Shadow of Turning. Valerie Hansen

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.”

      “Ah, the small-town spy network. Why didn’t I think of that?”

      She couldn’t resist making a joke in spite of the trying situation. “Because you’re not from around here.” The way Nate’s dark eyebrows arched over his narrowed brown eyes almost made her laugh.

      Only one phone number came to mind immediately so Chancy dialed it, hoping desperately that her friend was at home. It rang twice before she heard a cheery “Hello.”

      “Louella!” Thank You, God. “This is Chancy. My van’s been stolen and I want you to pass the word to everybody as fast as you can.”

      “Where are you? What happened?” the other woman asked.

      “It’s a long story. I was at the Hawkins auction and somebody drove off with all my stuff. Tell everybody I can be reached at…” She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Nate. “What’s the number of this phone?” He told her and she repeated it to Louella.

      “That’s not your regular number is it?”

      “No.” Chancy made a face and glanced sideways at Nate, knowing what he’d think and wishing she didn’t have to explain when he could overhear. “My purse was in the van with my keys. I’ve lost my phone, my wallet, my checkbook, everything.”

      “Oh, you poor thing. I’ll telephone the girls right away. Want me to call the sheriff, too?”

      “Yes, please,” Chancy said. “I’ll be at the number I gave you. Please hurry.”

      Nate waited till she’d hung up before he commented. “You really are amazing.”

      “Why? Because I’m dumb enough to let some lowlife drive off with my whole life?”

      “No, because you’re trusting enough to leave things sitting around in the first place. My grandparents refuse to listen to me and lock their doors at night, but that’s not nearly as bad as leaving keys in an ignition.”

      “The keys were in this truck when we borrowed it,” she reminded him. “You have to understand how safe it normally is in a place like Serenity. We don’t have a lot of crime here. It’s like living in a bygone era.”

      “Even the Old West had crime,” Nate countered.

      “True. I guess I just figured the good Lord would look after my stuff.” She could tell by his expression that he thought she was seriously deluded.

      “I should have known,” he said. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that your God-given brain was meant to be used for something besides a place to grow hair?”

      “I’ve never heard it put quite like that but, yes, I guess I do bear some of the responsibility.”

      “Some of it? You bear all of it.”

      She flinched. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

      It didn’t surprise her much when he replied, “Well, I sure would.”

      Nate felt as helpless as a feather caught in one of the tornadoes he was so fond of chasing. They had covered most of the town and were working in widening circles to survey the outlying countryside. It had occurred to him earlier that they were on a wild goose chase but he kept hoping they’d spot Chancy’s missing van just the same.

      Finally, he pulled over and stopped on the unpaved shoulder of the road. “Look. I’m sorry. This isn’t doing any good and we both know it.” It bothered him to see her shoulders slump with such dejection.

      She sighed noisily. “I suppose you’re right. What time is it, anyway?”

      “Nearly seven.” Looking at his watch he remembered their promise to his grandparents. “Uh-oh. I think we’d better call Grandma and tell her what’s going on. She’s probably still waiting on us for supper.”

      “Oh, no. Poor Hester. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about anything but myself.”

      “She’ll understand.” Nate pulled out the phone and pushed the button to speed dial.

      “It’s me,” he said when Ted answered. “Chancy and I got hung up. We’re sorry if we put you out. Her van was stolen and we’ve been driving around looking for it.”

      “Stolen?” The older man was incredulous.

      “Yes, stolen. Right out from under our noses. One minute it was there and the next minute it was gone. We have no idea who took it or why but we thought maybe we could spot it if we drove around for a while.”

      “Where did you see it last?” Ted asked.

      “At the auction. Why?”

      “Hold on. I thought I saw some activity over at the Hawkins place a few minutes ago. I’m gonna walk out on the porch for a second and take a closer look.”

      Nate scowled while he waited. Patience had never been one of his virtues and he hated being put on hold, even for the short time it would take his grandfather to accomplish whatever was on his mind.

      Ted returned with a question. “Where are you?”

      “Over on the highway near Hickory Station. Why?”

      “Well, I suggest you hightail it back here. Everybody else is gone but it appears to me that light brown van of hers is sittin’ smack-dab in front of the Hawkins place.”

      “It can’t be.”

      Ted guffawed. “Oh, yeah? Sure looks like it. ’Course, I could be mistaken. It’s a ways over there and it’s gettin’ dark so I can’t see real clear. Still, it might pay you to come on back and have a look-see.”

      “Thanks. Keep your eye on it till we get there. We’re on our way.”

      He glanced at the worried young woman sitting next to him and answered her unspoken question. “My granddad thinks he sees your van back at the Hawkins place. I don’t know how that can possibly be but he sounds pretty certain.”

      “Praise the Lord!” Chancy was clapping her hands and grinning from ear to ear. “The prayer chain worked again.”

      Nate huffed as he whipped the truck around and floored the accelerator. As far as he was concerned there had to be a sensible explanation for whatever had happened. Just because he couldn’t see the details of it didn’t mean he was ready to resort to giving credit to prayer or anything else unseen. It was far more likely that kids had taken the van joyriding, had had an attack of conscience and had decided to bring it back before they got in trouble with the law. It was just the kind of adolescent folly that had gotten him into trouble as a teen.

      He considered expressing his opinion on the matter then decided against it. Although he did concede the probability of a Creator, he wasn’t willing to believe that God cared about the minute details of everyday life on earth.

      He caught her peering at him. “What?”

      “You don’t believe in prayer, do you?”

      “Maybe. Maybe not.”

      “Wow.” She settled back against the seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery for a while before she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

      “No problem. You’re entitled to your beliefs.”

      “And you’re entitled to yours. I guess