Vengeance is Mine

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  “You put a spell on my heart.” Tony gave her a wink.

  The line would have sounded stupid coming from anyone else in Center Springs or Chisum, but from a stranger in a suit, it was perfect, despite his Yankee accent.

  “What are y’all doing here?”

  Samantha stepped closer and put her hand on Tony’s arm. She was dressed like a movie star, and wore the tallest heels I’d ever seen on a woman. I imagined Miss Becky or Aunt Ida Belle in them, instead of the thick-soled shoes they always wore, and had to choke down a grin.

  “We’ve rented this house until we find one to buy.”

  “This old place will fall down around your ears. You need to be careful. The floor is mush under the linoleum in the kitchen.” Pepper took a long drink of her Dr Pepper as punctuation. “They say it’s haunted.”

  I wished she’d shut up.

  Samantha didn’t seem to mind. “We’ve heard. We had someone repair the floor, so it isn’t too bad. The inside is nice, and it’s furnished, too, which is good for us, because we don’t even own a table yet.”

  “Furnished with everything including dust, I imagine.”

  “It’s pretty clean now.” Samantha’s eyes glittered with her smile. “We had someone come in yesterday before we got here.”

  Pepper wouldn’t quit. “Hope you ain’t afraid of mice. How can y’all be married and not have furniture?”

  I wanted to throttle her. She always asks too many questions.

  Miss Samantha wasn’t a bit fazed, though. “We haven’t been married long.”

  Pepper cocked her head. “What tribe are you?”

  “Huh?” Mr. Tony tilted the city hat back on his head. We usually don’t see hats like that in Center Springs. Most men around our parts lean toward Stetsons with what they call a sheriff’s crease. His looked like those the gangsters wore on “The Untouchables.”

  I tried to step in for my aggravating cousin. “We’re part Choctaw, about a third I guess. Miss Becky is full-blood Indian, but Grandpa’s barely any Comanche at all. That’s why they get along so good. If he was more Comanche, I imagine they’d be fighting all the time.”

  Miss Samantha laughed, her teeth white behind bright red lipstick. “He’s not Indian.”

  “I’m half Italian.” Mr. Tony grinned.

  “There’s lots of Indians across the river in Oklahoma.”

  The couple exchanged a smile and Mr. Tony shrugged his shoulders at Pepper’s statement. “Do either of you know someone named Cody Parker?”

  The name surprised me. “Sure do. That’s our uncle.”

  “Isn’t that something? Well, he’s the reason we came to Center Springs. I met him and his wife when they were in Las Vegas, and their enthusiasm about this place made it sound like Heaven, so we decided to come see for ourselves. Would you tell him we’re here when you see him again?”

  “Sure will.” Pepper can’t answer a simple question without wandering around. “He’ll come by the house pretty soon for dinner.”

  “Good. Tell him tonight that Tony Agrioli from Las Vegas is in town and says hello.”

  “I said he’d come for dinner.” Pepper jerked her head back and forth from me and Mr. Tony. Her hair was held back in a ponytail with a rubber band, and it occurred to me that she was twitching that tail so he’d pay attention to her.

  “Okay. If it isn’t tonight, then it’ll be tomorrow night maybe?”

  “Where you from? We don’t eat dinner at night. We eat it at noon.”

  Mr. Tony frowned. “I’m not sure I understand. Your dinner is during lunch?”

  I rubbed my Boy’s Regular haircut, and realized I probably look like Grandpa when he’s frustrated. “We have lunch at school, but at home, we eat dinner at noon. We have supper at five or six at night.”

  Mr. Tony and his wife exchanged looks again, and they busted out laughing. “We’re in ‘Green Acres’ for sure.” He leaned into the trunk.

  I didn’t much like being compared to that silly television show, but we’d been dismissed even though it didn’t seem as if he wanted to get rid of us. Mr. Tony handed his wife a little suitcase I recognized as what they call a valise and his coat was caught for a moment under her hand. It pulled to the side and I saw a Colt 1911 in a shoulder holster, like Uncle Cody’s pistol. Mr. Tony tugged free without noticing, and reached back inside for another valise the same size. He slammed the trunk hard to get it to catch, but before he did, I saw something else in there.

  It was the round drum attached to a Thompson machine gun. I knew what they looked like because I’d seen them in gangster movies with George Raft, who called his a Chicago Typewriter. One time Grandpa Ned took me to Judge O.C. Rains’ office and showed me a Tommy Gun that once belonged to a crooked old Chisum Sheriff named Poole.

  Mr. Tony and Miss Samantha flashed Hollywood smiles at us and walked toward the house. He made a gun with his fingers and dropped his thumb at us. “Tell your Uncle Cody to stop by when he gets the chance.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tony dropped his valise on the house’s wide porch and watched the kids ride away. He flipped his Zippo alight, lit a Lucky, drew deep, and let the smoke out slowly. “That’s the kind of childhood I wish I’d had.” He clicked the lighter shut with a metallic snap and slipped it into his pocket.

  “It’s different here.” Samantha took the cigarette from his hand and leaned against the peeling square support column. It was peaceful, and they felt the same with each other.

  A truck passed on the narrow oil road. The driver waved a hand in greeting at the young couple standing on the porch. Samantha waved back. “I wonder who he is. We don’t know anyone here.”

  “That’s the way it’s been since we got here. Everybody waves. It’s a friendly place.”

  She cocked her head to listen, breathing the fresh scent of warm earth. “It sure is quiet. All I hear are birds when there aren’t any cars or trucks passing. I think I’m going to like it here.”

  “Cody said this is about the top speed for this little burg.” Tony nodded toward the rear of the wood frame country store barely two hundred yards away. “I’m out of smokes. While you unpack, I’m going to walk over and see if anyone knows where he lives.” He started to leave, then stopped and shrugged out of his suit coat. He removed the shoulder holster, placing the .45 on the porch rail beside Samantha. “Would you put that inside for me? I think we found a place where I won’t have to carry it anymore.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He slipped back into his coat and patted the pocket of his slacks, reminding her of the .38 he always carried.

  She held the half-smoked cigarette in two fingers and crossed her free arm under her breasts, watching the little puffs of dust under his feet as Tony walked down the long driveway. His tailored suit was out of place in such a setting. She looked down at her own skirt and blouse. They’d have to buy new clothes to blend in.

  Another farm truck rattled down the oil road and the driver waved at Sam. It was quickly gone. She listened to what she thought of as rural silence. Blue jays cried in the trees. A slender bird she’d eventually learn was a mockingbird sang through its repertoire from atop a nearby power pole.

  In the distance, someone chopped wood.

  A cow mooed in the adjoining pasture.

  Sam thumped the cigarette butt to death, sighed deeply, and spoke aloud. “I’m going to like it here.” She went inside to see if she had anything to wear besides a skirt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tony stopped at the loading dock in back. The door was closed and the men who’d been there earlier were gone. Voices drifted around the corner and Tony followed the sound.

  “Lordy, Daddy spent his whole life walking behind a mule down there in the creek bottoms. Now it’ll all be underwater by this time next year, and I don’t like it one little bit.”

 
; “It didn’t get better until the war started.”

  “It was hard times on us all till it started raining regular.”

  “Yeah, and if it don’t rain again soon, we’re all gonna burn up.”

  The loafers stopped talking when Tony appeared beside the porch. It was one thing to see a man in a coat and tie coming up Neal’s steps. It was entirely different for him to appear from nowhere, without a car.

  Floyd Cass, with his pencil-thin Hollywood mustache, sat hunched forward in a cane-bottom chair, one leg crossed over the other. Jimmy Foxx and Ty Cobb rested on the two-by-six porch rail. Isaac Reader, Emory Daniels, and T.D. Stacker were there, too. Emory was the sorriest of the bunch. Ned Parker had no use for the no’count loafer who ate Moon Pies every day but wouldn’t take his children sweets when he went home.

  Floyd nodded in the sudden silence. “Howdy.”

  Tony passed below and climbed the steps. “Gentlemen.” He nodded hello back and went inside.

  “Come on in!” Neal Box’s voice boomed through the open door.

  Tony stopped inside and tilted his fedora back. “Hello.” He paused to take in the shelves stacked with canned goods, folded clothes, hardware, and farm implements. He’d never seen anything like it. Aging harness hung from the rafters, along with buckets of all shapes and sizes. One had a long, rubber nipple about six inches long sticking out at a right angle from the bottom. Tony wanted to ask about it, but other items caught his attention. Rope, hats, and bonnets shared wall space with out of date calendars and advertisements.

  “What can I do you for?” Sitting atop his customary stool, Neal leaned forward and rested his elbows on the worn counter. Beside him in a one-gallon jar with a glass lid, pickled eggs floated in dingy liquid.

  They reminded Tony of eyeballs. “Huh?”

  Neal immediately realized the city fellow didn’t understand. “How can I help you?”

  “I’d like a pack of Luckies and a couple of sodas.” Tony walked up to the cluttered oak and glass case of candy, cigarettes, cigars, and gum. On the shelf below, horse liniment and salve gathered dust. Tony idly wondered about Bag Balm. The green square can with a cow’s udder was a mystery.

  Neal produced the white pack of Lucky Strikes from a dispenser mounted on the wall behind him. “Baking soda is there on the shelf, but if you’re wanting something like a chocolate soda or malt, you’ll have to go to town.”

  “No. I, uh, would like a soda.” He paused at Neal’s puzzlement. “A cola.”

  “Ohhh.” Neal scratched his curly white hair. “Shoot. Cokes are in the cooler there by the door.”

  “Is that all you have? Coca Colas?”

  “Why no. We have strawberries, grapes, oranges, Dr Peppers….whatever you want.”

  “No fruit, thank you. I’m not sure what a Dr Pepper is, either.”

  Neal placed both palms on the counter and leaned forward with a smile. “Why don’t you lift the lid there and see for yourself?”

  Tony quickly realized the fruit suggestions were soft drinks, and Dr Pepper was a local favorite. He made his selection and placed two sweating bottles on the counter. Neal produced a pencil and wrote the items in a notebook.

  “Let’s see, toonies are thirty cents, and twenty cents for the Cokes. That’ll be four bits, plus four cents for the deposit on the bottles, and you can pull them there on the front of the box.”

  Tony counted out the change. “Thanks. Pull them?”

  “Yeah, the opener is there on the front.”

  Tony scratched his jaw. “Say, we moved into the two-story behind the store here this morning. I’m looking for someone I met a while back, name of Cody Parker. Do you know him?”

  Neal laughed loud and long. “Well, somebody finally moved into the old Ordway place huh? I was wondering why May Murphy was in there working these past couple of days. She’s the best gal at housekeeping I’ve ever seen. Why sure. Everybody in Center Springs knows Cody. He’s been coming through that door since he was in diapers. He’s the constable now. Shares the job with his Uncle Ned Parker.”

  “Could you tell me where he lives?”

  “Sure. Go east on the highway here, past Henry Arnie’s place for about half a mile. About the same time you see a white house on the hill off to your left, that’d be Ned’s place, but take the dirt road past the corral on your right. It leads down to Cody’s house, but I doubt he’s there. We had a killin’ here awhile back and Cody and Ned have been making the rounds, trying to find out who done it.”

  The idea stopped Tony for a moment. He felt the Colt’s absence under his arm. “I wouldn’t expect a murder in such a nice place.”

  “Didn’t used to be that way, but it seems like more and more meanness is showing up these days. I’m afraid it’s gonna get worse when they widen highway two-seventy-one to four lanes. It’ll bring in even more traffic and people, with all their ideas and troubles.” Neal looked sad for a moment. “I’m afraid things are changing. Cody dang near got killed last winter. It’s probably something to do with them hippies.”

  “I hope it doesn’t change too much. My wife and I were looking for somewhere quiet to settle down.”

  “Oh, it’s quiet all right, for the most part. I’m Neal Box, by the way, and I appreciate your business.” He stuck out his hand and they shook.

  “Tony, Tony Agrioli. My wife’s name is Samantha.”

  “Glad to have you Tony…” Neal glanced at the door. “Why, looky here. There’s Cody now.”

  Tony turned to find the young constable stomping the dirt off the soles of his boots before coming through the door. Cody looked the same as when they met in the casino two years earlier, only he was frowning.

  Tony’s own face lit up. “Cody!”

  Surprised at hearing his name called by the well-dressed stranger he didn’t recognize, the young constable stopped and tried to place him.

  Tony quickly crossed to the door and stuck out his hand. Cody instinctively took it and was taken aback when the stranger slapped his arm. “Good to see you, Cody. Do you remember me?”

  “No, I can’t say as I have…”

  “It’s Tony, Anthony Agrioli. We met in the Flamingo, when you came to Vegas.”

  The frown disappeared from Cody’s face. “Oh, yeah. I remember you. What are you doing here?”

  “I had enough bright lights and the desert. I’m married now and the wife and I rented the house back here.” Tony pointed at the back wall. “I want to try and make a go of it here in Center Springs.”

  “Y’all rented the old Ordway place?”

  “I guess, if that’s the two-story right back there.”

  “Well, glad to have you.”

  Tony kept shaking his hand. “You talked about this place so much, Sam and I decided to come on out.”

  “Sam? I thought you said you were married.”

  “I am. Sam is short for Samantha.”

  “Oh.” Trying to bring himself out of his thoughts and back into the reason he was there, Cody retrieved his hand. “Say, have you seen the kids, Neal?”

  “Top and Pepper? Yep, they were in here not fifteen minutes ago looking for Hootie.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to run ’em down cause I found him, and he’s in bad shape.”

  “Oh, no.” Neal’s shoulders slumped. “Did somebody hit him with a car? I bet it was Donny Foster. He’ll take to the ditch to run over a dog, if he gets half the chance. That whole Foster bunch is bad.”

  “Naw. He’s been chewed up by dogs. I found him in an armadillo hole under some sheet iron out back of my barn and took him to Miss Becky.”

  Neal shook his head. “I bet it was them dogs that tried to eat you that time.” He realized he needed to explain to the city man. “Town people get tired of their animals and bring them out here to throw ’em out, usually down by the cree
k bridge for some reason. They figure country folks’ll take them in, I guess. But we have our own dogs and nobody wants them, so they pack together to survive. Cody damn near got et by ’em when he had a car wreck and the dogs found him.”

  Cody waved at Tony. “Look, it’s good to see you. Let me deal with this and when I can, me and Norma Faye’ll have y’all over for supper.”

  Tony nodded, understanding more than he would have twenty minutes earlier. “Of course. You know where we live.”

  “Fine.” Cody left, and made a mental note to tell Tony that a suit in Center Springs was for weddings or funerals.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Me and Pepper were almost home from the store and pedaling down the highway at a pretty good clip when I saw Norma Faye walking up the dirt road from their house. She waited beside the corral and waved us down. When we got closer, the look on her face told me something was bad-wrong.

  We stopped on the shoulder and braced our bikes with one leg. Norma Faye looked like she was carrying something heavy on her shoulders. She got right to it. “Top, your Uncle Cody found Hootie out by the barn.”

  In our world, when somebody said they “found” a dog, or cat, or horse, in a sentence like that, it usually meant the worst. A wave of dread washed over me and my eyes immediately burned. I wanted to reach for the asthma puffer in my back pocket, but remembered it was on Miss Becky’s kitchen table.

  I’d felt something was coming, but I didn’t know what. Some of us Parkers have the gift of second sight, and most of the time it comes through dreams, and they usually come true, though they don’t make sense to us at the time. It’s only after things happen that we realize what they were about. As far as I’m concerned it ain’t no gift. It’s a curse.

  Miss Becky calls it a Poisoned Gift.

  I’d been having dreams again, and this time I was standing in the middle of a pasture with Hootie lying at my feet. From different directions all around me, dark streaks were coming, like I was the hub of a wagon wheel. A horse kept whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t understand what it was saying.