{"id":2107,"date":"2009-08-06T08:50:08","date_gmt":"2009-08-06T13:50:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=2107"},"modified":"2009-08-06T08:50:08","modified_gmt":"2009-08-06T13:50:08","slug":"sweetwater-run-by-jan-watson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=2107","title":{"rendered":"Sweetwater Run by Jan Watson"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> <\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n
Jan Watson <\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Sweetwater Run<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Tyndale House Publishers (July 6, 2009)<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Jan Watson is the award-winning author of the 2004 Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild Operation First Novel contest. She received the award for Troublesome Creek, her first novel in a three-book historical series, and the prize included a publishing contract with Tyndale House. Tyndale also published the sequels, Willow Springs and Torrent Falls. A retired registered nurse of 25 years, Jan lives in Kentucky. She has three grown sons and a daughter-in-law.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $12.99
\nPaperback: 304 pages
\nPublisher: Tyndale House Publishers (July 6, 2009)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 1414323859
\nISBN-13: 978-1414323855<\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

1893
\nMarch had come in like a lion, and the lamb was nowhere to be found though the month was nearly over. Clouds the color of tarnished silver hung low over the eastern Kentucky mountains, spitting hard grains of snow. Cara Wilson Whitt stood on the porch wrapped in a knit mantle, disbelieving the scene in the yard. Six men gestured and talked in loud voices, the chief one being her husband. Dimm was not a talker. He never wasted words, but now he raised his voice standing his ground.<\/p>\n

There was the sheriff, a lawyer, the two accusers\u2014Anvil and Walker Wheeler\u2014her brother-in-law, Ace, and Dimm. And, oh yes, the cause of all the commotion: Pancake the mule.<\/p>\n

Cara wondered for the thousandth time how it had come to this. How was it that Dimmert was in danger of losing his freedom for stealing his own mule? Ace had cautioned Dimmert about tangling with the Wheelers\u2014perhaps his mule had wandered onto Wheeler property and they commandeered it, more or less. But Dimm knew his mule didn\u2019t stray. His animals were so well fed and pampered they had no reason to look for greener pasture. It ate at Dimm and he took to spying on the Wheelers. One day he saw Walker Wheeler take a club to Pancake when he balked at the traces, and he determined to get his animal back. It was either that or shoot Walker, and Dimm had never been given to violence.<\/p>\n

When Dimmert relieved Anvil Wheeler of the mule, he didn\u2019t even have to get the winter-withered apple from his pocket to lure Pancake from his pen; the mule was that glad to see him. Of course the Wheelers tracked the mule\u2019s prints to Dimmert\u2019s barn and turned the case over to the sheriff.<\/p>\n

Cara paced, her feet drumming on the wooden porch floor. She wanted to be out there. Dimmert would listen to her. But she kept her place like a good wife should. \u201cDon\u2019t say nothing,\u201d she wanted to shout to Dimmert but didn\u2019t. \u201cA mule ain\u2019t worth going to jail over,\u201d she would have cried out if a woman\u2019s words counted in a yard full of men. Dimmert didn\u2019t have much in the way of worldly possessions, but he had his pride. She knew better than to mess with that.<\/p>\n

Ace sprinted to the porch. \u201cWe need that picture you had took, Cara, the one of you and Dimm with Pancake in the middle. Can you fetch it while I go down to the cellar for an apple?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sometime last year a traveling photographer had come by the place to make a picture of Dimmert and Cara. Dimm, of course, wanted Pancake in the picture. It was a nice portrait of Dimm in starched overalls and Cara in her Sunday dress with her hair swirled on top of her head\u2014and Pancake\u2019s long bony head hanging between their shoulders. Dimm and Cara were staring straight ahead, sober as a preacher at a brush arbor meeting; not a smile creased either countenance. But Pancake was a different story. His smile was big and horsey, showing lots of strong, square teeth and so lopsided it made you grin to look at it.<\/p>\n

Cara could hardly bring herself to leave the porch. She didn\u2019t want to tear her eyes off Dimm.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll go get it,\u201d Dance, Ace\u2019s wife, who kept watch with her, offered. \u201cWhere do you keep it, Cara?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s in the Bible in the corner cupboard,\u201d Cara said.<\/p>\n

Dance opened the door, and a welcome drift of warmth sailed out along with the excited voices of Dance and Ace\u2019s children, who\u2019d been sent in out of the cold. \u201cYou kids hush up,\u201d she heard Dance say before she came back out.<\/p>\n

Lickety-split, Ace was back at the scene. The sheriff took the picture and the apple. He studied the likeness for a bit, then held it up beside the face of the mule.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t they tell that\u2019s Dimm\u2019s mule?\u201d she asked Dance. \u201cDimm don\u2019t lie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLookee,\u201d Dance replied. \u201cThere\u2019s a brand on that critter\u2019s rump.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPancake doesn\u2019t have a brand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly,\u201d Dance said. \u201cThat Walker Wheeler\u2019s gone and put his mark on Dimm\u2019s mule.\u201d<\/p>\n

A cold wind railed around the side of the porch. Cara\u2019s skirts billowed. She anchored them between her knees.<\/p>\n

The sheriff handed the apple to Dimm, who held it just in front of Pancake\u2019s long nose and did everything but stand on his head, but Pancake would not crack a grin or open his mouth for his favorite treat. The stubborn mule just stared balefully at Walker Wheeler, who was doing all the smiling today. Cara watched as Dimm laid his face alongside Pancake\u2019s in his sweet, forgiving way.<\/p>\n

Finally the sheriff gave it up. \u201cAnvil, are you sure this here\u2019s your mule?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure as I\u2019m sure Walker is my son,\u201d Anvil answered.<\/p>\n

Walker guffawed, picking up the apple Dimmert had pitched to the ground and taking a big, crunching bite.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat if Mr. Whitt just gives back this mule?\u201d the sheriff asked. \u201cI hate to take a man to jail over a simple misunderstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d settle for that,\u201d Anvil said. \u201cThat and an apology to Walker. Dimmert saying this mule\u2019s his stock is the same as calling my son a liar.\u201d He turned to Walker. \u201cYou don\u2019t lie, do you, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Walker took another big, slurping bite. \u201cNo, Daddy, I surely don\u2019t. I bought this here animal off old Clary Lumpkin two days before she died.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen that\u2019s that,\u201d Anvil said.<\/p>\n

\u201cDimmert?\u201d the sheriff said.<\/p>\n

Now it was Dimm\u2019s turn to clamp his mouth shut like Pancake had done. Only his eyes did not stare balefully but instead shot sparks at Walker Wheeler.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Dimm,\u201d Ace pleaded. \u201cIt ain\u2019t worth going to jail over.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dimm let loose a veritable torrent the one time he should have kept quiet. \u201cThis here\u2019s my mule, Walker Wheeler. I know it and you know it! And you know you\u2019re a bald-faced liar!\u201d<\/p>\n

A deaf owl could have heard the collective intake of breath at Dimm\u2019s misguided speech. \u201cI ain\u2019t giving Pancake over.\u201d Dimm stood his ground. \u201cIt will be a cold day in Satan\u2019s shoes before I apologize to the sorry likes of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d Anvil Wheeler said, \u201cI gave you a chance. Walker, get the mule.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walker stood glued to his spot.<\/p>\n

Quicker than a rabbit\u2019s kick, Dimmert\u2019s fist shot out and sucker punched Walker Wheeler. Bits of apple flew out of Walker\u2019s surprised mouth as he toppled backward to the ground. Surely as caught off guard as Walker, the sheriff rushed at Dimm and wrestled his arms behind his back.<\/p>\n

Dimmert gave no protest, however, but stood meekly with his wrists crossed behind his back.<\/p>\n

Mumbling and fumbling, the sheriff trussed his hands. \u201cThat was plain ignorant, boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walker wasn\u2019t hurt other than his pride, but he couldn\u2019t resist throwing a taunt. \u201cYou\u2019ll pay for that, you horse\u2019s behind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll pay for more than that if you ever take a club to one of my animals again, Walker Wheeler,\u201d Dimm said. \u201cYou see if I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Next thing Cara knew, the Wheelers were leading Pancake away.<\/p>\n

Ace ran back. \u201cCome tell Dimmert good-bye,\u201d he said to Cara.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood-bye?\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t tell my husband good-bye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace made to lead her off the porch.<\/p>\n

She pushed his hand away. \u201cWalker Wheeler stole the mule first,\u201d she yelled and saw the sheriff look her way. \u201cDimmert did nothing wrong!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCara,\u201d Ace soothed, \u201cdon\u2019t be making a scene. That lawyer, Henry Thomas, says he\u2019ll get Dimmert out of the pokey pronto. All we\u2019ll need to do is pay a fine. He says it\u2019s just a formality.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tiny black spots shimmered in Cara\u2019s vision. Her knees buckled. \u201cMercy, I feel like I\u2019m going to faint.\u201d She was glad now for her brother-in-law\u2019s supporting arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can do this,\u201d he said. \u201cCome on. Dimmert needs to see you strong.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dance gave her a nudge. \u201cGo on with Ace. You\u2019ll be glad you done it later.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Cara-mine,\u201d Dimmert said, his words so soft only Cara could hear. \u201cI never aimed to leave you all alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara wanted to lean into him. She wanted to let his strength absorb her weakness, but instead she drew herself up. \u201cYou\u2019re not to worry for one minute. We\u2019ll get this all sorted out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on now, Whitt,\u201d the sheriff said. \u201cIt\u2019s time to get going.\u201d Pellets of snow gathered in the crease of the sheriff\u2019s black felt hat. His eyes met Cara\u2019s. They were not unkind. \u201cMrs. Whitt, you can come to visit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Soon Dimmert was sitting on a pack horse behind the sheriff\u2019s big bay mare. He didn\u2019t look back as the horse was led away. Cara was grateful for that.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Three weeks later Cara tossed and turned the whole night long. The bed was big and lonesome what with Dimmert gone. Midnight found her on the porch of their small but sturdy cabin, staring out into the darkness like she could conjure up her husband if she gave concerted effort. It might not be so bad if she owned a rocking chair. Rocking soothed an unquiet mind. But she didn\u2019t have a rocker, so her thoughts roiled like sour milk in a churn, and there wasn\u2019t much comfort in the idea of visiting Dimm in jail.<\/p>\n

She wouldn\u2019t be so lonesome now if she wasn\u2019t so isolated. What had possessed her to let Dimm drag her from their spacious three-room house on Troublesome Creek up here halfway to nowhere? Ah, but Cara already knew the answer to that. Dimmert Whitt was the sweetest man she ever laid eyes on. Plus, he had an interesting face, not really handsome but arresting, like you could study it all day and never get the least bit tired. And that gingery hair\u2014the color of spice cake fresh from the oven\u2014Cara was a sucker for that hair.<\/p>\n

Still unable to sleep, she decided she was thirsty and got up for a drink. The screen door squeaked as she opened it and went to the water bucket on the wash shelf.<\/p>\n

Taking a dipper of well water from the granite bucket, she drank it before giving in to a yawn, and then her feet traced the familiar path to bed. After a quick prayer for Dimm\u2019s safety, she held his feather pillow close, like she would have held him if he were here.<\/p>\n

The morning would be better. Morning\u2019s first light always filled her with promise; seemed anything was possible then, even Dimm\u2019s salvation. Thanks to her friend Miz Copper, she had radish and lettuce seed to set out in her spring garden. Nothing made a body feel better than a hoe in hand and fertile soil underfoot. Dimm was right about that part. This side of the mountain couldn\u2019t be beat for growing things. Pulling the cotton quilt over her shoulders, she turned, seeking comfort.<\/p>\n

As Cara drifted off to sleep, she thought of Copper Pelfrey and how good she was to come all the way from Troublesome to bring plants and seeds from her garden. When Cara had first spied the Pelfreys yon side of the creek, she got so excited she dropped her favorite yellowware bowl and broke it all to flinders. Now what would she mix her gritty bread in? Quick like, she\u2019d tucked up her hair and hung her apron on the peg behind the door. She reckoned it\u2019d been three weeks since she\u2019d spoken to another soul\u2014except for Ace Shelton, who came by once in a while to see if she needed any little thing.<\/p>\n

Miz Copper brought more than lettuce and radishes. She brought marigold and zinnia seed for planting in May and a little poke of money for Dimmert\u2019s lawyer. Copper\u2019s husband John made himself scarce. He said he needed to patch that hole he saw in the barn roof while she and Copper visited. But Cara knew he was sparing her embarrassment. He knew she\u2019d be mortified to take money from anyone but his wife\u2014and that was hard enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you, Cara?\u201d Miz Copper asked after she settled at Cara\u2019s table with a cup of fresh-brewed sassafras tea.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d Cara said, but she couldn\u2019t meet Miz Copper\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

Miz Copper laid her hand upon Cara\u2019s own and said again, \u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tears pooled in Cara\u2019s eyes. Miz Copper had always been discerning and kind\u2014ever so kind. \u201cIt\u2019s hard,\u201d she replied. \u201cI\u2019ve never been alone a minute in my life, and now alone is all I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, honey,\u201d Miz Copper said. \u201cYou could come stay with us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDimm would want me here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Miz Copper agreed, \u201cI expect he would.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara squeezed her eyes shut. The least little bit of sympathy and she was near tears again. \u201cDo you remember the brave girl I used to be? Remember when my mama had the twins and I was the one helping?\u201d<\/p>\n

Miz Copper moved her chair close. She put her arms around Cara, and Cara leaned her head on her friend\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI sure do. I never met a braver girl than you were that night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara felt her tears wet Miz Copper\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI don\u2019t know what happened to that girl. Now every little thing spooks me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPart of that is your being alone. I remember when I first came back to the farm after Lilly\u2019s father died. I felt so overwhelmed and weary at times, I cried just like you\u2019re doing now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do? How did you stand it?\u201d Cara asked, straightening up so she could see Miz Copper\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

\u201cI turned to the Lord,\u201d Miz Copper said. \u201cYou\u2019ll see; God won\u2019t put more on you than you can bear if you will turn to Him in your sorrow and your fear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara nodded. She knew Miz Copper spoke the truth, but she didn\u2019t know for sure if God would listen to one such as herself, one being such a stranger at God\u2019s door.<\/p>\n

Time passed easily as they chatted, even laughed a little, remembering good times. You couldn\u2019t be around Miz Copper without smiling.<\/p>\n

Miz Copper\u2019s daughter, Lilly Gray, came in from the porch. \u201cMama,\u201d she said, \u201cDaddy John says he\u2019s almost finished with the roof.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLilly Gray, you are as pretty as a picture,\u201d Cara said.<\/p>\n

The girl leaned against her mother\u2019s knees and laid her head against her mother\u2019s shoulder. She looked up at Cara from underneath long black eyelashes. Her finely arched eyebrows, heart-shaped face, and porcelain skin reminded Cara of a china doll. Shyly she said, \u201cThank you, Miz Cara.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShow Cara the locket Daddy John gave you for your eighth birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, that\u2019s real pretty.\u201d Cara admired the intricate scrollwork on the small gold locket.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt opens,\u201d Lilly said, coming to Cara. She fiddled with the jewelry and clicked the latch. \u201cIt\u2019s got pictures of my two daddies. See?\u201d She held the open locket out. \u201cMy one daddy Simon and my now daddy John. Daddy Simon is in heaven with Jesus.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara met Miz Copper\u2019s eyes over the top of Lilly\u2019s head. Miz Copper gave a little shrug. Cara felt embarrassed to be complaining about being alone. The story of what happened to Miz Copper\u2019s first husband was widely known. He was thrown from a horse and mortally wounded, leaving her a widow with a baby. Miz Copper brought Lilly to the mountains and set up housekeeping on her own. Cara would do well to follow her example.<\/p>\n

Cara felt like crying for herself as well as Miz Copper. She felt like crying for all the pain in the world. Instead she changed the subject. \u201cWhere\u2019s your little brother today?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lilly snapped her locket closed. \u201cOh, he\u2019s home with Miss Remy.\u201d She sidled closer to Cara. \u201cDo you want to know a secret?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI purely love a good secret,\u201d Cara replied.<\/p>\n

Lilly Gray cupped her hand around Cara\u2019s ear and whispered, \u201cWe\u2019re going to have another baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. John appeared in the doorway. \u201cHey, girls, we\u2019d best get started if you want to call on Fairy Mae.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lilly skipped out to meet her daddy. \u201cCan I hold the reins this time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure as shootin\u2019,\u201d Mr. John said. \u201cWe\u2019ll wait in the buggy, Copper.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miz Copper drained her tea, then pushed her chair back and withdrew a leather sack from her skirt pocket. \u201cAce was good enough to come by and tell John how much Dimm\u2019s fine is, Cara.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll pay you back every cent,\u201d Cara said, embarrassed but grateful.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo need,\u201d Miz Copper said while tying her bonnet strings under her chin. \u201cJohn said he owed that to Dimm for helping clear land last fall. Count it out before you pay the fine. I believe there\u2019s enough extra to tide you over.\u201d She hugged Cara hard. \u201cI\u2019m praying for Dimm and for you, dear heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d Cara said, her voice husky with unshed tears. \u201cI\u2019m real happy about your new baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miz Copper patted her still-flat stomach and laughed. \u201cI expect little John William will be right peeved when this one comes. He\u2019s used to being the center of attention.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood thing you\u2019ve got Remy Riddle to help out,\u201d Cara said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy goodness, yes. She has been an answer to prayer.\u201d She held Cara\u2019s face between her hands. \u201cNow you take care of yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou too,\u201d Cara said, holding the screen door wide. \u201cYou take care of yourself too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now Cara pounded her pillow and laid her head in the indentation. She was trying to be strong since that visit. She was trying to follow Miz Copper\u2019s model; she really was. Daytime wasn\u2019t so bad, but nights were pure torture.<\/p>\n

Her mind stirred up again, dragging out worn trunks of worry like a widow in an attic of memory. She threw the cover aside, her feet hitting the floor. Where had she hidden that money last? First she\u2019d put it in the sugar bowl; it was empty anyway. But that seemed too obvious, so she\u2019d moved it to the top of the corner cupboard. When that didn\u2019t satisfy, she pried up the end of a loose floorboard in front of the fireplace and stuck it down there. But what if a mouse took a liking to that little leather sack? Silvery moonlight spilled in through a high window and lit that place in the floor like a spotlight. If a robber came in, he\u2019d make a beeline there.<\/p>\n

\u201cOuch!\u201d Cara sucked her palm. Why hadn\u2019t she noticed that nail in the floorboard before? Now she\u2019d more than likely get lockjaw from the rust. She\u2019d be all alone, jaw tight as the lid on a pickle jar, unable to take in a teaspoon of water to slack her raging fever. Just the thought made her thirsty. Might as well draw some fresh water. But what to do with the poke of cash money? For now she\u2019d stick it in her pillow slip. It\u2019d be safe there unless the robber was sleepy.<\/p>\n

The mantel clock chimed twelve thirty. At this rate she\u2019d still be awake when Ace came for her in the morning. He was carrying her to the county seat. Dimmert had finally been granted visitors. Cara was beginning to think she would never see him again. It would be the first time she\u2019d visited a person in jail. She wondered how it would be to have bars between her and Dimm. Would she get to touch him? run her hand over his dear face? Probably not. There were surely lots of rules to follow at the lockup. She didn\u2019t want to break a one.<\/p>\n

New green grass tickled her feet as she walked barefoot to the well. She relished the mild spring night. The lamb had finally banished the lion. Hand over hand, Cara pulled the wooden bucket up the pitch-dark shaft until she placed it teetering on the rock ledge. Holding the bucket steady, she dipped palmful after palmful of cold water to her lips until she\u2019d had her fill.<\/p>\n

Weariness seeped into her long bones with a dull ache and made the thin bones of her fingers and toes twang like fiddle strings. But still her bed did not call. She gathered her gown around her, sat on the single step to the well house, and leaned her head against the doorframe. Sleep found her there, deep and dreamless as the well. She didn\u2019t wake until the rooster crowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid ye bring me some shoes?\u201d Cara asked later that morning when Ace rolled up in the buggy.<\/p>\n

\u201cDance sent her extra pair,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank ye. These are sure nice.\u201d Cara was so thankful. The soles of her shoes had separated and flapped like an old man\u2019s gums when she walked about. Looking the many-buttoned boots over, she asked, \u201cDo ye reckon I\u2019ve got time to throw a little polish on these?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t take long at it. Dimmert\u2019s lawyer\u2019s supposed to meet us at the jailhouse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara hurried inside and rummaged around for the tin of black polish and a rag. In seconds the shoes had sheen on the toes. It was a little more effort to get them on. Her hose kept bunching up at the heels and pulling at the toes. The boots were at least half an inch too short. Dance was about her size except for her feet. Frustrated, Cara tore off her stockings and flung them aside. She\u2019d have to chance a blister. Try as she might with the button hook, Cara couldn\u2019t get the ones around her ankles to fasten. She shrugged and gave up. What did it matter as long as she was shod to go to town? Her skirts would hide her ankles anyway. After pulling her go-to-town gloves from the bottom drawer of the chiffonier, she was ready.<\/p>\n

The buggy jounced along, tilting to the driver\u2019s side on the narrow roadbed. Cara kept sliding into Ace.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid Miz Pelfrey bring you the money?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got it right here,\u201d she replied, patting the bottom of her linen carryall. Carefully, she\u2019d counted out the fine this morning, put the leftover folding money in a small drawstring purse, and pinned it inside the carryall. \u201cDo you reckon they\u2019ll let Dimm out today?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t hardly see why not. That lawyer said all we need to do is pay the fine.\u201d Ace looked like a lawyer himself in his shiny black suit. \u201cAfter all, it was his own mule he stole.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDimmert\u2019s a fool about his animals,\u201d Cara said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat fellow who accused Dimm would steal the dimes off a dead man\u2019s eyes,\u201d Ace said. \u201cI would have done the same thing Dimmert did.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara clung to the side of the buggy. Her teeth rattled when they hit a deep hole. \u201cHe could have gone about it in a different way, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s water under the bridge now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tears under the bridge, Cara thought. Enough tears to make a river.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The jailhouse was situated on a side street, right beside the sheriff\u2019s office. Ace held the door as Cara entered a room furnished with a rolltop desk, a straight chair, and a coatrack. A man with a star on his chest that proclaimed Deputy sat slouched in the chair. One hand rested on his holstered gun. With a brown hat set low over his eyes, he seemed to be sleeping.<\/p>\n

Ace caught Cara\u2019s elbow and ushered her back outside. He closed the door softly. \u201cWe don\u2019t want to catch him unawares,\u201d Ace said, then made a show of loud talk and letting the door bang shut before he got it open.<\/p>\n

\u201cHelp you folks?\u201d the deputy asked, sitting ramrod straight and taking off his hat.<\/p>\n

Ace stepped forward. \u201cWe\u2019re here to see Dimmert Whitt. This here\u2019s his wife, and I\u2019m his preacher.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVisits on Saturday mornings only,\u201d the deputy said.<\/p>\n

Cara couldn\u2019t hide her dismay\u2014to be so close and not see Dimm. She covered her mouth with her gloved hand as tears pooled in her eyes.<\/p>\n

The deputy jangled a large brass ring holding many keys. \u201cI reckon it won\u2019t hurt to make an exception.\u201d He stood and looked kindly at Cara. \u201cNow if we was full, I\u2019d have to turn you away, you understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir,\u201d Ace replied, his hat in his hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank ye, sir,\u201d Cara said.<\/p>\n

\u201cTurn your pockets inside out,\u201d the deputy instructed, \u201cand, ma\u2019am, you can hang your sack on the coatrack there.\u201d<\/p>\n

A key turned in a large black lock and a door swung open. \u201cThere\u2019s only the two cells,\u201d the deputy said. \u201cWhitt\u2019s in the last one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cara felt her heart break at the pitiful sight of Dimm clutching a set of steel bars as if he\u2019d fall to the floor without their support. She stood back a ways, not sure how close she was allowed to be.<\/p>\n

Ace pressed his hand to the middle of her back, urging her forward. With a nod he indicated the deputy standing with his back to them in the open doorway. \u201cTake advantage of small favors,\u201d Ace whispered in her ear.<\/p>\n

She leaned toward Dimmert and kissed his cheek through the open bars. \u201cDimmert, are they treating you well?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s tolerable,\u201d he answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cAce brought me to see your lawyer,\u201d Cara said. \u201cWe aim to get you out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dimm eyed his brother-in-law. \u201cYou plan on preaching a sermon whilst you\u2019ve got a captive audience?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFigured looking as good as a lawyer wouldn\u2019t hurt your case none,\u201d Ace said.<\/p>\n

The two men bantered while Cara looked around. The cell was small, probably twelve by twelve, with walls of mortared stone. It had four bunks hooked to the walls by chains and one open but barred window which Dimm could see out of if he stood on tiptoe. That window gave her great comfort.<\/p>\n

There was one other man in the cell rolled up in a khaki-colored Army blanket on one of the lower bunks.<\/p>\n

Dimmert saw her looking. \u201cThat there\u2019s Big Boy Randall,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re joshing.\u201d Ace stepped in for a closer look.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne and the same,\u201d Dimm said.<\/p>\n

Cara was aggravated with them\u2014acting like it was a source of pride to be locked up with such a notorious figure as Big Boy Randall.<\/p>\n

As if he read her thoughts, Big Boy Randall opened one eye and touched the tips of two fingers to the side of his forehead, saluting her with the small gesture.<\/p>\n

Her heart hammered with a trill of fear. Ace and Dimm were still jawing and didn\u2019t take notice. She swallowed and turned away from Big Boy\u2019s staring eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cHenry Thomas was supposed to meet us here,\u201d Ace said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t seen him but once the whole time I been in this hoosegow,\u201d Dimmert replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll go down to the office then,\u201d Ace said. \u201cI\u2019ll be just outside, Cara.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dimmert fixed her with a look of such longing she thought she couldn\u2019t stand it. \u201cCara-mine,\u201d he said, \u201cdo you miss me still?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly every second of every hour of every day.\u201d She would have kissed his cheek again except for Big Boy Randall\u2019s presence on the bunk behind.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s time, missus,\u201d the jailer said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll be back for you, Dimmert,\u201d Cara promised.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,34],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2107","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-historical"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2107"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2107"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2107\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2110,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2107\/revisions\/2110"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2107"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2107"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2107"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}