Searching for Anna by Jenifer Carll-Tong (best classic books of all time .txt) π
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- Author: Jenifer Carll-Tong
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"You know, you don't get paid extra when you work a double shift," Jesse Moore said.
Will hung his hat on the hook and unbuckled his holster. "It isn't always about the money," Will said in return, once again reminded of his concerns about Jesse. "Sometimes it's about doing what's right."
Jesse stared at Will for a long time. He finally nodded. "Yep, once you figure out what's actually right."
"Is that something you have difficulty doing?"
Jesse shook his head. "Nope. Just saying that what's right for you might not be what's right for me. We each gotta find our own version of right."
Thomas Rogers didn't look up from the gun he was meticulously cleaning in the corner of the office. "In my experience, most of life falls somewhere in the gray area."
"Yep, I guess I agree with that." Jesse turned back to Will. "What about you, Caffey? I bet you see the world as black and white. For you, it's good versus evil, huh?"
"Isn't that how it's been since the beginning of time?" Will asked. "Since the fall from Eden, haven't we all been living in a world of good versus evil?"
Jesse pushed away from the desk and stood. "Hmph! And I bet you think you're always on the good side." He scowled and shook his head. "I'm going out for a ride. You ain't the only one who can catch the bad guys."
Will thought momentarily about following him outside and adjusting the attitude problem he'd had since Will's first day on the job. Will had hoped that once the man had gotten to know him, he would have settled down.
"Don't mind him," Thomas said as if reading Will's mind. "It's just his bruised ego showin' through. He'll get over it and get used to the fact that the force's Golden Boy is running the show, not him."
It wasn't the first time Will had been called "Golden Boy," and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Sometimes, like now, the moniker seemed used with admiration, as if Willβs reputation was something to be idolized. Other times, usually when Jesse Moore was speaking, it was said with such an air of contempt that Will felt the need to knock someone's block off.
"Rogers, doesn't it seem strange to you that we can't get a lead on who burned down the Lambecker place? Doesn't it feel like every lead we get is a wild goose chase? Like things have been cleaned up before we even get there."
Rogers pursed his lips as if contemplating the question. "I hadn't really noticed."
"You don't think there's someone inside that's leaking information, do you?"
Rogers lifted his eyebrows and laughed. "You're thinking Moore, eh? No way. He might be a little moody, but he's not the type. He's neither smart enough nor industrious enough to make the kind of connections you're talking about."
Will wasn't convinced. Something wasn't right and his gut was telling him the problem was coming from within his ranks.
Rogers put his gun away and continued. "I'm sure you've figured out by now that this work is hard. It's hard and it pays very little. Before long, every man realizes that there's more money to be had lining their pocket with bribes from the likes of Lambecker, among others. But most men decide real quick that they aren't in this for the money - they're here for a higher calling."
"You said most men."
Thomas Rogers nodded slowly. "Yes, most. Unfortunately, it's your job to figure out the rest. But I would lay my money on Jesse Moore. He's stubborn and hard to get along with at times, but he's no Benedict Arnold. You need to look elsewhere for your mole."
Will didn't like the idea that one of his own could be working against him, but he knew it could be true. Even Jesus had a betrayer. Will just hoped he could identify his Judas before it was too late.
As they scrubbed the floors and wiped down the pews of her new church, Reverend Albright regaled Phoebe with stories of his evening at the constabulary.
"We talked for hours," he said, tinkering with the insides of the church's piano.
"Hours? What could you possibly talk about with complete strangers for that long?"
"Oh, you know me. I can talk with anyone. Besides, they're all war heroes. Every single one of 'em," he said. "This town's lucky to have such fine young men protecting it. What'd you do with your evening?"
Phoebe knelt next to the bucket of soapy water and told her father all about her experiences from the night before.
"Sounds like coyotes," her father mused. "They mostly hunt small animals and will likely stay clear of humans, so I wouldn't worry too much about 'em. Still, I'd stay within my fence when it's real late."
Phoebe agreed. She had a hard enough time taming the angry herd of women she encountered at the train station yesterday. She didn't think she'd be any more successful with actual wild animals.
"And, like I said, there are plenty of fine men here protecting this town. Plus, many of them are single," he added with a wink.
"What's that?" she shouted over the increased speed of the brush she was scraping across the old floorboards. "I can't hear you."
"Don't worry, darlin'. I let them know there's already someone out to win your heart."
She threw down the brush and popped her head above the pew. "Daddy! You didn't!"
"I did! Would you rather have a town full of single officers vying for your attentions?"
"Of course not, but to insinuate that Will was my beau β"
"Now, what makes you think I was talking about Will?"
She scowled at her father even as she felt heat leap into her cheeks, but her attempt at a scolding did nothing but extract a howl of laughter from the elder preacher.
"C'mon, girl, and get over here and try this thing out. I think I got all the strings righted."
Glad for the change in subject, she took a seat on the bench. "It looks like it's never been played."
"That's what worries me. Nothing worse on a piano than neglect."
Phoebe opened the fallboard and found that the keys in fact did look untouched. Was there no one in Iron Falls who played? Would she be expected to play? How would that work, her at the piano for the hymns, then scrambling to the pulpit for the sermon? Why, it'd look more like a variety show than a worship service!
Phoebe played from memory one of her favorites β It is Well with My Soul. As she played, her father listened intently.
"It isn't too bad, but still a little off. Play middle C."
Phoebe complied, and her father adjusted something else behind the upright.
"I never knew you could tune a piano."
"Well, as a pastor you have to learn to do all kinds of things. But you'll learn soon enough that they don't teach you everything you need to know in Bible College. Play the whole scale."
He continued working until he was satisfied each note was on key. When he finished, he had her play again and Phoebe was amazed at the difference.
"I know it was close before, but now it's perfect!" she said excitedly. She began the song again, her excitement coursing through the music as she added additional runs and fills. She became completely lost, as if the music were coming from somewhere deep within her. It was, indeed, well with her soul, whatever her lot - even if that lot was a small, poorly furnished cabin in the upper peninsula, playing piano and preaching to a tiny congregation of dubious miners' wives - her soul was God's, and God's alone.
It wasn't until she was finished that she noticed Mrs. Speer standing next to the piano.
"Oh my!" she said, shocked. "I didn't see you come in. How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to realize that we have
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