The Last Innocent Hour

by Barbara Taylor Sissel

  She took his hand, and he smiled down at her, and the wave of love that surged through him was almost frightening. He felt dwarfed by it, the way it called on him to be more, and he wasn’t sure he could be. Ever since the day Chrissy was born, alongside his joy in her, he’d felt like a man who’d gone off a pier into deep water, water he couldn’t swim in, and he was flailing, going down. What did he know about being a father? The first time he had held her, he had looked into her sweet face, blushed pink in sleep, and thought her a jewel, a princess. He had nearly lost his breath. How could he protect her?

  “Let’s go, Daddy.” She tugged him urgently toward the door.

  His glance tangled with Beth’s above their daughter’s head. Beth looked away. He didn’t know her, Charlie thought, not in this house, this “castle”, as Chrissy called it. Maybe he never had.

  Lucy walked with them through the French doors, and standing on the steps, told them how to find the barn. “There are a couple of old mares loose in the pasture. They're gentle and tame, and there's a mama cat in one of the empty stalls with a litter of kittens. Three of them, cute as can be.” She smiled at Chrissy's shiver of delight.

  Maizie appeared in the doorway. “You watch out for that horse. That four-legged devil ain't the same as Miss Beth remembers.”

  “Not to worry,” Lucy said. “Black Knight’s in his stall locked up good and tight.”

  “He’s fine unless something spooks him,” Beth said. She asked Chrissy for a kiss, which she gave willingly, but then she flew back down the steps past Charlie, and he followed her, letting her run for a bit each time before calling her back within sight. They skirted the house, passing beneath the wide canopy of a giant hickory tree that shaded a corner of the white-columned veranda, and Charlie thought how Beth had always made excuses about why they didn’t visit. She’d said they didn’t have the money, or the trip was too far, both of which were true, but now here they were, and so fast his head was still back in Florida.

  “Where will you get traveling money,” he’d asked her two days ago when he’d come home to find her packed and ready to leave him.

  “I have my mad money,” she had answered.

  “Mad money?”

  “Yes. I saved up so whenever I decided to ditch you for good, I could pay for bus tickets for me and Chrissy.”

  Turned out she had enough for several tickets. She offered him a chance to come with them. She said it was against her better judgment.

  He said he’d found a job that very day. He pulled the cash he’d earned from his pocket and danced Chrissy around, making her giggle.

  “You can’t keep this up, Charlie, going from one job to the next and moving us up and down the Florida coast like gypsies trying to keep us one step ahead of some leg-breaking bookmaker.”

  “I know that, Beth. Don’t you think I know?”

  “If you come with us, things will have to change. You’ll have to change,” she said in her preacher’s voice.

  “Fine,” he had said, not wanting to hear another word from her. That tender old ground was a crosshatch of their tracks. But then she’d cried. Something she never did. She hated to cry, and Chrissy had cried, too. Hell, even he had teared up. What would he do without his girls? But what did Beth want from him now? Did she think he would live here taking charity off her mother? Her mother who was obviously rich? On the bus, Beth had said as far as she could see, he had left them no choice, but to come here.

  “Hurry up, Daddy,” Chrissy shouted now, “or I'm going to see the kittens by myself.”

  Charlie grinned. “Oh, no, you're not,” he warned her, doing a running step backwards.

  “Want to race?” she asked, her impish smile matching his.

  “Why should I when I always win?”

  “You won't win,” she said.

  “I will this time. Watch me.” He took off, miming speed, but holding his steps.

  “Daddy! That's no fair. You're s'posed to say ready, set, go, first.”

  He could almost see her stamp her foot and heard her coming up behind him. Within seconds she passed him, and he had a glimpse of red-faced concentration. He slowed and stopped for the sheer pleasure of watching her small legs pump and her hair fly in the erratic play of sunshine and cloud-thrown shadow. She reached the barn.

  “See? I told you I'd win.” She tossed her head. Charlie scooped her into his embrace, nuzzling her neck even as she protested. When he set her on her feet, he kept her hand in his.

  The barn was massive, painted white with green trim. There were two sets of doors stacked one above the other. The bottom set of doors were pushed flat against the outside wall making an opening big enough to accommodate an elephant’s entry.

  “Can we go inside?” Chrissy asked. “I want to see are the kittens in there.”

  Charlie held her back. Maybe it was Maizie’s warning about the horse, Black Knight, that made him wary. “Why don't we go see the horses your grandmother was talking about, the ones in the pasture?”

  “Nooooo. I want to find the kittens. Come on.”

  Reluctantly, he allowed her to tug him over the threshold. They left behind the brilliant shaft of entry light and penetrated the gloomier light that filtered from the dormer windows and a cupola above the hay loft. The smell was of the earth, warm and rich, and not unpleasant.

  Chrissy let go of his hand. “I hear something,” she whispered, hurrying forward.

  He heard it too, a mewling sound, but she was fading from his sight; her outline was indistinct. He wasn’t even sure it was her he was looking at. He called her name once, and again, louder this time, “Chrissy?”

  “Who's in here?”

  Charlie turned. A tall, broad-shouldered man was silhouetted in the doorway. Charlie opened his mouth to answer when all at once the barn exploded with noise. A high thin scream of terror punctuated the sounds of a horse's shrill neighing.

  Charlie whipped around. “Chrissy?” he shouted.

  “Daddy! Daddy! Help me! It's going to kill kitty. Horse is going to-- Daddy?” Her voice dissolved into a whimpering cry.

  Within seconds, he was at the stall, and peering inside, could just make out Chrissy's shape huddled in one corner. He put his hand on the latch, fumbling to get the gate open. But now he felt his fingers ripped away.

  “Don't open it. Worst thing you can do.”

  The horse rose onto its hind legs, a massive black beast, pawing at the air. The animal's hide was sweat-soaked; its eyes were white-rimmed in terror.

  “Daddy, help me! Please, Daddy....” Chrissy’s voice was ragged with terror.

  “Hold on, honey.” Charlie went for the gate again, but the man set him back.

  “I’m telling you, don't do it. That goddamn horse gets out, we'll have worse trouble.” The man dropped to his knees, put his face to the railing. “Can you scoot around here to me, sweetheart? Scoot right along the side there.” He reached in, extending his arm to the shoulder. The horse danced now, a series of mincing steps, and swung its massive head, nostrils flaring, eyes rolling and wild.

  “Whoa, big fellow,” Charlie whispered. “C'mon, settle down now.”

  The stranger lay flat on his belly, speaking softly to Chrissy, who began to inch along on her fanny around the perimeter of the stall. Charlie kept up a gentle litany of words almost the same as if he were urging a horse he'd bet on to the finish line.

  Then in a lightning flash, the man lunged, grabbing Chrissy under her arm, dragging her to safety.

  Charlie swung her into his embrace, and she clung to him, crying out her panic against his shoulder. He buried his face in her neck, panting and sweaty in his relief. He shifted her from one side to the other solely to assure himself of her wholeness, her living, uninjured weight. Her breath was warm on his skin, a damp hiccup of distress that was a blessing. Just the thought of what might have happened bent his head to his hand, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to check the thrust of his tears.

  When he could, he raised
his gaze and said, “Mister, I don't know who you are, but you look like some kind of savior to me.”

  The stranger took Charlie's hand when he offered it. “I hate that goddamn horse,” he said in a voice as rough as a saw blade. “Sonofabitch has thrown me twice, broke four of my ribs and nearly fractured my skull. The first time I didn't do anything about it, but the second time, I took a shovel to him, and beat the shit out of the bastard. Didn't teach him a damn thing. I should have put a bullet in him then.” He raised his hand, laid it gently on Chrissy's back. She sighed and buried her face deeper in her daddy's shoulder.

  “She okay? That animal could have killed her.”

  “Fine, I think. Just scared. How can I ever thank you, Mr.--?”

  “Tinker. Name's Jason Tinker. Who in hell are you? And what are you doing in my barn?”

  Charlie obligingly gave his name, prepared to deal with Tinker's hostility, or anything else from the man who'd saved Chrissy's life, but even so, one part of his mind was connecting Tinker's name with Beth's displeasure, while another part was struggling to sort out the relationship. Tinker didn't look old enough to be Chrissy's grandpa.

  He was a couple inches taller than Charlie, maybe six-two, and built strong, as if he worked at it. His hair was light and cut short, and his eyes were nearly as colorless as his hair. Practically translucent. Disturbing. The word popped into Charlie's mind. But Tinker's face was young, unlined; he definitely looked younger than Lucy. Way too young to be her husband.

  Charlie tried to keep the irony from his voice as he explained his and Chrissy's connection to the family, adding, “Beth hasn't seen her mother in a few years, but then I guess you know that?” He waited for a response, but Jason had his hands on his hips and was staring at the ground with such intensity Charlie wondered if he'd heard. “Anyhow, we, that is Chrissy and I decided to do a little exploring. Next thing I know she's disappeared and I hear the horse--”

  “So, Beth's here?” Jason squinted at Charlie from under his brows.

  He nodded, sensing the news was an unwelcome shock.

  “She ever talk about me?”

  “No, not really.” Charlie was damned if he’d repeat the stuff he’d heard.

  “Guess she never mentioned that goddamn horse either. Well, even Lucy will have to admit something's got to be done about him now.” Tinker spun on his heel.

  Charlie stared after him. What did he mean?

  Chapter Five

  He heard Beth’s voice, and walking outside the barn, Charlie set Chrissy on her feet telling her to stay close. Soon Jason appeared, coming from the direction of the house, Beth on his heels.

  She grabbed his arm; he shook her off. “Stay away from my horse,” she told him. “I’m warning you.” He ignored her. “Jason!” she said. “I mean it! You bastard,” she was shouting now.

  From the corner of his eye, Charlie glimpsed the mother cat scuttling around the side of the barn with a kitten held firmly by its nape dangling from her mouth. Chrissy went after them, but Charlie didn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off the approaching procession that included everyone but Maizie. Beth hustled at Tinker's shoulder; Lucy trailed in Beth’s shadow. Tinker clenched a rifle in one hard fist.

  “You can't shoot my horse,” Beth told him.

  “I'd think you'd want it dead after the way it killed your old man, and now it almost got your kid.” Jason drew abreast of Charlie and indicated him with a jerk of his chin. “Ask him if you don't believe me. Ask your husband if the sonofabitch didn't almost trample your little girl to death.”

  Beth paused in front of Charlie, her eyes snapping and dark. “How could you let Chrissy go into Knight's stall? Why weren't you watching her? Where is she now?”

  “I've got her.” Lucy appeared from around the corner of the barn with the child clasped in her arms. “Jason, for heaven's sake, put the rifle down.”

  “Don't lay this off on me,” Charlie told Beth. He was angry now in the wake of his fear. “You knew we were coming out here, but I don't recall you saying anything about--”

  “Maizie did!”

  “Yeah, and that's when you and your mother agreed there was nothing to worry about. Isn't that what you said? But that horse almost killed our daughter, would have killed her, if Jason hadn't come along.”

  As if Charlie had granted him permission, Jason strode toward the barn.

  Beth went after him. “You've got no right to do this.”

  He ignored her.

  “Jason?” She was begging now. “Please! Please don't do it! Mama? Tell him. Mama, pleeease....”

  Lucy handed Chrissy to Charlie.

  “What's the matter with Mommy?” she asked, beginning to cry. She popped her thumb in her mouth.

  Charlie's grip on her tightened.

  Lucy took a few steps, but stopped short of entering the barn. She pressed her hands over the lower half of her face, fingertips resting just beneath her widened eyes.

  A moment of silence hovered as deep as eternity, then a single rifle blast rent the air. Charlie jumped, and Chrissy flung her arms around his neck, hiding her face.

  When Beth burst from the barn, white-faced in her fury, Lucy reached for her, but Beth barreled past her, and only when she was some distance away did she turn back. “How could you, Mama?” she demanded in a broken voice. “How could you let him shoot my horse? I promised Daddy I would take care of Knight. I promised.”

  Jason emerged from the barn, the rifle held loosely at his side. He spoke to Lucy, but his gaze was on Beth. “I'll stop by Doc Parker's, tell him what happened. He'll send someone to pick up the carcass.”

  Lucy said, “You'd better go now, Jason, if you want to catch him before he leaves for the day. We can't have a dead horse lying around all night in this heat.”

  “All right.” Jason switched his glance to his wife now. “You didn't tell me Beth was coming. Not that it makes a damn. I did what had to be done.”

  Lucy hugged herself, averting her gaze.

  Beth raised her finger at Charlie. “This is your fault. If you'd been watching Chrissy, none of this would have happened.”

  “Wait just a damn minute.” Charlie set Chrissy on her feet. “You want to blame me, fine, but that doesn't alter the fact that your daughter’s alive because of him, and you ought to get on your knees and thank him for that, at least.”

  Beth's snort of laughter confused Charlie. “Thank him? You want me to thank him? You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Beth addressed Jason now. “Having me on my knees, under your thumb, the way I was before. Well, I've grown up since you last saw me, and you don't scare me anymore.”

  “Stop it, Mommy,” Chrissy said, but only Charlie heard her. He fit his hand over the small crown of her head, felt the texture of her hair, curls like silk, springing against his palm. Then Beth was back in his face again. “I can't believe you're taking his side.”

  “Side? What does this have to do with sides? You're talking in riddles.” Charlie looked from Jason to Lucy for confirmation.

  Beth said, “Jason knows what I’m talking about, and so does Mama. Don't you, Mama?”

  Lucy’s shoulders folded, and it occurred to Charlie this wasn't about a dead horse anymore.

  “Why don’t you tell Charlie what I'm talking about, Mama?” Beth was staring at Jason, and there was the merest pause, and then she launched herself at him, slapping him and screaming, “You shouldn't have killed my horse, you bastard!”

  Jason caught one of her wrists with his free hand, and Charlie moved in, too, grabbing Beth's arms, pinning them to her sides. He pulled her against him, put his mouth against her ear. “For God's sake,” he said, “that’s enough now.”

  But she struggled, ordering him to let her go.

  He gripped her shoulders, giving her a shake. “Settle down. I know you're upset but--”

  “Stop it! Stop fighting!” Chrissy ran at them, flinging her arms wide. She halted in their midst, chest heaving, tears of panic and fury spilling down her f
lushed cheeks.

  Lucy swooped down, gathering Chrissy into her embrace. Her eyes, hard as flint now, cut first to Charlie, then to Beth. “I won't have this child frightened out of her wits. Jason, take that gun away from here. Beth, Charlie, come back to the house. There's nothing to be gained arguing this way. The horse is dead. It's done and can't be undone.” She set Chrissy on her feet, took her hand, and with a determined step led her along the path to the drive.

  Beth called after her. “Mama, I'm not staying in the same house with him.”

  Charlie knew she meant Jason, but not why. He took her arm. “We need to talk.”

  “Not now.” She shook off his hand. “Mama, I mean it.”

  “Don't sweat it, darlin’,” Jason said. “I won't be hanging around. I've got business in Houston.”

  “Thanks,” Beth said, “but I'll 'sweat it' until you're out of here for good. That's what Mama wants, and that's why I came home. In case you've forgotten, this is Clayton land, my land, and I don't want you here.”

  Jason laughed. He raised his hands and stepped back in mock terror. “Well, just listen to you, all grown up. But you better talk to your mama. Things around here might not be quite the way you remember.” He lifted his voice. “Isn't that right, Lucy, honey?”

  Lucy paused, and keeping her back to them, ordered Beth to come at once.

  Uncertain what moved him--gratitude, or a desire to get even with Beth, or a mix of both--Charlie approached Jason and shook his hand. “I don't know what's going on here, but I won't forget what you did for Chrissy.”

  “No problem.” Jason held Charlie's gaze a second or two, then clicked his tongue and gave his head a brief shake. “But you sure as hell picked a bad time to visit.”

  Chapter Six

  Jason drove away from the house, and his head was humming. What was Beth doing here? Where had she come from? Could Lucy have found her? She made the threat periodically, but he never paid attention to her threats. She was always drunk when she made them. He counted on her drunkenness, in fact. He had from the start. It’s how he’d gotten what he wanted from her. And now her daughter shows up. Why? No way could Beth know that he’d taken the land, and even if she did, he had the legal right now. He had the papers, deed, assignment, title everything, all signed, sealed and—