Thank goodness the mutt kept quiet. Barking might alert the rumrunners and send themscampering. On the other hand, a good bark or two could interrupt the operation and keep liquor out of the hands of people like Robert Blevins.
Gabriel recalled the smell of whiskey on the man’s breath. His gut twisted at the thought of that pompous engineer holding Felicity close—maybe even kissing her.
He shook away the image. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would treat her with respect, someone who would honor her the way God intended a man to honor a woman.
Suddenly Slinky froze, bristling, and a low growl came from deep inside, just like it had at the alley. Gabriel halted, the hair on his arms and neck standing on end.
A light breeze rustled the leaves around him. The river chattered below, not twenty feet away. An owl hooted. And then, quieter than even those sounds, Gabriel heard the clink of glass or metal, the grunt of men and a murmur of low voices.
He’d caught them. It must be exactly like he thought. The liquor came down the river by boat, was unloaded on Coughlin’s land and then shipped to the blind pig under cover of darkness.
He crawled forward to get a better view, taking care not to snap any twigs. The woods were even darker than the park, where light from town allowed a man to see the dim outlines of trees and the pavilion. Here, he saw nothing.
Realizing any further progress was bound to alert the bootleggers to his presence, he halted and tried to calm his hammering pulse.
Lord, help me expose the truth
.
He waited but saw and heard nothing for a long time. His eyes gradually began to pick out dim shapes, and his ears heard yet more rustling.
Then a man’s voice said, “Last of’em.”
That came from the river, if he was any judge of direction.
A grunted reply told him two or more men were there. Then he heard steps coming toward him.
He backed up, and a twig snapped.
Slinky barked.
The voices stopped, and a gun cocked. Footsteps shuffled closer and then ran.
Slinky trembled at his feet, the low growl beginning again. Don’t bark. Gabriel reached to stroke Slinky’s head, but then he realized that was just the thing he needed to distract the bootleggers. He let go of Slinky’s rope and prayed God would protect them both.
The dog ran upriver along the path, barking. Gabriel heard the men crash after him and followed. With any luck, Slinky would flush the bootleggers out into the open of the park or even to Main Street, where they could be stopped and held until their boat was found. The sheriff couldn’t dismiss evidence like that. Gabriel would put a stop to this bootlegging business tonight.
He plunged through the woods, heedless of noise. They were getting close to the park. Soon he’d have his quarry. Then his foot hit something solid and he tripped, falling right into a patch of bushes.
Raspberry bushes.
Felicity grew more excited with every step. Soon Robert would kiss her. Soon he’d be hers.
The grass was soft underfoot, already damp with dew. He began to whistle last year’s popular song, “I’ll Say She Does.”
The tune grated on her nerves. “Could you please stop?”
He halted, staring into the blackness of the park, as if he’d seen something.
“I meant the whistling.”
“You don’t care for whistling?”
She pressed her temple. “I’m getting a headache.”
“No problem, chickadee.” However, he started up again when they resumed walking.
It’s all right, she told herself. She could correct that flaw later. Tonight she would secure his affection, and then soon afterward she would be Mrs. Robert Blevins of Newport with an engagement ring so large even Mother would gasp. She’d walk down the aisle of a large cathedral. Nothing in Pearlman would do. They’d wed in New York City. Her gown would be encrusted with pearls, the train a mile long. Every girl at Highbury and in Pearlman would weep with envy.
They reached the pavilion, and Robert
Gabriel recalled the smell of whiskey on the man’s breath. His gut twisted at the thought of that pompous engineer holding Felicity close—maybe even kissing her.
He shook away the image. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would treat her with respect, someone who would honor her the way God intended a man to honor a woman.
Suddenly Slinky froze, bristling, and a low growl came from deep inside, just like it had at the alley. Gabriel halted, the hair on his arms and neck standing on end.
A light breeze rustled the leaves around him. The river chattered below, not twenty feet away. An owl hooted. And then, quieter than even those sounds, Gabriel heard the clink of glass or metal, the grunt of men and a murmur of low voices.
He’d caught them. It must be exactly like he thought. The liquor came down the river by boat, was unloaded on Coughlin’s land and then shipped to the blind pig under cover of darkness.
He crawled forward to get a better view, taking care not to snap any twigs. The woods were even darker than the park, where light from town allowed a man to see the dim outlines of trees and the pavilion. Here, he saw nothing.
Realizing any further progress was bound to alert the bootleggers to his presence, he halted and tried to calm his hammering pulse.
Lord, help me expose the truth
.
He waited but saw and heard nothing for a long time. His eyes gradually began to pick out dim shapes, and his ears heard yet more rustling.
Then a man’s voice said, “Last of’em.”
That came from the river, if he was any judge of direction.
A grunted reply told him two or more men were there. Then he heard steps coming toward him.
He backed up, and a twig snapped.
Slinky barked.
The voices stopped, and a gun cocked. Footsteps shuffled closer and then ran.
Slinky trembled at his feet, the low growl beginning again. Don’t bark. Gabriel reached to stroke Slinky’s head, but then he realized that was just the thing he needed to distract the bootleggers. He let go of Slinky’s rope and prayed God would protect them both.
The dog ran upriver along the path, barking. Gabriel heard the men crash after him and followed. With any luck, Slinky would flush the bootleggers out into the open of the park or even to Main Street, where they could be stopped and held until their boat was found. The sheriff couldn’t dismiss evidence like that. Gabriel would put a stop to this bootlegging business tonight.
He plunged through the woods, heedless of noise. They were getting close to the park. Soon he’d have his quarry. Then his foot hit something solid and he tripped, falling right into a patch of bushes.
Raspberry bushes.
Felicity grew more excited with every step. Soon Robert would kiss her. Soon he’d be hers.
The grass was soft underfoot, already damp with dew. He began to whistle last year’s popular song, “I’ll Say She Does.”
The tune grated on her nerves. “Could you please stop?”
He halted, staring into the blackness of the park, as if he’d seen something.
“I meant the whistling.”
“You don’t care for whistling?”
She pressed her temple. “I’m getting a headache.”
“No problem, chickadee.” However, he started up again when they resumed walking.
It’s all right, she told herself. She could correct that flaw later. Tonight she would secure his affection, and then soon afterward she would be Mrs. Robert Blevins of Newport with an engagement ring so large even Mother would gasp. She’d walk down the aisle of a large cathedral. Nothing in Pearlman would do. They’d wed in New York City. Her gown would be encrusted with pearls, the train a mile long. Every girl at Highbury and in Pearlman would weep with envy.
They reached the pavilion, and Robert
Similar Books
