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all, a heavenly sound—female happiness. He missed it—missed hearing his sisters chirping away as they brushed their hair each morning and readied for the day. He exhaled a heavy sigh, wondering if he’d ever see Fanny and Clara Jean again.
    But Heath pushed thoughts of his family to the back of his mind—reminded himself of what he’d done—or rather, what he hadn’t done.
    “Marie King…this time next month, you and Hudson Oliver will be standin’ right there in front of Vilma’s daddy sayin’ your vows!” he heard one of the girls giggle.
    “We will not!” another girl said, splashing water at the first.
    “Yes, you will!” a third girl countered. “I won’t rest until I’ve seen your weddin’, Marie…until I’ve seen Hudson Oliver whisk you away in his arms and carry you over the threshold of the house the two of you will share forever.”
    Heath frowned a bit—studied the third girl who had spoken. Oh, he knew her name well enough—Magnolia Cranford—“Cricket,” as everyone in town called her. He knew who all four girls were, in fact. He’d recognized them right off. After all, it was his job to know people, to watch them, to know their business. At least, it had been his job—and old habits died hard.
    These four Pike’s Creek girls were thicker than fleas in a cat’s right ear. Furthermore, he was ninety-nine percent certain it was these four girls that were the little do-gooders in town—always leaving cookies on somebody’s front porch or making rag dolls and gifting them in secret to all the little girls in town.
    He smiled with triumph, realizing he’d found their hideout. He’d always suspected that, whoever the group of secret do-gooders in Pike’s Creek, they must’ve had a meeting place, like a bunch of rustlers or bank robbers—somewhere they could plan their do-gooding in secret. It made perfect sense that they’d use the old Morgan place. The rumor around town was that the old house was haunted by the ghosts of two boys who had drowned in the swimming hole some years back. Heath felt his eyebrows arch in admiration for the girls, if for no other reason than that they obviously dared to beat back their fears of specters and drowning to find themselves an outlaw hideaway of sorts.
    “For Pete’s sake, Cricket!” the fourth girl rather scolded. “You’re so dramatic. A month? There’s no way Hudson and Marie will be married in a month. Well, a month ain’t even long enough for a proper courtship.”
    Heath shook his head. Yep. He could always spot this one coming a mile away—the preacher’s daughter. She always walked like she had post shoved up the back of her dress. Stiff as a board and twice as plain.
    “Well, I don’t care,” the Cranford girl said. “I want Hudson and Marie married in a month. And once I’ve got Marie all tucked in with Hudson , I’ll go to work on Ann and Mr. Keel. And once that’s taken care of…I’ll work on you, Vilma Stanley!” The Cranford girl laughed and splashed water at the preacher’s daughter.
    The Cranford girl. Heath considered her for a moment. Fact was, he’d considered her before. There was something about her—a strength and determination he admired, but from afar. She was a pretty thing too. He grinned thinking how opposite her manner of walking was from the preacher’s daughter. While Vilma Stanley walked stiff and straight like she was tied to a post, the Cranford girl had a rather enticing little swing to her walk. The other two girls in the swimming hole were the Burroughs girl and the King girl—both pretty girls and both with little waggles when they walked. But it was the Cranford girl who had always captured Heath’s attention whenever she passed him in town. She was dangerously attractive in some way and put him in mind of…
    He’d lingered too long—allowed his thoughts to drift to absurd venues. And besides, he figured if he had come up so easily and unseen on the Pike’s Creek girls, so