Once inside the jail, the sheriff unlocked the bars and nudged me inside. “You takin that boy inside the cell?”
I held T. J. snug. “Pastor?” I cocked my head, lookin to Pastor Jess for help. “You gotta tell them what happened.”
“I will. Let me have the boy.” Pastor Jess held out his hands. I pressed my face into T. J. and kissed his cheek. I wanted to cry, but cryin would be what Calvin wanted. He’d done took T. J. once, and they was nothin gonna let me give him the pleasure of seein my tears.
“Sheriff, promise me you won’t let this youngin outside this building?” I was stern when I spoke. Determined.
“I don’t make promises.”
“Then I don’t turn the youngin loose and he’ll keep right on screamin.” I nodded toward the door. “And that’s an awful lot of people outside there who think I’m right.”
The sheriff eyed the crowd that had followed us to the jail, then he stared at Calvin and the pastor. “I reckon the pastor can take the child—keep him in here.”
I kissed T. J. again and whispered, “Go with Pastor Jess. And make Miss Worie a promise. If Calvin gets ahold of you”—I winked and grinned—“mess your pants. Mess them real big.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
T. J. was like a baby possum clingin to my neck, but he finally slid from my arms into the pastor’s.
“You remember your promise, Sheriff. You hear?” I stepped back inside the cell and the door shut behind me.
Calvin grasped hold of the bars and squeezed his face against them. “Right where you need to be! Right where you need to be.”
It took everthing in me not to poke his eyes out as he stared at me through the bars, but it wouldn’t have done no good.
“You’re finally in jail. All we need is Justice and the both of you could rot together.” Calvin stuck his arm through the bars and smacked at me.
Momma used to say they is times when your gut tells you to lash out, beat the tar outta somebody. But don’t never listen. That’s the devil pushin at you to do wrong. Right now I felt like I needed to grab that flappin arm of Calvin’s and snap it in half. I didn’t though. There was no explainin why, but a great sorrow come over me and I grasped his hand and pulled it to my lips. It was a tender kiss on his knuckles. Wasn’t no words spoke. Calvin stood there, lookin me in the eye. It was like a soft breeze passed over him. His eyes softened and his chin quivered. For a minute, he saw I loved him.
It didn’t last. He jerked his hand away and commenced to cuss, but for the time it took to take in a breath, I knew I’d touched his soul. That was something else Momma would say. Even the baddest of bad people has a tender spot. It’s up to us to keep huntin for it. Plant a seed of goodness if we can. I was as surprised as Calvin when that breath of goodness seeped out of me. Maybe, just maybe, Momma was right. Maybe I planted a seed. They was something that turned Calvin the way he was. It was as big a mystery as them red stones, and now I felt as much a need to figure that out as I did to figure out Calvin’s plan.
I listened to Pastor Jess plead my reason for stealin T. J. Ever time he tried to say something, Calvin would trample over his words.
The sheriff soon grew weary of Calvin’s buttin in. “If you don’t hush, I’m gonna toss you in that cell too.” Despite the sheriff’s threats, Calvin was always one to get the last word.
Still Pastor Jess kept on talkin, spillin the whole story from Momma takin her life to the children comin to me, all the way down to Calvin takin the homestead. I crossed my arms and leaned against the cold wall, keepin a close watch on T. J. The little feller wrapped around the pastor like a turtle in a shell. My fingers tapped against the skin on my wrist, tinkerin with the string on my bag.
“My bag!” I said. “I got the paper in my bag! Pastor, I got the paper.” I reckon they was a reason I got it outta that box at Ely’s. Somethin told me I might need proof about the farm.
I fumbled to untie the bag and dug around for the paper the man at the bank had signed. “Sheriff, I got proof about my home. Proof Calvin is lyin about it belongin to only him. You can see for yourself.” I brought out the paper.
Calvin reached for the page, tryin to take it, but the sheriff stepped up and moved him away.
“Sheriff, if you see the pastor and me is tellin you the truth about the cabin, and Calvin makin me take them youngins and move, then you have to believe he stole this boy and his sister.” I felt them tears crawlin into the corners of my eyes, and I blinked to get them away. “Sheriff, Calvin sold little T. J.’s sister, and the Holtsclaws put her on a train and sent her out west. He was gettin ready to do the same with T. J.”
“Ain’t true!” Calvin squawked. “She ain’t got no paper. I own that land fair and square.”
There that was again. Fair and square. It was like Calvin was a youngin fightin for first dibs at the fishin hole.
Pastor Jess tried to turn loose of T. J. The child stuck to his chest like molasses. If he was anything, he was well behaved, doin just what I’d told him. I reckon it didn’t help that child was scared to death.
I handed the paper to Pastor Jess. He opened it. Calvin went to cussin again. Rantin about how I was lyin, and then Pastor Jess read the line.
This document certifies, that the land be left to the family.
I remembered as me and Ely buried Momma, askin, “I don’t understand why Momma did this horrible thing. I just wanna know the truth.”
Ely had tossed another shovel of dirt on Momma’s body, then pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “Yes ma’am. The truth shall set you free.”
For a minute, this paper did just that. It set me free.
The sheriff pushed his glasses tight against his nose. Despite them, he still squinted. His arm went in and out, pullin that paper close then takin it back, and I wanted to scream. I motioned to the pastor to move closer to the bars so I could brush T. J.’s hair away from his eyes. I wasn’t no momma, but this little one felt like he’d come from my own loins.
Pastor Jess inched closer, and T. J.’s arms and legs come through the bars, wrappin around me. Even in the seriousness of the moment, a body couldn’t help but chuckle as that youngin hung on to me through them bars. He had the grip of ten men.
“T. J., listen to Miss Worie. I know you’re scared. I know they’s a lot of mess goin on that you can’t figure. But baby boy, you’re gonna have to be a little man for a time.”
He snuffed and whimpered.
“Can you do that for Miss Worie? Can you be a little man?”
His face pressed betwixt the bars and his lips pooched out. I twisted my head to the side and let the little feller kiss me on the cheek. “That’s about the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had.”
Pastor Jess pried the boy loose and pulled him away from the bars. “Rest your head on my shoulder. I ain’t gonna let nothin happen to you.”
I nodded and T. J. snuffed again. “T. J.,” I said. “Trust me. Trust Pastor Jess.”
Them words hit me right between the eyes again. If the good Lord wasn’t doin nothin else other than teachin me what it meant to trust, then I was the better for listenin.
The room was quiet while the sheriff read that paper over again, and when he called his deputy over then sent him out the door, I wondered if this jail would become my home.
Ever time Calvin tried to open his mouth, the sheriff would shush him. Truth be knowed, it was the first time I’d ever seen a soul shut Calvin up.
The sheriff took Calvin by the arm and led him out the door.
“Sheriff, please don’t let him go,” I said. “Please don’t. You don’t know what you’re askin for if you do. As sure as I stand here, he’ll kill me, and more than likely the pastor here too.”
They was not a word uttered by the sheriff. He just dragged Calvin outside. The crowd still held close. I wasn’t sure if they was just nosey or if they thought they was gonna be a lynchin—my lynchin.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hour
s before the sheriff come leadin Calvin back in. “Miss Dressar, Calvin here insists that homestead is his. So I sent my deputy here over to the bank.”
Had he found Sikes? Was they gonna find somethin else to take from me?
“Mr. Ellison from the bank looked over this here paper, and he agrees fully that the homestead belongs to you and Calvin.”
Daddy would have took his strap to Calvin’s backside for them words that fell outta his mouth. He ranted and raved like a madman until T. J. put his hands over his ears and went to cryin.
“That’s enough. Hush up now.” The sheriff pulled Calvin’s arms together and snugged them with a rope. Then he opened the bars and set me free. “Now here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna all take a train ride to Hartsboro, and when we get there we’re gonna talk to the banker that signed this here paper.”
A sigh hissed from my lungs. Maybe I had a fightin chance.
“Miss Worie, I ain’t gonna tie your hands. Somebody has to tend this youngin. But if you make one effort to take that boy and run, I will shoot you. Do you understand?”
I took T. J. from Pastor Jess and nodded. “I understand.”
Pastor Jess took to smilin. I supposed he knew if we could get to Hartsboro, that banker would fess up again.
We walked out of the jail, and when the crowd saw me holdin T. J. they went to cheerin. I’d never seen the likes before, but I felt like I’d just won a pie-eatin contest.
The deputy pulled a wagon around and we all crawled in, Calvin still cussin. Pastor Jess tried to squeeze between me and Calvin, but the sheriff made him move, forcin us to sit close like when we was kids. If they was a fight, Momma would tie our hands together with a rag and make us stay hooked to each other. She’d say, “When the words are kind and forgiveness has been had, I’ll untie you. Not a minute sooner.”
There I set snugged next to my brother. My bro . . . ther. A memory of Momma’s note seeped in. It was a long ride to Hartsboro. I planned to make ever second count. What was comin out of me wasn’t kind. I was an angry, downtrodden woman, and I had things to tell Calvin that would wear the hide off his rear. As Momma used to say, “Ain’t nothin worse than a woman with an axe to grind.”
I had an axe to grind. And it went back years. Back to the day we buried Daddy. Calvin had some questions to answer, and I aimed to get answers.
T. J.’s eyes fluttered as we boarded the train. The youngin was done spent. We filed onto the bench seats, Calvin first, then me and Pastor Jess. Once we was set down I stretched T. J. across our laps so his head rested on Pastor Jess’s arm and his feet dangled over my knees. The youngin didn’t even flinch when the train whistle let loose and the cars jolted.
I pulled my bag close to my chest and untied the string. Real slow like, I pulled out the note Momma had wrote. The one that had brought me and Justice to our feet. My insides was battlin back and forth. It was like they was a devil on one side and the good Lord on the other, both of them tuggin at me, tryin to get their way.
Calvin stared out the window, the wind blowin his blond hair away from his face. Handsome as he was, it didn’t take but a minute for my heart to harden and remember he was meaner than a rattler.
“Calvin.” I nudged him with my elbow.
He never uttered a word. His eyes just burned holes in me.
“You know that Mason jar of Momma’s?”
I could see him grit his teeth.
I lifted the paper from my bag and held it up. “Momma wrote this and left it in the jar.”
He didn’t have to say a word for me to see his anger bubblin up.
“Me and Justice was right surprised at what Momma wrote.”
The angry red from his face grew brighter.
“I have my own children that I shed a river of tears over. I thought when we found that baby that night and brought him home, that we could save him. We give all we had to save him. Give him a name, Calvin . . .”
That red face of Calvin’s turned white. I shoulda stopped right then. Hushed. But there was a fire in me that wanted to get even. I wanted Calvin, for once in his life, to feel somethin. I didn’t rightly care if it was hurtful or not. Just so he felt the sting. Lord knows he’d hurt Momma, Justice. Me.
Right as I was ready to finish the words, Calvin’s elbow reared up like a snake and struck me square in the mouth. My feet come up over my head, and I landed flat on my back between the benches.
The sheriff grabbed Calvin and tied his wrists to the bench. Pastor Jess had grabbed T. J. to keep him from hittin the floor when I went sailin backward.
T. J. I crawled to my knees, blood seepin from my lip.
“Worie,” the pastor said, holdin T. J. under one arm and struggling to lift me to the seat behind Calvin. “You alright?” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket.
“I’m fine, Pastor.” I blotted my lip. “I reckon that was the good Lord’s way of tellin a hardheaded woman to hush.” I’d hit a soft spot on Calvin, but I couldn’t tell if he already knew he was found or if he was thunderstruck.
Calvin craned his neck to see me. “Next time I’ll break your neck.”
I reckon that threat answered my question. Calvin knew.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
My lip swelled like a plum stuffed in a squirrel’s jaw. I knew Calvin meant to do more than bust my lip. If he could have hit me hard enough to break my neck, he woulda been all the happier. Still, he was quiet the entire day.
When the train stopped to load that black rock, the sheriff stood Calvin and wrapped a rope tight around his chest and arms. He untied his hands and turned to the deputy. “Ralston, you sit here with Miss Worie and the pastor whilst Johnson and me take ole Calvin here to the outhouse. It’s been a long ride, everbody needs some relief.” The sheriff took hold of the ropes and led Calvin past me, then paused at the train stairs. “You remember what I said. You try to take that boy and run, I’ll shoot you. Or leastways, Ralston here will. Understood?”
I nodded.
T. J. roused and sat straight as a stick. He wiggled his finger and I leaned down. I took in a big gulp of air, then laughed.
“Pastor, T. J. here has done growed up on us. He needs to use the hole.”
Pastor Jess went to praisin T. J. like it was a church service. He took him by the hand and led him off the train, leavin me with Ralston.
Ralston wasn’t a big man. He was broad but not tall. They wasn’t a hair on his head, but a beard covered his face. It was like all his hair slid off his head and onto his chin.
I felt a smile edge up. “Mr. Ralston?” I crossed my arms. “You look like a good man. You got a family?”
He nodded. “A wife and two boys.”
“I hope them boys got their hair in the right spot.”
Ralston chuckled and rubbed his bald head. “I reckon they do. They got their momma’s red hair.”
“Ain’t that nice. Can I ask you a question?”
“Ask away.”
“Has you and your wife thought about what would happen to your youngins if you was to die?”
The smile left his face, and he commenced to draw on the bench with his finger. “I can’t say as we have.”
“Little T. J. is the leftover of a momma and daddy who died from the fever. He’s got two sisters. One just a couple of years older than him and the other about ten.”
Ralston shook his head. “Right sad.”
“Right sad is right. That ten-year-old come to me lookin for food. Them three youngins was starvin. They was starving, Mr. Ralston. They was orphans that was starvin.”
Ralston stuffed a wad of tobacco between his lip and gum.
“Would your boys be orphans if you and the Mrs. died today? Would they be left to starve?” I pointed my finger in his face. “You best be makin plans for them youngins. Make you some plans.”
I could see Ralston start to wiggle in his seat. I’d done give him some hard things to think on. If he could see why I was so dead set on these childr
en, maybe, just maybe, he’d lean to help me. Whether I managed that or not, I’d still give him some meat to chew on with his own family.
“You need to relieve yourself?” Ralston asked.
“I do.”
“Quick as the sheriff gets back, I’ll walk you to the outhouse.” He turned his head and stared toward the train’s platform.
I couldn’t tell what made him more uneasy, my puttin him on the spot about his youngins or the fact he’d have to walk me to the outhouse. Either way, I had planted them seeds Momma talked about. If nothin more come from our talkin than I made him go to thinkin about his boys, then I’d done alright.
My lip kept drippin blood. Calvin had split it right good. Ralston took my handkerchief and walked to the front of the train car. A small bucket of water hung from a hook. He dipped a ladle of water and poured it into the cloth, then squeezed the bloody water out.
“This oughta help.” He handed me the cloth. “Press on that lip and see if you can stop the bleedin.”
Ralston seemed to be a kind man. I had hoped my plantin them seeds in him would get him to askin me questions. And he did.
When the sheriff come back to the train with Calvin, he retied his hands, then unwrapped the ropes from around his chest and arms. “It ain’t that I don’t trust you, Calvin. But I don’t trust you.” He secured the ropes around Calvin’s hands and feet. It was like watchin Daddy hog-tie a pig. “I can’t have no more foolishness outta you.”
Ralston took me by the arm and motioned for me to walk with him. We made our way down the train steps and over a small rock pathway. He walked me clean up to the outhouse. “I’ll wait right here in front of the door. Let me know when you’re done.”
I walked into the outhouse. A lantern glowed from a hook on the wall. Oddly enough, someone had set a bowl filled with flowers to one corner. I reckon it was the first outhouse I’d been in that had light and flowers. I did my business, then just as I started to peck on the door for Ralston, I felt my legs grow weak. I remembered askin Pastor Jess to put T. J. on the hole. All that worry boiled to the surface and I leaned hard against the door. I pressed my back against the boards and rested my hands on my knees, tryin to keep standin. My heart went to achin as I thought about poor Farrell alone on a train. The child was just five or six. I pounded my hands on the floor, and sobs come outta me like vomit.
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