money is going to save us, Gillian," I said, packing it all back up again, leaning to the well and feeding the rope down the long dark tunnel. I didn't let go until I'd tested the rope. Snug and firm. The spike held. The money was back in a safe place. I pulled the cover over the well and dusted my hands off and stood up.
I took her by the arms and tried to kiss her. She wouldn't let me. She just stood stiff. Her skin was covered with goose bumps from the icy wind.
She wouldn't look at me. I spoke to her profile, to her sweet little nose and her freckles and her tiny chin.
"All we need to do is wait a few months, and then we can leave town with all this money. Tell Hollister that one of your relatives died and left you a farm in Missouri or somewhere. Even if he suspects, he can't prove it. I'll wrap the money in bundles and put it in a trunk and send the trunk on ahead to wherever we decide to go."
When she finally turned and looked at me, she seemed sadder than I'd ever seen her.
"And won't that be a nice life for Annie, Chase? Watching her father scared all the time because somebody might find the money he stole?"
"I won't be scared, Gillian, because nobody will know except you and me. And it's not stolen money, anyway, not really-it's just what Reeves rightfully owes me.
"Listen to yourself, Chase," she said. "You've convinced yourself that what you're doing is right. But all you're doing is destroying this family. You wait and see. You wait and see."
She started crying, and then she was running down the hill, pulling her shawl tighter around her.
I started after her but decided there was no point. Not right now, anyway.
All I could do was stand there in the bitter wind, feeling like a kid who'd just been scolded. I wanted to speak up on my own behalf, but I knew better, knew that no matter what I said or how long I talked, straight and true Gillian would remain straight and true.
After a while I walked back down the hill to the house. Gillian was fixing stew at the stove. She didn't once turn around and look at me as I got into my police uniform, or say good-bye as I stood in the doorway and said, "I love you, Gillian. You and Annie are my life. And this is all going to work out. We're going to have the money and have a good life away from here. I promise you that, Gillian. I promise you that."
But there was just her back, her tired beaten shoulders, and her arm stirring the ladle through the stew.
22
When I got to town, the funeral procession was just winding its way up the hill to the graveyard. A lone man in a Union uniform walked behind the shiny black horse-drawn hearse, beating out a dirge on a drum.
I went to the police station, checked over the sheet listing the arrests thus far that day, checked to see if the new and more comfortable shoes I'd ordered had come in yet, and then started out the front door. There was still time for a cup of coffee at the restaurant before my rounds began.
As I walked to the front of the station, I felt various eyes on me.
A cop named Docey said, "Some of us were talkin' last night, Chase."
"Oh?"
"There were six of us talkin', and five of us voted that you should quit." He was leaning against the front door, a pudgy red-bearded man with red freckles on his white bald head. "We got enough problems without people thinkin' we're crooked."
"I didn't slip that key to the robbers, in case that's what you're talking about."
He grabbed me then. He pushed away from the door and took his big Irish hands and grabbed the front of my uniform coat. I heard the two other cops grunt in approval.
I couldn't afford any more physical pain. I used my knee and I went right up straight and he went down fast and sure.
He rolled around on the floor clutching his groin and swearing. The other
I took her by the arms and tried to kiss her. She wouldn't let me. She just stood stiff. Her skin was covered with goose bumps from the icy wind.
She wouldn't look at me. I spoke to her profile, to her sweet little nose and her freckles and her tiny chin.
"All we need to do is wait a few months, and then we can leave town with all this money. Tell Hollister that one of your relatives died and left you a farm in Missouri or somewhere. Even if he suspects, he can't prove it. I'll wrap the money in bundles and put it in a trunk and send the trunk on ahead to wherever we decide to go."
When she finally turned and looked at me, she seemed sadder than I'd ever seen her.
"And won't that be a nice life for Annie, Chase? Watching her father scared all the time because somebody might find the money he stole?"
"I won't be scared, Gillian, because nobody will know except you and me. And it's not stolen money, anyway, not really-it's just what Reeves rightfully owes me.
"Listen to yourself, Chase," she said. "You've convinced yourself that what you're doing is right. But all you're doing is destroying this family. You wait and see. You wait and see."
She started crying, and then she was running down the hill, pulling her shawl tighter around her.
I started after her but decided there was no point. Not right now, anyway.
All I could do was stand there in the bitter wind, feeling like a kid who'd just been scolded. I wanted to speak up on my own behalf, but I knew better, knew that no matter what I said or how long I talked, straight and true Gillian would remain straight and true.
After a while I walked back down the hill to the house. Gillian was fixing stew at the stove. She didn't once turn around and look at me as I got into my police uniform, or say good-bye as I stood in the doorway and said, "I love you, Gillian. You and Annie are my life. And this is all going to work out. We're going to have the money and have a good life away from here. I promise you that, Gillian. I promise you that."
But there was just her back, her tired beaten shoulders, and her arm stirring the ladle through the stew.
22
When I got to town, the funeral procession was just winding its way up the hill to the graveyard. A lone man in a Union uniform walked behind the shiny black horse-drawn hearse, beating out a dirge on a drum.
I went to the police station, checked over the sheet listing the arrests thus far that day, checked to see if the new and more comfortable shoes I'd ordered had come in yet, and then started out the front door. There was still time for a cup of coffee at the restaurant before my rounds began.
As I walked to the front of the station, I felt various eyes on me.
A cop named Docey said, "Some of us were talkin' last night, Chase."
"Oh?"
"There were six of us talkin', and five of us voted that you should quit." He was leaning against the front door, a pudgy red-bearded man with red freckles on his white bald head. "We got enough problems without people thinkin' we're crooked."
"I didn't slip that key to the robbers, in case that's what you're talking about."
He grabbed me then. He pushed away from the door and took his big Irish hands and grabbed the front of my uniform coat. I heard the two other cops grunt in approval.
I couldn't afford any more physical pain. I used my knee and I went right up straight and he went down fast and sure.
He rolled around on the floor clutching his groin and swearing. The other
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