The Matrimony Plan by Christine Johnson

drifted back to her, and the tips of his mustache twitched in the faint light.
    “Ten o’clock,” she breathed.
    Darkness improved his appearance. The years melted away, and the painfully bright clothing was muted. She could learn to love him in such light.
    He held out his arm again. “Mind if we walk on the far side of Elm?”
    That would take them past the parsonage and the park. She swallowed. Gabriel might be home. He might see her with Robert.
    “I—I,” she stammered, but she didn’t have a good excuse. “All right.”
    “Wonderful.” He led her across the street. “The park is so lovely.”
    The park? Her heart pounded a little harder. Lovers met inthe park. If he suggested the park, he must already love her. She glanced at the parsonage, which thankfully was dark. Gabriel must be out for the evening. Nothing could stop her plan.
    She squeezed Robert’s arm, and he inclined his head toward her.
    “Ready?” he asked.
    She smiled up at him. “There’s a pavilion a little farther into the park.” She could just make out its shape.
    “Sounds perfect.” He led her into the darkness.
    The pudgy young deputy refused to budge from the chair behind his spotless desk. “I’m sorry, Reverend. Sheriff Ilsley isn’t here.” He took a form from a file. “You can make a report.”
    Gabriel was losing patience with the procedurally minded deputy. “Don’t you understand? The crime is in progress now. If we wait until the sheriff returns, it’ll be too late.”
    “Your name?” The deputy poised his pen over the form.
    “Gabriel Meeks, but there’s no time to waste. There are bootleggers bringing liquor into this town.”
    “What makes you think that?” the deputy said lazily. “Do you have evidence?”
    Gabriel swallowed his exasperation. Precious minutes were ticking away. “Only what I heard. The sound of bottles being unloaded in the alley behind the drugstore.”
    The deputy looked disgusted. “Most drugs come in bottles. Maybe that’s what you heard.”
    After five minutes of such nonsense, Gabriel realized he was getting nowhere. Either the deputy had no intention of getting up from his desk, or he was colluding with the bootleggers.
    “Never mind. I’ll speak with Sheriff Ilsley tomorrow.”
    The deputy looked up in surprise. “Then you don’t want to file a report?”
    “It can wait.”
    Gabriel let the door slam shut behind him but felt little satisfaction in the noise. Slinky got up and cocked his head expectantly. Sighing, Gabriel untied his rope leash and headed back to the parsonage.
    What would convince the law to act? The sheriff might be more willing than his deputy, but then again he could be pressed from the same mold. To ensure action, Gabriel needed evidence. To get evidence, he needed to find the bootleggers’ route into town. He had a good idea where that might be.
    Gabriel cut through the parsonage backyard. He’d make his way to the river, then downriver to the fence at Coughlin’s land. The man said out-of-town criminals broke it down. That’s where the bootleggers were bringing in the whiskey. They took it downriver by boat and then supplied the back alley speakeasy, which locals called a blind pig, at night. If he was fast enough, he might catch them.
    After closing the far gate, he and Slinky made their way through the woods. The dog happily tugged at the rope while Gabriel tried his best to hold him back. The moonless night made navigation hazardous, and more than once on his way to the river he stumbled over a root or rock.
    This whole thing sickened him. Prohibition was supposed to put an end to the scourge of drink. Instead, it lived on under cover of darkness. He expected it in big cities, but not here. Why didn’t God-fearing citizens rise against it? Why did they let it happen under their noses? Well, they wouldn’t anymore, not after he unveiled the crime and its instigators.
    He picked his way to the river path, Slinky pulling steadily on the rope.