KIDS & A TRAIN
Midland Elementary School had a rural address and accommodated children from a half dozen small towns and villages, including Idaho Springs and Sparkledove. Through a pre-arranged meeting with Jason Shirk’s daughter, Evie Hines, Goldie drove Peter’s Ford station wagon to the school and arrived at 12:15 p.m. Hines was Evie’s married name, and she was a second-grade teacher who had been teaching for seven years, but she was new to Midland Elementary. She agreed to meet with Goldie while she was on playground duty, watching a couple of dozen first and second-graders. The children swung back and forth on swings, bobbed up and down on teeter-totters, and ran around with the crackle and energy of several lit fuses despite the thirty-three-degree weather. Though Evie and Goldie had never met, they had spoken on the phone the day before and were really looking forward to seeing one another.
Evie was shorter than Goldie, slightly overweight, but had a pretty face, blonde hair, a clear complexion, and gave the immediate impression of a woman who could take care of herself. No doubt the result of being a cop’s daughter.
“Ay,” Goldie greeted, after one of the school’s secretaries walked her out to the playground.
“Ay, how ya doin’?” Evie greeted, in a Bronx accent just as pronounced as Goldie’s. The two women shook hands.
“I can’t tell ya how nice it is to talk with someone who sounds—y’know—normal!”Goldie said.
“Well, ya can take the girl outta the Bronx, but ya can’t take the Bronx outta the girl,” Evie replied. Then she spotted something happening on the playground. “Timmy?” she called, “Leave Mary Ellen’s hair alone!”
Goldie recalled how Peter had said her accent reminded him of someone he used to know, and how he had specifically mentioned the Bronx. Now she realized he was talking about Evie’s dad. “Thanks for seein’ me,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure. So, writin’ a story about Sparkledove?” Evie asked, keeping one eye on the kids.
“Yeah. As I said on the phone yesterday, I’m withAdventure Escape Magazineand we’re doin’ a feature on Sparkledove for next year’s Christmas issue. The current sheriff has been on the job for about a minute and a half, and since your dad was part of the town for much longer, I thought I’d get some backstory on him. I’m sure he helped make the town’s Christmas season what it is today.”
“Oh, he loved that town,” Evie agreed. “I just took my kids to the Christmas tree lightin’.”
“So, tell me about your dad?” Goldie asked.
“Hold on,” Evie replied with a raised finger. Then she called out to a little girl. “Hey, Kelly. C’mere, sweetie.”
A little red-headed girl in a pea-style navy coat, hat, and mittens timidly approached.
“You’re doin’ that thing with your knees. You gotta go to the bathroom?”
The little girl nodded.
“Then go on. Run inside,” the teacher instructed. Then she turned her attention back to Goldie’s question. “Like I said yesterday, my ol’ man was one of New York’s finest for eighteen years. But he always had a bit of the wanderlust in him. He fancied himself a cowboy and talked about movin’ out west. When I was twelve, that’s what we did. First to Denver, where he was a state cop for ten years, then to Sparkledove for nearly eight more. He had a lot to do with what are now annual traditions in town. Like, the tree lighting, the community Christmas dance, and even an ice sculpture contest, but that got discontinued. He was also the first to encourage some area farmers to sell sleigh rides to tourists in the evenings.”
“How is it he wound up being buried in Idaho Springs?”
“My mom’s buried here. There’s a place they used to picnic that overlooks the cemetery. It’s very picturesque, and she decided that’s where she wanted to be laid to rest. My husband is in the war now, so I wanted to get out of Denver and be near them.”
“What branch is your husband in?”
“The army; last I knew, he was near Casablanca.”
“Is he okay? Safe?”
“As far as I know, but he doesn’t write a lot of details. It’s more general stuff.”
Goldie nodded. “Was it hard for your dad to go from, y’know, investigatin’ big city crimes to arrangin’ sleigh rides?”
“No. He got a lot of what he called his humanity back after movin’ to Sparkledove. He really liked bein’ sheriff there. Except for maybe the last couple of years.”
“What happened the last couple of years?” Goldie asked.
“Scott?” Evie called out. “No, sir! Your hands don’t belong there.” Then, she answered the question. “A certain pain-in-the-ass city council member became the new mayor, and he and dad locked antlers a lot.”
“Charles Banyan?” Goldie asked.
“Yeah,” Evie realized. “Guess youwouldknow who he is since you’re writin’ a story ‘bout the town, huh?Scott?”she called out again. “What did I just say?”
“Why didn’t they get along?” Goldie asked.
