Into the Light Read Online Free Page B

there.”
    Van Cleve! A quick glance to her right showed Miriam deep in conversation with Judith, oblivious to what the old men behind them had to say. No one sitting farther away showed any sign of having heard the name.
    Deborah squinted at the man again. Even though the Van Cleves had been enemies of her family since she’d first come to live with Uncle Jason and Aunt Emma, she could only remember seeing any of them a few times, and the one she remembered was Mrs. Van Cleve, beautiful and haughty, her golden blonde hair perfectly styled, her shapely figure showcased in the latest fashion.
    “I heard he don’t even use his old man’s name,” Lawson said. “His name is the same as his father and grandfather before him, but he calls himself Trey. I guess plain American ain’t good enough for him, so he picked out some foreign word for three, Spanish or something.”
    For goodness sake, hadn’t either Lawson or Ascher ever played a game of cards? Didn’t everyone learn the one, two, and three-spot cards as ace, deuce, and trey? Despising the Van Cleve family because they were arrogant, corrupt, and even criminal was one thing, making ignorant, ridiculous comments about a man’s name was another.
    “Maybe he’s got reason not to use the old man’s name,” Ascher said. “You sure can’t see any sign of Van Cleve in him. He must be more than half a foot taller.”
    Deborah’s hand dove in her pocket and fisted over the bits of cotton. The two old gossips fell silent, as well they should.
    Someone braver must have given them the evil eye and let them know they’d gone too far. No, Mr. Lawson started in again on the same ugly speculation.
    “If you’re right, maybe he didn’t run off as soon as he was full growed. Maybe Van Cleve kicked him out.”
    Ascher wasn’t done yet either. “Except for the darker hair, he looks just like his mother, at least he did before he got that bullet in the back running the wrong way in Cuba. She’s a real beauty, but it’s not natural for a man to look that pretty.”
    That was it. From the fussing still going on in the open field where the contestants stood, the shooting wouldn’t start for another five or ten minutes. Deborah shoved the pieces of cotton in her ears anyway.
    Whatever Ascher and Lawson came up with next, she wasn’t listening to one more malicious word about Webster Van Cleve, III. Even if he was as wicked as his father. Even if he outdid his father by a factor of ten. In fact she hoped the Third won this blasted contest. Well, maybe not, but she hoped he was first runner up behind Caleb.
     
    T REY TOED THE shooting line and tried to estimate how many shots he could make before falling flat on his face in front of half the town, which would be doubly embarrassing because most of them would cheer. The Mayor droned on about the rules, prizes, and history of the country back to Columbus.
    Sweat beaded on Trey’s forehead and ran into his eyes. The morning was not yet half gone, and already every man’s face shone with moisture as the temperature and humidity rose in tandem.
    The Mayor’s voice grew shrill as he reached the events of 1776. Resplendent in top hat and coat, meaty face slowly darkening from red to purple, he’d have to wind down soon. Trey lowered his rifle to the ground and centered the cane in front of him, curling both hands over the knob on top and leaning heavily.
    At this rate he didn’t have to worry how many contest rounds he could endure. He’d be an undignified heap on the ground before the first shot was fired, which would serve him right for wasting good money to enter this contest on a whim.
    The whole thing was Jamie’s fault. If Jamie hadn’t gone off with his latest lady love, he’d have been around to play the voice of reason.
    The other contestants stood gazing into space or staring at their feet. At least they’d known what they were getting into. They probably heard some version of this speech every year.
    A flutter