Shepherds Abiding in Dry Creek

The woman didn’t even look up to read the note. She just shook her head. “If that’s where you’re headed, you should know my daughter is only four. She can’t even write her name.”

“Oh.” Les had not known the girl was so young. He didn’t think a girl that age could even lift the shepherd figure. The thing was plastic, but it was heavy enough. And it was bulky.

“She’s going to learn to write her name,” the woman continued, as if she was making a point. “We believe in schooling. She’ll go to preschool a couple of days a week in Miles City after the holidays. Most kids here probably already know how to write their names, but Becky didn’t get a chance to go to preschool in Los Angeles. If she’s behind, she’ll catch up.”

“I’m sure she’ll learn to write in no time,” Les said just to put the woman at ease, since her daughter’s schooling seemed important to her. “Kids learn fast.”

Les hoped he was speaking the truth. What did he know about kids? He knew he should forget about the kids and say goodbye, but he found he didn’t want to rush off. Not now that, with the sun fully up and spreading its sunshine all over, Les noticed that some of the shadows were gone from the woman’s face.

He wondered if she would go out to dinner with him after all. Now that they were talking about education instead of crime, she seemed a little friendlier.

“I—ah—” Les swallowed. “We have a good school in Miles City. You don’t need to worry about that.”

The woman smiled. “I’m glad to know that.”

Les wasn’t prepared for the woman’s full smile.

He swallowed again. “Thanks for talking to me. Let me know if you see anything suspicious. It’s probably just some kids playing a prank. Wanting to see if I can figure out that XIX clue they left. I wonder if it’s part of a math equation.”

Les had been ready to turn and walk away when the smile fell from Mrs. Gossett’s face and something in her eyes shifted. She’d suddenly gone tense.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

She shook her head. The weariness was back on her face. “The XIX. Where was that?”

“At the end of the note.”

The woman bit her lip nervously. “Are you going to be in town for a little while?”

Les didn’t flatter himself that she wanted to see him again, but he nodded. “I’ll be at the café for another half hour or so. If you think of something that might help, let me know.”

She nodded.

There wasn’t anything more to say, so Les gave her a goodbye nod. “It was a pleasure to talk with you, ma’am. And welcome to Dry Creek.”

Les turned and left. He hoped Mrs. Hargrove would be happy with his little welcome speech at the end. He’d even meant it.

Marla barely waited for the man to step off her porch before she closed the door and locked it. Of course, turning the lock was just habit. She had nothing to fear from the reserve deputy sheriff. Although, if her suspicions were right, she might not want to hear what he had to say to her and her children if she had to take her son over to the café in a few minutes.

“Sammy,” she called.

Becky was happily walking around with her bunny slippers and frog pajamas on. But it was almost seven o’clock and Marla hadn’t heard from her son yet this morning. Usually he was up by now even though it wasn’t a school day. She’d thought earlier that he was sleeping in. Now she knew he was just hiding out.

“Sammy, come out here.”

Marla leaned back against the locked door and looked around. For the first time she wondered how she could have fooled herself so completely. She could paint the rooms in her house with gold leaf and the people here wouldn’t respect them. Not if Sammy had stolen the Nativity shepherd from the church and tagged that note with the 19th Street gang symbol. Her family would be marked as troublemakers regardless of how their house looked or what their ethnic background was. People were scared of gangs, and rightfully so. If they figured out Sammy had wanted to be in a gang, there would be no new start for them. The whole move up here would have been pointless.

“Sammy!”

Her son stepped into the living room. He was wearing a long white T-shirt and baggy pants. It was typical gang clothes for south central L.A.

“I thought you were going to throw those clothes away,” Marla said. They didn’t have many clothes, but Sammy did have some jeans that fit better. And why did he need to spike his hair?

“I’ve got to wear something.” Sammy glared at her. “I can’t go around naked.”

Marla felt that sometimes she didn’t recognize her son. “You have those jeans I got for you to wear when you start school here—”

“They don’t fit.” Sammy shrugged. “I’m saving them for when we paint the house.”

Marla forced herself to relax. She supposed that clothes were the least of her worries, although people did form opinions about young people because of the way they were dressed. “I just want to be proud of you.”

Sammy grunted. “What’s in the bag?”

Marla looked down. Becky was sitting on the floor and had already opened the white bag Les had left with them. She hadn’t taken anything out, although she had a grin on her face.

There were so few smiling moments for Becky these days that Marla didn’t want to spoil this one by questioning Sammy right now. The sheriff would be in town for another half hour. They had time to eat a bite.

“The woman at the café sent us over doughnuts for breakfast.” Marla said. “Wasn’t that nice of her?”

Becky nodded and beamed up at her. “Yes, Mommy.”

Sammy grunted.

Marla didn’t react to Sammy. Gratitude wasn’t the big problem of the day, either. “Let’s go sit at the table when we eat them. We don’t want to get everything sticky.”

Sammy had already walked over and looked in the sack Becky held. For the first time this morning he reminded Marla of the little boy he had been. “Hey, there’s jelly doughnuts. Cool. I can see the raspberry filling coming out of one of them.”

“Let’s take them to the table,” Marla repeated for Becky’s ears.

“I am, Mommy,” Becky said as she stood up and then reached down and grabbed the bag.

Marla watched her children walk into the kitchen together. Becky was holding the bag of doughnuts, but Marla could see that Sammy was guarding them as he walked with his sister. What was she to do? Marla asked herself as she leaned back against the door. Sammy’s heart was good. Look how careful he was to help Becky without taking the sack from her. An aggressive child would just grab the bag. But not Sammy. He had always had a warm place in his heart for his little sister.

She was surprised it hadn’t all clicked together for her earlier when she was standing there talking to the deputy sheriff. Becky might not have written that note asking for a Suzy bake set, but Sammy had. He knew what Becky wanted for Christmas. Becky had been talking about that bake set for weeks. Marla had even wondered if she might be able to squeeze the money out of her budget for one. She hadn’t been sure if she could do it, so she hadn’t said anything to either of the children. She’d just let her suggestion of handmade gifts stand.

Maybe that had been a mistake. Marla realized that if she had told Sammy she was buying a few presents after all, maybe he wouldn’t have taken that shepherd. Somewhere in all of this, she was partially at fault.

She couldn’t help but think that Jorge would have known what to do for Sammy. Maybe Sammy felt free to misbehave because he knew she wasn’t as sure of herself as Jorge had been in disciplining him. She wasn’t used to flying solo as a parent and she wasn’t sure she could do a good job of it. Sometimes a growing boy needed a father.

Marla listened to the voices of her children in the dining room for a minute, then started forward to join them. She was going to have to do her best to give Sammy what a father would.

Marla was glad the card table and folding chairs had fit in the luggage carrier on top of the car when she moved up here. Her children were sitting at the table now. It might not be as sturdy as the table she would eventually buy for them, but it was important for them to have a place to sit down and eat together. For all of Sammy’s sullen ways, he’d never protested eating dinner with the family.

Sammy had put white paper plates and plastic cups on the table. He’d even brought out the gallon of milk. Marla was pleased that they had waited for her.

Marla let everyone finish their doughnuts before she cleared her throat.

“Becky, will you go to your room and get dressed, please?”