Forty Dead Men

by Donis Casey

  As for Gee Dub, he would have preferred that no one in his family had come to town to watch him be taken away. He almost asked his parents to stay at the jailhouse with his siblings, but he didn’t have the heart. He decided he could put up with a little humiliation for his mother’s sake. Scott had discreetly draped Gee Dub’s jacket over the handcuffs that bound his wrists, so he wouldn’t look quite so blatantly like a prisoner being escorted to his doom. Only Lawyer Meriwether had much to say as the group trudged the three blocks from the jailhouse to the train station, cautioning Gee Dub to keep his mouth shut and not volunteer any information without Meriwether present. Not that that was necessary. No one could keep his mouth shut better than Gee Dub Tucker.

  Gundry did not allow Gee Dub’s parents to hug him before they mounted the steps to the platform. The best they could do was hold his gaze till the last minute and promise to visit him as soon as possible.

  Gee Dub was almost amused when Gundry searched him again as soon as they got into the rail car. “Cautious, aren’t you, Marshal?”

  Gundry didn’t blink. “You got too many folks to keep an eye on every minute, Tucker. Can’t be too careful.”

  They walked up the aisle to the middle of the car and Gundry directed Gee Dub into a seat next to the window, away from the platform so he could not see his family. Still, Gee Dub gazed out the window across the field of yellow grass next to the tracks. Green shoots were beginning to pop up between the weeds. He could see a few buildings in the distance and studied them for a long moment. The Pure Oil pumping station, a garage, a house. They were likely the last sight of Boynton he was going to have for the foreseeable future. He must have slipped out of time for a while, for when the train jerked and began to move, he was startled. He blinked and turned to orient himself to reality again. Gundry was watching him, eagle-eyed. The man in the seat facing them was occupied with a newspaper. Two women down the aisle, a mother and daughter, were talking to one another animatedly. Sitting across from the women, a dark-haired young man in a flat cap caught his eye. Private Moretti winked at him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Holly was left sitting on a hard wooden chair under the front window of the jailhouse. Trenton Calder had been charged with minding the office, and, Holly suspected, with preventing her from running away. If that was Scott’s reasoning, she didn’t blame him. She had proved herself to be a flight risk. Trent had spent the night on a cot in the cell next to Gee Dub, and his startlingly red hair was still sticking up every which way. After the parade of Tuckers had left the office, Trent made coffee and offered to walk over to the bakery and buy a couple of fresh buns for Holly and himself. Alafair had fed her biscuits and bacon before they left the farm at dawn, but nerves made her hungry, so Holly accepted, and the two of them sat on either side of Trent’s desk to nibble buns and drink coffee. Holly was aware that Trent kept eyeing her with a decidedly bemused look on his freckled face.

  “You sorry you ever left Maine?” he wondered.

  “Yes.” Her tone indicated that she considered it a stupid question. She changed the subject. “So when is the big day that you are marrying Gee Dub’s sister? It’s Ruth, isn’t it?”

  Trent lit up with unstudied delight. “That’s right. Ruth. April 27 is the day, one week after Easter Sunday.”

  “Which one is Ruth? Have I met her? Where does she live?”

  “She was just here with her sisters, but I don’t believe you’ve formally made one another’s acquaintance yet. She lives just north of town with Miz Beckie MacKenzie, who is her old music teacher. Ruth has taken over Miz Beckie’s students, and just between you and me, she has kindly taken over Miz Beckie, too. Miz Beckie’s grandson was bad hurt in the war and she’s taking it hard.”

  “Just how many sisters does Gee Dub have? I keep meeting people and hearing names and seeing little grandchildren flit in and out, but I haven’t been able to keep a count.”

  “There’re eight girls in that family, four of them married—soon to be five. Only two boys, Gee Dub and Charlie, who is still in the service.”

  “I understand you are just back from the service yourself.”

  “I am. I was in the U.S. Navy for the duration. Didn’t cotton to it much.”

  “So you’ve come home to Boynton to marry and be town deputy.”

  Trent glanced away before he answered. “Well, what Scott wants is to retire from law enforcement and have me take over as the town sheriff. But Boynton don’t pay enough to support a family on, so I reckon I’ll be looking for another line of work as soon as Scott can rustle up a replacement for me.”

  “Do you have an occupation in mind?”

  “I might apply to work with the Muskogee Police Department.” He hesitated, then blurted, “Don’t tell Miz Tucker yet.”

  Holly laughed. The image of tall, robust Trenton Calder quailing before matronly Alafair Tucker amused her. “Why, Mr. Calder, are you afraid to tell Mrs. Tucker that you intend to take Ruth to live in faraway Muskogee?”

  “Nothing is decided on. I’ve been talking to Ruth about it. She’s not keen to leave her family or Miz Beckie, either, but she understands that I can’t just be Scott’s dog’s body for the rest of my life. Tell the truth, with all the boys coming back from the war, it’s not that easy to find a good job these days. The Muskogee Police Department might not be in the market for anybody new.” Trent bit into the soft bun, quiet for a moment. “Tell me, Miz Thornberry, have you decided what you’re going to do with yourself, now that you’re…umm…a free woman?”

  She shrugged. “I really want to go home, Mr. Calder. Another thing that is sure, I intend to learn to curb my impulses. If I spent as much time planning my future as I do firing off like a cannon, I might be able to make something of myself.”

  “Please call me Trent, Miz Thornberry. I have a few years left before I have to answer to Mr. Calder. I’m sorry to hear that you don’t take to this country. I figured you might be staying on. Maybe I was mistook, but I got the feeling at dinner the other day that there was a spark between you and Gee Dub.”

  Holly’s cheeks reddened, but she cultivated a look of indifference. “He’s a nice man and I will do anything I can to help him. He helped me when I needed it. But we are far too different. And I don’t see myself living here for the rest of my life. I do not belong here, that is for sure.”

  ***

  After the train taking Gee Dub to Muskogee pulled out of the station, Alafair and Shaw retrieved Holly from the jailhouse and gathered with the rest of the family at Alice Kelley’s white-frame house on Second Street in order to devise a plan of action. Their son and brother had been arrested on suspicion of murder and none of them were going to let that stand, if they could help it.

  Holly did not want to be included in the planning session, but her wishes had no bearing. It was because of her that Gee Dub was in this situation. None of the Tuckers seemed to blame her, but she blamed herself. She was in it up to her neck and she was not going anywhere until Gee Dub was free and justice was done.

  Holly couldn’t decide whether to be grateful for the openhearted way she had been taken in by this generous clan, or to curse the day that Gee Dub Tucker had ridden up to her in the middle of a muddy field. One thing she could say with certainty was that she had no idea how she had gotten sucked into these people’s lives nor how she was going to get out. At the moment, she was overwhelmed and disoriented.

  There were so many Tuckers! She was aware that Shaw and Alafair had ten children, many of whom had spouses and children of their own. But knowing it and seeing what that actually meant were entirely different things. The Kelleys’ parlor was stuffed with people sitting on every flat surface as well as the floor. So many bodies made the room seem hot and airless. Holly was crammed into a corner at the back, near the French doors that led to the dining room. The three youngest Tucker girls, Blanche, Sophronia, and tooth-deprived Grace, ha
d all taken a shine to their exotic visitor and were arrayed on the floor at her feet. Holly thought she might be able to figure out the names of Alafair and Shaw’s actual offspring. The brunette by the front door, sitting with a sandy-haired man in uniform, was Martha, Alafair’s look-alike eldest. Mary Lucas was the tall blonde next to the even taller and blonder Alice Kelley. Holly had already met little auburn-haired Phoebe, who was holding the infant George H. Day in her lap. Ruth was the one with reddish curls who was getting married to Deputy Trent Calder in April. The two sons were not there, but sons-in-law abounded—four in all, if you counted Trent. The missing one was Mary’s husband, Kurt, still in serving his country back east. There was no way Holly could keep the babbling crew of grandchildren straight, so she didn’t try.

  Shaw was standing by the open front door, where he could be seen by everyone in the room. “I talked to Gee Dub in private this morning,” he said. “He says that it wasn’t him who killed Johnson, and of course I believe him. Now, I do think he knows more than he’s telling, because he’s been mighty sparse with the details. Why that is, I cannot say, but I expect it has something to do with Miz Thornberry, there.”

  Dozens of heads swiveled in Holly’s direction, and her cheeks began to burn. “You think he’s protecting me? I swear on all that is holy that I didn’t kill Dan.”

  “No one said you did, darlin’.” Shaw’s tone was mild. “But Gee Dub may have seen something or made up a story in his mind that makes him think you are in danger. I don’t know.” He turned to address his remarks to the general audience. “As y’all know, I have retained Lawyer Abner Meriwether on Gee Dub’s behalf. Mr. Meriwether tells me he’ll employ all means to get Gee off. He expects that even in the worst case, if Gee Dub is arraigned, he’ll be able to get the charges reduced to voluntary manslaughter. He is not sure if he’ll be able to get Gee Dub released on bail, but we’ll see. Scott said that Johnson’s parents and his legal wife in Okmulgee have asked to have the body released to them. They intend to go ahead and bury him in the family plot, after all.”

  Alafair straightened. “Now, that’s odd. A few months ago when they thought the body that was found beside the road was their son, they refused to have anything to do with it. They told Scott to just bury him in a pauper’s grave. Now they want to claim the body? What has changed?”

  Shaw lifted a shoulder. “They’re feeling guilty, I expect. They’ve had a lot of time to reconsider the coldhearted way they reacted the first time they heard their scoundrel of a son had met his maker. It’s not often you get a chance to remedy your mistakes, and I’m not surprised they’re taking the opportunity to do just that.”

  Alice spoke up. “Daddy, we ought to take turns going to Muskogee to see Gee Dub every day until he gets released.”

  “Mama,” Mary said, “if you and Daddy want to go to Muskogee and stay with Aunt Sula so you can be close at hand, the girls can come stay with me and Chase and Judy.”

  Martha got to the point. “The question is, now that Gee Dub has been arrested, is Marshal Gundry going to keep investigating the murder or is he satisfied that he’s got his man?”

  The sandy-haired man next to her, her husband Streeter McCoy, said, “Honey, U.S. marshals don’t do investigating. They just hunt people down.”

  “What about Scott?” Ruth wondered.

  “Scott has no jurisdiction outside of Boynton,” Shaw said.

  Twelve-year-old Sophronia was aghast. “Are y’all saying that we’re not going to do anything? That we’re just going to let Gee Dub go to prison?”

  “We’re not going to let that happen, sugar,” Shaw assured her.

  “Well, what are we going to do, Daddy?” Sophronia’s voice rose an octave.

  Alafair had been listening to the conversation with a thoughtful look on her face. “I have an idea,” she said.

  Part II

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charles Tucker was the eldest son in his family, two years older than his brother, Shaw. He was by far the most financially successful of all his Tucker siblings, the owner of a busy sawmill and a large cotton farm just east of Okmulgee, Oklahoma’s fourth-largest town at over seventeen thousand souls. The war had been good to Charles and his wife, Lavinia, what with the U.S. Government building military installations right and left and the price of cotton through the roof. Prices were still artificially high, even four months after the end of the war. But Charles had not gotten where he was by being a fool, so he was already planning to scale back cotton production and broaden his business interests in 1920.

  Charles and Lavinia both looked as prosperous as they were, well padded in all the right places, expansive and welcoming. Lavinia was a busy, perky woman in her late forties with prematurely silvery-gray hair and a youthfully round face, sweet and untroubled. She loved hats and accessories, gloves, handbags, and scarves, and always dressed like she was going to tea with Queen Mary. Charles was tall, like all the Tucker men, with close-cropped black hair that was graying at the temples in a most distinguished fashion. Like his brother Shaw, Charles still sported an impressive mustache, even though facial hair was fast falling out of fashion, due to the popular aversion for anything reminiscent of Kaiser Bill. Shaw had even thought of shaving his off, but Alafair had talked him out of it. She didn’t know if she’d recognize him without it.

  When Alafair pulled her buggy to a halt in front of her in-laws’ two-story brick house in the early afternoon, Charles was at work, but Lavinia gave her a warm welcome and settled her in the lush parlor with tea and little sandwiches. Before Alafair had a chance to explain her mission, Lavinia said, “What happened to the young lady who needed employment, Alafair? Charles still has an opening in the sawmill office, as long as she is aware that it would only be a short-term position.”

  It took a while for Alafair to relate every detail of what had happened over the past week. Lavinia was horrified. Her own son had come back from overseas with a bullet lodged in his thigh and a permanent limp. After vowing staunch familial support, financial and otherwise, Lavinia leaned back into her chair with a speculative look on her face. “Why do you suppose Mr. Johnson’s abandoned first wife agreed to throw her faithless man a send-off? If my husband had done to me what he did to her, I reckon I’d tell the law to throw his carcass in a ditch somewhere.”

  Alafair shrugged. “It’s probably the parents’ idea. No matter what kind of a scoundrel he was, he was still their boy.” She thought of Gee Dub and swallowed a lump in her throat. “On the other hand, maybe the wife figures she will have some inheritance coming.”

  “I don’t see how. The property where Dan Johnson was living in Council Hill would have to go to the next of kin of the dead soldier whose life he stole, I’m sure.”

  “I’m told that poor Mr. Stump didn’t have any family living, so who knows what will happen? That’s not my lookout, anyway. I am only interested in finding out who sent the blackguard Dan Johnson to his eternal damnation and getting Gee Dub out of jail.”

  Lavinia liked the way she had put that, and smiled. “Do you know when the funeral is?”

  “Not exactly. Scott only knows that they planned to bury him as soon as the body was released, and it has been. The coffin would have been shipped here on the train yesterday.”

  “Johnson is a pretty common name, but I’m not acquainted with anyone of that name. What do you know about the family? Do you know what church they go to?”

  “I don’t know much. Holly never mentioned a church home. She said that she thought the late Dan Johnson was a streetcar conductor. ’Course, she thought he was from Olathe, Kansas, too.”

  “Well, that’s a hint, anyway. I’ll ring up the streetcar terminal office. If Johnson was a conductor here in town, the folks he worked with will surely know something about the services.” Lavinia clicked the receiver and asked the operator to connect her to the streetcar terminal. The man who answered the
telephone at the terminal knew immediately what she was asking about. The resurrection followed by the instantaneous demise of his former colleague was big news.

  Alafair watched anxiously as Lavinia listened to the voice on the other end, punctuating her silence with an occasional “Hmm,” or “All right.” After a perfunctory “Thank you,” she replaced the earpiece in its cradle and turned toward Alafair.

  “The funeral is day after tomorrow at the First Methodist Episcopal Church. The manager told me that the family is holding a reception at the home of Mr. Johnson’s father after the burial. He said he expects a few of Johnson’s fellow conductors will show up at the reception for the free grub.”

  “He said that?”

  “He laughed, too. I reckon that neither one of Mr. Johnson’s deaths caused much distress to the fellow who answered the phone, at least.” Lavinia’s expression showed that she relished this bit of information.

  “Well! It’ll be interesting to see if others of his acquaintance held Mr. Johnson in similar esteem,” Alafair said. “Thank you, Lavinia. I aim to be at that funeral. I want to know why the Johnsons finally decided to give their son a send-off.”