Dad invited the Spanos into the house, but they shook their heads. “We’re sorry as we can be about this,” Dad said. “Mrs. Stroud’s taken to her bed just now, but we both give you our condolences.”
“There wasn’t a finer boy in this town,” Mr. Spano said. “We’ll have you know we don’t like this, Stroud. There’s something not right about it. I don’t believe Danny would have charged your wife to pull your old truck out of the ditch. No sir.” He folded his short arms across his fat chest.
Mrs. Spano only sobbed, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her coat.
I thought about Susan Reddick dying and how Mrs. Reddick had cried, and I felt a little sorry for Mrs. Spano, but not very much, because she was better off without Danny. Everybody was, especially Daisy and Marthalice.
“It was an accident. I wish I’d been here. I wish I could tell you exactly how it happened,” Dad said.
“Could be you’ll understand how I feel if your boy don’t come back. Might be a case of turnabout being fair play.”
I felt Dad stiffen. In another time, he’d have slugged Mr. Spano for saying that. It was a measure of his compassion for another man’s loss that he didn’t respond. Dad stood there mute for a minute, getting his anger under control. Then he asked when the service would be held.
“We don’t hold with that,” Mr. Spano said, and his wife let out a sob, and I knew he might not hold with it, but she did. “The wife would like to see where he died.”
Dad nodded. He told me to stay inside the house, then led the Spanos to the barn. They were there only a few minutes. After they left, Dad came into the house and took out the bottle of Four Roses and poured himself a drink. Dad had never gotten that bottle down for anything except to celebrate births and weddings. “It tears me up inside to think Amy Elizabeth might have been raised by such as that,” he said. “Your mother did the right thing.”
THE NEXT DAY, AFTER we had finished breakfast, Mom went into the bedroom, then came out all dressed up. She had her hat on, too, the one Cousin Hazel had bought for her in Denver. She wore it when she wanted to look her best. “Where do you think you’re going?” Dad asked.
“It’s Sunday. It I’m not mistaken, it’s the day I go to church.”
“I thought you were staying in bed for a few days, doctor’s orders.”
I thought so, too, and I was disappointed she wanted to go to church, because I wanted to stay home in the worst way.
Mom sighed. “I’d like to. My head’s an awful muddle. But the longer I wait to face people, the worse it’s going to be. Best to get it over with.”
“Can’t it wait a week?” Dad asked.
“The gossip’ll just go on and on,” Mom said. “You know how folks talk.”
“Is Marthalice coming to church?” Granny asked.
“Marthalice lives in Denver,” Dad told her.
“Oh,” Granny said, and I thought Mom was right about Granny forgetting what she’d seen in the barn.
Mom sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed her hands over her face, which was gray from lack of sleep. I hadn’t slept much the past two nights, either, because I’d been crying. If somebody had to die, I was glad it had been Danny instead of Carl or Daisy. But I didn’t want anybody to die on our farm. I’d cried because Daisy had been raped, and Marthalice had been wild and she’d never come back to Ellis for tear of what people would say about her. Life was so awful—Susan murdered, Buddy captured, Mom sick, Harry dead, Daisy and Marthalice forced to have Danny’s babies.
My bedroom was over the kitchen, and as I lay there awake, I’d seen the light come on downstairs through the grate in the bedroom floor. Mom was moving around. Then Dad came in and told her to go back to bed, and Mom replied, “What’s the use?”
“You want to talk about it?” Dad had asked.
“I’ve told you all I’m going to. Right or wrong, I don’t want us ever to talk about it again. I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want you to talk about it, and I don’t want Rennie to have to talk about it.” And we never did. It would have been easier for me if we had. There was so much I wanted to ask Mom, but I couldn’t. And I couldn’t talk to anyone else, because what had happened was a secret. So I just kept everything bottled up inside me. People back then thought that if you didn’t speak about a thing, you’d forget about it. But that wasn’t true. I never forgot one instant of that day. Still, Mom did what she believed was best for me, and I never faulted her for it.
Now Mom’s face was lined, and there were black half circles, like smudges, under her eyes. “What’s people to say if I don’t show up at church?”
“What do you care?” Dad asked, but that was just it: She did care. And she was right: It would only get worse for her if she waited. And for me, too, although I dreaded going to church as much as she did.
Mom took a deep breath and stood up. “All right. Let’s go. Granny, come along. Rennie, where’s your Bible? Loyal, get the truck keys.” Dad usually drove us to church, then went to the drugstore to jaw with Redhead Joe Lee until it was time to pick us up. Mom gripped the table. I knew this would be a hard morning for her, with people watching and asking questions, demanding details, giving her little pats of sympathy. She’d be the center of attention, with nobody but Granny and me to protect her, and Mom would hate that. It would be hard for me, as well. I didn’t want people turning around in their pews to look at us, kids asking me what had happened. What if I slip up and say the wrong thing and get Mom into trouble? I thought.
Dad pushed back his chair and stood, telling us to wait until he changed his shoes and put on his jacket, and he went into the bedroom. Mom looked at her watch and sighed and said if he took any more time, we’d be late and have to sit in the front pew. “Hurry up, Loyal,” she called.
“Fine and dandy,” Dad replied.
Mom had her back to Dad when he came out of the bedroom, and she didn’t see him until he put out his hand. It must have been when she touched his sleeve that she realized he wasn’t wearing his old jacket, because she turned around, and her mouth dropped open. Dad was dressed in his suit and his good shirt, and he was even wearing a tie. “Why, what’s this, Loyal?” Mom asked.
Dad shifted the truck keys from one hand to another and gave her a dopey grin as he took her arm. “By Dan, I reckon I can go to church with my wife if I want to.”
11
FOLKS SAID WHAT A sorrow it was that Danny had been killeci, what a shame for a young man to be taken in the prime of life. The women brought the Spanos enough food to feed them for a month, more food than normal, because they felt guilty that they were relieved Danny wasn’t around anymore. The Spanos and Bcaner were the only ones who mourned him. A few people muttered that Danny was mean enough to murder Susan Reddick. The sheriff told Dad, however, “Danny was home that night. It’s a fact. I couldn’t find no tracks in the snow around the Spano place to show he left.”
“She must have been killed by somebody coming in off the hard road. I expect we’ll never know,” Mom said. “Now why won’t this butter gather? It must be the weather.”
She was in the kitchen with Mrs. Yamamoto, who said, “Let me try.” Mrs. Yamamoto worked for us now that Daisy had moed to Pueblo. The government allowed evacuees with jobs to leave Tallgrass, so Mom had written Mrs. Booth in Pueblo and asked if she could find work for Daisy. Mrs. Booth wrote back by return mail, saying there was plenty of work in Pueblo, and she invited Daisy and the baby to live with her and the Snows. So Daisy and Amy Elizabeth took the train to Pueblo. I cried when she left, because Daisy had been like a sister to me, but I knew it was best for her to move on. The next day, Carl joined the army, “Maybe it is good we don’t know who killed the little girl. It would stir things up again. There is not so much unpleasantness now,” Mrs. Yamamoto said as she turned the butter paddle.
“That’s because without Danny around, Beaner isn’t causing trouble,” I told her. Whatever the reason, things had indeed improved for the evacuees. Signs with ca
rtoons of Japanese faces had disappeared from the stores; even the Elliot Drug had taken down its sign saying Japanese weren’t welcome. More evacuees came to town to shop now, ordering Cokes at the Lee Drug soda fountain and taking in the movies at the Roxie. The evacuees smiled and said hello to people on the streets, and sometimes when Dad was in the fields, the evacuees walking down the road from the camp leaned on our fence and talked to him about crops. More and more farmers were hiring Japanese boys for spring planting.
Mrs. Yamamoto nodded, adding slyly, “And you people don’t mind taking credit for our victories.” She was right about that. The 422d Regimental Combat Team, made up of Japanese-American soldiers, was in the newspaper all the time because of the battles it had won in Europe. Some of those soldiers were Tallgrass evacuees, and Ellis always did like to claim winners.
A few weeks after Mrs. Yamamoto came to work for us, Mom took the train to Denver. After Danny’s death, she’d been quiet, melancholy even, and Dad had worried about her. “You ought to go stay with Hazel for a time. That’ll whistle away your sadness,” he’d told her.
“Oh, I couldn’t leave. You’ve got to break in a new crew for planting.”
“I can do that, Mother,” he said. “I reckon Marthalice would be glad to see you.”
What he meant was that Mom and Marthalice needed to talk. “You understand why I can’t take you?” Mom asked me as she was packing, and I did. I hoped Marthalice would tell me about the baby one day, but until then, I’d never let on that I knew why she had moved to Denver.
Mom was still at Cousin Hazel’s the day Dad and I walked into Ellis carrying a box of things we had put together for Buddy. I’d saved up a month’s worth of “Terry and the Pirates,” and Mom had left behind a cap and vest she’d knit for Buddy. Dad put in some books, a carton of cigarettes, and a little sack of licorice. “I imagine he’s hungry enough just about now to like it,” Dad said.
“If some German doesn’t eat it first,” I told him.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. Maybe your mother’s right; we have to believe that Buddy will get this box.”
After we mailed the package, Dad gave me a nickel for a Coke before heading for the feed store. I went into the Lee Drug and sat down at the counter, where Helen Archuleta was the fountain girl now. She wore a white uniform with a green collar and a little white paper hat like a soldier’s cap. She looked as smart as a WAVE, and I told her so.
Helen saluted me. “You hear anything from your brother?” She put crushed ice into a glass and filled it with Coke. Then she squirted in a dash of cherry syrup, placed a napkin on the counter in front of me, and set down the drink.
“Dad says it’s good news if we don’t hear until the war’s over. That means Buddy’s probably okay.” I wasn’t sure Dad believed that, but it was a nice way of explaining why we’d received no letters.
“I hope so. I always did like Bud . . . .” Helen stopped, and her mouth turned into a thin, straight line.
I took a straw out of the round glass container and put it into the Coke and sipped. When I looked up, Helen was still staring past me.
“What do you want?” she asked. I wondered if one of the evacuees had come in. Some people in Ellis were still scared of them, although it would have surprised me if Helen was among them. After all, she’d given Daisy Susan’s baby clothes.
I turned around. Helen wasn’t staring at an evacuee. Bobby Archuleta stood behind me, grinning. He was still good-looking, although he was older, his skin less baby-fine. A scar ran from the corner of his eye almost to his ear. He had a little moustache, and smiling at Helen, his eyes glinting, he looked like Clark Gable. That smile could unhinge a beet drill. I thought it was romantic that Bobby had come back even though I knew he was no good. I wondered if Helen thought so. After all, she’d loved him enough to give up her family for him. He might have changed. I thought maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “Hey, Helen,” Bobby said, his black eyes crinkly.
Helen looked at him as if she’d just tasted sour milk, and she didn’t reply.
Bobby pretended to pout then. “Come on, you’re not sore, are you, honey?”
Instead of answering, Helen picked up a rag and began to wipe the counter with it.
“Come on, baby,” he said.
Helen threw the rag into the little sink behind her. “What do you think? You ran out on me, Bobby. You left me all by myself.”
Bobby looked like a naughty boy now. “Okay, that was a dumb thing to do, but I didn’t want to get drafted. Besides, I come back, didn’t I?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have stayed away.”
Bobby shrugged and said softly, “I didn’t want to get killed in no war. You wouldn’t want me to get killed, would you?” When Helen didn’t answer, he added, “Besides, I couldn’t come back. I was in the pen in Iowa, up at Fort Madison.”
“What for?” I blurted out. When the two of them looked at me, I was mortified that I’d spoken.
Bobby saw me for the first time and asked, “You think this is your business? Get lost.”
The way Bobby looked at me scared me, and I knew he hadn’t changed. Although I hadn’t finished my Coke, I swung around on the stool to leave. But Helen put her hand on my arm and said, “Stay.” She might have been afraid of Bobby, too, and felt safer with me there. The only other person in the store was Redhead Joe Lee, but he was on the phone in the back and couldn’t hear Bobby and Helen. I turned back to Helen, watching Mr. Lee in the mirror behind the soda fountain, wishing he’d come over. But Helen and Bobby were none of his business. Or mine, I thought as I stared at the scratches on the Coke glass, embarrassed at being caught between them. I hoped Dad would come soon.
Bobby acted as if I weren’t there then, and said, “Hey, I brought you something.” He held out a box to Helen, but she wouldn’t take it. He set it on the counter. “It’s a bracelet, real gold. You like gold, don’t you?” He had such a pleading look on his face that I was surprised Helen didn’t give in.
“Aw, come on, Helen. You can’t be mad forever. Let’s get out of here, maybe go to Denver and have us a good time. You always did like a good time.” The look he gave her was a leer.
“I’m not like that anymore, Bobby. I have to think of the baby now.” Helen didn’t look at him. She kept glancing at the door, as if she were hoping someone would come in. There still was no one else in the store except for Mr. Lee, and he didn’t seem to be paying attention.
“Yeah, I forgot about that.” Bobby raised his chin and flexed his arms. “So I’m a father now. What’s his name?”
“Her name. The baby’s a girl. I named her Susan.”
Bobby frowned. “Susan, huh?”
“After my sister.”
“Yeah, I’m real sorry about that.”
“Are you?” Helen’s answer was so sharp that I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck.
Bobby ignored her tone and asked, “So where’s the kid?”
“Where you’ll never see her.” Helen glared at Bobby then. She didn’t seem afraid of him anymore.
Bobby narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, his heavy arms on the counter. “I asked you where she’s at.” He reached out and grabbed Helen’s arm.
In the mirror, I saw Mr. Lee start forward, but just then, Sheriff Watrous came into the drugstore and walked up behind Bobby. “Let go of the lady’s arm, bub.”
“Don’t you ’bub’ me. She’s my wife.”
“No, I don’t believe she is. I believe she’s your former wife. Is that right, Helen?” The sheriff stood a little behind Bobby, his legs apart, rocking back and forth.
Helen nodded. “I got a divorce. We aren’t married anymore, Bobby.”
“Since when?” Bobby loosened his grip on Helen, and she pulled away, rubbing her arm.
“Since last year,” she said.
“You can’t do that unless I say so.” Bobby flexed the muscles in his arms, which were as big as truck tires. There was
a tattoo of a naked lady on one.
“She can, and she did,” the sheriff said. “She’s an independent lady with a job now.”
“Doing what, working nights for Jay Dee?” Bobby asked it in such an ugly way that I was embarrassed for Helen. She worked hard at the drugstore to provide for Susan, and she stayed home at nights, although plenty of men would have taken her out dancing and drinking.
“You keep a civil tongue,” the sheriff said.
“And you butt out of this, Sheriff. This ain’t your business. It’s between me and Helen.”
“What did you say?” The sheriff held his arms out a little from his sides, and he had stopped rocking.
“I said keep your nose out of it. I’m not afraid of any hick sheriff. Maybe you ought to be afraid of me.” Bobby jutted out his jaw and gave Sheriff Watrous a nasty smile.
“I guess that’s about right. Me and the whole town’s been afraid of you, but not anymore. You best come along with me now.”
“Why’s that?” Bobby clenched and unclenched his hands as if he were about to punch the sheriff. But before Bobby could move, Sheriff Watrous yanked a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and slid one end over Bobby’s right wrist. Then he pulled Bobby’s cuffed hand behind his back and placed the other cuff over Bobby’s left wrist. “What the hell!” Bobby said.
The sheriff gripped Bobby’s arm so that he couldn’t move.
“Shut up, Bobby. You’re under arrest . . . .”
“What’d I do? You can’t arrest me for talking to my wife.”
“This isn’t about Helen. I’m arresting you for the rape and murder of Susan Reddick,” Sheriff Watrous said. “You can come along peaceable, or you can make a lot of noise, so that the men of this town know why I’m taking you in. I expect it wouldn’t be too hard for them to overpower me. Helen, I’ll call on your folks and tell them we caught the fellow who did it.”
“He killed Susan?” Every single day for more than two years, I’d thought about who’d killed my friend. Each time I saw a Japanese man, I wondered if he’d done it. And despite what the sheriff had said, I’d still suspected Danny was guilty. But I’d never even considered Bobby Archuleta. He hadn’t been seen around Ellis since he ditched Helen. I slumped on the stool and laid my head on the cool marble counter.
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