It's only because she's sorting through things for the move (it's been long enough now, she can contemplate donating James's clothing to the church bazaar), that Ellen has occasion to notice her gun's gone missing. Harry's, really. An old army revolver, that he left for the family's protection.
It doesn't take long to connect up the dots between the disappearance and her son's slightly guilty behaviour this morning. Angus has never been a particularly good liar, and if she hadn't been distracted she would have noticed something was off.
She storms down to the gang's river hideaway. They weren't aware she knew about the place; or rather, they hadn't been.
They are now.
Looking not a little sheepish, too.
"You're grounded for the rest of the summer," she says briskly, unloading the bullets. Where did they find or buy or steal these? Something for her to ask later.
"Spoilsport," Jesse mutters.
"You can say that again," Ellen tells him, without remorse. "I expect all your parents will have their own opinions about this."
"We didn't actually shoot anything," Neil offers.
"I don't see it would have been so bad if we had," Chuck declaims, although he avoids her gaze.
"Sorry, Mom." At least her son looks appropriately ashamed.
Jack Dalton's not here, she notices. Separating her children from their peer groups had been one of her concerns; but then, Allison has never been the sociable sort anyhow. And if this is what Angus is getting up to with the other boys, then a move away from Mission City may be just what he needs.
Come to think of him...
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Speak to a fool according to his folly. Or something to that effect. She'll never be as letter-perfect on Biblical lore as Nelson.
Ellen catches Jack next afternoon, when he's going moping down the street. Nobody wants to play with him (well, what else could an out-of-towner expect?) So he's more than willing to accept her invitation to the shop, where she plies him with cake and quizzes him about his future plans.
"So, you don't love Ruth and David enough to stay with them?" she asks, cutting him another helping.
Jack eyes the slice uncertainly (he's on his third), but attacks it with a sort of determined resolution. "Don't get me wrong, they're nice folks. Only my Uncle Charlie- well, he'll be by to collect me one of these days, so of course I'll go with him. They understand that."
"Even though he's a repeat felon."
"I didn't say that," Jack says, scraping icing off the plate. "But so what if he is?"
That settles that. She offers him another tart lemonade; he gulps it down gratefully, yawns. "Honestly- thanks for the cake, but I think I'd better be getting along home now. I'm sorta awfully sleepy."
"You can lie down in one of the booths, if you like. The cafe's never very busy this time of day."
"No. I mean, thanks, but- I gotta get home," Jack protests, a very unfocused look in his eyes. "I mean, you can't sleep just anywhere. Has to be somewhere safe."
"Don't you think this is safe?"
He doesn't reply, just slides off his chair and makes for the door. Actually stumbles outside for a few steps, before fainting away; she picks up the child and carries him back in. Heavy little thing for his size.
"Nelson's right. Those sleeping drugs wouldn't have worked, if you'd confined yourself to a sensible serving," Ellen says aloud. He doesn't even stir.
She'll drive him and Angus out to Nelson's tonight. With any luck, nobody in Mission City will even notice; one child grounded, the other a runaway, there's no reason to suspect anybody will think twice about the double disappearances. Allison can stay, to ward off suspicion and help her with the packing.
Drastic measures: but if this is what it'll take to save the pair of them, done it shall be.
She just hopes that Nelson will be able to cope with these two mischief-makers...