Ribbon in the Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  After dawdling for a few minutes on the road, he turned back and headed for the neat homestead. Hell! He’d come this far to see Jacob Fletcher and he wasn’t going to let a nervous little twit keep him from it even if she did look amazingly like Letty.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Letty had had only a glimpse of the man on the horse. Her first impression was that he was big, very big, had dark whiskers on his cheeks and that he looked mean. Doctor Hakes and Harry had both told her to shy away from strangers and to get home before dark. Heck! It was still daylight. She had let school out early because she’d had only Helen and Patrick, and Patrick wasn’t supposed to be in school until fall. Her four older students would be working in the fields from now on, and the other four were down with sore throats. Since the epidemic, parents kept their children home if they as much as sneezed.

  She had been startled when the stranger seemed to be trying to catch up with them. Cautioning Patrick and Helen to hold on, she raced to reach the Watkins’ lane. After the stranger slowed his horse to a walk, she knew she could reach home before he could overtake them. By golly-damn she was glad she’d decided to bring the buggy today, or she and the children would have been walking.

  Jacob sat at the grindstone beside the open barn door sharpening a plow. Letty stopped the horse at the watering tank and jumped down. Patrick and Helen scrambled out on the other side.

  “Whatcha doin’, Grandpa?” Patrick ran to Jacob and leaned on his thigh.

  “Suckin’ eggs.”

  “Ah . . . you ain’t. You’re sharpenin’ the plow.”

  “If’n yore so smart, why’d ya ask?”

  “ ’Cause.”

  “Good reason.”

  “Can I help?

  “Guess so. Pick up that can and dribble a little oil on the grindstone.”

  “What does that do?”

  “Makes boys like you ask questions.”

  “Aw . . . Grandpa—”

  Letty unhitched the horse. Helen stood by, holding their lunch buckets. During the weeks she had been with them, she had lost some of her shyness. Letty had made three dresses with matching bloomers for her and had cut down one of her grandmother’s coats to fit her. Grandpa had repaired and polished her shoes and put in new laces. With her clean blond hair parted in the middle, braided, and tied with a blue ribbon to match her dress, she no longer looked like the little girl Doctor Hakes had brought to the farm that cold, blizzardy day. Even Patrick had softened toward her. Today Letty had found them giggling together as she set mouse traps before they left the schoolhouse.

  Helen suddenly jerked on Letty’s sleeve. “That man who followed us is coming.”

  Letty’s gaze darted toward the lane leading to the barnyard.

  “Patrick, you and Helen go in the house.”

  “Why?”

  “Now!”

  “Who is he?” Jacob asked after Helen had grabbed Patrick by the hand and pulled him up onto the back porch.

  “I don’t know, but he looks mean. I’ll stay in the barn out of sight until we see what he wants. C’mon, Woodrow. I may have to use you in a surprise attack.” The dog followed her into the barn where she led the horse into a stall. “Don’t worry, Diamond,” she said, stroking the white marking on the horse’s face. “I’ll feed you as soon as he leaves.”

  Knowing that Jacob kept a shotgun and shells on the ledge above the stall, Letty climbed up onto the stall rails and reached for two shells which she dropped into her pocket. Then she lifted down the heavy gun. When the gun was loaded, she went to stand just inside the barn door where she had a clear view of her grandfather sitting at the grindstone. The dog looked up at her, his tongue lolling. She patted his head.

  Jacob stopped grinding when the rider came into the yard.

  “Howdy,” the man said. “Are you Jacob Fletcher?”

  “Yup. Have been fer sixty years.”

  “I’d like to speak to you. Do you mind if I get down?”

  “Help yore self.”

  Letty heard the creak of saddle leather, then the unmistakable sound of an angry gander’s hissing and honking. She put her hand over her mouth and giggled. The farm protector, seeing that Woodrow was not on the job, was determined to do his.

  John Pershing, his long neck stretched, his wings flapping, came from the chicken yard on the run, squawking all the way, and headed straight for the stranger who dared invade his territory. The man stood his ground suffering jabs of the gander’s beak on his boots while he held onto the reins of his frightened horse who tried to kick at the feathered beast.

  Jacob picked up a cob and threw it.

  “Goddammit, John Pershing. Get the hell out a here. If ya wasn’t so galdurned old, you’d been in the pot afore now. Ain’t too late, ya blasted old fool!”

  Having made his point, the gander marched away, his head high, his tail feathers twitching arrogantly.

  “State yore business,” Jacob said abruptly.

  “I’m Mike Dolan, Mr. Fletcher. I’d like to talk to you about Letty Pringle.”

  The words knocked all the breath out of Letty. She felt as if her heart had jumped into her throat and was ready to explode. She cringed back against the stall rail, stiff with shock.

  “What about ’er?”

  “I knew her when she lived in Dunlap.”

  “Zat so?”

  “I was hoping that”—Mike drew a deep hurtful breath—“you’d tell me if she was happy while she was here and where she’s buried.”

  “Buried?” Jacob jerked erect, his bushy brows drawn together in a frown.

  “Yes, sir. I stopped at the church cemetery, but she wasn’t there.”

  “ ’Course she warn’t there. She ain’t dead yet.”

  “I’m talking about Letty Pringle,” Mike said, his voice raised. “She died here five years ago.”

  “Christamighty!” Jacob’s voice, now, too, was raised. “Somebody should’a told her. She’s still walkin’ ’round.”

  With those few words, Jacob managed to knock the breath out of Mike. An icy tingle feathered over his skin. Taking deep, stabilizing breaths, he desperately fought lightheadedness.

  “What . . . did you say?”

  “Said somebody ort ta a told Letty she was dead.”

  “Letty’s . . . alive?”

  “She was when she went in the barn.”

  “My . . . God! In the . . . barn?”

  “It’s what I said.” Jacob watched as the big man’s face seemed to freeze and dark, tortured eyes turned toward the barn door. “Letty!” Jacob bellowed. “Get out here and tell this here feller ya ain’t dead.”

  Coming out of her shock, Letty heard her grandfather’s words. All the hurt and humiliation she had endured came flooding back; the years of waiting, giving birth to her baby alone, living the lie that her husband was coming for her, having to say that he had died, and accepting condolences from the neighbors with only Grandpa knowing the truth.

  What possible reason could Mike have for coming here now? Patrick! He’d heard about Patrick and wanted to see his son. But how could he know she was pregnant when she left Dunlap? Cora knew! Cora had told him. Letty cringed and squeezed her eyes shut for an instant.

  Letty’s first thought was to escape out the back of the barn. She feared it would take more courage than she had to face the man who had deserted her. Then, knowing she had no choice, that it was something that had to be done, she lifted her chin to a high, proud angle and stepped out into the sunlight. Her face was set in harsh lines of resentment. Anger burned in her eyes. Although her hands were steady on the gun she held pointed at Mike’s chest, her heart was racing like a runaway train.

  An expression of disbelief flickered across Mike’s hard features. He took an unconscious step toward her, his black eyes fixed on her face, his breathing ragged. He felt himself begin to shake—violently.

  “Letty,” he said as if strangling.

  “Yes, Letty.” Her voice was harsh and unusually
loud.

  “My God! Letty—”

  “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

  “I can’t believe it’s . . . you—”

  “It’s me. I want you to leave. Get off our land.” She made a jabbing motion with the shotgun.

  “I thought . . . I thought you were dead!”

  “Stupid, trusting little fifteen-year-old Letty is not stupid anymore. Now go, or . . . I’ll shoot you.”

  “For Gawdsake, girl. What’s got into you?” Jacob came toward her and held out his hand for the gun. Letty sidestepped out of his reach.

  “Stay out of it, Grandpa. Mister,” she said as if talking to a complete stranger, “if you don’t want this dog at your throat and your tail full of buckshot, get on that horse and ride out.”

  Mike continued to stare at her through a haze of confusion. It was Letty, but oh, such a different Letty than the one he remembered.

  “You’re different,” he managed to say.

  “Well, hell, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’re older, harder.”

  “And not the dumb cluck I used to be.” Her cold voice sent a chill down his back.

  Woodrow, sensing the tension, growled. Short, straight hair stood up on his neck, his tail stood straight out. Mike didn’t even notice that the dog was poised to spring at him. His mind, all his senses were fused to the woman he had dreamed of for so long.

  “They told me you were dead.”

  “Ha! Convenient for you to think that,” she sneered.

  “Your father announced it in church.”

  “You . . . liar!”

  “It’s true. They had a memorial service and took up a collection to pay your grandfather for burying you.”

  “You’re a cheap filthy liar!” Letty shouted.

  “I’m not lying, dammit!”

  “Mama! Mama!” Patrick broke loose from Helen and ran to his mother. “What’s the matter? Why’er you yellin’?”

  “Go to the house.” When Patrick ignored the order, she said harshly, “Do as I tell you.”

  Helen tried to pull Patrick away. He dug in his heels and glared at Mike.

  “You leave my mama alone!”

  Mike glanced down at the sturdy little body braced for an attack. The boy’s hands were knotted into fists, his expression stubborn. Once more the breath was knocked out of Mike. Letty had a child!

  “Your son?” Mike’s eyes went from the boy to Letty.

  “My son. Patrick Graham.”

  Mike looked back down at the dark head and scowling face looking up at him. “I wouldn’t hurt your mama for anything in the world.”

  “Then why’s she yelling? Why’s she mad?”

  “Go to the house, Patrick,” Letty commanded. “Go, or I’ll . . . spank you good!”

  Patrick ran at Mike and kicked him on the shin. Then he backed up with his fists held in a fight position.

  “Why’er you makin’ my mama mean? You’re a fart, a . . . poot! You’re nasty old do-do!”

  “Patrick! Stop it. Go to the house!” Letty’s voice quivered. She was on the verge of tears.

  Patrick began to cry.

  Jacob cursed.

  “Ain’t right ta take it out on the boy, Letty. He’s thinkin’ to take up for you. The tad don’t understand—”

  “That makes two of us, Grandpa. Take Patrick to the house.”

  “Run on, son. Go with Helen. I’ll look after your ma.” He waited until the children were on the porch before he spoke. “You’d better get, Dolan. Letty’s got her back up. She ain’t goin’ to settle it down till you’re gone.”

  “When I came home from the logging camp they told me you were dead.” Mike ignored Jacob and looked steadily at Letty. “Everyone in Dunlap thought you were dead. Your folks grieved—”

  “Shut up. I don’t want to hear your lies!”

  “A letter edged in black came from your grandmother—”

  “No! It came from me telling about Grandma.”

  “Your mother said—”

  “No! They hated me, but they wouldn’t do that. For the last time I’m telling you to get on that horse and go. I never want to see your lying face again.” Shock and hurt were on her face, anger in her voice.

  “Maybe you’ll believe ‘Sister Cora.’ Your sainted sister is coming to Boley to con the poor suckers into filling the collection plate. Ask her if I’m lying.”

  Mike took the paper from his hip pocket and held it out to Letty. She refused to take it from his hand. He dropped it on the ground and stared at the woman who had been the sweetheart of his youth, the girl who had lived in his heart for so long. The expression on her face, contempt and hatred, cut him like a knife. It was killing him. He could hardly breathe for the tide of panic that rose in his throat—he was losing the sweet dream.

  “I’ll be back, Letty. I’ve grieved for you for five years. I’m not giving up because you think I deserted you.”

  “I’m no longer Letty Pringle. I’m Letty Graham, now. Does that tell you anything?”

  His gaze caught hers. “You’re married?”

  “Of course, and I have a son. Do you think I’ve been waiting all this time for you?”

  “Where’s your husband?”

  “Working. Working for one of the neighbors.” The lie came easily so easily Letty was proud of it. “You’d better not be here when he gets back. He’ll tear you apart.”

  “I doubt that. Maybe I’ll just wait. I’d like to meet him.”

  A burst of anger exploded in Letty’s head and her finger tightened on the gun trigger.

  “My husband will want nothing to do with you. Stay away from him and stay away from this farm!” She held her head high, her hard brown eyes refusing to look away from his.

  Mike mounted his horse and sat looking down at her. Sweetheart! You’re breaking my goddamn heart.

  “I’ll be back, so if you’re going to shoot, go ahead.” He turned the animal toward the lane and kicked him into a gallop.

  After Mike left, the starch went out of Letty’s backbone and her face crumbled. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hurried into the barn. Jacob followed, put his hand on her shoulder, and turned her to him.

  “There, there, girl—”

  “Oh, Grandpa! What’ll I do?”

  “He’s the one ya was waitin’ fer, ain’t he? He’s Patrick’s daddy.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t come back for me like he said—”

  “Maybe it’s like he told ya. Could be yore pa, that righteous son-of-a-bitch, put out the word ya was dead.”

  “I’ll never believe that Mama would let him have a memorial service, take up a collection—No! He’s using it as an excuse. Somehow he’s heard about Patrick and is curious to see him. Why did he have to come back now? Patrick thinks his father is dead.”

  “I kinda believe the boy,” Jacob said thoughtfully. “Reckon he ain’t no boy no more. He’s a man to be reckoned with, Letty. Been in the war. ’Twas a army coat tied behind his saddle.”

  “I don’t care where he’s been. He wasn’t here when I needed him. And that’s all there is to it. I hate him, Grandpa. I waited and I waited. I almost grieved myself to death over him. Now, I’ve blocked him out of my heart. Patrick is mine, all mine. I’ll not share him with a floater who suddenly remembers me.”

  “They’re as alike as two peas in a pod.”

  “Oh, Lord! Do you think he knows?”

  “He was lookin’ pretty hard at the little bugger. If he don’t know, he’s wonderin’. He’ll be back, girl. He don’t ’pear to be a man what backs off once he’s got the bit between his teeth.”

  “He will this time,” Letty said firmly and lifted the hem of her skirt to wipe her eyes. “Me and Patrick are doin’ just fine, Grandpa, thanks to you.”

  “I ain’t goin’ ta always be here, Letty.”

  “Don’t talk like that! Don’t you dare say that!” Letty turned her stricken face away. “I hurt Patrick by yelling at him. I’ve got to go ap
ologize. Tonight I’ll make his favorite custard. Then after supper we’ll play ‘Chopsticks’ on the piano. You’ll just have to cover your ears, Grandpa.”

  “Well, now, that’s all fine and good, but sooner or later ya got ta let the boy know his daddy ain’t dead.”

  “But . . . oh, Lordy, people will know we weren’t married. What’ll that do to Patrick?”

  “There’s worser things. He’d have a daddy case somethin’ happens ta me ’n’ you.”

  “We don’t have to worry about Mama and Papa taking him,” Letty said with a bitter twist to her mouth.

  “I ain’t so sure. The boy’d have a farm.”

  “Oh, Lordy, mercy me! I hadn’t thought of that.”

  * * *

  Mike automatically guided the horse back toward the road. A panorama of thoughts swirled in his mind. Shocked and numbed by what had just occurred, he felt a little sick. It was as if he had suddenly stepped through a hole and into another life. The shock of seeing Letty after thinking her dead all these years was making him a little crazy. He wanted to shout, race the horse, throw his hat in the air.

  He wanted to . . . cry.

  She had waited and he hadn’t come. It was no wonder that she was bitter. Goddamn that family of hers! He would never forget the look on her face when he told her about the memorial service. She couldn’t face the fact her family had cut her off so completely. My God! What had she done to make them do such a thing?

  She was thinner. He was sure he could encircle her waist with his hands. Clear white skin was drawn tightly across the delicate bones of her face. Dear Lord! The Letty of his dreams was no longer a girl. She was a woman with a child.

  The thought that sprouted in the back of his mind as he looked at the boy blossomed into full bloom.

  Holy Mother of God! The boy was his!

  He had a son! The little fellow was the spitting image of his younger brother at that age. Beneath the willows beside the creek, he had made Letty pregnant, and her folks had thrown her out, disowned her. My God! He could see it now. She had every right to be bitter.