The Tin Box Read Free Page B

unlocking and then relocking the gate was going to get tedious, he predicted. And the key ring Jan had given him was too heavy to keep in his pocket. He ended up stuffing it in his glove box instead and hoped nobody broke into his car when he was in town.
    Hawks circled high overhead, and the cows watched as he bumped down the long road to the highway.
    The town of Jelley’s Valley was so tiny he nearly sped through it. A long, low building with a white-gravel parking lot housed the post office and general store. The square building next door was Dos Hermanos restaurant. An ancient gas station across the highway completed the business section. There were houses too, maybe a hundred of them, all very modest and set well away from the road. A larger building with a flag out front was nestled at the base of a hill. Judging by the adjacent play structures, it was the area’s elementary school.
    William pulled in next to the only other vehicle in the lot, a battered old pickup. Two men in bicyclists’ gear sat at a picnic table near the post office end of the building. Their bikes leaned against a nearby tree, and one of the men guzzled a sports drink while the other massaged his own thighs. Neither gave William more than a quick glance as he emerged from the car and slipped his jacket on. Even the cows had found him more interesting than these two men did.
    Fliers were stapled to the exterior of the building beside the post office door. Free kittens. An upcoming yard sale. A barbecue to raise money for someone named Patty, although why Patty needed the cash was not explained. A person with horrible spelling and worse handwriting was offering to do yard work or light repairs, “Price Negoshible.”
    William pulled open the door and stepped inside.
    He saw at once that the post office and store shared one big room. The postal part had a wooden counter with locked boxes in front and a grid of cubbyholes behind. The walls in that portion of the room sported more homemade advertisements as well as a couple of faded posters for commemorative stamps. There was nobody behind the counter.
    In fact, the only two people he could see were in the larger portion of the room, the general store. Several low shelves were packed with boxes, jars, and cans. A large older woman in lavender sweatpants and matching sweatshirt stood near the cash register, chatting loudly with the clerk, who was mostly hidden by the bulk of her body. “Delmer says we shouldn’t give her a penny more, not even if she is my niece, because she’s just going to squander it. But it’s her kids I’m worrying about. The littlest one, he has to have some kind of expensive eyeglasses or he can’t hardly see, and the middle one told me they’ve been eating nothing but sandwiches for dinner. Honestly, Colby, I just don’t know what to do.” She shook her head mournfully.
    “Family can break your heart, Mrs. Barrett.”
    “They sure can, Colby. They sure can. I just toss and turn all night thinking of those children. If I were ten years younger I’d take them in myself, I surely would.”
    “And I bet you’d do a real good job with them. You raised your own really well.”
    Mrs. Barrett nodded before digging in her purse. The cash register jingled merrily—it was an old-fashioned one, not the modern variety that beeped impudently.
    “Need some help out to your car today?” asked Colby.
    “Thank you, but I think I can still manage one bag by myself. I’m not ready for the scrap heap yet!”
    “Nah, you have a lot of miles left in you.”
    Clerk and customer laughed. The plastic sack rustled as Mrs. Barrett gathered the handles. She turned away from the counter and hobbled to the door without glancing William’s way.
    “Can I help you?” asked Colby.
    William got a good look at the clerk and winced. Colby was maybe twenty-two, a good ten years younger than William. The original color of his hair was unclear; right now it was streaked with varying unnatural