Shadow of Turning

The auction was over and traffic had thinned by the time Chancy and Nate arrived back at the Hawkins place so they were easily able to find parking places. She drove past the closest one and left it for him so they could more efficiently load the truck.

Gesturing and pointing as she walked back toward him she called, “Over there. By that lilac bush. That whole pile is mine.”

“Wow. When you shop you don’t kid around, do you?”

Chancy had to chuckle at his astounded expression in spite of the fact she felt the same way when she looked at the enormous stack of bags and boxes. “Nope. When they group items like they did, it’s almost more trouble than it’s worth. Still, every once in a while I discover I’ve bought something really rare or valuable that I didn’t even know was there.”

“I hardly know where to start picking this up.”

“I know what you mean.” Pausing, hands fisted on her hips, Chancy scowled as she perused the haphazard pile of merchandise.

“What’s the matter?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know. It looks kind of messy, like somebody stirred it.”

“How in the world would you know?”

“I suppose you’re right. It just seems worse than it was when I put it here.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Just grab any old box and let’s start stacking them in your truck. I don’t think there’s anything breakable. All the glass and china is already in my van.”

“Gotcha.” He grinned at her. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”

“You can drop the fake Southern charm,” Chancy said, mirroring his amiable expression. “Just keep up the Southern gentleman act for a while longer and I’ll be satisfied.”

Nate passed her carrying a precarious-looking stack of tattered cardboard boxes. “What makes you think it’s an act? Maybe I’m a true Southern gentleman. After all, Ted’s my granddad and you already said you liked him.”

Laughing lightly, she gathered up an armload of old blankets and quilts and followed Nate. “That’s true. And kinship is very important around here.”

After she’d unceremoniously crammed the blankets into the pickup bed, they started back to the main pile together. “Lots of young people leave the Ozarks, thinking things must be better in faraway places, then find out otherwise and come home again,” Chancy observed. “Is that what your parents did?”

“No. Dad never wanted to come back here to live. My mother was city born and bred. She viewed life on the farm as one step out of the Stone Age. Never would even agree to visit after the first time.”

“That’s too bad. No wonder you didn’t fit in very well when you came to stay with Ted and Hester.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Nate said seriously as they continued to work. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of the trouble I had when I was here before.”

“Why not? I remember thinking that the local boys were treating you terribly. If it had been me, I’d have gotten mad and socked a few of them in the nose long before you did.”

“Just the same. Please?”

“Sure.” Chancy shrugged as she scooped up several paper grocery sacks containing odd bits of fabric and yarn. “No problem. I won’t breathe a word.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Just stick the rest of that stuff in the truck. I’ll go put these bags in the front of the van so the little pieces don’t blow all over town and then you can follow me to the shop. Okay?”

“Sure. One more trip and I’ll have it all.”

“Good. I…” Her jaw dropped. Thunderstruck, she blinked and scanned the street as if positive she’d simply made a mistake. Unfortunately, there was no mistake. “I don’t believe it!”

Nate paused beside her with the last of the boxes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“My van,” Chancy said breathlessly. “It’s gone.”

“What are you talking about? It can’t be gone. We were right here the whole time.”

“I wasn’t watching it, were you?”

“Well, no, but…” He scowled at her. “You didn’t leave the keys in it, did you?”

“Of course I did. I always do. My logo is all over the side. Who in his right mind would take a vehicle so easy to identify?”

“Obviously somebody who didn’t think that far ahead.” Nate reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a cell phone and tried to hand it to her. “Here. Call the police.”

Chancy snorted derisively. “Right now, I think there are two sheriff’s cars in the whole county and only one deputy besides the sheriff, himself. What makes you think reporting the theft would do any good?”

“Okay. Then, what do you suggest?”

“We chase them.”

“Chase them? How? We don’t have any idea which way they went.”

“Well, it’s better than just standing here staring at each other while my van gets farther and farther away, isn’t it?”

Nate sighed heavily. “Get in the truck.” He grabbed the bags from her arms and tossed them into the bed with the other auction purchases. “Like you said, it’ll be easy to ID your van, assuming we can catch up to it.”

Chancy didn’t see any better options. If whoever had taken her van intended to sell its contents, there would be no way to prove ownership once all that furniture was dispersed. And if the van itself was the target of the theft it could be repainted and sold or parted out. She needed her van for work. Desperately. Without it, she might as well quit the antique business.

Piling into the front seat of the pickup beside Nate, she slammed the door. “Okay, I’m in. Floor it.”

Chancy didn’t know how much stuff was blowing or bouncing out of the bed of the truck as they careened around corners and bumped through potholes but she didn’t care. They could always backtrack and clean up any mess later. Right now, she had other goals.

Nate skidded to a halt at the stop sign by the post office, where Byron Road intersected with Highway 62. Chancy had to brace herself against the dusty dashboard to stay on the seat.

“Which way?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Just drive.”

“That’s stupid. We won’t accomplish a thing if we wrap this truck around a tree. You live here. Think. Where would you go if you wanted to hide a van with a big logo on it?”

“Are you kidding? There are dozens of dirt roads all over this county. Any one of them would do.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone?”

He handed it over without argument. “Are you finally going to be sensible and call the sheriff?”

“Yes, and no,” she said. “The first thing I’m going to do is start the prayer chain from my Sunday-school class.”

“What good will that do?”

Chancy huffed. “Plenty. Besides the value of prayer itself, it’ll give us lots more eyes all over town. Nothing gets past those women. They all know me. If my van is near any of their houses, we’ll hear about it.”