by Linda Ladd
Millie Mae's voice had grown a trifle worried, no doubt because of Matty's continued silence, and that worried Kate, too. She could feel her heart thudding against her breastbone. The man was immensely strong, she noticed again, broad shouldered and as muscled as Paul Bunyan, or even the Blue Ox. He wore a short, unkempt beard and looked like the most dangerous, ignorant redneck Kate had ever laid eyes on.
“How do you do, ma'am?"
Kate nearly sagged in relief, her hold on her baby relaxing a little. Then a tiny bit more when he smiled broadly, displaying the biggest, whitest set of truck-hauling choppers Kate had ever seen. Even on Los Angeles television news anchors.
“How do you do,” she answered with the same absurd courtesy. As if they'd run into each other at the afternoon Bible Study at the Baptist Church Missionary Society. A dreamlike torpor was seeping over Kate again, making her feel as though she was still slogging her way through the living nightmare she'd been in for the last forty-eight hours. He seemed civilized, so Kate decided to tell him the truth, or most of it. “I, well, I appreciate your sister bringing me home with her like this. Some men broke into my house yesterday morning. They killed my husband.” It was the first time she'd verbalized Michael's murder, and she swallowed down the enormous lump that came into her throat. “I ran into the woods with my baby but they've been chasing me. I couldn't have made it much farther on my own."
“Probably DEA.” Matty Jones nodded with sage assurance. “Them guys're always busting in on people's private property. They ain't found us here yet, and they won't without being real bad-assed sorry they messed with us four Jones boys."
Kate stared at him, left speechless by his comments. Finally, she said, “Well, I'm not really sure who they are. They might've been some enemies of my husband. I saw them kill him.” Michael's dead, she thought, still unwilling to believe it. How could something so awful be true?
“Those fucking bastards,” Millie Mae said reassuringly, patting Kate's arm.
Kate turned astonished eyes on the child. Matty was quick to reprimand his little sister.
“You watch your mouth, Sissy girl. You know good and well you ain't allowed to talk like that until you get to be twelve."
Matty was smiling at Kate again, so she shook off her shock and forged on as Joey began to squirm inside her arms. Her voice sounded a little shaky. This place made her nervous. “If you could just take me down to Van Buren to the sheriff's office, he'll help me, I know. He's an old friend of my grandfather's.” She cut off abruptly, hoping to God that Gus hadn't arrested Matty for anything.
“You talkin’ about Gus? Gus Shelter? He's the one what put my baby brother in jail for drunk and disorderly t'other day. But Little John needed to dry out a spell, anyway, I reckon. He likes his Bud, just like the rest of us.” Matty shook his massive, shaggy head. “Gus's a good ol’ boy, I guess, even if he has to arrest us, and whatnot. So he's a friend of yours, huh?"
“Oh, yes, for years and years,” Kate answered, nodding cautiously but encouraged, now that she and Matty Jones had a mutual friend. She wondered if Gus knew the Jones boys were harvesting weed up here. “He took over from my grandfather. You might've known him, too. His name was Joseph Macon, but everyone called him Pop."
“You kin to Pop Macon? Well, I be damned and tarred black. He arrested me my very first time. For bustin’ up the Coke machine down at the IGA store.” Grinning, Matty shook his head as if that was his fondest memory. Apparently it was. “Those were the good ol’ days back then, but Granny tanned my butt with her rug beater for gettin’ in trouble so young. I was just nine, no older than little Sissy here. That's why I don't want her usin’ swear words till she's of the right age."
Not surprisingly, Kate couldn't think of anything to say to that, either. Nodding agreeably, she told herself that she and Joey were still better off here than alone in the woods chased by murderers. And luckily, Matty Jones wasn't one to hold a grudge against his arresting officers. She smiled, hoping that would be enough.
“Do you think you might be able to take me on into town, Mr. Jones? I'd be mighty obliged.” Kate realized she was lapsing into hillbillyese but felt it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.
Matty's response was a hearty laugh that seemed to roll up from somewhere deep inside his beer gut. “Nobody's called me that in a coon's age, I reckon."
His teeth shone remarkably white against his ruddy face, just like Millie Mae's. It was amazing out here in the hills, without fluoride in the water. The rest of him didn't match up so well. He was pretty dirty, especially around his fingernails. She tried not to notice the greenish line at the base of his bull-like neck. She watched him pull out a dirty handkerchief and blow his nose.
“Well, ma'am, I don't suppose I can get you there tonight. I got a man I gotta meet later this evenin’ but I can probably carry you down there first thing in the morning, if you want. The truck's not here right now anyways. My brothers had to run up Eminence way, then they was gonna swing back and pick up Little John out of the jailhouse but they'll be back before dark.” He noticed Kate's bloodstained sock for the first time. “Hey now, you might want to bind up that ankle before it gets some infection to it. Here, you can use this.” He offered her his soiled handkerchief as a bandage. Kate was circumspect enough to take it.
“Ol’ Leech bit her before I could whistle him off but it ain't deep,” Millie Mae explained quickly.
“It's nothing, really,” Kate managed weakly, certainly not wanting to offend him, but not comfortable holding his filthy handkerchief either. “I'd sure appreciate that ride into town first thing in the morning. I can pay you for your trouble once we get there."
Matty nodded. “Sissy, take her on inside and let her rest a spell while you cook up some supper for the boys. I have to say you do look a tad weary, ma'am."
Kate had to laugh a little. “I'm tired, all right. I've been walking for miles."
“You're safe enough now. We don't cotton to strangers snooping ‘round. We shoot first, then ask them what their bidness was."
Kate didn't know whether he was kidding or not, so merely nodded until he gave his big radiant smile. She returned it obligingly, as if she thought he was Robin Williams all over again.
“You wouldn't have a telephone, would you? So I could call Gus?” she asked hopefully.
“Nope. Them phone lines don't come up this far in the hills. I got one of them cell phone gadgets hooked up in my truck, though, but it don't work good unless you take it up on the ridge. You can try it, if you want to, when the boys get back with the truck."
“That's very kind. I appreciate it."
Matty nodded and grinned at her until she felt a little uncomfortable. Please, please, let me and Joey make it through till tomorrow, she prayed silently, following little Millie Mae into the camouflaged mobile home. She turned back at the door, just in time to see Matty pick up his automatic weapon and stroll off toward his marijuana patch.
Inside the trailer Kate's eyes latched first on the gigantic big-screened, color television set that took up most of the living room.
“Ain't that a beaut?” Millie Mae said, nearly convulsing with pride. “And it's got surround sound and a little baby picture up in the corner so Matty and Mark can watch the NASCAR races while Luke and Little John and me watches the Dukes of Hazzard. Since we put up that little antenna thingy outside on the roof, it works real good."
“How many channels do you get?” Kate asked, trying to be polite as she examined the dim interior. No lights were on, and most of the curtains were drawn.
“Fifty-four, and some of ‘em even got people speaking in Mexican and that language they use up in Paris, France, you know, that place where Princess Diana got killed in that car wreck with her boyfriend named Dodi. Can't make heads or tails of that, though. None of us can, not even Matty."
Besides the gigantic TV set there was an old couch that made into a bed, one that was still pulled out and piled with lots of rumpled blue shee
ts and a blue-striped feather pillow without a case. Three old vinyl recliners repaired with silver duct tape sat in a row under a gun rack that held at least nine guns. Dozens of boxes of ammunition were stacked on the bottom shelf. The kitchen was to the right and looked fairly clean enough, except for a sink full of dirty dishes. The whole place smelled strongly of scorched hog fat.
“Luke left the bed pulled out again. He's the biggest slob of all my boys,” Millie Mae was informing Kate now. “Granny used to whup him regular for making messes. Now he don't get in no trouble unless Matty's in a foul mood and slaps him up the side of the head.” She grinned tolerantly.
Kate followed her around the edge of the sofa bed and down a narrow hallway, listening as the child gave her the fifty-cent tour, pointing out the rooms as they walked by. “That's Matty's room, he shares it with Little John when he's not in the county clink for drunk and disorderly. I'm glad he's coming home today, though. Mark and Luke share this one here. This's the one we keep the pots in till the seedlings get big enough to grow outside."
Kate peered into a room filled with marijuana plants set underneath about a dozen portable fluorescent lights. Most were about a foot high. Millie Mae had stopped at the end of the hallway.
“I got this one all to myself now that Granny's gone to meet her Maker. We used to share it. Being as I'm the only girl and all, Matty says I'm special. Do you think I'm special, Miss Kate?"
Kate looked at the little girl, wondering what on earth would happen to her in the future, living out here in the middle of nowhere with brothers who were hard-drinking criminals. “I don't know what Joey and I would've done if you hadn't come along,” she said truthfully.
“Oh, now, I'm just glad I ran into you. We never get any company, except for when the truant officers come around if I go to missin’ too much school. Now let me see, I guess we need to get some salve on that dog bite. I keep it cool in the icebox so it won't go to smelling too rank. It'll help heal up all those cuts and bruises of yours. That's the bathroom. It's got running hot water and all.” She grinned, proud again. “Matty got us all this stuff selling weed. Granny wouldn't let him do it while she was living, but now he does whatever he wants cause he's the boss of all of us. Hey, you want me to take care of Joey while you get washed up?"
Kate couldn't help but clutch the baby more tightly but she tried to hide it. “No, I guess I better give him a bath, too, while I'm at it."
Glad when Millie Mae nodded agreeably and headed for the kitchen, Kate carried Joey into the bathroom. She was very glad to see the lock on the door, and she felt better the minute she pushed the button in the door handle. She laid Joey down on the counter and felt tears burn as he looked up at her out of his luminous black eyes.
“We're going to make it through all this, Joey, I promise you,” she whispered. “Just hang in there a little longer.” The thought of his being kidnapped, of possibly having to hand him over to the authorities hit her like a punch in the jaw, and she thought for a moment that she couldn't bear it, couldn't do that, no matter what happened. It couldn't be true, could it? That he was abducted, that he had a family waiting and worrying to get him back safely?
Carefully she scooped him up and cradled the back of his head tightly against her neck. “Oh, Joey, I love you so much."
Joey fought her tight hold, so she blinked back her emotion. She couldn't worry about that now anyway. She had to get to Gus first, then she'd deal with whatever happened next.
Joey was content to lie atop the counter and watch the round lights above his head while Kate opened the taps and held her injured hand under it, then splashed cool water on her face. She lifted her head and stared at her reflection. She hardly recognized herself. Her blond hair was filthy, most of her ponytail pulled out of the rubber band. She had a purpling bruise on her left cheek and a deep scratch across her right one. She looked as though she'd just been dragged off the battlefield at Shiloh. And she felt as bad as she looked. She gazed yearningly at the shower stall, wanting a bath more than anything. She jumped when Millie Mae's voice sounded just outside the door.
“Hey, I got one of Granny's dresses out here in case you want to wear it. I think it'll fit if you want to. She was real skinny like you."
Kate opened the door. Smiling, Millie Mae handed Kate an old-fashioned sundress made of red-and-white-striped cotton. Circa 1940, by the looks of it. “It's a pretty old one, but I like it the best. It's too big for me so far but I'm gonna wear it someday when I get older. Matty got a picture of Granny wearing it when she was young like you.” She shrugged. “I reckon you can wear it, if you like, or not, since you got your own stuff so dirty. Got a pair of sandals, too, if you want em."
“Thank you, Millie Mae. You're really very sweet, you know that?"
“Oh, that's okay, Miss Kate, you'd do the same for me, wouldn't you now? Here's that salve, and if you want to, you can wash yourself up real good before dinner. You can use my towel, if you want to. I only used it since Tuesday past. Mine's the bright yellow one. Each of us have a color and we can't use no other. I get them washed now and again when I got the time. I'm pretty busy taking care of the boys and doing my homework."
“Where do you go to school, Millie Mae?"
“Down in Van Buren. Mrs. Berry's third grade class. I make really good grades. I've learned lots of stuff since I've been watching that Learning Channel on television. That, and Discovery, too. I saw all about them originals, you know, the black people way down there in Australia. Boy, they sure do live hard. We all have a lot to be thankful for, don't we, Miss Kate, livin’ here in the U S of A?"
Kate nodded, realizing she meant aboriginals, trying to absorb the sheer absurdity surrounding her.
“I'll be getting back to the kitchen now. Bye."
Millie Mae ran off down the hall, and Kate shut the door, carefully locking it again. Breathing more easily, she stared at herself. Only until tomorrow, she thought. Make it through the night, Kate, and they'll take you in to Gus's office. She would just have to be vigilant and watch her every move. And their every move, especially Matty's. He seemed harmless enough, but she had a bad feeling that he wasn't harmless at all, and neither were his three brothers who would no doubt show up any minute, armed and dangerous, and exhilarated from their latest drug run.
Twelve
KATE STOOD in the shower stall for a long time, warm water sluicing gently over her bruised, aching body. She held Joey securely against her chest, and the baby seemed to enjoy the soothing bath as much as she did. She tried not to think what would happen next, afraid to see into the future. Everything had gone crazy, her calm, predictable world upended into chaos. She hoped fervently that Matty and Millie Mae would come through for her. She felt relatively safe with them; at least she wasn't being hunted through the woods like Bambi in deer season.
After awhile she forced herself to step out of the shower, wet hair streaming down her back while she swaddled Joey inside Millie Mae's bright yellow towel. She quickly dried herself and wrapped the towel around her head. Joey was doing fine; only a couple of scratches to show for their harrowing ordeal. Kate, on the other hand, looked like Mike Tyson's punching bag. She remembered how nervous she'd been the day Michael brought Joey home. Despite all the baby books she'd read, she'd been leery of handling him or giving him a bottle.
Now, after two days fighting for survival, Kate knew that infants were hardy little creatures, a lot hardier than she, whose emotions were as battered as her poor abused body. But she would make it, God willing. She'd come too far and been through too much to give up now. If she could last one more night with these strangers who promised to help her, she and Joey just might make it.
Joey was squirming around on the vanity in front of her, jabbering in his secret language. She retrieved the paper towels and masking tape from the knapsack, vowing the first thing she'd buy after hitting town tomorrow was Luvs, packages and packages of them. She hoped to heaven that Millie Mae and her big burly brother kept milk in the
ir refrigerator, but had a feeling they drank more Bud than anything else. Even Millie Mae, she feared. Joey caught hold of the paper diaper she was fashioning and hung on, his eyes latched on it.
“Now you let go of that, you little stinker,” she whispered, laughing softly. Her heart warmed with love, she scooped up the baby and held him tightly. She loved him like her own, more than anything else in the world. She wondered if he really did have a family out there somewhere, frantic with worry. She shut her eyes, her lip trembling. He was all she had, now that Michael and Pop were dead. She couldn't let anyone take him away from her.
Her throat ached with sorrow. All her life she'd lost the people she loved, one after another, beginning with her parents. She couldn't bear giving him up; she had to cling to the hope that she wouldn't have to. After all, she didn't know for sure he'd been kidnapped. Michael's deceptions had permeated everything; maybe the kidnapping accusation was a lie, too. Maybe an infant had been abducted but it wasn't Joey. It couldn't be Joey; Joey was hers.
Determined to believe that, to think positively so she wouldn't lapse into despair, she hurriedly diapered him and pointed his tiny arms into the sleeves of the soiled sleeper. She tied the drawstring at the bottom, wishing she had one of the clean, downy-soft sleepers in his closet at home. Leaning against the counter to keep him from rolling off, she unwound the towel on her head and let her hair straggle around her shoulders. She stared in the mirror as she finger-combed the tangles, deciding against using the hairbrush lying on the counter—one that had enough red and blond hairs caught in the bristles to construct a Dolly Parton wig.
Other than the family's obvious propensity to use a communal hairbrush, the bathroom was very clean. Millie Mae was well groomed, but Matty, well, Matty was a different story. He could use a long, hot bath, several of them, in fact. On the other hand, there were five brand-new toothbrushes in the wall hanger, each one replete with a personal box of Rembrandt toothpaste. If nothing else, the Joneses valued dental hygiene.