minutes.” She glanced up at a massive clock on the wall above her. “And he’s leaving today at five on the dot, as usual. Judge Monroe does not like his supper delayed. Perhaps you could return in a few days’ time.”
He didn’t have a few days. But he was growing more certain that he couldn’t return to Lonnie without proof that he was no longer married to Cassie. Gideon ducked his head. “Thank you.”
As he stepped back, she eyed him. “You’re not from around here?”
“No ma’am. I’m from Fancy Gap. I just came here to settle this.”
“Ah.” She drew in a slow breath and let it out as if she had all the time in the world. “Follow the main road downtown, and on your right, you’ll see a yellow house. It’s owned by Mr. and Mrs. Smith and is the ordinary in town. Unless you’d prefer one of the inns, though they are pricier.”
A tug on his wrinkled shirt, and Gideon wondered what sort of hobo he must look like. “Thank you.” After picking up his pack, he stepped out of the courthouse, where a faint snow fell softly.
Fantastic
. Just what he needed. There was no sun to gauge the time, but judging by the growl in his stomach, it had to be around noon. Gideon leaned against one of the massive pillars, pulled on his gloves, and made himself comfortable.
Folks strolled about in the street below, several climbing the steep steps into the courthouse, only to return an hour or so later. Gideon was half-frozen and nearly asleep when a man exited the brick building, his pristine black coat and glossy hat hinting that he was no mere citizen on courthouse business.
Gideon straightened so fast he nearly slipped and fell. Steadying his nerves, he strode toward him. “Sir.”
The man looked at him as he pulled on a pair of shiny black gloves. Gideon nodded cordially, uncertain of how to begin, but all the while knowing this was his chance.
“Judge Monroe?”
The man glanced at him briefly. His nod was scarcely discernible.
“May I speak with you a moment, sir?”
The older man slid on a tall hat, taking care with his hair. “I’ve worked for nine hours straight today.” His mustache twitched. “All I care about in this moment is the roast I know is sitting on my dining room table, and unless your name is Sally Monroe, I have no interest in what you have to say.” Pulling a watch from his waistcoat, he started down the steps.
Gideon followed. “Sir, please. I just have a question.” He hitched his pack higher up on his shoulder, and the mandolin hummed when he bumped it.
“And I’m afraid it will have to wait.” The judge’s silver eyebrows darkened his brow as he sized Gideon up in one blink. Snow flecked in brilliant specks on the man’s black coat. “I do not conduct business outside of the court.”
The judge walked on and wove through the evening crowd. A pair of men tipped their work hats to him as a dozen polished boots made prints in the freshly fallen snow. Gideon watched the judge go. He let out a heavy sigh, chagrined by the weariness that was beginning to wash over him. This was no time to come unhinged.
But he was cold. And mighty hungry.
Looking around, Gideon took note of the buildings up and down the main artery of town. He headed toward what he guessed was downtown, as the receptionist had advised. Glancing in the windows of the first inn, Gideon spotted a restaurant where happy patrons dined. He ran his handover his mouth, forcing himself to say a thankful prayer for the bread in his pack. He walked on, slowly, having nowhere else to be.
Nowhere else except home. But that wasn’t about to happen tonight.
Light pooled from business windows, and Gideon walked until the storefronts thinned to larger fenced yards. The sun must have set beyond the clouds, for the land was growing darker by the minute. He spotted the ordinary in the distance, lit by two cheery windows. The yellow building invited. Beckoned. But with nothing in his pockets, Gideon stopped before he
He didn’t have a few days. But he was growing more certain that he couldn’t return to Lonnie without proof that he was no longer married to Cassie. Gideon ducked his head. “Thank you.”
As he stepped back, she eyed him. “You’re not from around here?”
“No ma’am. I’m from Fancy Gap. I just came here to settle this.”
“Ah.” She drew in a slow breath and let it out as if she had all the time in the world. “Follow the main road downtown, and on your right, you’ll see a yellow house. It’s owned by Mr. and Mrs. Smith and is the ordinary in town. Unless you’d prefer one of the inns, though they are pricier.”
A tug on his wrinkled shirt, and Gideon wondered what sort of hobo he must look like. “Thank you.” After picking up his pack, he stepped out of the courthouse, where a faint snow fell softly.
Fantastic
. Just what he needed. There was no sun to gauge the time, but judging by the growl in his stomach, it had to be around noon. Gideon leaned against one of the massive pillars, pulled on his gloves, and made himself comfortable.
Folks strolled about in the street below, several climbing the steep steps into the courthouse, only to return an hour or so later. Gideon was half-frozen and nearly asleep when a man exited the brick building, his pristine black coat and glossy hat hinting that he was no mere citizen on courthouse business.
Gideon straightened so fast he nearly slipped and fell. Steadying his nerves, he strode toward him. “Sir.”
The man looked at him as he pulled on a pair of shiny black gloves. Gideon nodded cordially, uncertain of how to begin, but all the while knowing this was his chance.
“Judge Monroe?”
The man glanced at him briefly. His nod was scarcely discernible.
“May I speak with you a moment, sir?”
The older man slid on a tall hat, taking care with his hair. “I’ve worked for nine hours straight today.” His mustache twitched. “All I care about in this moment is the roast I know is sitting on my dining room table, and unless your name is Sally Monroe, I have no interest in what you have to say.” Pulling a watch from his waistcoat, he started down the steps.
Gideon followed. “Sir, please. I just have a question.” He hitched his pack higher up on his shoulder, and the mandolin hummed when he bumped it.
“And I’m afraid it will have to wait.” The judge’s silver eyebrows darkened his brow as he sized Gideon up in one blink. Snow flecked in brilliant specks on the man’s black coat. “I do not conduct business outside of the court.”
The judge walked on and wove through the evening crowd. A pair of men tipped their work hats to him as a dozen polished boots made prints in the freshly fallen snow. Gideon watched the judge go. He let out a heavy sigh, chagrined by the weariness that was beginning to wash over him. This was no time to come unhinged.
But he was cold. And mighty hungry.
Looking around, Gideon took note of the buildings up and down the main artery of town. He headed toward what he guessed was downtown, as the receptionist had advised. Glancing in the windows of the first inn, Gideon spotted a restaurant where happy patrons dined. He ran his handover his mouth, forcing himself to say a thankful prayer for the bread in his pack. He walked on, slowly, having nowhere else to be.
Nowhere else except home. But that wasn’t about to happen tonight.
Light pooled from business windows, and Gideon walked until the storefronts thinned to larger fenced yards. The sun must have set beyond the clouds, for the land was growing darker by the minute. He spotted the ordinary in the distance, lit by two cheery windows. The yellow building invited. Beckoned. But with nothing in his pockets, Gideon stopped before he
Similar Books
