The House Near the River by Barbara Bartholomew Page B

for being impertinent to her.”
    “Aww,” Danny protested.
    “It’s quite all right,” Angie said hastily. “I’m sure Danny didn’t mean to be rude.”
    “Danny!”
    The nine-year-old shrugged. “I’m sorry, Miss Ward. I didn’t mean anything bad. It seemed to me to be a good thing that you were smooching Uncle Matthew. He’s been lower than a turtle lately.”
    She eyed him thoughtfully. “Please call me Ange.”
    He grinned. “I always do ‘ cept when Uncle Matthew’s around.”
    Angie quickly said goodnight to them both and to Matthew’s disappointment went to bed.
    Danny grinned at his uncle. “You got a girl.”
    Matthew allowed himself to relax. “I hope so, Dan,” he said.
     
    The next morning Tobe came by and instead of stopping at the house to see Clemmie as he did on any excuse, he walked out to the field where Matthew planted  cotton and stood waiting while he brought the tractor to a halt and turned off the motor. No use trying to talk over the roar of the tractor.
    “Morning, Sheriff,” Matthew said as he ambled over. He always had trouble think ing of Tobe, whom he remembered when he was younger than Danny was now, in that official role. But he suspected it was as sheriff that he was here this morning.
    “Morning, Matthew. How’s the planting going?”
    “Fine. Looks to be a good year.”
    Tobe’s wide face split in a grin. As good natured as he was, nobody could call the big man handsome. And Clemmie’s Charlie had been a good looking man. Matthew stopped his brain from considering his sister’s possible love life. All he wanted was for her to be happy and she was the only one who could decide if she wanted to marry again.
    “You farmers always start out by saying it’ll be a good year.”
    “We have to plant with hope,” Matthew returned, recognizing the truth of his friend’s words. “Next we’ll tell you how it’s too dry, or too many grasshoppers, or about the wind or hail that’s keeping us from having a good crop .”
    “Then you’ll start the whole thing over next year.” Tobe shook his head. “You guys are such gamblers.”
    “I like to think of us as optimists,” Matthew countered mildly. Personally he could think of no other life than a farmer. It was all he could endure to deal with his own company and that of the Lord’s. After his breakdown, he sure couldn’t work along side others or deal with a boss .
    Tobe scratched at the dirt with the toe of his boot and Matthew knew he was working up to the matter that had brought him here.
    “Fact is I wanted to talk to you about something,” he finally spoke in his slow drawl. Tobe had never been away from home long enough to lose a bit of his local accent. He’d been in the war for only two months when he’d been wounded and sent home with a permanent limp. He’d taken a job as deputy once he was well enough and last election had won the sheriff’s job. “Been checking everywhere I could and can’t find any sign of your lady or her little boy. It’s as if  they just dropped here out of nowhere.”
    Matthew thought of Ange’s explanation that they had walked in from another time. “Nobody’s looking for them?”
    Tobe shook his head. “Looks like somebody would want to find that pretty lady and fine little boy, but nobody’s reported ‘em missing. Sure got me guessing.”
    Matthew nodded. “Doesn’t make sense.”
    They stood without talking, Tobe staring at the dim haze above the river and Matthew studying the ground.
    Finally Tobe spoke, seeming reluctant. “The thing is, I think you should consider sending her and the boy somewhere else . Maybe she’s done something bad, maybe something dangerous and she could hurt the kids or Clemmie.”
    Matthew felt anger rise in him in a swift tide. He couldn’t manage to choke out a word.
    “I’ll see to it that they’re taken somewhere safe.”
    “No!” Matthew finally managed to get out the one word.
    “But Matthew, I know they seem like