Hannah Grace by Sharlene MacLaren Read Free Book Online

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    Not only was Hannah Grace Kane mule-headed and saucy, but she was crazy, to boot.
    What would possess a woman of her caliber-for she did appear fashionable, if not somewhat privileged-to care about some little savage? Gabe kicked a stone out of his path as he made the turn off Water Street onto Third. Classic two-story houses lined both sides of the dirt-packed road, as did giant oaks and maples, the shade of which provided relief from the penetrating heat of the sun's afternoon rays. An old man rocking on his front porch lifted a grizzled hand to wave at Gabe. He returned the gesture but kept up his pace. Were he not in a rush, he would have stopped, but with only minutes to spare before his meeting with the judge, he continued on his way to the Kane residence.
    He found the two-story redbrick house numbered 210 at the top of a hill on the corner of Ridge and Third, its gaping front porch gracing the exterior; rocking chairs and wicker couches strewn from one end to the other made it a welcoming sight.

    He climbed the steps and knocked on the door, glancing in either direction as he waited for the sound of approaching footsteps. Several potted geraniums bedecked the porch, and he imagined that many a pleasant conversation took place there between people relaxing on rockers or wicker settees.
    The door opened as he raised his hand to knock again, and a woman who looked to be in her early sixties or perhaps midsixties greeted him. His first thought was that Hannah bore a strong resemblance to her-the creamy complexion, coiled hair, high cheekbones, and crystalline eyes.
    "Who's there, Grandmother?" A girl with hair the color of coal, pinned back with matching barrettes, emerged from the kitchen. Her brown eyes sparked with curiosity when she spotted him standing in the doorway. This must be Abbie Ann, Gabe surmised, at the same time recalling Kitty's words about how lovely the Kane sisters were. She'd get no argument from him.
    He extended a hand to the older woman. "Afternoon, ladies."
    "If you mean to sell us something, we don't need it, young man," said the matron, casually lifting a hand to press her silver hair in place.
    Not that she need have bothered. Every hair on her head was gathered neatly into a fancy knot at the nape of her neck, a pair of oval, wire-rimmed glasses hooked behind her ears. Wiping her hands on the yellow apron that covered her olivecolored cotton dress, she wrinkled her pert nose and sniffed. "Sakes alive, I've bought enough chicken and fish to last me through the winter, You wouldn't be trying to sell me more, would you?" She angled her head to peek past him as if to see where he'd stashed his goods. "I don't see your wagon."

    He laughed. "No, ma'am. I am not here to sell you anything." Hand still extended, he took a step closer. "I'm Gabriel Devlin, Sandy Shores' new sheriff."
    Throwing up her hands, she gasped. "Oh, my London stars!" Then, startled into action, she took his hand, gave it a hearty shake, and hauled him inside. "Abbie Ann, put on the teapot!" she ordered. Abbie turned abruptly. "I'm Helena Kane," the woman announced, still pumping his hand.
    "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am, but I can't stay." Abbie made a quick about-turn. "Thank you, though. I've stopped by with a message." He proceeded to tell them about the nameless, wordless boy and Hannah's dauntless decision to sit with him in a locked cell.
    "That's my granddaughter for you," Helena said in her pronounced English intonation. "She's unreservedly zealous about certain matters-always has been, ever since she was a little thing. Why, I recall the time a scraggly cat hobbled into our yard. My son told her to leave the thing be; could have had rabies, you know. But would she listen?"
    "Hope!" Abbie chimed. "She makes up her mind on a matter, and there's no stoppin' her. Take Huffy, for example."
    "Abigail Ann!" Helena interrupted, dropping her chin. Abbie looked duly reprimanded, straightening her shoulders and pinning