Take Me Home (9781455552078) Read Online Free Page B

to steal gasoline out of Zeke Parker’s drum once. He had to go back for seconds.”
    â€œToo greedy for his own good,” the deputy said with a chuckle.
    Olivia recognized the man in handcuffs the moment she saw him. Dale Keller had been a troublemaker around Miller’s Creek for years. He’d been in and out of jail since he was a teenager for almost every offense under the sun, but he was a born thief. With rationing for the war effort, Dale had been suspected of a number of thefts, stealing whatever he could get his hands on in order to sell it on the black market. Up until today, he’d been able to avoid getting caught.
    â€œYou sons-a-bitches!” Dale shouted. “I didn’t do nothin’!”
    â€œThat’s what I’ve been sayin’,” Sylvester added; he’d been woken by all the commotion and was watching intently.
    â€œLet’s get him in there,” John said, nodding toward the one remaining empty cell. “He’ll calm down soon enough.”
    But then, just as they were a few feet from the open door, Dale suddenly lashed out with his foot and clipped Huck in the back of his leg. The deputy wobbled before eventually pitching over, letting go of the criminal’s arm as he fell. Olivia gasped; she was sure that Dale was going to get free. But any hopes he might have had about freedom were short-lived. Calmly but firmly, the sheriff grabbed hold of the man’s cuffed hands and lifted them up as he simultaneously pushed between Dale’s shoulder blades, forcing him down. The strain he created on the man’s joints was so painful that Dale cried out in agony. John walked him forward before giving him a shove, sending the thief sprawling onto the hard floor of the cell, his face landing with a thud. Before Dale could even turn around, Olivia’s father had already pulled the door shut and locked it. Everything was over before it had really begun.
    Sitting on his rump, Huck shook his head, clearly discouraged, his pride more wounded than his rear end. “Sorry about that, boss,” he grumbled, accepting John’s hand and struggling back to his feet. “I feel like a fool letting that rat get the better of me.”
    The sheriff waved it off. “Dale’s a handful,” he said. “I know that all too well. He’s been fighting me ever since I caught up with him. You should’ve seen me trying to wrestle him into handcuffs.”
    Still plenty intoxicated, Sylvester had started cackling at the sight of Dale’s comeuppance; even the threatening way the thief was glaring at him wasn’t enough to stop his laughter.
    â€œYou best knock that off,” Huck cautioned. “Otherwise, I’ll put you both in the same cell. I don’t reckon it’ll be so funny then.”
    The deputy must have sounded serious; the old drunk’s guffaws dwindled into a series of coughs before he fell silent.
    Olivia stared at her father. John Marsten was just shy of fifty, his sandy blond hair touched with silver at the temples, the skin around his piercing blue eyes starting to become marred by wrinkles. Though he was lean, he was strong in build as well as stature, the sort of man who commanded a room’s attention just by entering it. Even in situations like the one that had just happened, he never appeared ruffled, but calm and collected. He’d been the law in Miller’s Creek since just after Olivia had been born, a fixture in town as familiar as the red and white pole outside the barbershop or the clock high above the bank. Much like the rest of the townsfolk, he had always made Olivia feel safe.
    Hanging up the cell keys, John finally noticed his daughter. “Olivia,” he said, his face softening. “I didn’t know you were here.” Looking back at Dale, he added, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
    â€œI’m fine,” she reassured him.
    Glancing down at his watch,