Glory Be

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Mother's Love

"You better hurry up and explain because I'm beginning to think Godly prophecies might be real," Falcon stood up from her spot.

Isaiah was already up, pacing. His mind was running with stupid ideas and incomplete plans. Yet his heart was being controlled by unconditional love and devotion.

"Your son, Seth McCormick, I'm nearly sure he's a deputy for the sheriff's department here in Red Hawk," Isaiah began.

"No, don't even suggest it." Falcon sighed.

"But this might be the only way." Isaiah persisted.

"Hey, what?" Sydney squinted, "What's the plan?"

"I could speak to Deputy McCormick," Isaiah gestured with his hands, "And ask him for,"

"No, no, no," Falcon stomped up to Isaiah, "He's not going to help us. Don't risk my chances here. I don't feel like being hanged by your daddy."

Isaiah leaned back in Falcon's intimidating presence. Sydney rose from his seat, his hand going for his belt again. His protectiveness was endearing, but unnecessary now. He held a handout to stop him.

"I'll be careful about it, because listen to me Falcon," Isaiah said softly.

Falcon's head fell for a moment. Her eyes graced the ground with a profound look. Isaiah let the silence endure as his hand fell back to his side.

"Temperance," Falcon sighed, "That was my given name back in Georgia. You can call me that."

"Okay, Temperance," Isaiah said, taking a step back to reinstate proper space, "Why won't he help you?"

"One, I know the chances are slim, but what if it isn't him, and we just exposed ourselves? Two, if it is him, he's got no reason too unless he's still emotionally a little boy. Which is unlikely cause his mama left him. Tends to toughen you up; happened to myself you know."

"Those are reasonable worries. I suppose I could say something along the lines of..." Isaiah paced in a circle. His head tilting side to side, opening wondering about his script, "Hello Deputy McCormick, I was hoping we could speak about something in private..." He looked up towards his audience, "Then I could talk to him somewhere, such as, um, I don't know yet. Then I would rise my, very understandable concerns about this murderer on the loose," He grimaced while looking at Temperance, but she didn't stir, "I could give a good description, or maybe talk to the deputy about his morals or his background. Hm..." Isaiah trailed off.

"Are you close enough with the deputy to even have that kind of conversation without being inherently suspicious?" Sydney asked.

"Well, no, not really, but I've had dinner with him a few times. Once somewhat recently. I know he puts a lot of value on the law, although his description of his past was fleeting," Isaiah rambled, "Perhaps I could just ask about it openly."

"Perhaps," Temperance said starkly, "I could just grab my horse and I ride out of here and take my chances."

"Do as you wish, Falcon, just do it at night, I don't want anyone to notice where the hell you've been the last day," Sydney grumbled.

"You could, but, maybe just let me speak to him first. I won't reveal anything at all until I'm sure there's no danger," Isaiah added.

He looked over to Sydney, for some reason expecting his brother's argumentative look. He was surprised to Sydney just nodding at him, listening fully. He had his ideas sure, but even in this ideal arms race, it was okay to test out different paths.