Scarlett.

“Go,” Buck told it, “get Scarlett.”

When next he looked, the dog was gone.

Sixteen

Scarlett had not only fixed lunch, she’d peeled a bowl of apples and made two apple pies with fancy lattice crusts, but she still felt jittery. Farrie sat at the kitchen table and watched as she started on a package of Betty Crocker brownie mix she’d found in the Grissoms’ pantry.

“If you’re going to sit around in that Spirit of Mistletoe dress, you’re going to have to be careful,” Scarlett said as Farrie took the brownie bowl to lick. “It’s too late to wash and dry it if you spill something.”

Farrie nodded, busy with the chocolate batter. She’d kept her plastic mistletoe headdress on, so ready for her big night that she couldn’t bear to take any part of her costume off.

Although they both jumped, it was something of a relief to hear Demon’s wild barking, followed by the scratching at the back door. The next instant they knew what it meant.

“Something’s happened to Buck,” Scarlett cried.

They both raced to open the door. Demon came hurtling in, not stopping to be petted, circling the kitchen table and barking.

“She don’t want to stay,” Farrie shouted.

Scarlett bent to touch Demon’s coat. It was icy cold. “She’s been out somewhere with him. I know Demon would never leave Buck unless something’s happened!”

Suddenly Scarlett knew what that look meant in Devil Anse’s eyes that morning when he’d gotten out of the pickup truck at the Living Christmas Tree. Those eyes that singled her out held a warning not to do anything, no matter what happened.

The dog circled the table again restlessly, still barking her low, rasping woof, woof.

Scarlett leaned over it. “Where’s Buck?” she cried.

Demon barked again and raced for the door. The dog sat down in front of it, tail pounding furiously.

Farrie threw up her hands, her face wrinkled in anguish. “Something’s happened for sure, Scarlett!” she screeched. “Is it Devil Anse? Is he going to hurt Sheriff Buck?”

Scarlett’s legs gave way under her and she had to sit down. Something awful had happened to Buck. She could guess what that was, since Demon had come back without him.

Oh, glory, she prayed fervently, don’t let Devil Anse do anything to Buck! There was no limit to what her grandpa could do, mean as he was!

Scarlett looked slowly around the kitchen. It had all been a dream, she thought. A dream that someone like Farrie and herself could live in a real house, so solid and comfortable, and full of love, like real people. Without being discovered for what they were.

Scraggses. Outlaws. People that no one in their right mind would want to have anything to do with.

What had just happened – what had probably happened to Buck by now if Devil Anse had him – proved that, all right.

She took a deep breath. “We’ve gotta stop Grandpa,” she said, looking across the kitchen table at Farrie. “Buck’s been good to us like nobody else has ever been.”

She saw her little sister think it over a minute. Then Farrie nodded in agreement.

“And if we do,” Scarlett said slowly, “we can never come back.”

Farrie’s eyes widened. “Whatcha going to do?”

Scarlett shrugged, a little sadly. “I guess you could call it burning our bridges behind us.”

This time, they both knew, Devil Anse had gone too far. Sheriff Buck Grissom was different. He was different because Scarlett loved him. And if Devil Anse thought he could do anything he wanted to Buck, he had a big surprise coming.

The bigger surprise the better, Scarlett told herself vengefully. The second mistake Devil Anse had made was thinking she’d forgotten how to act like a Scraggs. Because right now she had just the thing a Scraggs would do in mind.

“If Devil Anse hurts Buck,” she vowed as she untied her apron, “I’m going to make him sorry that he ever had any kin at all.” She started toward the hallway. “What’s in that gun case in the den?”

Her sister was right at her heels. “Two Uzis, an AK-47,” Farrie answered promptly, “and two sawed-off twelve-gauges.”

“You’ve already opened that case to look, haven’t you?” Scarlett didn’t wait for an answer. “Go pick that lock again,” she told her sister, “and get the shotguns.”

Unlike most Scraggses Scarlett hated guns. Which didn’t keep her from being an unerring shot. She knew Devil Anse wouldn’t be so nice-minded when it came to Buck; he’d shoot him dead if he had to.

Well, she could be tough, too, Scarlett thought, when it came to someone she loved. She’d already proved that with Farrie.

She stopped short in front of the den. “Oh, damn, we need a car! What are we going to do for transportation?”

“Mrs. Grissom’s Buick Park Avenue?” Farrie looked hopeful. “It’s in the garage.”

Scarlett turned to her. “What can you do with that?”

“Oh, I love Buicks,” Farrie breathed. “I can get in with a coat hanger.”

“Then let’s do it,” Scarlett said.

She gathered up the weapons herself. It took agonizing minutes to find the ammunition for the shotguns, but she finally discovered it in Buck’s desk drawer in the den. When she went out to the car Farrie had the Buick’s door unlocked and was sprawled on the seat working on the steering column, with only her little feet sticking out from under the long skirt of the Angel’s gown.

“You better take off your costume,” Scarlett said, leaning over her to see what she was doing, “and bundle up good. It’s getting colder.”

Farrie had inserted a screwdriver into the interlocking plastic that covered the steering column. As she pried at it the two sections popped away and fell on the floorboard. She seized the metal rod running up inside the column and pulled on it.

The engine purred into life.

“Push down to shut it off,” Farrie said briskly as she sat up. “And pull it up to start. You just don’t have any keys, that’s all.” Her expression changed suddenly as she remembered what Scarlett had said. “I’m not going to take my Spirit of Mistletoe stuff off, Scarlett,” she wailed, “I’m going to sing tonight! I just know I am!”

“Good night, don’t screech.” Scarlett stood with one shotgun cradled in one arm, the other shotgun in the other, Farrie’s coat in her hand. “I only said that because I just don’t know if we’re going to get back in time.”

“Yes we are! Demon’s a good tracker, Scarlett,” she pleaded. “We just have to follow behind her and hope we don’t get into too much traffic. If we do, you can get out and go with her,” she cried, her voice rising again. “I can drive the Buick, you know I can!”

“Now, now,” Scarlett soothed her. She handed Farrie her cap, mittens, and down jacket. Her little sister had been driving since she was eight, but her feet didn’t quite reach the pedals.

“Well, we’ll see,” Scarlett said, as she got in behind the Buick’s wheel. Demon was already in the driveway, tail wagging impatiently. Scarlett set her jaw.

“I hope,” she said under her breath as she drove the Buick out of the garage, “you haven’t done anything to Buck, Devil Anse, I really do. ’Cause if you have, I’ll sure make you pay for it.”

A steady north wind bent the tops of the pine trees in the gully. It didn’t reach where Buck was sitting on the ground, tied to his pine, but another hour, he knew, and he was going to feel more than his numbing backside.

He’d been watching the men down where the pickups were parked. There’d been another round of beer and discussion, with the Scraggs uncle and the Potters turning to look at him from time to time. Only old Devil Anse kept his back turned.

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t giving them what they wanted, which was to have the Jackson County sheriff in their pocket so they’d have a free hand, even outright protection if that’s what it came down to, from the county police for what old Scraggs called their “business interests.” And if bribery failed, they planned to beat him until he gave in. Buck knew they were ready to come back and persuade him some more.

He looked up through the pines above him. The winter sun was in a bank of gray clouds and twilight was reaching into the gully. The hell of it was if they beat him into unconsciousness it wouldn’t do them any good; he was damned if he was going to give in to an old thug like Devil Anse. And in spite of the fact that the Living Christmas Tree was due to start after dusk with Junior Whitford, and the Atlanta television news.

I’m going to be an item in the media, he thought, one way or the other. Right now I think it’s going to be more like: “Jackson County’s Sheriff Mysteriously Missing When All Hell Breaks Loose at the Courthouse.”

And all hell would break loose when it was discovered that he’d spent the afternoon tied to a tree, being beaten by redneck hijackers, rather than policing the Living Christmas Tree concert. He might as well resign, Buck told himself. It was better than waiting to be kicked out of office.

He turned his face up to the sky and the soughing pine branches, and shut his eyes and said a small prayer.

Scarlett, he prayed silently, I sent your damned monster animal to you, and I hope you’ve contacted the department by now and have my deputies on their way while there’s still time. If you haven’t -

He couldn’t go any farther. Loud redneck voices interrupted. When he opened his eyes he saw the Scraggses and the Potters toss their beer cans into the trees and start up toward him.

At the junction of Route 19 and the feeder road leading to State 135 Demon stopped, confused, on the shoulder.