Earl buried a hand in his hair again. “We haven’t gotten that far in negotiations. Eddie and I were scouting the land first.”
“Did Hadden know you were out there poking around?” Virgil sat up straighter.
“We, uh, sent a letter letting him know the, uh, approximate dates we’d be around.”
Virgil shuffled his feet and stood. “Which is to say you were trespassing on Westfall land.”
Earl braced his hands on his hips. “Now, hold on there. We’ve got governmental authority to be on that land. Sending a letter was a courtesy.”
Virgil shook his head and looked at Creed. “That’s like pitching a rock into a beehive to let the bees know you’re coming after their honey.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Son, you and your partner just may have aggravated the wrong landowner.” He sighed. “Creed, will you come with me to talk to Hadden? He might not shoot me right off if there’s a witness present.”
Now Earl’s eyes were so wide they looked mostly white. Creed kept a straight face. Virgil was mostly just scaring the government man, seeing how he’d react. It would’ve been funny if there hadn’t been a dead man involved. “Be glad to run out there with you. Want me to come armed?”
Virgil snorted and gave Creed a sideways look. “Guess not. Might give ole Hadden the notion we want a fight.” He squinted at Earl. “Where you stayin’?”
“Hotel just this side of Elkins.”
“Fine. I’ll be in touch.”
Earl wet his lips. “What should I do until then? I’ve got to report this, but I’m not sure what to say.”
“As little as possible would be my recommendation,” Virgil said as he waved Creed to follow him out to his car.
five
Mother was watching him like she was the warden and thought he was about to make a jailbreak. Loyal lounged in the swing on the front porch, tossing a baseball in the air and catching it over and over. He’d bounced it against the wall for a while, but Mother made him stop “that racket.” He smiled. Maybe sometimes it was good not to be able to hear. While he’d been hoping Father would take him along wherever he was going, he’d made the sign for stay. And he’d used the right one.
Now it was Saturday afternoon, and he was a prisoner on the front porch. He saw someone walking along the street and sat up. It was Reverend Harriman, the pastor of their church. Loyal slouched again. If he was headed to their house, it was almost certainly to see Mother.
As he drew nearer he waved at Loyal, who gave a halfhearted wave back. Church was usually pretty boring. The singing was okay—he could feel the vibrations of the old organ—but watching the pastor talk and talk and talk took focus and concentration and usually wasn’t worth the effort. At least he waved his arms around some.
Reverend Harriman turned in at their gate and stepped up onto the porch. He waved again, as though he needed to make sure Loyal was looking at him. “Is your mother at home?” He spoke slowly, shaping each word. Loyal was almost willing to bet he was yelling. A lot of people thought they had to talk slow and yell when you were deaf.
He nodded and pointed inside, but before the pastor could get the door open, Mother was there and stepping outside. She smiled and waved the reverend over to a rocking chair. She settled into one beside him and talked animatedly, clearly happy to see the man. Loyal stopped paying attention, returning his focus to tossing the ball.
Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Mother was trying to get his attention. He made the sign for what? She tightened her mouth and signed. Sit up straight and pay attention when the pastor is here. She smiled. You’re being invited to a church activity for youth.
Loyal raised his eyebrows and signed, What activity?
Mother gave her head a little shake. If you were watching, you’d know.
He looked chagrined, made a fist and circled it in front of his chest twice. He’d apologize a hundred times if it meant he might get to set foot off the porch.
Mother nodded at the pastor, who turned to Loyal and began that painfully slow way of speaking, which actually made it harder to understand him. “The school is allowing us to use the gymnasium for youth activities. Would you like to join us for a volleyball game?” He nodded and raised his eyebrows, miming the motion of serving a volleyball.
Loyal nodded his head while making the sign for yes. Mother managed to look pleased and worried at the same time. You’ll be okay? she signed. You don’t have to go.
Loyal cocked his head and looked up as though pondering the invitation. He grinned and jumped to his feet. Mother bit her lip, then gave him a hug that wasn’t altogether welcome. He wished she’d treat him like the other boys. Most of their mothers were probably glad to get their kids out of the house.
Mother talked earnestly to the pastor for a minute or two, then hugged Loyal again and waved him off along with Reverend Harriman.
Though the school wasn’t far, Loyal could tell the pastor wasn’t altogether comfortable walking with him. He’d run into this before. Hearing people liked to talk and talk, which meant his silence often made them feel awkward. Harry Davidson—one of his buddies at school—had explained it to him. Harry said it was fun to make hearing people uncomfortable. They do it to us, he’d signed. Yet Loyal didn’t see the fun in it. Nor did he know how to make people more comfortable. It’s just the way life was, he guessed.
At the school, there were already a dozen or so kids milling around. Loyal had seen most of them at church but didn’t interact with them much. He only saw them when he was home from the West Virginia School for the Deaf, and they usually didn’t pay much attention to him. Unless it was to make fun of him, like Michael Westfall often did.
As if the thought conjured the boy, Michael stepped into the gymnasium with his sister, Rebecca, close behind. Michael strutted out toward the volleyball net and began talking and waving his arms around. Reverend Harriman quickly stepped up and took charge, apparently making Michael the captain of one of the teams. He chose another boy for the other side, and they each picked five players to round out their teams.
Loyal didn’t get picked. He sighed and leaned against a wall where he could watch. It had probably been a dumb idea to come here. It was only because he’d been so bored at home that he’d done it. Probably the best he could hope for was that no one would make fun of him.
Rebecca was on the team playing against her brother. She gave Loyal a hesitant smile and a small wave. He wondered if she really had seen him that day at the river. He wished he could ask her about that, along with the comb still hidden in his sock drawer. Today she wore her long hair in braids over each shoulder. No combs.
Lost in thought, Loyal almost missed seeing the ball come flying his way. He caught it and tossed it back to Rebecca’s side. She smiled at him again, and he began to think about how he could ask her a question. If only he had paper and a pencil.
Michael’s team started jumping up and down and slapping each other on the backs, so Loyal assumed they’d won. Reverend Harriman lifted a whistle to his lips and puffed his cheeks. He waved his arms around, and the teams broke up, then began reforming with different players. This time, Loyal got picked and Rebecca was left along the wall. Loyal took his place in the front row near the net. He liked being on the outside corner because it was easier to see what was happening. He hit a ball to a teammate, and they got a point.