A Bride for Dry Creek by Janet Tronstad Read Free Book Online Page B

Harris.”
    â€œThe guy who called me the other night about the kidnapping?” Garth sounded suspicious.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œStill don’t know how you knew about it.”
    â€œBecause I’ve been freezing my toes off the past few nights following these guys around.” Flint jerked his head at the men on the floor. Flint could see the direction Garth was going with his questions and he didn’t appreciate it. “If I was one of them, don’t you think they’d at least recognize me?”
    Flint looked at the three men on the floor. They looked quarrelsome and pathetic. He didn’t appreciate being lumped in with them. But at least it was clear that none of them claimed to have ever seen him before now.
    â€œThey didn’t seem too clear about who their boss was,” Garth continued mildly. “Could be they wouldn’t recognize the man.”
    â€œI can’t tell you who their boss is, but he’s using a local informant,” Flint said in exasperation. “We’ve got that much figured out. And I’m not local.”
    â€œYou were local enough for my sister.”
    Ah, so it’s come to that, Flint thought. It seemed he’d never get a square break from an Elkton. “Let’s leave your sister out of it.”
    The mention of his sister made Garth scan the room. “Where is she, anyway? Thought she’d be back inside by now. I heard Jess was looking for her.”
    â€œShe was with me.” Flint resigned himself to his fate.
    â€œWith you? What was she doing with you?”
    â€œDon’t worry. She’ll be back here any minute now.”
    â€œShe better be or—” Garth seemed unaware that his voice was rising.
    â€œNow, now, boys.”
    Flint looked up. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. He grinned as he looked at the woman who had been his grandmother’s staunch friend in her final days. “Mrs. Hargrove! How are you?”
    Mrs. Hargrove had aged a little in the years since he’d seen her last. And she was wearing a long velvet maroon dress tonight instead of her usual cotton gingham housedress. But she held herself with the same innate dignity he always expected from her. “Doing just fine, thank you.”
    â€œYou know him?” Garth asked Mrs. Hargrove skeptically.
    â€œOf course,” the woman replied warmly. “Hewas in my Sunday school class for six months when he was here, and if he doesn’t get up off that floor and give me a hug pretty soon, I’m going to be mighty disappointed.”
    Flint felt less like an unwelcome dog just looking at the woman. He stood up and enfolded her in his arms.
    â€œI still miss that grandmother of yours,” Mrs. Hargrove whispered as she held him.
    â€œSo do I,” he whispered back.
    â€œIt comforts me to know she’s with our Lord,” she added and then leaned back to look Flint in the eye. “And I’m still working on her final request of me.”
    â€œOh?” This was something Flint had not heard about.
    â€œI pray for you every day, son,” Mrs. Hargrove said with satisfaction. “Just like she would be doing if she were alive.”
    Flint had faced bullets. But nothing had made him feel as vulnerable as those words did. In his astonishment, he mumbled the only thing he could think of. “Well, thank you.” To his further amazement, he meant it.
    â€œAnd here you’ve come back to us a hero.” Mrs. Hargrove stepped out of his arms and spoke loudly so that everyone could hear. “This is Essie Harris’s grandson, folks. Let’s give him a good welcome home.”
    With those words, Flint was transformed from the unwelcome stray into the prize guest. A murmur of approval ran through the folks of Dry Creek, and he heard more than one person mutter that it was about time.
    â€œHere, let me introduce you around,” Mrs. Hargrove said as she took Flint’s arm.