by Sharon Sala
She was sobbing, but when he walked out, she screamed, “Come back! Damn you, Wesley! You don’t walk away from me!”
When he didn’t return, she shrieked, and then kept on shrieking, until it felt as if her throat was on fire. She started to get up and go after him, but she only staggered drunkenly, fell onto the floor and passed out.
Wes was in their bedroom throwing clothes and toilet articles into a bag. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he couldn’t be in the house with this woman when it did. She was passed out when he left, but he didn’t care. There was a motel across the street from the dealership. That was as good a place as any to figure out what to do next. His heart was so heavy he could hardly breathe and walk at the same time. He felt dirty all the way to his soul. He could just hear his mama’s voice.
You reap what you sow, Wesley. You reap what you sow.
He’d coveted his friend’s wife and taken her to bed. He’d been so blind with love—or had it just been lust?—that he’d believed everything she said. He’d even been happy Marcus had done them all a favor and died, but after finding out his friend had been murdered, his guilty conscience had shifted to a need for swift justice. That was how he would atone for his transgressions. He would make sure the killer was punished. But instead he’d crucified a boy on account of a lie. What had he done? What the hell had he done?
* * *
Prince was on the run. In a card game, he’d lost every penny Lucy had given him, then robbed a gas station for a tank of gas and a few quick bucks. He lit out of Mount Sterling and headed back to the hills. It was where he felt safest, and he knew a thousand places to hide where the law would never find him. All he needed was for Fagan to keep him in food until he figured a way out of the mess he was in.
It was just after midnight when he pulled into the driveway. Fagan’s truck was parked out front, but the house lights were out. The dogs started barking. If Fagan wasn’t drunk, the noise was bound to wake him up. Prince tapped the brakes, checking out the premises as he circled the house, then drove all the way into the barn and parked out of sight. All four dogs came running, sounding like they were ready to eat him alive. Already pissed, he walked out of the barn, shouting.
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, and threw a rock at the redbone hound in the lead.
They recognized his voice—and the threat—and slunk off into the woods.
Prince kept walking. The back door wasn’t even locked, which meant Fagan was most likely passed out, either from the weed he’d smoked or the booze he’d drunk. He hadn’t even put the dogs up for the night. Prince turned on lights as he went through the house, calling his brother’s name.
Fagan came stumbling out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of long johns and carrying a rifle.
“What the hell?” he mumbled, blinking rapidly against the sudden onset of light.
“Put the fuckin’ gun away,” Prince said. “We need to talk.”
Fagan came to himself enough to be pissed. “Oh, so now you show up and think you can start ordering me around? Why didn’t you return any of my calls? You have no idea what a damn mess we’re in.”
Prince stopped short. “What are you talking about?”
“Lincoln Fox is back. He’s after blood. Claims he came back to get justice for his daddy’s murder. He already done challenged me, wanting to know how I came to be the one who called in the fire at his house that night. He’s been to the law. They know what he’s doing, I guess, and are letting it happen.”
“Son of a bitch,” Prince said, and started pacing.
“That ain’t the half of it,” Fagan said. “He showed up at Lucy’s house today and freaked her out to the point that she called here, trying to tell us what we were gonna do to stop him.”
“What did you tell her?” Prince asked.
“I didn’t tell her a dang thing. I hung up on her ass. She’s too damned high-and-mighty to even claim us as brothers until she wants dirty work done, and then she comes begging. I’m done with all that. I grow and sell weed. I don’t want trouble with anyone, especially the law.”
Prince stared. “Are you crazy?”
Fagan glared back. “What I am is fed up. The law is after you for assaulting and stalking Meg Lewis, and I don’t want to think about what else. Lucy is a bitch. I don’t want anything to do with her. You can take yourself on out of here for all I care, because I’m not covering up for either one of you.”
Prince was stunned. “You’d turn your back on your own brother?”
Fagan shifted the rifle to his other hand. “You didn’t seem to have any problem getting into trouble and then leaving me here to catch all the flak.”
This was not the welcome Prince had expected. “Look. We started out all wrong. What we need to do is—”
Fagan shook his head. “There’s no more we. There’s Lucy, and there’s you. I am not part of the equation. I never was, and I don’t intend to be now.”
Prince was getting desperate, but he wasn’t stupid. Fagan was the one holding the weapon.
“You still knew everything and didn’t tell. You said Fox challenged you about calling in that fire?”
“And I told him my two older brothers are the ones who told me it was burning.”
Prince lost it. He began stomping back and forth in the hall and waving his arms, screaming to the point that spit was coming out of his mouth as fast as the words he was spewing.
“You’re a Judas goat! By God, you would turn on your own and side with the law! I never thought I’d see the day this would happen!”
“I didn’t ask to be born into this fucking family,” Fagan said. “You can take yourself back on out of this house, and if I never see you again, it’ll be too soon!”
Prince leaped, ready to take a swing.
Fagan hit him on the jaw with the butt of the rifle, knocking him to the floor.
Prince rolled to his knees, blood dripping from his chin and lip, then staggered as he got to his feet.
Fagan shouted again. “You get the hell out and don’t come back. I mean it, Prince! So help me God, if I see you again I’ll call the cops and tell them exactly where you’re at.”
Prince couldn’t think straight. The blow had knocked out a tooth and what was left of his good sense. He wanted to curse his brother, but when he opened his mouth he found himself sobbing.
“Don’t do this, brother. Please. I don’t have any money, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”
Fagan was unmoved. For the first time in his life he could see daylight in being rid of his brother’s constant troubles. He stepped back into his bedroom, grabbed his wallet and came back into the hall. Prince hadn’t moved a muscle.
He took out what was left of the three hundred dollars he’d taken to buy groceries and threw it at Prince’s feet.
“Go find Lucy. She called here wanting to know where you were. She asked for help. I can guarantee she’ll welcome you back with open arms.”
Prince grabbed the money and stuffed it in his pocket.
“I’m tired and I’m hungry, Fagan.”
“You drove up here like that. You can leave the same way.”
Prince swiped at the blood running down his chin and then pointed his finger at Fagan’s chest.
“You’ll pay for this.”
Fagan pointed the rifle at his brother’s feet. “I’ve been paying for all the bad my family’s done my whole life. I’m done. Get the fuck out.”
Prince turned too quickly and staggered into the wall, leaving bloody handprints as he caught himself from falling.
Fagan followed him all the way through the house and then outside into the cold, and he watched until Prince and his pickup came out of the barn and drove away. Then he went back inside, locked both doors, turned out the lights and sat up in the dark with the rifle in his lap and tears running down his face.
* * *
It had taken Linc an entire afternoon of chopping wood to get past the rage he’d brought ho
me. The day had been cold but clear. The sound of his chainsaw and the thump of his hammer against the splitting wedge had echoed on the mountain as the pile of lumber continued to grow.
Life and experience had made him a good judge of other men’s character, and the longer he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Wes Duggan’s testimony had been what someone else told him to say, not something he knew for a fact.
According to Aunt Tildy, Dad already believed Lucy was cheating, which explained the distance he’d felt between them in the months prior to his father’s murder. Even if Wes and Lucy had been screwing around, it wouldn’t have been worth a fight to the death for his father. And there was the irrefutable fact that Lucy’s alibi was rock solid, so she definitely wasn’t the murderer.
Her brothers wouldn’t have cared who she fucked. He was missing something. He just couldn’t figure out what.
He quit just before dark, hauled what he’d cut to the house and stacked it up near the door, then carried a couple of logs inside. It didn’t take long to stir up the coals and add some more wood to feed the fire. His belly was growling as he washed up, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He took out the pork chops and the extra baked potato Meg had given him, and put them in the microwave to heat.
The thought of Meg made him lonely. It was too late to go calling, but he could at least hear her voice. He sat down in his recliner and kicked back to make the call. The wood he’d just put in the stove was beginning to catch fire, popping like popcorn inside the iron belly as the flames took hold.
The aroma of the heating pork chops and the warmth gave the place a homey feel. He waited as Meg’s phone began to ring, and just when he thought it was going to go to voice mail she answered, sounding slightly out of breath and laughing. He stifled a groan, remembering all the times they’d spent together laughing and playing at being grown-ups.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Meg, it’s me. Are you okay?”
“Lincoln! Hi! Yes, I’m fine. I was in the shower. When I sat down on the side of the bed to answer the phone, Honey licked my toes. It made me laugh.”
The thought of her wet and naked did nothing for his peace of mind. “I remember that you were ticklish, but I am not going to ask you what you’re wearing.”
She laughed as she pulled the towel a little closer around her body.
“I’ve been busy today, packing up quilts and digging out my price tags and decorations for the show in Lexington.”
“You mentioned something about it the other day. Is it a big one?”
“Yes. I’ve participated every year for the past ten years.”
“When do you leave?”
“Thursday morning. I already have a reservation in a motel near the show, and I need to head to the fairgrounds before daylight on Friday to set up. The show opens at nine in the morning and runs through ’til three o’clock on Sunday afternoon. I normally make at least half my yearly income at that show.”
He liked hearing about this aspect of her life and realized that she must have quite a presence in her field to be so successful.
“That sounds like quite a big deal,” he said.
“It is for me. So what have you been doing today?”
He sighed. “Stepping in shit.”
“What?”
“Sorry, but that’s what it felt like.”
She could hear the dejection in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I saw Wes Duggan today. I went to the dealership and confronted him about lying at the trial.”
Suddenly Meg felt anxious. He’d thrown down the gauntlet in a very public way.
“Oh, Linc, that’s a little scary. Now it’s all out in the open. What did he say?”
“It’s weird. I expected him to deny it, but the strange thing is that I think he actually believes he told the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
Linc shoved a hand through his hair. The microwave dinged, but he ignored it.
“I got the impression that he had just repeated something he’d been told to say and passed it off as his own observation. When it’s gossip, you can always choose to ignore it, you know? But testimony is supposed to be a true fact, and he swore on a Bible that it was.”
“I do remember people saying at the time that they were all surprised by his claim, because none of them had ever witnessed any disagreements between you and your dad. But Wesley Duggan and your dad were best friends, so that’s why they took it to heart...thinking he would know the truth if anyone would.”
“Exactly, but it’s also what crucified me—and it was a lie,” Linc said. “However, I did hit a nerve—a big nerve—when I accused him of betraying his best friend by sleeping with his wife. I thought he was going to have a stroke. That’s when he ordered me out of the office. But I said what I went to say. When I left, I went by their house to ask Lucy the same set of questions.”
Meg groaned. The Whites were not a family to piss off, and the thought that he’d done that scared her. She already knew what Prince was capable of, and Fagan wasn’t much better. She’d heard all about how Wes and Lucy had moved up in the world when they’d moved away from Rebel Ridge. Threatening Lucy to the point of making her think she might lose all that was like teasing a mean dog. Lord only knew what kind of havoc she could bring.
“You did not! Oh, Linc, there’s no telling what she’s capable of doing. What did she say?”
“Had herself a screaming fit and told me to get out of her house, but that was after I asked her why she lied about me and who was she protecting when she did it. That’s when she lost her cool.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meg said.
“Yeah, and I’d guess right about now so are they.”
She frowned. “If she did have anything to do with it, you do know that you’ve just painted a very big target on your back?”
“Yes, I know, but I’m a very big man. I can take the flak, as long as I get the answers I need.”
“Are you okay?”
He sighed. “Yes, I’m okay. It takes a lot more than cursing and shouting to rattle me. So what are you doing tomorrow?”
“I’m skipping church. I have too many things to finish up before the trade show, and I need to do some baking later in the week to take to Mom and Jake’s on Wednesday. Don’t forget, you’re with me that day.”
“It sounds to me like you’ll need to be more than half-packed for your quilt show by then. How about if I pick you up and we go in my truck instead?”
“That would be great!”
Just listening to the happiness in her voice made him happy, and thinking about spending the day with her was even better. Even if her family got weird about him being there, he wasn’t going to let it bother him.
“Ah, Meg...you are good for my soul. Thanks for talking me down from my bad mood.”
She shivered and closed her eyes as his soft, husky voice wrapped around her, and wished it was his arms instead.
“I’m glad you called,” she said. “Have a good dinner with Aunt Tildy tomorrow, and tell her I said hello.”
“I will. I was wondering, would you mind if I stopped by tomorrow afternoon? I have a hankering to look at your sweet face.”
“I would not mind at all,” she said.
“Great. See you then.”
Meg heard the click as he disconnected and reluctantly hung up the phone. She was still smiling as she bent down and gave Honey’s ear a quick scratch.
“Hey, sweet baby...that was Lincoln. Talking to him makes me happy. You make me happy. Right now I’m just a happy fool. I’ll bet you wanna go out.”
Honey licked Meg’s fingers.
“Then let me get my robe. You take a run around the yard while I tend to my sudden urge for something hot and sweet. Since Lincoln is out of reach, I’ll have to settle for hot chocolate.”
* * *
When Linc stepped out of the house on Sunday morning to get some more wood, he paused, struck by the cle
ar beauty of the day. The air was Popsicle cold, the early sun so bright it turned the look of the frosty grass into shards of white ice. The far-off screech of a hawk circling overhead broke the pristine silence and sent the rabbit hiding behind his woodpile into a panicked dash to safety. Linc inhaled deeply and, as he exhaled, the warmth of his breath formed a cloud in front of his face. It was moments like this that reminded him why it was a gift to have been born on this mountain.
After a pause for silent adulation of the glorious morning, he picked up an armful of firewood and went back inside, kicking the door shut behind him. The aroma of fresh coffee brewing mingled with the scent of burning cedar as he popped a couple more sticks into the stove.
Today was the day he took Tildy to Sunday dinner at Frankie’s Eats. He was looking forward to treating her, and at the same time he was afraid the whole experience might be a disaster. It actually depended on the diners’ reactions to his appearance as to whether it would be a memorable meal or a hot mess. But no matter what happened, he had no doubt Tildy Bennett could handle the situation.
Since he was counting on a big dinner, he went small with breakfast and only made himself one peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He ate as he logged on to his laptop, checking emails for updates from his crews back in Dallas. For a change there were no pressing problems to be solved. Quite the opposite. He read with pleasure an email from Gerald informing him that they were going to come in under deadline by about two weeks and get the twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus that had been built into the contract.
He sent back a “way to go” message with a couple of exclamation points for good measure, then got up to pour himself a cup of coffee and was doing a mental rundown of what to do next in his investigation when he remembered Tildy telling him about the Whites coming into extra money before the fire.
She had mentioned that they’d been about to lose their place when the bank loan was miraculously paid off, ending the foreclosure proceedings. As a teenager, he wouldn’t have paid any attention to that news, but looking back now, he had to wonder how they’d come into that kind of money. Unless they had a rich relative who had died and left them an inheritance, it was a sure bet that it wasn’t obtained by legal means. He made a mental note to ask her if she knew any more details. He couldn’t imagine how it might have anything to do with his father’s murder, but he had to consider everything connected to the people who’d been connected to him and his dad—even by marriage.