The Devil You Know

by Jo Goodman

  “Uh-huh. And his name?”

  “Buck McKay. You ever heard tell of him?”

  “Buck McKay,” Happy repeated. “Nope. Can’t say that I have. Zach? Cutter? You know a Buck McKay?”

  “Don’t,” said Cutter.

  “Never,” said Zach.

  Happy took a few steps forward so when he looked sideways, he could see Annalea at the front window. He called to her. “Annalea? You ever heard of Buck McKay?”

  “Never did, Pa.” Her voice was distorted by the glass but perfectly understandable.

  Happy’s attention returned to Samuel Easterbrook. “None of us. And you’re looking at everyone here right now.”

  “Huh. Well, I guess that’s that. I wasn’t hopeful anyway. The man’s a card sharp. It didn’t set quite right with me that he’d stray so far from town, but you can never know where he might pick up a game unless you ask around.”

  “And so you have. Where will you go next?”

  “Denver. Lots of opportunity there, and it’s the most likely place he’d go since he didn’t seem to find anything to his liking in Jupiter. That’s assuming he ever made it there. Can’t find evidence to support that either. Could be it’s all a dead end.”

  “Too bad, then, about that favor for your friend. Now who would that be exactly?”

  “No one you’d know, but I can’t see that there’s any reason I shouldn’t say. His name is Thomas A. Wyler. One of the Saint Louis Wylers. They’re well known up and down the Mississippi. I don’t know the exact amount of money Buck McKay owes Tom Wyler, but for Tom to ask me for help, I have to believe it is considerable. I’m thinking there will be a tidy reward if you come by information and pass it along.”

  “How would we do that?” asked Happy.

  “Send it directly to Mr. Wyler. Thomas A., in Saint Louis. He’ll find me.”

  “Not likely we’ll ever know anything worthy of a reward, but we’ll keep it in mind. I figure that completes your business here. How about I have Zach and Cutter escort you off the property, just so you find your way back to Jupiter. Wind’s picking up. Drifts will make it harder for you to backtrack.”

  “That’d be fine, sir. I’d welcome the company.”

  Happy remained with Cutter on the porch until Zach brought the horses around. He stayed there in the lee of the house, watching them go, and only when they were out of sight did he finally step inside.

  He overrode all of Annalea’s objections about going to bed and tucked her in. She was full of questions but reluctantly accepted his offer to read to her in trade for not answering any of them. She was asleep before he had finished the first short chapter of Nat Church and the Day at Deadrock.

  * * *

  From his secluded shelter beneath a canopy of pine boughs, Eli Barber could see the trio approaching the Y in the road where Pancake land met the juncture of roads east and west. Two of the riders stopped there, while the third—the one in the middle and clearly the one being escorted to that point—rode on, choosing Jupiter as his direction. Eli could not hear any words being exchanged, but the parting seemed friendly enough. He stayed where he was until the pair of riders, easily recognizable to him as Zach Englewood and Cutter Hamill, turned around and headed back the way they came, and then he followed the single rider halfway to Jupiter before he made himself known.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” said Jesse Snow. His head snapped sideways as Eli came abreast of him. “Where the hell did you come from? I swear I was looking for you.”

  “I guess you should have been looking harder. I’ve been tracking you for the better part of a couple of miles. What did you find out?”

  “Not a thing. I should’ve gone in the morning like I wanted. I don’t know why you had to have me go now.”

  “The way I remember it is that it took me all afternoon and into the evening to find you. You have a way of hiding when there’s work to be done. I’m not sure we’ve seen the like of it before at Big Bar. You won’t be long for there once spring comes.”

  “Maybe. And maybe not. I figure you got a couple or three reasons to keep me on, seeing what I’ve done for you.”

  Eli spoke carefully, calmly, believing his words would be better minded that way. It was something he’d learned from his father, although rarely something he could do in conversation with his father. “Have a care, Jesse. It’s a dangerous error you’re making if you think my father will ever take up for you over me, and if you think I’ll take up for you to keep you from talking, it’s a sure thing I’d see you dead first. You hold that in your mind when you’re figuring that those couple of reasons will protect you.”

  He gave Jesse some time to absorb that before he said, “You never did satisfactorily answer my question about what you were doing around Monarch Lake and the ridge. Maybe you think that’s a good place to hide out when you’re supposed to be working, but you surely know by now the Pancakes like to think that’s their land. Someone from there will shoot you as soon as look at you.”

  Jesse started to speak, but Eli cut him off.

  “You can tell me later. Right now I want to hear about what happened at the ranch. Everything.”

  Jesse said, “I did like you said. I told them who I was, that I’m a hand at Big Bar, and since everyone knows you and Malcolm aren’t welcome in the valley, I was asked to come in your stead.”

  “How’d they take that?”

  “Well, they didn’t shoot the messenger, so I guess you’d say they took it in stride. I told them you’d heard that Miss Pancake got married, and since she wasn’t a regular in town, you wanted to make sure you extended congratulations. Naturally they were suspicious because of the timing—I told you they would be—and that’s why Zach and Cutter saw me off the land.”

  “And?”

  “And what? That’s what I said. They pretended they appreciated the sentiments, and then I left.”

  Reaching deep for patience and finding little of it, Eli said, “And what is the name of her husband? Who the hell did she marry?”

  “Oh, didn’t I say? No, I guess I didn’t. Willa wasn’t there. Neither was her husband. The little girl, the one you said looks like Willa at the same age, came out to greet me first. Her mouth is full of sass, I can tell you that. Then Happy appeared right behind her, shotgun in hand and a squirrelly-looking dog at his heels. Then Zach and Cutter showed up. No Willa. No husband. No one said I got it wrong when I offered your congratulations, but no one hollered for them either. I figure they were off somewhere.”

  “Damn, Jesse. Couldn’t you have inquired after them?”

  “It’s like this, Eli. The shotgun, and Happy’s predisposition to use it, made me think questions would not be encouraged. I tipped my hat, accepted their escort, and got the hell away from there. I’ve been looking for you ever since, and here we are.”

  “And here we are,” Eli said dully. “I don’t know one damn thing more than I knew from my father yesterday.”

  “You could’ve asked around Jupiter on your own instead of hunting me down to go with you.”

  “And if you hadn’t been so goddamn hard to find, we would have already asked around Jupiter.”

  “Seems like you’re purposely missing the point of you doing it on your own.”

  “I didn’t miss a thing, but I don’t answer to you. It works the other way around.” Eli raised the collar on his coat. “Since you spent the day avoiding work, and I spent the better part of it looking for you, we are not going to be able to slip into Jupiter in the morning. You better partner up tomorrow and the day after and make sure Buster hears you’re working hard. We’ll head into Jupiter the day after that. Don’t disappoint me, Jesse. You understand?”

  “I always do what you tell me, Eli. We’re still good, aren’t we? About what you promised me once we get to Jupiter.”

  Eli corrected him. “Not once we get to Jupi
ter. Once we are finished asking around in Jupiter. But, yes, drinks are on me. And so is your poke at Mary Edith.”

  “You said I could have her for the night if I wanted.”

  “Fine by me. Mary Edith might object, but that will be your problem.”

  Jesse said confidently, “Then there’s no problem.”

  * * *

  When they returned to their room after dinner, Israel invited Willa to sit on the bed while he picked up the parcels she had swept aside earlier and put them within her reach. She had the grace to look sheepish when he placed one in her hands.

  “This one might be good to open first,” he said.

  Willa looked past him to where the folded silk screen stood. The beautiful red scarf was still draped as she had left it before she stepped into the tub. “I already opened a very good one,” she told him.

  “Well, this one has more practicality at the moment.”

  Intrigued, she began to pull on the twine. “Go sit over there,” she said, pausing long enough to wave him away from the bed and toward the rocker. “I can’t do this while you’re hovering.”

  “Hovering. I didn’t realize.” Shaking his head at her peculiarities, he compromised by pulling the rocker within a leg’s distance of the bed before he sat down. He stretched his legs and used the bed frame as a stool for his boot heels. She was staring at him when he looked up after getting comfortable. His expression was one of innocence perfected. “Not hovering.”

  “I am in awe of your ability to do what you’re asked on your own terms.” It was her turn to shake her head, and she did that while pulling the twine free. This parcel was bulky and the paper began to unfold as soon as she removed the twine. Her fingers scraped what was inside, and she recognized what she would find before it was completely revealed. Her fingers curled around the smooth cherry wood handle of a hairbrush. She held it up to admire, turning it this way and that before she pulled it through the loose tail of her braid. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  He pointed to the paper. “There are ribbons, too. I thought maybe sometimes you’d like something different than a rawhide string to keep the braid together. Or you could wear one in your hair when it’s down.”

  She found them. He had purchased three. One black, one forest green, and one poppy red. She threaded all three grosgrain ribbons between her fingers and pulled them through. The ribbed fabric created gentle resistance against her skin. She smiled at Israel. “What made you think of these things?”

  “Your hair,” he said simply. “I think about it a lot.”

  She looked down at the heavy plait of hair hanging over her shoulder and wondered what about it could possibly capture his thoughts, but before she could ask, he directed her to another package, this one a square box about the size of her hands if she placed them side by side. “Did you go to the bakery I told you about?” she asked, suspicious. “Without me?”

  “Just for this, and I don’t know that it’s the same bakery, but it is the only bakery I saw. I didn’t buy cookies. I couldn’t remember what ones you told me you wanted anyway. This is something else.”

  Willa tugged on the string, and when the knot would not give, she worked it off the box one corner at time. She was looking at him, a question in her eyes, when she finally lifted the lid and the aroma of almonds and oranges made her breathe in deeply. His eyes directed her to look down.

  Inside the box was a small, single-layer cake, covered in swirls of creamy white frosting and decorated with a ring of thinly sliced almonds and orange zest. Some of the icing was smudged on the cake and sticking to the sides of the box, and Willa reckoned that was her fault for pushing Israel’s gifts out of the way when she threw herself on the bed. He’d had more respect for what he was carrying than she had.

  Willa put a forefinger inside the box, swept icing from the side, and held it up. “My job,” she said and put the finger in her mouth and sucked it clean.

  Israel stared at her finger when it reappeared. “I believe I said there were things to share. That’s one I care about. That’s our wedding cake.”

  “I know.”

  He saw her chin wobble a bit, as though she were feeling overwhelmed, but she covered it by dipping her finger inside the box again and thrusting her arm out to him. Quickly, before she could guess his intent, he was on his feet, carefully avoiding her outstretched offering, and removing the box from her lap. He returned to the rocker, set his heels on the bed frame once more, and situated the bakery box squarely in his lap.

  “Keep your finger,” he told her and dipped his inside the box. He came out with a gob of frosting that immediately disappeared inside his mouth.

  “You took that off the cake,” she accused. “Not off the side of the box.”

  “Guilty.” He accepted responsibility but in a way that clearly communicated he had no regrets. “I’ll hold this while you open the last one. It’s still mostly hidden by the blankets.”

  Shrugging, Willa licked her finger clean before she rooted out the final gift. This one was neither wrapped nor boxed. What he was giving her was concealed in a black velvet bag no bigger than her palm. “This wasn’t here earlier,” she said. “I would remember the bag, and I’m fairly certain I would have chosen it first.”

  “You’re right. It wasn’t there.”

  She regarded him curiously. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “It is. Open it. I can tell you’re itching to.”

  “I am, and the fact that I feel no shame admitting it is a deep character flaw that I do not thank you for revealing.”

  Ignoring his chuckle, she fingered the braided silver string that kept the bag closed, teasing herself with anticipation for a few moments longer. She untied the knot and then spread her fingers inside the neck of the bag. Instead of reaching in, she turned the bag over and let what was inside fall into her open hand.

  The gold band spilled into the heart of her palm. She stared at it, her lips parted for a breath she did not take. If the ring had been plain, it still would have been special to her, but this ring was engraved with delicate lacework, the likes of which she had seen only once.

  Her eyes lifted and found Israel’s. She made no attempt to blink back tears. They hovered on the tips of her lashes, blurring her vision until her fragile smile pushed them over the edge.

  “This was my mother’s,” she whispered. “How did—”

  “Your father wanted to give it to me the day after we were married. I told him to keep it until I was sure you would want it. He argued some because he didn’t understand, but he did it anyway. When I knew we were coming here, I asked him for it. I thought maybe, just maybe, it was time. There were things you had to know before I could give it to you with any kind of clear conscience.”

  Willa used one corner of the sheet to swipe at her tears. When she was clear-eyed, she stared at the ring. “I’m glad you waited, Israel. It was the right thing to do. It means everything to me that you understood what I had not been able to grasp about our marriage. Those vows we exchanged, they meant something to you. This marriage means something to you, and you came into it not knowing if I would ever believe in it the same way. I think the risk you took was far greater than mine. In fact, I’m sure it was.”

  She extended the hand that held the ring exactly as she had when she’d offered him her frosted fingertip. “Your job,” she said, meeting his eyes.

  Without looking away, Israel closed the lid on the cake box and removed it from his lap. He sat up, abandoning the negligent stretch he found so comfortable for the posture the occasion deserved. Standing, he slipped one hand under hers, and used the other to pluck the ring from her palm.

  He turned her hand over and began to slip the ring on her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands.”

  She could not look at what
he was doing for looking at him. It was not merely her hand he had turned over. It was her heart. She smiled up at him, and this time she did blink back tears. Her voice quavered slightly when she spoke, but in spite of that, her tone was dry. “Of course you would know the words.”

  Israel gave a bark of laughter that Willa silenced by grabbing his shirt and pulling him down on the bed. He did not try to resist, which made the kiss mutually satisfying, especially as quieted laughter continued to bubble between their lips.

  It was some time before Willa had the opportunity to admire the ring on her hand. She lay tucked against Israel’s side, her head on his shoulder, her arm raised so her hand and the ring were featured in the lamplight.

  “Happy did not give this ring to my mother when they were married. There was no money for it then. What profits were made, and they were slim to none some years, were turned back in to the ranch. I think I was six when he gave her this. I have a memory of Mama sitting with me at the kitchen table, helping me with sums, and seeing this ring on her finger. If she had it the day before, I didn’t notice it, but I don’t think she did. There was something different about the way she was encouraging me to do my work, taking the chalk away from me more often so her hand was full in my view. When I finally did see it, she made out that it was a lovely but unnecessary gesture on Happy’s part. She was thrilled, of course, but practicality would not allow her to say so. She was fiercely practical.”

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from that tree.”

  Willa lowered her hand so she could jab him lightly in the ribs. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Israel stretched his free arm toward the bedside table and turned back the lamp wick. With no moon to speak of, the room’s light was once again reduced to the fire in the stove. “We should leave early,” he said. “Annalea was expecting us tonight. I promised her we’d be back.”

  “So did I. I don’t think she’ll understand that a broken promise is not a lie. I didn’t, not when I was her age.”