A Little Sin

by Sionnach Wintergreen

  “Sounds like a bad sort, for certain.”

  “I thought that’d rile you up.” He stroked down Garland’s side. He looked over at Katydid, who was at the foot of the bed. He had always liked the animals, but he had never had one up in bed with him until sleeping with Garland. He nuzzled the back of Garland’s head. “Forget whatever I said before—I’m staying with you tonight.”

  Garland sort of purred. “You feel so nice against me.” He shifted his position with a slight intake of breath.

  The slosh of the icepack reminded Avery of the evening’s events. An image of Garland taking a blow ripped through him. For a split second, all of the anger he had felt flashed inside him. It hadn’t been simply anger, he realized. It had also been fear. He didn’t feel like being coy, suddenly. He rose up on an elbow and pressed his lips to Garland’s ear. “I would be here every night if I could. I would be here every night for the rest of my life.”

  Garland turned over, grabbing him around the neck, and covered his mouth with his own as the wash cloth and icepack fell between them. Avery strained to kiss Garland chastely, but Garland’s tongue kept flirting with the seam of his mouth. Garland grabbed him by the haunch. Avery pushed away when he felt Garland’s hard cock slither against his thigh.

  “Hold on.” Avery grabbed Garland by the ears. “You’re hurt. You need to rest.”

  “You do the policin’ bit, I do the doctorin’ bit, remember? I’m prescribing some coupling. Let’s get to it, lawman.”

  Avery tried to be stern, but giggled instead. He swept his tongue beneath Garland’s lower lip. “I love you,” he said softly.

  “I love you more.”

  Avery caressed down either side of Garland’s neck. “Jackass.”

  “I do love you, my gallant Sheriff Avery O’Rourke.” Garland started licking Avery’s fingers. “I’m just playful.”

  Avery’s swollen cock felt tight enough to burst. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Put my cock in your mouth. Put yours in mine.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve done that before.”

  Garland curled up in a huffing fit. “Don’t make me laugh! It hurts.”

  “I wasn’t trying.” Avery pulled the sheets all the way off Garland, lay down on his side, and took Garland’s weeping cock in his mouth. Garland settled down. He suckled the head of Avery’s cock, then gulped nearly half of it into his mouth. Avery couldn’t help himself and wiggled with pleasure. “Let’s go slow,” he told Garland. “I feel gentle.”

  “You’re not just saying that on my account? I can keep up.”

  He did want to go easy for Garland, but that wasn’t all of it. “I love you like sunlight loves azaleas, like dew loves dogwood blossoms. I feel soft like that right now. Gentle. I want to love you like springtime.”

  Garland made a sort of wounded sound and kissed his thigh. “You’re my springtime,” he said in a choked whisper. “You’re my life started over again.”

  He fondled Garland’s sack and wrapped his mouth around him. Garland stroked his thigh and kissed up his shaft. They sucked each other in the dark as Katydid purred loudly near them. Avery’s heart sang. Everything in him felt ripe and new and whole.

  This hidden love, this forbidden love, was the truest, boldest thing he had ever felt. He writhed against Garland’s touch. They came as one. Avery drank Garland’s cum as Garland drained him.

  Avery pulled the sheet over them as he lay back on the pillows with Garland. He hugged Garland close. “I’ve never been in love before,” he confessed sleepily.

  Garland, facing him, stroked his bearded jaw and kissed his lips. “I loved Philippe. I’ll always love Philippe. But this feels different. I always knew loving Philippe was like loving a ghost. You’re all here. You’re real. This is real. Does that make any sense?”

  “Everything after the war felt like that for a while. Not real.”

  “It’s so strange. It’s only been a few days, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  “I feel the same way. Being with you is so easy.” He stroked back Garland’s hair. “Maybe it’s because everything else about being together is so hard. Maybe it’s only fair that something would be easy.”

  Garland heaved a contented sigh. “I love you, Avery.”

  Avery grinned. “I love you more, Garland.”

  They giggled like little boys.

  ***

  Avery woke just before he hit the floor. Katydid hissed beneath the bed near his face. Garland, still on the bed, yelled incoherently. Avery picked himself off the floor and swung on top of Garland, knocking him onto the mattress. He hugged Garland’s arms down. “Shhhhh. Garland, sshhhh. You’re all right.”

  The kittens in the open drawer of the chest of drawers squeaked and mewed.

  “Ow. You’re hurting me.”

  Avery tried not to laugh. “You just dumped me on my head.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He seemed to wake up enough to realize what had happened. “Oh! Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” He kissed Garland’s forehead.

  “Poor kittens. I scared the babies.” Garland grunted as he slid out of the bed and stumbled across the floor to the wardrobe. He had a kitten in his hand before Avery could get there.

  “You’re spoiling them.” But he picked up the other kitten and petted it.

  “They like to be close to your face.”

  Avery held the squirmy little ball of fur up to his face. “Shhh. Kitty. It’s all right.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Garland. “I have these nightmares sometimes….”

  “I still love you.”

  Garland snorted in amusement, his nose buried in kitten. “Let’s put these rascals up now. Hopefully, they’ll let us get back to sleep.”

  As they got back in bed, Avery found the icepack. “Do you want me to reload this icepack? There’s probably enough for one more round.”

  “Just hold me. Around my chest.”

  He hugged Garland gently and chuckled as Katydid jumped back on the bed. “There you go, it’s like it never happened.” But his humor left him as he wondered if the encounter with the Klan had triggered Garland’s shellshock. He wished he’d put some lead in a few of them. He didn’t close his eyes until he heard Garland snore, and then he slipped into a deep sleep.

  ***

  Saturday, August 4, 1923

  Sands’ Farm

  Some distant noise roused Garland. He blinked his eyes. Sunlight poured through the window sheers. Avery, sleeping on his stomach, lay with the sheet partially over his buttocks.

  “Garland! Garland! Did someone burn a cross in your yard! Garland!” The door flew open. Lucinda stood in the doorway with her hand over her mouth. “Oh! Oh! Oh, my!” She closed the door.

  “Shit,” Avery mumbled. He scrambled out of bed and started pulling on his clothes. “You didn’t lock the front door?”

  “No one locks the front door around here.”

  Garland had his pants on in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. He ran out of the bedroom. “Lucinda!” He found her sitting at the kitchen table with her hand clasped over her mouth. She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Please don’t tell anyone what you saw here today,” he said, holding his arms out as if he were trying to calm a cornered animal.

  Lucinda blinked at him. “They hurt you?”

  Garland looked down and saw the livid bruises on his torso. “Yeah, some. They burned a cross and had a go at me. I’m fine.”

  Lucinda smiled at him shakily. “I would say they’re animals, but I know you love those.”

  Garland pulled out the chair opposite hers and nodded at it. She nodded back. He sat in the chair with a grimace. “Lucinda—”

  She stretched out an arm and squeezed his hand. “Honey, don’t. Don’t fret about it. I didn’t know about you and Avery.” She whispered Avery’s name. “But I had a feeling about you. I have a brother—”

  “The broken one?”

  “I have s
ix brothers, Garland. Now, look, one of them was always a little bit different. You know. He lives in New Orleans now and sings in band. He keeps wanting me to come out for a visit.” She shook her head at him with an entreating expression. “I don’t care if you’re a little different. You’re the most decent white man I know. Maybe I like that you’re different.”

  “I’m so sorry that you had to see that. I promise—”

  “I walked in on you. I’m the sorry one. I wouldn’t have ever come into your bedroom like that, but I got so scared when I saw that charred cross out front. All of the calls yesterday—I had bad dreams last night—and finding that thing—you’re a sweet, sweet man.”

  “I guess we slept late.”

  “Your ice is out on your front stoop. I brought in the paper.”

  “I’ll get the ice.” He stood up and smiled at her fondly. “You’re a remarkable woman.”

  Avery whisked by, red-faced, grabbed his hat and put his boots on quicker than anyone Garland had ever seen. “Mornin’.” With that, he was gone.

  Garland chased after him. “It’s all right. Lucinda won’t tell anyone.”

  Avery saddled his horse. “I told you. This isn’t safe.”

  “We had a bad night last night. We just overslept. Lucinda doesn’t mind—she has a queer brother—”

  “Don’t. Don’t talk to me right now. I need to get to the courthouse and do my job.”

  Garland watched him slip on the horse’s bridle in silence. Avery swung into the saddle and was off at a brisk trot. Garland watched him until he disappeared over the hill.

  ***

  Wakeforest County Courthouse

  Avery saw Eloise Clements, the reporter, waiting for him and couldn’t have been happier. He greeted her and stopped to chat. “I have the Timberland Ripper behind bars over at the Jailhouse. Obadiah Clark. He killed the doctor and took his car.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “We think she was a prostitute. He got rough with them sometimes.”

  “I suppose that’s why no one has come looking for her.”

  “I suppose.”

  Eloise jotted everything down in her little notebook. “Thank you very much, Sheriff. The people of Timberland will breathe easier tonight.”

  He felt like a horse just let out of a barn. He wanted to buck and prance. It hadn’t been the best of mornings, but he had a killer locked up across the street, and Eloise would make sure the whole county knew about it. Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad day after all.

  He whistled as he walked to his office. A young black man, about his age, stood outside his door. “Mornin,’ Sheriff,” he said as Avery pulled out his keys.

  “Mornin,’” said Avery. “Can I help you with something?”

  “My name’s Billy Jenkins,” said the black man, holding out his hand.

  Avery gave his hand a good shake, then opened the door. Little folded paper messages swept aside as he opened the door. “Come on inside, Mr. Jenkins.”

  Billy followed him. Sunlight streamed through the window, but Avery lit his desk lamp while Billy took off his straw Stetson and watched. Leaving the messages on the floor for now, Avery sat at his desk and motioned for Billy to take the chair opposite him. Billy sat and looked something in between eager, distraught, and uncomfortable. His big, dark eyes stared at Avery expectantly.

  “So, Mr. Jenkins, what brings you here?”

  “I’m here to report a missing person.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Let’s fill out a report.” He pulled a form from his desk.

  Billy ducked his head. “I can’t read, sir. Could you do it for me?”

  “I’d be happy to.” Billy seemed like a simple sort, maybe a little slow. He was obviously quite upset about something. Avery felt sorry for him. “Now, Billy, tell me, who’s missing?”

  “Her name’s Margaret, sir. She—she’s a white lady.” Billy rumpled the sides of his hat. “She—uh—she comes over across the tracks every day—almost every day—and sells eggs.”

  Avery put his pen down. “Maybe she just decided to go somewhere else.”

  Billy’s forehead dampened. “She wouldn’t do that, sir. She would have said something first.”

  “What is her last name?”

  “I don’t recall. She told me once, but I don’t recall. She used to laugh a lot.” He looked on the verge of tears. “Please, Sheriff, sir. She’s missing. You have to find her. All of these stories going around about a ripper—”

  “Don’t worry about that. I caught the lowlife responsible for those murders.” He smiled as Billy sat back with relief rampant on his face. Feeling generous, he decided to indulge Billy. “Now, describe Margaret to me.”

  “Yes, sir. Well, she—” He stood quickly and put a hand to his chest. “She’s about yeah tall.”

  Five’ four,’’ Avery guessed, writing it down.

  “She’s somewhere around my age.” Billy took his seat. “She has long, straight hair.” He laid a finger against his mid arm. “She usually wears it in a braid. It’s brown, light brown, like a wren’s back.”

  Avery continued to take notes. “What color are her eyes?”

  “Blue. Like a sunny sky.”

  Avery looked up. “She sold you eggs.”

  “She said she had a lot of chickens.”

  “All right.” He wanted, for an instant, to tell Billy that he understood about forbidden love, that he, too, knew of such a love. Instead, he continued to jot down notes. “Can you think of anything else—any other distinguishing features—like a mole or something?”

  “She has an unusual nose. It isn’t snub or button. It’s kind of curved, like a hawk’s beak. She’s real pretty.”

  Avery stared at the description he’d written. “Is she a prostitute?”

  Billy was affronted. “No, sir! She’s a farm girl.”

  Avery stood up, holding the description. “You don’t know her last name.”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” Avery felt sick. “You gave a fine description. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Billy got up and stepped carefully over the folded messages to get to the door. As he turned the knob, he looked back around at Avery. “Oh, and one more thing. She’s with child.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sand’s Farm

  After going about his chores—milking the cow, feeding the animals, mucking Apollo’s stall, gathering eggs—Garland washed his hands, brushed his teeth, and shaved out on his back porch. The chores had taken him longer than usual, because he kept having to stop and rest. Pain throbbed in his bruises, and he felt sore all over. He put on a clean shirt and pants and had coffee with Lucinda. He didn’t feel up to eating much, but he scrambled some eggs and ate what he could.

  Lucinda, sipping coffee, watched him read the morning paper. He felt like he was being studied. With a sigh, he put the paper down and rested his chin on one hand. “What do we have going on today?”

  “The farrier’s coming this afternoon to check out that horse you’ve been keeping.”

  Garland felt his shoulders sag. “Guess I should go say good-bye to Apollo. Someone will want him back.”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed Avery.”

  He stared into his coffee cup. “He was embarrassed, wasn’t he?”

  “I’ve never seen a white man that color before.”

  Garland scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “He was pretty red.”

  “Like a ripe strawberry.” She smiled gently. “He’ll be back.”

  “If he were a woman, I’d go find him, fall to one knee and beg him to be my bride.”

  “You’re in love,” she said with a hushed awe.

  “It’s so complicated. Everything I want is complicated.”

  Her eyebrows lifted thoughtfully. “Mmhm. Life’s complicated for anyone who doesn’t fit into the main society.”

  Garland felt small suddenly. “You’re right. You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you
?”

  She smiled at him and sipped her coffee.

  “I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You’re allowed to do that from time to time. Just remember to get back up. They only win if you stay down.”

  The phone ringing made them both start. Garland stood up more quickly than he would have liked and had to grimace. Lucinda stood with him. “No,” he told her. “I’ll get it. I need to move around more.”

  “I think you’ve moved around too much for one morning.” She beat him to the phone. “Garland Sands’ Veterinary.”

  Her eyes widened. Garland held out his hand. “If that’s another one of those threatening calls, I want to talk to them.”

  “I’m sorry about this morning, Sheriff.” Her brows knitted. “Yes, he’s right here.” She handed the receiver to Garland.

  Garland’s heart thudded in his chest. He strained to keep his voice neutral and tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever mood Avery was in. “Hello, Avery.”

  “Could that girl have been with child?”

  “The one from Crooked Creek?”

  “Yes, of course. The murdered girl.”

  Garland had to think a second. The question was odd, and he felt hurt that Avery was being so brusque and businesslike after the way they had left things earlier. “I—I don’t know. I suppose she could have been pregnant. Possibly.”

  “Possibly? That’s all you’ve got.”

  Garland bristled. “Her breasts could have told us if she’d been lactating or preparing to lactate, but those were gone. Her uterus was gone; her vagina was mutilated—it’s possible.”

  “So, do you think someone tried to cover up that she was expecting?”

  “Normal people don’t think like that. It seems more like someone just wanted to cut her up.”

  “That’s not helpful.” He hung up.

  Garland returned the receiver to its hook. It seemed like such a short time ago that everything had been so good between them.

  “He was asking about the dead girl?”

  “Right. He wanted to know if she could have been with child.”

  “That’s horrible.”