“Let ’er come to the jail,” snapped the angry sheriff. “She’ll have plenty of time to say good-bye there.”
At that they tugged the chair through the narrow door. Then two boards were found upon which to roll it into the patrol.
Inside the shop Jinnie was quiet now, save for the convulsions that rent her body. She looked up at the man holding her.
“Let me go,” she implored. “I’ll be good, awful good.”
Perhaps it was the pleading blue eyes that made the officer release her arms. Jinnie sprang to the door, and as Lafe saw her, he smiled, oh such a smile! The girl ran madly to him.
“Lafe! Lafe!” she screamed. “Lafe dear!”
Lafe bent, touched the shining black curls, and a glorified expression spread over his face.
“He’s given His angels charge over you, lass,” he murmured, “an’ it’s a fact you’re not to forget.” 246
Then they rolled him up the planks and into the wagon. With clouded eyes Jinnie watched the black patrol bowl along toward the bridge, and as it halted a moment on Paradise Road to allow an engine to pass, the cobbler leaned far out of his wheel chair and waved a thin white hand at her. Then like a deer she ran ahead until she came within speaking distance of him. The engine passed with a shrieking whistle, and the horses received a sharp crack and galloped off. Jinnie flung out her arms.
“Lafe!” she screamed. “I’ll stay with Peg till you come.”