“I get Taylor,” Reva said, as if he were a piece of merchandise.
“Done,” Amanda answered in the voice of an auctioneer saying, “Sold to the woman in the dirty nightgown.”
“Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
“Forget the lipstick and you’ll save three minutes,” Amanda said with a sweet smile.
Grace looked away to hide her smil
e.
In four minutes Reva was dressed and outside. Amanda wasted no more time on catty remarks but issued orders like a general—or like her father. Neither Reva nor Grace considered contradicting her. Amanda assigned them places to check and gave them less than an hour. They were going to have to search nearly all of Kingman at a run.
An hour later they met in front of the Kingman Arms.
“No sign of him,” Reva said. She too was concerned now. “No one has seen him all day. He hasn’t been back to the hotel. Joe’s at the Union Hall and he hasn’t seen Hank.”
Grace had had no luck either.
“If we could only find his car,” Amanda said. Her heart seemed to have jumped into her throat. Terror was what she felt, sheer debilitating terror. He would never leave the fields and the unionists unless something had…happened. She didn’t like to imagine what could have happened. There was too much talk of bloodshed and violence. “He would never leave that car of his,” she whispered. “If we could just—”
“But his car is back at the fields,” Grace said.
Amanda and Reva turned to look at her.
“I tripped once and saw something yellow in the hop fields. It was almost hidden under the vines, but I knew what it was. There’s nothing else quite the color of Dr. Montgomery’s little automobile.”
“They’ve done something with him,” Amanda said softly, and she knew it was true. “They want their violence, and Hank meant to stop them. They have removed him.”
“Removed him?” Grace asked. “What in the world do you mean?”
Reva took a step backward. “You know, it’s awfully late and I’m real tired. I think I better go home and get to bed. I have to go to work in a few hours. Amanda, after the hops are in, let’s have lunch.”
Amanda grabbed Reva’s arm. “You’re going to the ranch with us. We’re going to find that Whitey Graham—I know he’s behind this—and make him tell us where Hank is.” She swallowed. “If we’re not too late. Reva, does your father have a gun we can borrow? I don’t think a man like Whitey will listen to three women saying please.”
“A g-gun?” Reva asked.
“A pistol, maybe. Better yet, a shotgun. Two big round barrels should get his attention.”
Reva moved away. “Then again, Amanda, you can have Taylor. You can have both men. I think I better get home now, so goodnight, Mrs. Caulden. Goodnight, Amanda.”
Amanda caught Reva before she’d gone ten steps and put her arm firmly through Reva’s. “Don’t turn coward on me now. We have to find Hank. Maybe he can prevent the war that’s about to erupt at our ranch, but, more important, Hank might be hurt.”
“Not to mention us being hurt,” Reva muttered.
“Sometimes, Reva, a person has to do things one doesn’t want to do. Isn’t that right, Mother? Mother?”
The two young women turned back to see Grace Caulden still standing in front of the Kingman Arms. Her oval face was as pale as the moon.
“Reva, does your father have any w-whiskey?” she whispered hoarsely.
“I can guarantee he has whiskey,” Reva said, and fear sounded in her voice.
“Come on, we’re wasting time,” Amanda said. “We have to find Hank.” She walked off into the night, the two women following her hesitantly.
Chapter Eighteen
Are you sure you know how to drive this?” Reva asked. “Or even start it?” Her voice was very quiet and there was a quality in it that could only be classified as respect. Yesterday she would have said that proper, always-use-the-correct-fork Miss Amanda Caulden wasn’t capable of any of the things she had done in the last two hours.