by Rodney Jones
A man with a long, graying beard appeared at the door.
“You Mr. Kennedy?”
The man peered out, giving each of us a quick study. “What is this?”
“I’m Henry McNeil, sheriff of Windsor County. I believe you already know this gal.” He grabbed Tess by the arm and pulled her to his side.
The man stared at Tess for a moment. “Should I?”
The sheriff turned and looked at Tess. “Step up there.” He gave her a nudge forward. “This ain’t your daughter?”
The man snorted. “She ain’t nobody to me. Anyone claimin’ otherwise is lyin’.”
“You Jacob Kennedy?”
“That I am.”
“You’re missing a daughter, aren’t you? A gal about fifteen, red hair, name of Janet?”
“Looks like you picked up the wrong stray there, Sheriff.” The man turned into the house and yelled, “Janet, get out here!”
A short, red-headed gal appeared at the door, looking as though she’d been in a fight, her face bruised and her lower lip swollen. She held no resemblance to Tess whatsoever.
“This little whorin’ gal was found up in Pittsford just yesterday.” Mr. Kennedy gave the girl a shove. “Go to your room.” He turned back to the sheriff. “I don’t need any more gals, Sheriff. Got more than my fair share.”
The sheriff stared past Mr. Kennedy into the house.
“She tell you she was my daughter?”
“Goodnight, Mr. Kennedy.” Sheriff McNeil turned, stepped past the rest of us, and mumbling something under his breath, marched off to his wagon.
My uncle said, “Sorry to be a bother to you, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Weren’t no bother.”
As we were walking back toward the street, I noticed the sheriff standing near his wagon, his pistol in hand, the toe of his boot tapping up little clouds of dust like the tail of an agitated cat. “Don’t think ’cause I was mistaken about the gal, I was wrong about your lyin’. Like I said, I don’t take a cotton to being made a fool of. You two are under arrest for obstruction of justice. And you, young lady, I’ll git to the bottom of your story; you can count on that. But for now, you’re on your own. Go. Git the hell on out of here before I arrest you for vagrancy.”
Tess looked from me to my uncle.
“Take the goose there, Tess,” my uncle said. He turned to me. “Give her a hand with that.”
While I helped Tess up on the horse, I whispered, “Go down the hill to Grove, go left, then another on Washington. First house on the right—”
“Let’s go, boy. Come on.”
“Jacobson,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” she said. The goose stomped, pacing about nervously. Tess struggled with him for a moment, then managed to get him into the middle of the street, facing the right direction. She gave the horse a slap on the hindquarter and took off down the hill at a trot.
“Goddang it, boy. Get up here!”
I climbed into the wagon, and my uncle mounted the brown. The sheriff turned the wagon around and headed back up the street at a walk. The Rutland County Jail was just around the corner on Main Street. We’d ridden right by it on our way in.
Being arrested was surprisingly simple and quick. The Rutland sheriff had gone home for the day, but had left a deputy in charge. My uncle and I said nothing while Sheriff McNeil explained the charges to the deputy. He, in turn, wrote something down and then had the sheriff look it over and sign it.
I’d never before seen the inside of a jailhouse. The place had six separate cells, two of which were occupied by men who were asleep before we arrived but awakened by the commotion of our incarceration. There was only one cot—more like a wooden bench—in each cell, so my uncle and I were given separate cells, one next to the other, divided by a brick wall. It was dark. The only light came from a lamp the deputy carried. We were told to stay quiet through the night out of respect for the other inmates. I stepped into my cell, and the deputy closed the barred door and locked it, then attended to my uncle in the same way. Once the deputy left the corridor, I couldn’t see a thing. I could smell, though. It wasn’t a far cry from the odor of an outhouse.
I felt my way over and sat on the cot. I figured my uncle was on the other side of the wall behind me, doing the same—sitting in the dark, thinking. I was mostly worrying about Tess out there alone and praying she went to the Jacobsons as I’d told her. I feared she may not have had my instructions square or, given all the trouble she’d been put through since arriving, might simply ignore them. It seemed that my time was dead set on giving her misery.
Snoring filled the dark corridor. I listened. There were two separate snores, one sawing at the other. I slid my hand down to the other end of the cot and found a folded blanket. Using that as a pillow, I stretched out and closed my eyes.
chapter nineteen
NO DOUBT, I WAS MORE than my usual tired. I wouldn’t have thought I had energy enough to dream, but that night, I awoke from one I could gladly have done without. I was at a barn dance. I didn’t know whose barn—could’ve been anyone’s from what I could recall of it, or nobody’s. The music dragged along slow as a dirge. No matter where I was on the floor, I was being squeezed and jostled, and folks all around were fussing and arguing. Tess was my dancing partner, and she was clearly anxious to leave, but I wasn’t ready to for fear I’d never have another chance to dance with her. The anxiety of the dream combined with the voices coming from nearby jolted me awake. For those first few moments, I had no idea where I was.
The glow of an oil lamp snuck in under the door separating the cells from the office and provided barely enough light to see the wall of the corridor through the bars of my cell. Up high on the wall opposite the bars, I could just make out a small window. I sat up and listened. I heard three voices arguing, too muffled for me to make out any words. Minutes later, I heard the corridor door being opened. I couldn’t see who it was, but I heard keys rattling and then a cell door being unlocked.
“Mr. Paulson?”
“Yes?”
“You’re free to go.”
“And my nephew?”
“Him, too.”
I stood and stepped over to the door. The deputy approached, keys jangling in his hand. He unlocked the cell door and nodded toward the office door. Mr. Jacobson stood just inside with another man I didn’t recognize.
“Mr. Paulson.” Mr. Jacobson held out his hand. “I’m truly sorry about all this.”
Uncle Edwin shook the offered hand. “It was none of your doin’.”
“The way I see it, McNeil was way out of line here. It ain’t even his jurisdiction.”
“I certainly appreciate your rectifying the matter.”
“I’m not yet done with it, Mr. Paulson.” He turned to me. “Well, I’ll be! Fancy seeing you here, John.” A smile came to his face as I accepted his handshake.
“I can’t say fancy’s the right word for it, sir.”
“Why? The pillow slips aren’t fresh?”
“There isn’t anything to put in a slip.”
Mr. Jacobson laughed.
“Mr. Paulson.” The other man held out his hand to my uncle, then to me. “Mr. Bartley, my apologies for all this tomfoolery. Seems my colleague from Woodstock has some explaining to do. And he’ll be answering for this, I can assure you.” He gave the deputy a look.
“Sir, I reckon he had the wool pulled over our eyes.” The deputy offered a hand to us both, in turn. “That man can talk hoops around a busted crate.”
“I ain’t holding anything against you,” my uncle said.
“I hope you two gentlemen have a pleasant stay, what’s left of it.” I figured the man must be the local sheriff, though he wasn’t introduced as such, and I didn’t notice a badge. He tipped his bowler and then stepped out the front door.
My uncle, Mr. Jacobson, and I followed him outside, but stopped at the edge of the street.
“So, Mr. Jacobson—” Uncle Edwin said.
“My friends
and family call me Bill. I’ve always counted you and your family among that group.”
“Very well, Bill. I take it you’ve met Miss McKinnon.”
“Oh, yes.” He glanced down at a ball of dried horse dung a few inches from his boot. “I don’t mean any offense by her, or anyone for that matter, but there’s something, well, curious if you will about that gal. I couldn’t get a straight answer from her about anything except this business here with McNeil.” He kicked the dung toward the street.
“I reckon you could say she’s a mite curious, but she’s a good gal.”
“She did right, coming to me.”
“That she did.”
“Ed, I had Sheriff Furman run down the road there.” He pointed down Main Street. “To make arrangements at the Railroad House for you all. It’s on the town’s bill. I’m sure after a day such as you’ve had, you must be ready for a bed. But then, we’d like to have you at the house in the morning for breakfast, if you will.”
“That’s mighty kind of you. We’ll be there.”
I noticed my uncle’s two horses tied to a hitching post at the edge of the street. “Sir, where is Tess?”
He looked down the road and nodded. “Paul and Abigail were about to escort her to the inn as I was leaving the house. I’m guessing they’d be there now, waiting to see you.” He turned back to me. “I’ll be looking forward to a chat with you, come morning. Stay clear of crazy lawmen in the meantime.” He gave me a wink and a smile, then walked away.
My uncle and I mounted up and headed for the inn.
“I’m a bit surprised Tess got my directions square,” I said, “what with all the craziness she had to sort out.”
“She had it all straight before we even got to Rutland, John. That’s what we were talking about, coming out of Wallingford.”
I chewed that over for a moment. “To be honest, sir, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again, not after what she’s been through with me, not that I’d blame her any.”
“Sometimes you can’t see the woods through the trees, son.”
“Sir?”
“That gal cares a great deal for you, John. Stand back from it a bit, maybe you’ll see it.”
When we arrived at the inn, Paul and Abigail were seated in two wooden chairs to the left of the entrance; Tess leaned against the railing, giggling. We dismounted and hitched the horses to the posts out front.
“The inn down the road throw you out, John?” Paul grinned. “What was it this time, poor manners?”
“That what all this merriment is about?”
“We were laughing at Tess, here. Apparently she has an aversion to sitting,” Abigail said.
Tess was wearing a light blue dress that stopped just inches from the ground. She smiled. I nodded and couldn’t help but smile back.
My uncle came up the steps to the porch. “Paul.” He extended his hand. “Abigail, it’s a pleasure seeing you.”
“And you, sir.”
“I’d imagine Miss McKinnon has, by now, shared our mishap with you all, so you wouldn’t blame me if I retire right off.”
“Sir,” Paul said, “we’ll not keep you another minute. There’re two rooms at the top of the stairs and all the way left, down the hall, one across from the other. The one to the back has two beds; the other has one. Come for breakfast when you have a mind to. And please, don’t feel a need to rush.”
“Thank you, Paul, and a goodnight to you, Abigail.”
I said, “Sir, I’ll be up in a minute or two, if that’s all right.”
“You come when you feel like it, John.” He turned and disappeared through the front door.
Paul and Abigail said their goodnights. Tess and I watched as they walked the short distance to Madison Street and disappeared down the hillside.
“That’s a real pretty dress,” I said.
“Thank you. I like it, too. It feels so… like something from a movie.” She glanced toward town. “You have some cool friends.”
“Yeah, they’re cool, I reckon.”
“You reckon they are?” She had a smile on her face as big as any I’d ever seen there.
“Tess, you about ready to hit the hay?”
She turned and looked down the road. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“Not so much. Would you care for a stroll?”
We walked down Madison Street to Grove and up past the train station. Tess filled me in regarding her arrival at the Jacobsons’ home—everyone being curious about her and her feeling all-over scrutinized. Mr. Jacobson had been visibly baffled by her dodging questions. In time, she told me, he had let it go and assured her that he’d secure our immediate release.
Tess went on about how Mrs. Jacobson, with the help of Emily and Mary Lou, threw together a meal of ham, green beans, and mashed potatoes. All that for her alone. While her sisters were busy in the kitchen, Abigail led Tess up to her room and found the blue dress among a few she had outgrown. Tess’s shoes drew a great deal of interest, as well. She had played dumb to Abigail’s questions regarding the materials they were made of, but felt almost certain Abigail saw through her ruse.
“They were all so nice, though. I mean, once they got that I wasn’t willing to talk of certain things, they treated me like a member of the family. They are such sweet people.”
“Tess, you know where you are?”
“God, there’s been so much going on. I haven’t had even a moment to consider it.” She stopped and looked around. “Oh… there’s the Jacobsons’ house down there. So this is Washington…” She stared for a moment down the street, toward the train depot. “Washington… Oh, my God.” She clamped her hands over her mouth and quickly looked around as though to confirm she wasn’t overheard. “That’s where Walmart… look at that. And…” She turned. “Oh. Jim’s apartment, right about here.” She turned again. “Rutland,” she breathed, “1875 Rutland.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Now, look at what you’ve done. I’m… amazed. This is amazing.”
“Now you know how I felt.”
“Oh, my God, John, this is awesome.”
The town was dead quiet and dark, not so much as a cicada buzzing when we arrived back at the inn. I walked Tess to her room. Only the slightest light came from the stairway down the hall. She stood before the door, her back to it, looking up at me. In a low whisper, she said my name.
I said, “What?”
“Come here.”
I figured she just wanted to avoid disturbing the guests in the other rooms. I leaned forward. She slipped her hands up behind my neck and guided me close, then kissed me. It happened so quickly, I wasn’t sure it really did, but it did. She pressed her lips to mine.
“Thank you for the nice walk,” she whispered. “Oh, and happy birthday.”
She turned and entered her room, then gently pushed the door shut until I heard a click.
chapter twenty
ABIGAIL MET US AT THE front door and invited us inside.
Mr. Jacobson was seated at the table in the dining room, having a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper. “Good Lord. North Carolina got themselves some kind of a storm yesterday.”
Tess, wearing the blue dress Abigail had given her, glanced at me and then at my uncle.
“Heavy rains, high winds, and flooding along the coast. It’s a bad one… moving north.” Shaking his head, he laid the paper on the table, then stood and came forward with his hand extended. “I hope you all were comfortable at the inn.”
“Couldn’t have been more so, thank you.” My uncle shook Mr. Jacobson’s hand. “A hurricane?”
“That’s what they’re calling it. You have anyone down that way?”
“No, I don’t. And you?”
“The missus has some family around Baltimore. I don’t imagine they have anything to worry about, though. They’re inland a ways. Why don’t we all enjoy our fine weather on the porch while breakfast is being prepared?” He picked up his cup, and hollered, “Emily!”
Emily poked
her head in past the kitchen door. “Yes, Pa?”
“Will you see to it our guests are served coffee on the porch?” He turned to Tess. “Do you drink coffee, Miss McKinnon?”
“Yes, sir.”
Out on the porch, Mr. Jacobson said, “That matter with Mr. McNeil; I was most annoyed by that. Most annoyed. I’m not sure what authority he’d have in such a case, but I had the governor wired this morning… recommended a reprimand.”
“Thank you,” my uncle said.
“I’ll have the DA look into it, too. The scoundrel should spend a few days behind bars, if you ask me. Right now all we can do is drop a word here and there to his constituents.”
Robert came bounding down the stairs, followed by Paul. Mary Lou pushed through the kitchen door and began setting out plates and silver. Abigail excused herself to go help in the kitchen.
“Can I help?” Tess asked.
Abigail chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to put a guest to work in the kitchen, but I’d very much enjoy your company.”
While my uncle and Mr. Jacobson sat at one end of the porch talking business and politics, Paul and I sat at the other. Paul quietly inquired about Tess.
“Paul, I wish I could tell you more, but I gave her my solemn word I’d not tell anyone.”
“I suspect you’ve known this gal for a time, keeping her a secret.”
“Paul…”
“I don’t get it. Why couldn’t you’ve given her a simple, breakable promise? No, you had to go and give her your solemn word.” He chuckled. “Well, there’s one thing you haven’t been able to hide.”
I gave him a quizzical look.
“Her fine looks.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “But truly, I like Tess. I hope everything works out for you there.”
“I don’t recall mentioning there was anything to work out.”
He gave me a look of astonishment. “Are you two engaged?”
“No… no.”
“Well, now I’m confused. You don’t have intentions of courting her?”
“Oh, no.” A simple answer, and the only answer I could give, but at the same time, I think I might have, for the very first time, regretted the constraint. “I mean, well… I can’t.”