TULSA, OKLAHOMA
"Bessie," Zac whispered in quiet awe as he looked around them. "What's happening here?"
"This is what a community does," she answered softly. "A real community. A good one. They help others in need. They care for you."
Zac shook his head. "No. They care for Burt. And his store. And that's okay because that's what I care about, too."
"Mr. Hanson," one of the farmers addressed Zac as he bustled up to him. "I gathered some of the farmers and we rustled up some spare lumber. I think we have enough here. Where would you like us to start with it, sir?"
Zac looked at Bessie, dumbfounded. She merely beamed at him proudly. "For you," she repeated. Then she pecked his cheek and bounded into the store.
Outside the feed store, people came from everywhere. Word seemed to travel fast in Tulsa and, soon, the front lawn of Anderson's Feed and Seed was covered with men who brought everything they could spare: lumber, hammers, nails, paint, and even a couple of sawhorses to help with the heavy work. Amongst them, several men from the glass company walked around and measured every single structure that required glass.
On the inside, however, restoration wasn't happening so quickly. Bessie stood alone in the store, looking around at the overwhelming devastation. The mess in the floor from spilled merchandise was atrocious, covered in flour and meal and substances that came from glass jars and containers. Startled out of her silence, Taylor appeared in the doorway of the stock room, a pad of paper in his hand, and he looked at her and collapsed his shoulder against the woodwork, running his hand through his dark blonde hair. She had forgotten how handsome he was without his hat, the way his hair fell into his face and his blue eyes sparkled, despite the current despair that shone in them. She may have loved him only as a brother, but there was no denying his beauty.
"This is truly a disaster," he said to her. "At least half of the merchandise is destroyed. There isn't enough money to replace it all. Mr. Anderson will have to mark up the prices of what's left just to cover the cost."
"Well--but that's okay," Bessie replied with hope. "People love Mr. Anderson, they'll pay the extra--"
Taylor shook his head with remorse. "Except that people don't have it to pay, Bess. If the prices go up, they'll start finding ways to make do without it until the prices go down again. Times are hard right now, you know that. There isn't hardly any money anywhere and--and, well, they're real lucky that all these guys are willing to volunteer and help because they couldn't afford the repairs otherwise. And the cost of the replacement of all this glass? He won't be able to afford to keep Zac. He'll hardly be able to afford to pay himself."
"They? You said 'they' wouldn't be able to afford the repairs--"
"Well, yeah. As of today, Zac still works here."
Bessie's eyes widened. "As of...today?"
"I told you, he can't afford to keep him."
"But--but Zac loves Mr. Anderson, he loves the store, he--why, he'd work here for free, I know he would, he--oh, Taylor...is Mr. Anderson going to lose the store?"
Taylor shook his head. "I doubt it. But he'll struggle for awhile."
Bessie was heartbroken. Burt was old and he was alone and this store was his only means of getting by. "Tay," she whispered. "We can't let this store suffer."
"I know," he answered solemnly. "We're all helping as best we can."
She stood there and she looked around once more, her heart racing with fear. "I'm going to start cleaning up this mess. Maybe, then, you can get a better look at what's left."
"That would be a huge help," he smiled.
Getting her hands on a broom, Bessie set herself right to work. Mr. Anderson was going to keep this store. He was going to keep it and he was going to get his merchandise replaced and the store was going to be profitable and he would have nothing to worry about. He'd live out the rest of his days in the overwhelming success of his store, with Zac diligently by his side, and Bessie was bound and determined to make that happen with each stroke of her broom across the wooden floor. Taylor was right. The store might struggle a little, but it would recover, better than ever.
Lost in her thoughts, Bessie was caught off guard with the sound of footsteps in the doorway of the store. Looking up, she was elated at the sight of her mother, Margaret Connors, Judith, and Millie. Stopping, Bessie's face brightened as she gripped her broom handle. "Mama! Thank goodness you're here, we have to get this mess cleaned up quickly!"
Her mother looked around the store, her eyes full of bewilderment. "This is, um...quite the mess..."
"I know, it's horrible! And I need your help, all of you."
Her mother's eyes met hers and a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Bessie, sweetheart. Um, I'm not exactly dressed for a, um...mess of this magnitude. I think maybe my services would be better served in the kitchen...preparing sandwiches for all of these hardworking gentlemen. Don't you agree? Your help would be much appreciated."
Bessie couldn't believe her ears. Looking around at the mess that still surrounded her, she knew she couldn't leave and she was surprised that her mother wasn't willing to stay and help. After all, she religiously bought her jam right off of these very shelves. Straightening her spine and lifting her chin, she said to her mother, "No, Mother. I'm staying right here. My beau is in distress today and he needs me. So I'm going to sweep--even if I have to sweep this entire place all by myself. Even if it takes me all day and all night with no breaks--I'm going to sweep. Because I love him. And if it were Daddy, you would be here sweeping, too, instead of going home to make sandwiches."
Her mother's eyes widened in offense at her daughter's words. "First of all, young lady, do not take that tone with me. And do not stand there and accuse my duties of being less important than yours. These fine gentlemen out here deserve to be taken care of just as much as they've volunteered to clean this place up out of the kindness of their hearts. The least I can do is gather the ladies and bring them some lunch. Now I understand that you're feeling a little pressure today--I'm sure everyone is--so I'm going to choose to believe that you didn't mean to insult me the way you did. But next time you find yourself with a cause to stand up for, make sure you think before you speak."
Bessie was ashamed of herself. She hadn't meant to insult anyone, especially not her mother. She just wanted to help Zac. Hanging her head in shame, her eyes fell and she replied quietly, "Yes, ma'am."
As the women turned and made their way back out the door, she heard Margaret Connors murmur to her mother, "Be easy on her, Cathy. She is right. You would do the same thing if it were Jim."
Staying behind and approaching Bessie, Judith approached her with her hands shyly behind her back. "Well, I want to stay and help. You sure can't clean up this mess by yourself. And, you know, since your beau is my beau's brother..."
Bessie smiled at Judith, grateful. "Thank you for staying, Judith. You really don't have to--"
"Well, somebody has to keep you from walking out the door and seeing Zac at the top of that very high, very wobbly ladder out there."
The blood drained from Bessie's face in an instant. "What?"
"Oh, you ladies are a godsend!" Taylor's voice suddenly came from behind them as Bessie's heart continued to pound with worry. "I'm going crazy with this mess, I'm starting to lose my mind. Tell me, what can I do to speed this process along?"
Bessie's eyes hardened as she gripped her broom handle so tightly she thought her knuckles would turn white. She extended her arm and deliberately pointed toward the door. "Go look after Zac," she demanded.
Taylor's gaze went the length of her arm and stopped at the end, his eyes growing alarmingly large. Following his eyes to the doorway, Bessie's voice caught in her throat. "Mr. Anderson," she breathed.
The old man looked through his bifocals at the three youths, one-by-one, before his eyes finally settled on Bessie. "Where's Zachary?"
___________________________________________________________________
Burt Anderson made it home a day earlier than he had intended. His brother was out of the hospital, the surgery having gone well, but there was nothing more the doctors could do for him. It was cancer. And all Burt could do for his brother was make sure he was comfortable. Bringing him back to Tulsa with him wasn't an option--his brother refused to budge from his home and Burt had no choice but to arrange for a nurse from the hospital to care for him.
He set out early Monday morning on a journey that lasted painfully longer than it was supposed to. Twice he had to stop and fuel up and then he had to stop and change a tire in the dead heat of the hot, summer sun. By the time he drove into Tulsa, the old man was exhausted, but he wanted to stop by the feed store and let Zac know how much he appreciated him for taking care of things. He never thought, in a million years, that he'd drive up on the disaster that was the front lawn of his store.
A good percentage of Tulsa's men were milling around the yard and the store, hammering, sawing, painting...everyone was so busy with this task or the other that nobody noticed the store owner as he made his way through the maze of citizens to get up to the front door. Stepping through the hollowed-out door frame, he got a look at the inside of the store, which was just as much of a disaster--if not worse--than the outside. It was gone. All of it. Shelves, glass, merchandise...all of his life's hard work just...gone.
Finally, his eyes landed on the store's current inhabitants: Taylor Hanson, Judith Carter, and Bessie Harlow. The three of them looked back at him through bewildered eyes. "Where's Zachary?" He asked.
"Mr. Anderson," Bessie breathed. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."
"Yes, well. I made it home a day early. Where's Zachary?"
She replied with a desperate attempt to reason with him, "Mr. Anderson, he had nothing to do with this, I swear--"
"Where is he?"
"We found the store like this when my brother and I brought Zac to work this morning," Taylor offered. "It looks like it was vandals, we're doing everything we can to make it right--"
"Where is Zachary?" Burt pressed.
Finally Judith nodded her blonde head toward the door past Burt. "He's outside."
Walking back out the empty doorway, Burt stood on the store's front porch and surveyed his surroundings, looking for Zac.
"Mr. Anderson," Judge Harlow's voice rang out seemingly out of nowhere. "You're early. How was your trip?"
"Hell," Burt deadpanned, squinting up at the tall judge. "My only brother is dying of cancer and the only other thing I have left is barely in existence. Can't even come home and catch relief."
"I am so sorry about this tragedy that has happened to your store," the judge replied. "But it's--it's amazing the way Tulsa seems to have come together just to help put things back together. Quite frankly, I've never seen anything like it. You're a beloved figure in our community, Mr. Anderson--both you and your store. Nobody wants to see it suffer like this. These people, they just...came together. Without even being asked, it's quite remarkable. And you can rest assured, everything is being done to catch whoever did this. And they will be caught."
Burt continued to squint up at the judge through his thick bifocals. "It was, uh, vandals, they say?"
"Appears that way. To be honest, I've seen some petty crimes in my time--even my fair share of vandalism. But I couldn't imagine who would want to target your store. It's mind-boggling."
"That, it is," Burt replied nonchalantly as he took another look around himself and the judge. Finally, he asked the judge, "Where's Zachary?"
The judge nodded upward behind Burt. "Right up there, putting the finishing touches on your sign, there."
"Okay, boys!" Zac's voice rang out from above Burt's head. "I think she'll do! I'm coming down!"
At the bottom of the ladder, two men held the unstable structure in place as his young apprentice made his descent. Midway down, watching out for his own footing, Zac looked down and locked eyes with Burt, his brown eyes widening with shock. "Burt. I, um, I wasn't expect--"
"Yeah, yeah, you weren't expecting me till tomorrow. It's all I keep hearing. Now get down here, boy. And be careful. You're no good to me broken."
Zac made the rest of his way down and planted his feet on the hardwood in front of Burt, his expression filled with guilt. "Burt. I am so sorry--"
"Walk with me, boy," Burt said, gripping the young man's strong shoulder and leading him off the front porch.
Making their way along the side of the building, they were stopped several times by men who expressed their condolences regarding the store. Zac stayed silent, letting Burt handle the talking and, after several more stops and a slow, deliberate walk around the building, the two men finally found themselves alone.
"Burt, I--I'm so sorry. I just--I don't know what to say..."
"You ain't gotta say anything, son. I know it wasn't you. I just--never thought something like this would ever happen."
"I just wanted you to trust me. I wanted you to be able to leave town and tend to your brother and not have to worry about anything happening back home. By the way, how's your brother?"
"He ain't gonna get better. Right now it's just hurry up and wait." Then Burt turned and looked at Zac. "I'll have to go out of town again. Soon, I'm sure."
"I understand if you don't want me to watch the store again. It won't hurt my feelings if you think I can't handle it. But I just want you to know that I will never let this happen again. Never. I will sleep here, I will live here, I won't let anything harm this store--"
"That won't be necessary. If somebody's gonna do something, they're gonna do it, don't matter if you're sleeping here or not. And anyway, that's no way to live. At some point, you gotta go home. You finish out your workday, you go home and rest."
"Well, you see what going home and resting got me."
Burt sighed and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, looking back up toward the store. "This old store's been through it, I'll tell you. Been in my family my entire life and before that. Survived weather and economy and seen all sorts of people come and go. Went through a tornado once. Did you know that?"
"Uh, no, sir. I had no idea."
"Yep. Happened the year my wife left the earth. Worst year of my life, that year. When it rained, it poured. Tornado was so bad, we had to rebuild the entire store from scratch. I thought the business would never recover after that, but we did. Stronger than ever. Tulsa's a good community and you--well, you're moving mountains out here, boy. Did you know that?"
Zac blushed, running a hand through his hair, sweeping away the stray strands that escaped his ponytail. "Well, I don't know if I'd say that. I don't think it's me, I think it has everything to do with you and the store--"
"How many of those men out there have asked me what I wanted since I got here today? How many of them are coming to you? Asking you what you want done, asking you where you want things, respecting you? People like you around here, boy. And, uh...well, maybe so do I. Maybe, uh, maybe I even care a little. I ain't got no family around here, son. You know that. And I've come to look at you like you're my own boy. And I trust you. I know you wouldn't have let anything happen to that store if you could help it."
"But it was my responsibility, Burt. I should have been here, I should have prevented it--"
"Sometimes things happen and we can't help them. Gotta admit, through all the years this store has been around, never has it seen any disrespect like this. But you couldn't help that it happened, either. It's just the luck of the draw. Only thing we can do now is fix it and move on."
"We're going to fix it," Zac said, determined. "We're going to fix it and we're going to make this right--I'm going to make this right. And I'll work for free for however long it takes. I'll volunteer, I'll be here every single day, morning, noon, and night, I swear to you--"
"No need to go to extremes, son. Everything will work itself out. Ain't nowhere to go but up. That's what my wife used to say, anyway." Burt looked up at the loading dock of the store and he let out a sigh, recalling the memory of his wife. "This was her store, you know. Not technically her store, but when we got married, she made it hers. It used to be called Anderson's Feed Store. That was its name since the beginning of time. But that woman--well, when she got an idea in her mind, there was no stopping her."
"You still miss her, don't you?"
"Every single day, just like I saw her yesterday. She's been gone forty-five years now, but that store is just as spirited as the day she named it. I'll never forget it. We were closing up shop one day and the sky looked mighty mean. And I looked out the door and I said, 'Edith, have you lost your mind? Get in here before that lightening gets you.' And she stood there, just staring up at that sign above the door, just thinking. And finally she says, 'Pumpkin--'" Burt paused to smile. "Because she always called me Pumpkin. She said, 'Pumpkin. What if we changed the name of the store?' And I asked her what in tarnation had made her think of that and she said, 'Well, Anderson's Feed Store is just such a drab name. We sell feed and we sell seed now...why not just call it Anderson's Feed and Seed?' I thought the idea was silly, but the excitement in her eyes...well, I just didn't have the heart to tell her no. So I let her have her way and here we are." Burt stopped and he shook his head. "You're right, I do miss her. Miss her like the dickens. I loved that woman more than anything else in this world. And she loved me...I tell you, she loved me something fierce. I was a stubborn, hardheaded bastard, but she saw right through all that and she loved me just the same. If I never teach you anything else, Zachary, don't you ever take the woman you love for granted. You never know how long you have with her. I only had Edith for a short while, but I suppose God decided that the love we had for each other was enough to last me a lifetime. And he was right. So now it's just me and the store. This store's my life. It's all I have left of her."
As if on cue, a girl's voice rang out from the store's loading dock above them. "Mr. Anderson!"
The two men looked up to catch Bessie Harlow descending the loading dock and bounding down the hill toward them. She halted to a stop in front of Burt and clutched one of his old, tired hands between both of her own. "Oh, Mr. Anderson, please don't fire Zac! He didn't do it, I promise. He had nothing to do with it, nothing at all. He loves you and he loves the store and he would never do anything to hurt you. I know he didn't do it because I was with him last night--all night, but don't tell my father because he doesn't know. But, Mr. Anderson, I swear it, I swear on--on--on the Bible that he didn't do it! Please."
"Bessie, baby," Zac said sweetly with a smile, the backs of his fingers brushing her cheek as he swept her hair away from her face. "It's okay. Say, why don't you go and fetch Mr. Anderson and I some water? It's awfully hot out here..."
Her eyes widened and she nodded at him enthusiastically, dropping Burt's hand in the process. "Okay! I'll be right back in a jiffy!" And with that, she took off in the direction that she came from.
The two men watched as she made her way back inside the building and Burt shook his head. "There's nothing quite like the love of a good woman. You make sure you keep that one. She'd walk barefoot through fire for you."
Smiling, Zac nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I think you might be right." The two men were silent for a moment before Zac spoke again. "So, uh, how are you so sure it wasn't me?"
Burt looked at Zac and raised his eyebrows. "Should I suspect you?"
"Well, no, I just--you know...I was left in charge of the store. You leave town, store gets vandalized..."
"With all due respect, boy, I just can't see you drawing muddy peckers on the side of my building."
Zac's eyes widened and he fought to stifle a laugh. "Did you say muddy peckers?"
Burt nodded toward the side of the building they'd just walked around. "Passed it on the way back here. Surprised you didn't catch it."
"I'm not exactly keeping my eye open for peckers, sir."
Burt chuckled a healthy chuckle, amused by the young man's humor. "Fair enough. Anyway, I've seen enough peckers drawn on the side of my building to know where it came from. I can tell it ain't getting much bigger with age, that's for sure."
Zac smiled and shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. "Man, it is hot out here, isn't it?"
"Come on," Burt said, patting Zac on the back. "Let's see what's keeping that little lady of yours with that water."
Walking with Zac back up to the store, Burt felt something in his chest he hadn't felt in quite some time. He cared about Zac and he'd let him know that. But perhaps he cared about Zac a little more than he'd said he did. Zac was a good boy. He was loyal and he was trustworthy and he was great company. Burt had never had a grandson before--or even a son, for that matter. And Zac didn't have a pap anymore. Maybe, Burt decided, Zac was meant to walk into his store and ask for work. Maybe Burt was meant to have work available for him. Maybe Burt and Zac were meant to be in each other's lives. He sure knew Zac had made a difference in his. If he made a difference in Zac's, then maybe his work would be done. Maybe that was why he'd been allowed to be on this earth for so long, separated from his true love for forty-five years. God had a purpose for him, that much he knew.
But what purpose did God have for allowing this disaster to happen to his store?
__________________________________________________________________
Zac wanted to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He thought he was going to die of a heart attack upon sight of Burt at the bottom of the ladder. At that, he was wishing he would just fall off of it. He'd never been more scared in his life than when Burt suggested they take a walk. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was disappoint the old man--he respected him too much. But, alas, the weight was still there, given the fact that the store was in the condition it was in in the first place. Burt had alluded to the fact that he knew who did it and Zac was dying to know what his theory was--especially given the fact that he was in Oklahoma City when it happened. He wanted to know if Burt's theory matched his own. And he was pretty sure it did.
The two men entered the front of the store to the hustle and bustle of cleaning. Upon their arrival, the store grew eerily silent and several pairs of bewildered eyes looked directly at Zac. This reaction immediately caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. "Where's Bessie?"
Judith cleared her throat and pointed. "Um, she's in the ice box."
Turning around and peering through the doorway of the stock room, the sight he was met with caused the urge of violence to rise within him like a wildfire. All he could see was Bessie's back end, as her entire torso was bent completely over and inside the ice chest. Standing next to her, leaning against it on his hand, his free hand in his pants pocket, was Billy Connors, smiling down into the box in amusement. "I already told you, that ice ain't gonna let up. Why don't you let me take a crack at it, I'm stronger than you."
"I almost have it," Bessie's voice came out strained and muffled. "I have to get ice, it's hot outside!"
Beside him, Zac felt a presence as a hand closed firmly around his arm. "He isn't doing anything wrong," Taylor said quietly.
"What is he even doing here?" Zac spat through his teeth. "He's got a lot of balls showing his face around here."
"Zac, he wants to help. And we need all the hands we can get right now."
"Help, my ass! He's the one who's responsible for all this in the first place!"
"You know you can't prove that."
"Call it a hunch."
"Hunch won't get you anywhere."
"I don't want him around Bessie," Zac said quietly. "I don't trust him, I don't like him--"
"Except this isn't about you today. It's about the store. Just give it a rest just this one day."
Interrupting their conversation, Billy turned his head and caught Zac's eye. Straightening up, he now shoved both his hands in his pockets and turned his head toward Bessie. "You know, I think you almost got it, there. I think I'm gonna head outside and see what else I can do to help."
"Okay!" Bessie called brightly. "Just don't work too hard with that injury!"
At this, Billy looked Zac hard in the eyes, returning his glare. "Right," he muttered. Then he walked out of the stock room, shoving past Zac, and making his way out of the store. Zac's knuckles ached with the burning need to feel Billy's bones against them.
Interrupting his thoughts, Bessie popped up from the ice chest and turned around, her face red from cold and struggle. "Zac! I promise I didn't mean to take so long. But it's so hot outside and I wanted the water to be extra cold for you and the ice was all frozen together, and--"
The animosity he had just been feeling for Billy, along with his own heart, suddenly melted away. Sweet Bessie Harlow. So pure and so good--and Zac so completely undeserving of her. He should have helped Bessie. He shouldn't have used all his energy to hate Billy while she was struggling to do something for Zac. That was wrong of him. No man should ever watch a woman struggle and not step in to help her out. "It's okay, sweet girl," he said gently. "The water would have been perfect without the ice, just because you fixed it."
Bessie beamed at him proudly and his knees turned completely into jelly. He would never get used to her. His heart would never stop palpitating, his hands would never stop sweating, and his breathing would never be normal. Burt was right, there was nothing quite like the love of a good woman. And there was nothing like loving one, either.
Zac was shaken out of the trance of Bessie's smile when several men suddenly walked through the glassless door and into the store. A couple of deputies, followed by Judge Harlow and District Attorney Connors, stood before them and, once again, Zac's hair stood on end. He'd already gotten one Connors out of his hair. Now here was another one.
He glanced to his right, over at Burt, who had been engrossed in some paperwork with Taylor behind the counter. Burt looked up through his bifocals at the men, as the store silenced once again at their presence.
"Well, Burt," Stanley Connors's boisterous voice bellowed a little too cheerfully through the store. "Quite a tragedy you got on your hands here, huh? Must be devastating to come home to find your life's work all to pieces like this."
"Well it ain't fun," Burt replied flatly.
"I imagine it ain't. Ain't nothing less fun than leaving your life in someone else's hands and finding it ruined as a result of that decision. Never know who you can trust these days, do you?"
"You got that right," Burt murmured. "Sure don't know who you can trust."
"I mean, I'd be raving mad if it were me. If I hired a boy, trusted him with my store...then came home to find--"
Suddenly, Burt's hand came down on the counter. "How dare you walk into my store and imply that my boy had anything to do with this!"
Stanley scoffed an incredulous laugh. "Your boy? Do you even know who you're--?"
"Yes," Burt spat. "My boy. Him and his brothers. All three of them, my boys. Good boys, the lot of them, ain't never hurt anybody. Not like your boys, who walk around this town acting like they own the place and picking on innocent young girls and their beaus. Bullying my boy for no good reason but to just be bullies!"
Zac didn't have time to pay attention to the warmth that his heart felt at the fact that Burt had claimed both him and his brothers as his own. Now he was too busy paying attention to how red Stanley Connors's face suddenly grew with rage. "Are you implying that my boy and his chums did this? You've lost your marbles, old man!"
"I ain't implying nothing 'cept for what I know. I never said your boys or any of his chums are the ones who did it, did I? I ain't said a name, one! And, for the first time, Lord forgive me, I ain't suspecting that group of meat heads, neither."
Zac's own saliva caught in his throat and he found it hard to swallow. What the hell did he mean, he didn't suspect Billy? This job had Billy Connors and his cronies written all over it! Did Burt know something that everyone else didn't know?
"Mr. Anderson," one of the deputies said. "Are you saying you know who did this?"
" 'Course I know who did it," Burt said with confidence. "Little idiot left his mark. Drew a pecker in the mud on the side of my building. And ain't no normal, self-respecting man gonna stand around drawing peckers just for fun. You know what kinda man draws peckers just for fun, don't you?"
Zac was completely flabbergasted. And he thought he might have to scrape Bessie's jaw right off the floor. Surely...surely Burt didn't think...
"Sir, are you saying that--?"
Burt cut the deputy off. "Yeah. Only person who hasn't shown his face here today. Joey Martin, naturally. The whole time he worked here as a boy, I'd catch him drawing peckers with mud on the side of my building while he and the Connors boy stood back and laughed at it instead of loading feed into trucks and wagons like they were supposed to be doing."
Zac's heart fell right out of his chest and, beside him, Bessie gasped in shock. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
"Zac," Bessie whispered. "Joey didn't do it."
"I think it would be better if we just stayed out of it," Zac whispered back.
"But, Zac," she objected, her voice growing louder. "You know he didn't do it. This isn't right!"
"Bessie," Judge Harlow said, the mere sound of his voice causing Zac's heart to race with fear. "Do you know something that you need to share with the deputies?"
"Yes," she replied confidently. "I know that Joey Martin didn't do it. And I know this because I was with him last night."
Zac's palms started to sweat--and not in the good way they did whenever Bessie smiled at him or was just basically otherwise in his presence. His palms were sweating because Bessie was honest--sometimes too honest. And she was the kind of person who would stop at nothing to defend the honor of those she cared about--including jeopardizing her own freedom--and potentially her relationship with Zac.
The judge looked at his daughter, confused. "But I thought he was with Millie last night?"
"He was," she replied. "And Millie was with us, too."
"Bessie," the judge said carefully. "Who is 'us?'"
Suddenly, her eyes darted around the room. "Bessie," Zac warned. She was saying too much already and he was quickly losing the moral battle within himself. The more she spoke, the more he didn't care if they threw Joey under the wagon or not. If the judge found out where Bessie really was last night, Zac was a dead man and he would never see Bessie again. He couldn't risk that.
Finally, she slipped her hand into Zac's and laced her fingers firmly in his. She lifted her chin and she straightened her posture, mustering up as much confidence as she could muster. "All of us," she replied. "Everyone in this room. Me, Zac, Isaac, Taylor, Judith, Millie...and Joey. We were all together, all night long. Because we're all adults and we were having a get-together. We were responsible and we were safe and none of us were off anywhere doing anything wrong. In fact, none of us were even remotely close to the feed store. So it's impossible that Joey could have done it--especially since he didn't even drive himself."
Zac was ready to fall into the floor. He was ready to crawl straight over to Judge Harlow and shamelessly beg him for forgiveness. To plead with him not to take Bessie away from him. To apologize and grovel at his mercy and completely sacrifice his dignity to do anything and everything the judge wanted just to be able to keep Bessie.
As the judge looked around at all the named parties, Zac knew it was over. His relationship, his life, everything. All of it. It was as if he had "I, Zac Hanson, got your daughter drunk and stoned and allowed her to strip nude and have her way with me in a travel trailer in the gypsy camp. Because I love her." Yeah, right. Love wouldn't even factor for Judge Harlow. The word wouldn't even be in his vocabulary.
"Miss Harlow," the deputy said. "So you're saying that Mr. Martin wasn't out of your sight for the entirety of the night?"
"Well..." she said in thought. Zac couldn't help himself when he squeezed her hand. He silently pleaded with her to please shut her mouth. Please say no more. "The only time I didn't see him was when we were leaving the camp in the morning. But to be fair, I didn't see Millie, either, and she's the one who drove him."
The judge's eyes widened and his face began to turn an unfavorable shade of red. "Camp?"
Well, there it was. Zac was a dead man. He hoped Isaac would do a good job delivering his eulogy.
"Can Mr. Martin corroborate your story, Miss Harlow?" The deputy asked.
"Yes, sir," she nodded confidently.
"Well, then," the deputy said, looking around the room. "Looks like we need to have a word with Miss Jennings and then go and find Mr. Martin. Thank you, Miss Harlow, you've been a big help."
"You're welcome," she said earnestly. "Joey didn't do it, I promise."
As the deputies made their way out of the store, the judge approached the couple. Bessie tightened her hand in Zac's as if to prepare to face her father. In fact, her mouth famously unable to stop moving today, she spoke first. "Daddy, it's true. I was with Zac last night. And he kept me safe and nobody got into any trouble."
Judge Harlow blinked his eyes at the two of them, visibly swallowing so that he could speak. "One time," he said firmly. "This one time, I am not going to ask any more questions, because I am sure I do not want to know anymore details. The both of you are treading on thin ice, however. But we have bigger things to worry about right now, without your...apparent and sinful indiscretions distracting me and raising my blood pressure. I'll just remind you, Zac, that this is my eighteen-year-old daughter that you've chosen to latch onto and, Beatrice, you still live under my roof. If I have to hear any more stories like this one, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Zac spat, standing at attention. "Absolutely, sir. Thank you, sir."
The judge furrowed his brow, confused. "Thank you? For what?"
But the subject had found itself defunct. "So, that's it?" Stanley Connors boomed all of a sudden. "That's it, that's--we're saying Joey Martin didn't do it? That's preposterous!"
The judge turned around to face the district attorney. "If the evidence says he didn't do it, then he didn't do it."
"Well, he had to do it!" Stanley objected frantically. "There are no other options. If he didn't do it, then who did?"
Zac found himself glaring around the room. He knew who did it. He just couldn't prove it. There was only one other person who had suddenly made himself scarce that day besides Joey Martin--and that was Billy Connors.
"Bessie," Zac whispered in quiet awe as he looked around them. "What's happening here?"
"This is what a community does," she answered softly. "A real community. A good one. They help others in need. They care for you."
Zac shook his head. "No. They care for Burt. And his store. And that's okay because that's what I care about, too."
"Mr. Hanson," one of the farmers addressed Zac as he bustled up to him. "I gathered some of the farmers and we rustled up some spare lumber. I think we have enough here. Where would you like us to start with it, sir?"
Zac looked at Bessie, dumbfounded. She merely beamed at him proudly. "For you," she repeated. Then she pecked his cheek and bounded into the store.
Outside the feed store, people came from everywhere. Word seemed to travel fast in Tulsa and, soon, the front lawn of Anderson's Feed and Seed was covered with men who brought everything they could spare: lumber, hammers, nails, paint, and even a couple of sawhorses to help with the heavy work. Amongst them, several men from the glass company walked around and measured every single structure that required glass.
On the inside, however, restoration wasn't happening so quickly. Bessie stood alone in the store, looking around at the overwhelming devastation. The mess in the floor from spilled merchandise was atrocious, covered in flour and meal and substances that came from glass jars and containers. Startled out of her silence, Taylor appeared in the doorway of the stock room, a pad of paper in his hand, and he looked at her and collapsed his shoulder against the woodwork, running his hand through his dark blonde hair. She had forgotten how handsome he was without his hat, the way his hair fell into his face and his blue eyes sparkled, despite the current despair that shone in them. She may have loved him only as a brother, but there was no denying his beauty.
"This is truly a disaster," he said to her. "At least half of the merchandise is destroyed. There isn't enough money to replace it all. Mr. Anderson will have to mark up the prices of what's left just to cover the cost."
"Well--but that's okay," Bessie replied with hope. "People love Mr. Anderson, they'll pay the extra--"
Taylor shook his head with remorse. "Except that people don't have it to pay, Bess. If the prices go up, they'll start finding ways to make do without it until the prices go down again. Times are hard right now, you know that. There isn't hardly any money anywhere and--and, well, they're real lucky that all these guys are willing to volunteer and help because they couldn't afford the repairs otherwise. And the cost of the replacement of all this glass? He won't be able to afford to keep Zac. He'll hardly be able to afford to pay himself."
"They? You said 'they' wouldn't be able to afford the repairs--"
"Well, yeah. As of today, Zac still works here."
Bessie's eyes widened. "As of...today?"
"I told you, he can't afford to keep him."
"But--but Zac loves Mr. Anderson, he loves the store, he--why, he'd work here for free, I know he would, he--oh, Taylor...is Mr. Anderson going to lose the store?"
Taylor shook his head. "I doubt it. But he'll struggle for awhile."
Bessie was heartbroken. Burt was old and he was alone and this store was his only means of getting by. "Tay," she whispered. "We can't let this store suffer."
"I know," he answered solemnly. "We're all helping as best we can."
She stood there and she looked around once more, her heart racing with fear. "I'm going to start cleaning up this mess. Maybe, then, you can get a better look at what's left."
"That would be a huge help," he smiled.
Getting her hands on a broom, Bessie set herself right to work. Mr. Anderson was going to keep this store. He was going to keep it and he was going to get his merchandise replaced and the store was going to be profitable and he would have nothing to worry about. He'd live out the rest of his days in the overwhelming success of his store, with Zac diligently by his side, and Bessie was bound and determined to make that happen with each stroke of her broom across the wooden floor. Taylor was right. The store might struggle a little, but it would recover, better than ever.
Lost in her thoughts, Bessie was caught off guard with the sound of footsteps in the doorway of the store. Looking up, she was elated at the sight of her mother, Margaret Connors, Judith, and Millie. Stopping, Bessie's face brightened as she gripped her broom handle. "Mama! Thank goodness you're here, we have to get this mess cleaned up quickly!"
Her mother looked around the store, her eyes full of bewilderment. "This is, um...quite the mess..."
"I know, it's horrible! And I need your help, all of you."
Her mother's eyes met hers and a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Bessie, sweetheart. Um, I'm not exactly dressed for a, um...mess of this magnitude. I think maybe my services would be better served in the kitchen...preparing sandwiches for all of these hardworking gentlemen. Don't you agree? Your help would be much appreciated."
Bessie couldn't believe her ears. Looking around at the mess that still surrounded her, she knew she couldn't leave and she was surprised that her mother wasn't willing to stay and help. After all, she religiously bought her jam right off of these very shelves. Straightening her spine and lifting her chin, she said to her mother, "No, Mother. I'm staying right here. My beau is in distress today and he needs me. So I'm going to sweep--even if I have to sweep this entire place all by myself. Even if it takes me all day and all night with no breaks--I'm going to sweep. Because I love him. And if it were Daddy, you would be here sweeping, too, instead of going home to make sandwiches."
Her mother's eyes widened in offense at her daughter's words. "First of all, young lady, do not take that tone with me. And do not stand there and accuse my duties of being less important than yours. These fine gentlemen out here deserve to be taken care of just as much as they've volunteered to clean this place up out of the kindness of their hearts. The least I can do is gather the ladies and bring them some lunch. Now I understand that you're feeling a little pressure today--I'm sure everyone is--so I'm going to choose to believe that you didn't mean to insult me the way you did. But next time you find yourself with a cause to stand up for, make sure you think before you speak."
Bessie was ashamed of herself. She hadn't meant to insult anyone, especially not her mother. She just wanted to help Zac. Hanging her head in shame, her eyes fell and she replied quietly, "Yes, ma'am."
As the women turned and made their way back out the door, she heard Margaret Connors murmur to her mother, "Be easy on her, Cathy. She is right. You would do the same thing if it were Jim."
Staying behind and approaching Bessie, Judith approached her with her hands shyly behind her back. "Well, I want to stay and help. You sure can't clean up this mess by yourself. And, you know, since your beau is my beau's brother..."
Bessie smiled at Judith, grateful. "Thank you for staying, Judith. You really don't have to--"
"Well, somebody has to keep you from walking out the door and seeing Zac at the top of that very high, very wobbly ladder out there."
The blood drained from Bessie's face in an instant. "What?"
"Oh, you ladies are a godsend!" Taylor's voice suddenly came from behind them as Bessie's heart continued to pound with worry. "I'm going crazy with this mess, I'm starting to lose my mind. Tell me, what can I do to speed this process along?"
Bessie's eyes hardened as she gripped her broom handle so tightly she thought her knuckles would turn white. She extended her arm and deliberately pointed toward the door. "Go look after Zac," she demanded.
Taylor's gaze went the length of her arm and stopped at the end, his eyes growing alarmingly large. Following his eyes to the doorway, Bessie's voice caught in her throat. "Mr. Anderson," she breathed.
The old man looked through his bifocals at the three youths, one-by-one, before his eyes finally settled on Bessie. "Where's Zachary?"
___________________________________________________________________
Burt Anderson made it home a day earlier than he had intended. His brother was out of the hospital, the surgery having gone well, but there was nothing more the doctors could do for him. It was cancer. And all Burt could do for his brother was make sure he was comfortable. Bringing him back to Tulsa with him wasn't an option--his brother refused to budge from his home and Burt had no choice but to arrange for a nurse from the hospital to care for him.
He set out early Monday morning on a journey that lasted painfully longer than it was supposed to. Twice he had to stop and fuel up and then he had to stop and change a tire in the dead heat of the hot, summer sun. By the time he drove into Tulsa, the old man was exhausted, but he wanted to stop by the feed store and let Zac know how much he appreciated him for taking care of things. He never thought, in a million years, that he'd drive up on the disaster that was the front lawn of his store.
A good percentage of Tulsa's men were milling around the yard and the store, hammering, sawing, painting...everyone was so busy with this task or the other that nobody noticed the store owner as he made his way through the maze of citizens to get up to the front door. Stepping through the hollowed-out door frame, he got a look at the inside of the store, which was just as much of a disaster--if not worse--than the outside. It was gone. All of it. Shelves, glass, merchandise...all of his life's hard work just...gone.
Finally, his eyes landed on the store's current inhabitants: Taylor Hanson, Judith Carter, and Bessie Harlow. The three of them looked back at him through bewildered eyes. "Where's Zachary?" He asked.
"Mr. Anderson," Bessie breathed. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."
"Yes, well. I made it home a day early. Where's Zachary?"
She replied with a desperate attempt to reason with him, "Mr. Anderson, he had nothing to do with this, I swear--"
"Where is he?"
"We found the store like this when my brother and I brought Zac to work this morning," Taylor offered. "It looks like it was vandals, we're doing everything we can to make it right--"
"Where is Zachary?" Burt pressed.
Finally Judith nodded her blonde head toward the door past Burt. "He's outside."
Walking back out the empty doorway, Burt stood on the store's front porch and surveyed his surroundings, looking for Zac.
"Mr. Anderson," Judge Harlow's voice rang out seemingly out of nowhere. "You're early. How was your trip?"
"Hell," Burt deadpanned, squinting up at the tall judge. "My only brother is dying of cancer and the only other thing I have left is barely in existence. Can't even come home and catch relief."
"I am so sorry about this tragedy that has happened to your store," the judge replied. "But it's--it's amazing the way Tulsa seems to have come together just to help put things back together. Quite frankly, I've never seen anything like it. You're a beloved figure in our community, Mr. Anderson--both you and your store. Nobody wants to see it suffer like this. These people, they just...came together. Without even being asked, it's quite remarkable. And you can rest assured, everything is being done to catch whoever did this. And they will be caught."
Burt continued to squint up at the judge through his thick bifocals. "It was, uh, vandals, they say?"
"Appears that way. To be honest, I've seen some petty crimes in my time--even my fair share of vandalism. But I couldn't imagine who would want to target your store. It's mind-boggling."
"That, it is," Burt replied nonchalantly as he took another look around himself and the judge. Finally, he asked the judge, "Where's Zachary?"
The judge nodded upward behind Burt. "Right up there, putting the finishing touches on your sign, there."
"Okay, boys!" Zac's voice rang out from above Burt's head. "I think she'll do! I'm coming down!"
At the bottom of the ladder, two men held the unstable structure in place as his young apprentice made his descent. Midway down, watching out for his own footing, Zac looked down and locked eyes with Burt, his brown eyes widening with shock. "Burt. I, um, I wasn't expect--"
"Yeah, yeah, you weren't expecting me till tomorrow. It's all I keep hearing. Now get down here, boy. And be careful. You're no good to me broken."
Zac made the rest of his way down and planted his feet on the hardwood in front of Burt, his expression filled with guilt. "Burt. I am so sorry--"
"Walk with me, boy," Burt said, gripping the young man's strong shoulder and leading him off the front porch.
Making their way along the side of the building, they were stopped several times by men who expressed their condolences regarding the store. Zac stayed silent, letting Burt handle the talking and, after several more stops and a slow, deliberate walk around the building, the two men finally found themselves alone.
"Burt, I--I'm so sorry. I just--I don't know what to say..."
"You ain't gotta say anything, son. I know it wasn't you. I just--never thought something like this would ever happen."
"I just wanted you to trust me. I wanted you to be able to leave town and tend to your brother and not have to worry about anything happening back home. By the way, how's your brother?"
"He ain't gonna get better. Right now it's just hurry up and wait." Then Burt turned and looked at Zac. "I'll have to go out of town again. Soon, I'm sure."
"I understand if you don't want me to watch the store again. It won't hurt my feelings if you think I can't handle it. But I just want you to know that I will never let this happen again. Never. I will sleep here, I will live here, I won't let anything harm this store--"
"That won't be necessary. If somebody's gonna do something, they're gonna do it, don't matter if you're sleeping here or not. And anyway, that's no way to live. At some point, you gotta go home. You finish out your workday, you go home and rest."
"Well, you see what going home and resting got me."
Burt sighed and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, looking back up toward the store. "This old store's been through it, I'll tell you. Been in my family my entire life and before that. Survived weather and economy and seen all sorts of people come and go. Went through a tornado once. Did you know that?"
"Uh, no, sir. I had no idea."
"Yep. Happened the year my wife left the earth. Worst year of my life, that year. When it rained, it poured. Tornado was so bad, we had to rebuild the entire store from scratch. I thought the business would never recover after that, but we did. Stronger than ever. Tulsa's a good community and you--well, you're moving mountains out here, boy. Did you know that?"
Zac blushed, running a hand through his hair, sweeping away the stray strands that escaped his ponytail. "Well, I don't know if I'd say that. I don't think it's me, I think it has everything to do with you and the store--"
"How many of those men out there have asked me what I wanted since I got here today? How many of them are coming to you? Asking you what you want done, asking you where you want things, respecting you? People like you around here, boy. And, uh...well, maybe so do I. Maybe, uh, maybe I even care a little. I ain't got no family around here, son. You know that. And I've come to look at you like you're my own boy. And I trust you. I know you wouldn't have let anything happen to that store if you could help it."
"But it was my responsibility, Burt. I should have been here, I should have prevented it--"
"Sometimes things happen and we can't help them. Gotta admit, through all the years this store has been around, never has it seen any disrespect like this. But you couldn't help that it happened, either. It's just the luck of the draw. Only thing we can do now is fix it and move on."
"We're going to fix it," Zac said, determined. "We're going to fix it and we're going to make this right--I'm going to make this right. And I'll work for free for however long it takes. I'll volunteer, I'll be here every single day, morning, noon, and night, I swear to you--"
"No need to go to extremes, son. Everything will work itself out. Ain't nowhere to go but up. That's what my wife used to say, anyway." Burt looked up at the loading dock of the store and he let out a sigh, recalling the memory of his wife. "This was her store, you know. Not technically her store, but when we got married, she made it hers. It used to be called Anderson's Feed Store. That was its name since the beginning of time. But that woman--well, when she got an idea in her mind, there was no stopping her."
"You still miss her, don't you?"
"Every single day, just like I saw her yesterday. She's been gone forty-five years now, but that store is just as spirited as the day she named it. I'll never forget it. We were closing up shop one day and the sky looked mighty mean. And I looked out the door and I said, 'Edith, have you lost your mind? Get in here before that lightening gets you.' And she stood there, just staring up at that sign above the door, just thinking. And finally she says, 'Pumpkin--'" Burt paused to smile. "Because she always called me Pumpkin. She said, 'Pumpkin. What if we changed the name of the store?' And I asked her what in tarnation had made her think of that and she said, 'Well, Anderson's Feed Store is just such a drab name. We sell feed and we sell seed now...why not just call it Anderson's Feed and Seed?' I thought the idea was silly, but the excitement in her eyes...well, I just didn't have the heart to tell her no. So I let her have her way and here we are." Burt stopped and he shook his head. "You're right, I do miss her. Miss her like the dickens. I loved that woman more than anything else in this world. And she loved me...I tell you, she loved me something fierce. I was a stubborn, hardheaded bastard, but she saw right through all that and she loved me just the same. If I never teach you anything else, Zachary, don't you ever take the woman you love for granted. You never know how long you have with her. I only had Edith for a short while, but I suppose God decided that the love we had for each other was enough to last me a lifetime. And he was right. So now it's just me and the store. This store's my life. It's all I have left of her."
As if on cue, a girl's voice rang out from the store's loading dock above them. "Mr. Anderson!"
The two men looked up to catch Bessie Harlow descending the loading dock and bounding down the hill toward them. She halted to a stop in front of Burt and clutched one of his old, tired hands between both of her own. "Oh, Mr. Anderson, please don't fire Zac! He didn't do it, I promise. He had nothing to do with it, nothing at all. He loves you and he loves the store and he would never do anything to hurt you. I know he didn't do it because I was with him last night--all night, but don't tell my father because he doesn't know. But, Mr. Anderson, I swear it, I swear on--on--on the Bible that he didn't do it! Please."
"Bessie, baby," Zac said sweetly with a smile, the backs of his fingers brushing her cheek as he swept her hair away from her face. "It's okay. Say, why don't you go and fetch Mr. Anderson and I some water? It's awfully hot out here..."
Her eyes widened and she nodded at him enthusiastically, dropping Burt's hand in the process. "Okay! I'll be right back in a jiffy!" And with that, she took off in the direction that she came from.
The two men watched as she made her way back inside the building and Burt shook his head. "There's nothing quite like the love of a good woman. You make sure you keep that one. She'd walk barefoot through fire for you."
Smiling, Zac nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I think you might be right." The two men were silent for a moment before Zac spoke again. "So, uh, how are you so sure it wasn't me?"
Burt looked at Zac and raised his eyebrows. "Should I suspect you?"
"Well, no, I just--you know...I was left in charge of the store. You leave town, store gets vandalized..."
"With all due respect, boy, I just can't see you drawing muddy peckers on the side of my building."
Zac's eyes widened and he fought to stifle a laugh. "Did you say muddy peckers?"
Burt nodded toward the side of the building they'd just walked around. "Passed it on the way back here. Surprised you didn't catch it."
"I'm not exactly keeping my eye open for peckers, sir."
Burt chuckled a healthy chuckle, amused by the young man's humor. "Fair enough. Anyway, I've seen enough peckers drawn on the side of my building to know where it came from. I can tell it ain't getting much bigger with age, that's for sure."
Zac smiled and shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. "Man, it is hot out here, isn't it?"
"Come on," Burt said, patting Zac on the back. "Let's see what's keeping that little lady of yours with that water."
Walking with Zac back up to the store, Burt felt something in his chest he hadn't felt in quite some time. He cared about Zac and he'd let him know that. But perhaps he cared about Zac a little more than he'd said he did. Zac was a good boy. He was loyal and he was trustworthy and he was great company. Burt had never had a grandson before--or even a son, for that matter. And Zac didn't have a pap anymore. Maybe, Burt decided, Zac was meant to walk into his store and ask for work. Maybe Burt was meant to have work available for him. Maybe Burt and Zac were meant to be in each other's lives. He sure knew Zac had made a difference in his. If he made a difference in Zac's, then maybe his work would be done. Maybe that was why he'd been allowed to be on this earth for so long, separated from his true love for forty-five years. God had a purpose for him, that much he knew.
But what purpose did God have for allowing this disaster to happen to his store?
__________________________________________________________________
Zac wanted to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He thought he was going to die of a heart attack upon sight of Burt at the bottom of the ladder. At that, he was wishing he would just fall off of it. He'd never been more scared in his life than when Burt suggested they take a walk. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was disappoint the old man--he respected him too much. But, alas, the weight was still there, given the fact that the store was in the condition it was in in the first place. Burt had alluded to the fact that he knew who did it and Zac was dying to know what his theory was--especially given the fact that he was in Oklahoma City when it happened. He wanted to know if Burt's theory matched his own. And he was pretty sure it did.
The two men entered the front of the store to the hustle and bustle of cleaning. Upon their arrival, the store grew eerily silent and several pairs of bewildered eyes looked directly at Zac. This reaction immediately caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. "Where's Bessie?"
Judith cleared her throat and pointed. "Um, she's in the ice box."
Turning around and peering through the doorway of the stock room, the sight he was met with caused the urge of violence to rise within him like a wildfire. All he could see was Bessie's back end, as her entire torso was bent completely over and inside the ice chest. Standing next to her, leaning against it on his hand, his free hand in his pants pocket, was Billy Connors, smiling down into the box in amusement. "I already told you, that ice ain't gonna let up. Why don't you let me take a crack at it, I'm stronger than you."
"I almost have it," Bessie's voice came out strained and muffled. "I have to get ice, it's hot outside!"
Beside him, Zac felt a presence as a hand closed firmly around his arm. "He isn't doing anything wrong," Taylor said quietly.
"What is he even doing here?" Zac spat through his teeth. "He's got a lot of balls showing his face around here."
"Zac, he wants to help. And we need all the hands we can get right now."
"Help, my ass! He's the one who's responsible for all this in the first place!"
"You know you can't prove that."
"Call it a hunch."
"Hunch won't get you anywhere."
"I don't want him around Bessie," Zac said quietly. "I don't trust him, I don't like him--"
"Except this isn't about you today. It's about the store. Just give it a rest just this one day."
Interrupting their conversation, Billy turned his head and caught Zac's eye. Straightening up, he now shoved both his hands in his pockets and turned his head toward Bessie. "You know, I think you almost got it, there. I think I'm gonna head outside and see what else I can do to help."
"Okay!" Bessie called brightly. "Just don't work too hard with that injury!"
At this, Billy looked Zac hard in the eyes, returning his glare. "Right," he muttered. Then he walked out of the stock room, shoving past Zac, and making his way out of the store. Zac's knuckles ached with the burning need to feel Billy's bones against them.
Interrupting his thoughts, Bessie popped up from the ice chest and turned around, her face red from cold and struggle. "Zac! I promise I didn't mean to take so long. But it's so hot outside and I wanted the water to be extra cold for you and the ice was all frozen together, and--"
The animosity he had just been feeling for Billy, along with his own heart, suddenly melted away. Sweet Bessie Harlow. So pure and so good--and Zac so completely undeserving of her. He should have helped Bessie. He shouldn't have used all his energy to hate Billy while she was struggling to do something for Zac. That was wrong of him. No man should ever watch a woman struggle and not step in to help her out. "It's okay, sweet girl," he said gently. "The water would have been perfect without the ice, just because you fixed it."
Bessie beamed at him proudly and his knees turned completely into jelly. He would never get used to her. His heart would never stop palpitating, his hands would never stop sweating, and his breathing would never be normal. Burt was right, there was nothing quite like the love of a good woman. And there was nothing like loving one, either.
Zac was shaken out of the trance of Bessie's smile when several men suddenly walked through the glassless door and into the store. A couple of deputies, followed by Judge Harlow and District Attorney Connors, stood before them and, once again, Zac's hair stood on end. He'd already gotten one Connors out of his hair. Now here was another one.
He glanced to his right, over at Burt, who had been engrossed in some paperwork with Taylor behind the counter. Burt looked up through his bifocals at the men, as the store silenced once again at their presence.
"Well, Burt," Stanley Connors's boisterous voice bellowed a little too cheerfully through the store. "Quite a tragedy you got on your hands here, huh? Must be devastating to come home to find your life's work all to pieces like this."
"Well it ain't fun," Burt replied flatly.
"I imagine it ain't. Ain't nothing less fun than leaving your life in someone else's hands and finding it ruined as a result of that decision. Never know who you can trust these days, do you?"
"You got that right," Burt murmured. "Sure don't know who you can trust."
"I mean, I'd be raving mad if it were me. If I hired a boy, trusted him with my store...then came home to find--"
Suddenly, Burt's hand came down on the counter. "How dare you walk into my store and imply that my boy had anything to do with this!"
Stanley scoffed an incredulous laugh. "Your boy? Do you even know who you're--?"
"Yes," Burt spat. "My boy. Him and his brothers. All three of them, my boys. Good boys, the lot of them, ain't never hurt anybody. Not like your boys, who walk around this town acting like they own the place and picking on innocent young girls and their beaus. Bullying my boy for no good reason but to just be bullies!"
Zac didn't have time to pay attention to the warmth that his heart felt at the fact that Burt had claimed both him and his brothers as his own. Now he was too busy paying attention to how red Stanley Connors's face suddenly grew with rage. "Are you implying that my boy and his chums did this? You've lost your marbles, old man!"
"I ain't implying nothing 'cept for what I know. I never said your boys or any of his chums are the ones who did it, did I? I ain't said a name, one! And, for the first time, Lord forgive me, I ain't suspecting that group of meat heads, neither."
Zac's own saliva caught in his throat and he found it hard to swallow. What the hell did he mean, he didn't suspect Billy? This job had Billy Connors and his cronies written all over it! Did Burt know something that everyone else didn't know?
"Mr. Anderson," one of the deputies said. "Are you saying you know who did this?"
" 'Course I know who did it," Burt said with confidence. "Little idiot left his mark. Drew a pecker in the mud on the side of my building. And ain't no normal, self-respecting man gonna stand around drawing peckers just for fun. You know what kinda man draws peckers just for fun, don't you?"
Zac was completely flabbergasted. And he thought he might have to scrape Bessie's jaw right off the floor. Surely...surely Burt didn't think...
"Sir, are you saying that--?"
Burt cut the deputy off. "Yeah. Only person who hasn't shown his face here today. Joey Martin, naturally. The whole time he worked here as a boy, I'd catch him drawing peckers with mud on the side of my building while he and the Connors boy stood back and laughed at it instead of loading feed into trucks and wagons like they were supposed to be doing."
Zac's heart fell right out of his chest and, beside him, Bessie gasped in shock. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
"Zac," Bessie whispered. "Joey didn't do it."
"I think it would be better if we just stayed out of it," Zac whispered back.
"But, Zac," she objected, her voice growing louder. "You know he didn't do it. This isn't right!"
"Bessie," Judge Harlow said, the mere sound of his voice causing Zac's heart to race with fear. "Do you know something that you need to share with the deputies?"
"Yes," she replied confidently. "I know that Joey Martin didn't do it. And I know this because I was with him last night."
Zac's palms started to sweat--and not in the good way they did whenever Bessie smiled at him or was just basically otherwise in his presence. His palms were sweating because Bessie was honest--sometimes too honest. And she was the kind of person who would stop at nothing to defend the honor of those she cared about--including jeopardizing her own freedom--and potentially her relationship with Zac.
The judge looked at his daughter, confused. "But I thought he was with Millie last night?"
"He was," she replied. "And Millie was with us, too."
"Bessie," the judge said carefully. "Who is 'us?'"
Suddenly, her eyes darted around the room. "Bessie," Zac warned. She was saying too much already and he was quickly losing the moral battle within himself. The more she spoke, the more he didn't care if they threw Joey under the wagon or not. If the judge found out where Bessie really was last night, Zac was a dead man and he would never see Bessie again. He couldn't risk that.
Finally, she slipped her hand into Zac's and laced her fingers firmly in his. She lifted her chin and she straightened her posture, mustering up as much confidence as she could muster. "All of us," she replied. "Everyone in this room. Me, Zac, Isaac, Taylor, Judith, Millie...and Joey. We were all together, all night long. Because we're all adults and we were having a get-together. We were responsible and we were safe and none of us were off anywhere doing anything wrong. In fact, none of us were even remotely close to the feed store. So it's impossible that Joey could have done it--especially since he didn't even drive himself."
Zac was ready to fall into the floor. He was ready to crawl straight over to Judge Harlow and shamelessly beg him for forgiveness. To plead with him not to take Bessie away from him. To apologize and grovel at his mercy and completely sacrifice his dignity to do anything and everything the judge wanted just to be able to keep Bessie.
As the judge looked around at all the named parties, Zac knew it was over. His relationship, his life, everything. All of it. It was as if he had "I, Zac Hanson, got your daughter drunk and stoned and allowed her to strip nude and have her way with me in a travel trailer in the gypsy camp. Because I love her." Yeah, right. Love wouldn't even factor for Judge Harlow. The word wouldn't even be in his vocabulary.
"Miss Harlow," the deputy said. "So you're saying that Mr. Martin wasn't out of your sight for the entirety of the night?"
"Well..." she said in thought. Zac couldn't help himself when he squeezed her hand. He silently pleaded with her to please shut her mouth. Please say no more. "The only time I didn't see him was when we were leaving the camp in the morning. But to be fair, I didn't see Millie, either, and she's the one who drove him."
The judge's eyes widened and his face began to turn an unfavorable shade of red. "Camp?"
Well, there it was. Zac was a dead man. He hoped Isaac would do a good job delivering his eulogy.
"Can Mr. Martin corroborate your story, Miss Harlow?" The deputy asked.
"Yes, sir," she nodded confidently.
"Well, then," the deputy said, looking around the room. "Looks like we need to have a word with Miss Jennings and then go and find Mr. Martin. Thank you, Miss Harlow, you've been a big help."
"You're welcome," she said earnestly. "Joey didn't do it, I promise."
As the deputies made their way out of the store, the judge approached the couple. Bessie tightened her hand in Zac's as if to prepare to face her father. In fact, her mouth famously unable to stop moving today, she spoke first. "Daddy, it's true. I was with Zac last night. And he kept me safe and nobody got into any trouble."
Judge Harlow blinked his eyes at the two of them, visibly swallowing so that he could speak. "One time," he said firmly. "This one time, I am not going to ask any more questions, because I am sure I do not want to know anymore details. The both of you are treading on thin ice, however. But we have bigger things to worry about right now, without your...apparent and sinful indiscretions distracting me and raising my blood pressure. I'll just remind you, Zac, that this is my eighteen-year-old daughter that you've chosen to latch onto and, Beatrice, you still live under my roof. If I have to hear any more stories like this one, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Zac spat, standing at attention. "Absolutely, sir. Thank you, sir."
The judge furrowed his brow, confused. "Thank you? For what?"
But the subject had found itself defunct. "So, that's it?" Stanley Connors boomed all of a sudden. "That's it, that's--we're saying Joey Martin didn't do it? That's preposterous!"
The judge turned around to face the district attorney. "If the evidence says he didn't do it, then he didn't do it."
"Well, he had to do it!" Stanley objected frantically. "There are no other options. If he didn't do it, then who did?"
Zac found himself glaring around the room. He knew who did it. He just couldn't prove it. There was only one other person who had suddenly made himself scarce that day besides Joey Martin--and that was Billy Connors.