising panic.  “Nan said she went off for a walk this afternoon.”
      “She-she could be in one of the stores,” Amy suggested, more in the tone of a question than a statement.
      “Yeah, I’ll look there.”  Dan hopped back on his horse and galloped out of the Laurence’s yard.

      Dan slumped down onto the Plumfield porch, rubbing his face with a tired hand.  He had not found Bess.  He had asked all over town, but no one seemed to know anything.  When he was at the end of his rope he had told the sheriff about it.  “She must ‘ave been kidnapped, Sheriff Berkeley!  Get a posse—do somethin’!  You just gotta find her!”
      “Don’t worry.  We’ll find her.”
      Only after he had seen the sheriff actively recruiting posse members had Dan been slightly relieved.
      “I want to go with the posse, Sheriff!” Dan said, eyes gleaming fire.
      “Fine with me.  Just come back in a half an hour and we’ll start looking.”
      “Dan, you’re back!” Jo cried from behind him.  “Bess—did you—find any clues or anything?”
      “No,” he said, sighing.  “There’s no trace of her.  I told the sheriff—she must ‘ave been kidnapped.”
      Jo moaned.  “I was afraid. . . .” She sank to the step beside him.  “Does Amy know?”
      “She knows I was lookin’ for Bess.”  He tried to keep the tremor from his voice.
      Jo placed an arm around Dan’s shoulders.  “It’ll be all right, Dan.  It has to be.”
      It has to be! Dan echoed inwardly.  He didn’t think he could live if anything happened to Bess.

Part Three