The Drop Edge of Yonder - An Alafair Tucker Mystery

by Donis Casey

  “Now, honey, don’t fret yourself.” Alafair resumed her place at the cabinet to help Martha assemble sandwiches. “It ain’t good for the baby. There’s plenty of people to help, and the best thing you can do is stay as calm as you can so nobody has to worry about you. Grace, what are you doing?” She pulled the toddler out from under the table where she and the dog were stretched out, eating bits of spilled oatmeal off the floor with her dropped spoon. Alafair plopped the unperturbed child back into her chair, retrieved a clean flour sack from a drawer, and she and Martha began to pack up bacon sandwiches.

  “But who would do such a thing to Uncle Bill?” Phoebe insisted. “I don’t think Bill had an enemy in the world. Not one!”

  Alafair cast her a dark glance. “Oh, there’s a hidden viper somewhere.”

  Chapter Three

  The parade was the best one yet, Mama, all us kids agreed. When the Grange went by, Grandpapa and Daddy and the uncles all looked so fine on the beautiful red Tennessee Walkers that Grandpapa raised. And Daddy was carrying that big flag! Blanche and Fronie were on their Sunday School float. Blanche got to be Betsy Ross, but Fronie was all dressed up like a Revolutionary War soldier. We laughed at that, but Fronie thought she looked mighty fine in her short britches. Charlie walked by with the Boys’ Ag chapter, herding that curly black calf he won a ribbon for later at the County Fair in Muskogee. That saucy Art Turner tried to throw a pebble at the calf so he’d shy, but Uncle Bill poked Art in the ribs and made him miss. Art couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a handful of beans, anyway.

  I had to explain everything to Kurt. I thought that was kind of funny, since he’s been in America for years. He cheered ’til he was hoarse. I never saw him so lively, not before or since.

  ***

  The first day after Bill died was long, hot, and disturbing. Mary slept all morning and most of the afternoon. Shaw and Gee Dub were away all day with the sheriff’s posse, looking for Bill’s killer and any sign of Laura Ross.

  Shaw had ordered Kurt and Micah to remain on the premises to care for the animals and, incidentally, watch the house.

  In the afternoon, Doctor Addison dropped in to check on his patient, and told Alafair not to worry overmuch that Mary was so lethargic. Her wound was superficial, and he expected that her lack of energy was mostly shock and grief.

  “Let her sleep, Alafair,” he advised.

  And so Mary slept all day, while Martha and Alafair took turns sitting beside the bed for no good reason, really.

  Ruth was jumpy as a cat, starting at every noise and shadow, and Alafair had some trouble keeping her distracted. Finally she sent Ruth to the barn with Grace to play with the kittens, and Charlie, who seemed to have aged from thirteen to thirty overnight, went along to keep an eye on them.

  It didn’t help matters that the rooster attacked the three youngsters the instant they set foot out the gate. Alafair stood looking out the screen, shaking her head, as Ruth shrieked, grabbed up the baby and ran for the barn. Charlie was having none of it. He seized the bird by the neck and marched it, flapping and squawking, to the chicken coop, where he threw it inside and unceremoniously slammed the door on it.

  Phoebe stayed with them all day, ostensibly to help. But instead of the sweet and gentle girl that Alafair knew, this hot, pregnant, and upset Phoebe prowled the house, fanning herself and snapping at Blanche and Sophronia. The usually noisy little girls skulked around in the shadows, wide eyed, and tried their best to be invisible.

  Alafair pushed her damp hair out of her face and tried to comfort her children in the way each needed most at the moment, trying to be patient, praying that God would bring the world around right sooner rather than later.

  ***

  Later in the day, Alafair let the girls clear away dinner and entertain Grace while she seized rags, a mop, a pail of water, and a gallon jug of vinegar from her pantry. She rolled up her sleeves and tied on her apron and kerchief, preparing to get as much housecleaning done as possible before she had to cook and pack food for Bill’s visitation at her mother-in-law’s house the next day. Not that cleaning did much good, she thought, as she poured vinegar into the bucket of water. This time of year, every door and window was open at all times, and dirty-footed people were tramping in and out of the house all day long. It seemed like a continual haze of reddish dust hung in the air and filtered in through the screens and settled on the floor and furniture. She dusted and mopped every morning, and by afternoon, a new film of dust covered everything in the house.

  Well, she comforted herself, if I didn’t make an effort we’d be buried up to our necks in a week. She hefted her supplies and headed into the parlor, but stopped in her tracks at the door. Charlie, who she had thought was off in the paddock with the hands, was sitting in one of the armchairs by the settee. This was such an unexpected sight that, for an instant, it didn’t register on her who she was looking at. Charlie was a fun, energetic, mischievous boy, who was normally either gone off on some adventure or buzzing around noisy and bothersome as a fly. The fly had most unusually alit in the parlor.

  “What’s wrong, Charlie-boy. You ailing?”

  His dark blue eyes, normally so distracted, gazed at her steadily. He was slouched in his seat, clad only in a faded shirt and overalls, his bare feet stretched out in front of him and his forearms relaxed along the arms of the chair. “Naw, I ain’t ailing, Ma. I wanted to talk with you a minute.”

  This was unexpected indeed. At thirteen, Charlie was of an age when the desire to hold thoughtful conversations with his mother was as rare as snow in August. Alafair set her bucket on the floor, bemused. But she assessed the situation quickly enough. She crossed the room and sat down in the second armchair across from the boy. “Are you feeling bad about Uncle Bill?”

  He didn’t answer her question, but a sad smile flitted across his face, and he wiped his blond forelock out of his face with the flat of his hand—a move that reminded her startlingly of Shaw. Charlie sat up straight and pulled his legs back toward the chair. Alafair noticed that his overalls were too short. He had always been a leggy boy, all bones and knobby joints, but lately he’d started fleshing out, as well as spurting up. He was usually such a dickens, though, that Alafair hadn’t realized ’til this minute that she could begin to see traces of the man to come in her youngest boy.

  “I’ve been talking with Daddy and Gee Dub,” he was saying, “about how somebody could just come up and bushwhack Uncle Bill and them like that. I’ve been mighty worried because that dog is still on the loose.”

  Alafair nodded. Charlie had been only three when his younger brother died, too small to remember. The first time a young person realizes that death is something that really does happen to people he loves, the world shifts in a profound way.

  Charlie continued. “Daddy and Gee, they can go out with the posse and hunt for him, but then you and the girls get left here all alone. Why, that bushwhacker, he could pick y’all off like birds on a branch. So I asked Daddy if I could stay around the house and watch out after y’all, at least until they catch the skunk.”

  “What did Daddy say?”

  “Well, he said he’d already worked out a watch detail with Micah and Kurt, but he expected that three pairs of eyes was better than two, so he’d work me into the roster.”

  “So is this your first watch?”

  “I’m going out to spell Micah right now. But I figured to tell you about it first, so you’d know what’s going on.”

  “All right, Charlie. That’s good to know.”

  She had thought that now he’d conveyed his message, he would jump up and disappear out the front door in a blur, but he leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “I know I ain’t exactly Bill Tilghman, Ma, but I’ll do the best I can. Sometimes a yappy little dog keeps the critters away as good as a big old mastiff.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got a heart like a mastiff, son.”

  He gave her a skeptical smile as he stood. “At least I�
�m doing something besides jumping out of my skin.”

  ***

  Early the next morning, dressed in her good blue cotton dress and her second-best hat, Alafair arrived at the McBrides’ sprawling two-story farmhouse on the outskirts of Boynton. She found dozens of buggies, wagons, and the odd automobile parked in front of the house in haphazard array. Death had struck the family, and the entire community had gathered to lend support. As her horse trotted up the long access road pulling her buggy, Alafair waved at Shaw’s brother-in-law, Jack Cecil, driving past her in the opposite direction. Sitting next to him in the buggy was Doctor Jasper Addison, whose long white beard streamed in the breeze as they shot by.

  She pulled up into the yard and climbed down to retrieve her food baskets. The long front porch was overflowing with grim-visaged older men, standing around in groups or seated in cane-bottomed chairs, discussing the tragedy in low tones. Alafair recognized them all—Shaw’s uncles, by blood and marriage, neighbors, Mr. Bushyhead the banker, Mr. Lang the grain merchant, Mr. Turner the stable master. Alafair’s son-in-law, the town barber Walter Kelley, strode down the porch steps to relieve her of her basket of food as she approached.

  Walter was married to Alafair’s daughter Alice, Phoebe’s most unidentical twin. Alafair had been unhappy in the extreme when Alice chose the much older barber as her mate. He was glib, handsome, and, to Alafair’s mind, shifty, but Alice had been so happy during the last year that Alafair had softened toward him.

  “Miz Tucker,” he greeted.

  “Looks like everybody in town is here,” Alafair observed.

  “Anybody who’s not here now has been or will be. Fortunately there’s enough food to feed the whole town.”

  Alafair nodded. “Good thing. Shaw’s mama won’t have to worry about cooking for a while. How’re they holding up?”

  Walter shrugged. “They’re pretty shook, I can tell, but you know how it is. This thing happened so sudden-like, that I don’t reckon it’s hit them yet. The uncles practically had to tie Mr. McBride up to keep him from joining the posse. Finally told him that Grandma would be needing him, but the truth is that the sheriff don’t need to keep track of wild old fellows like Peter McBride while he’s trying to catch a murderer.”

  “And Grandma Sally?”

  “You know Miz McBride. She loved that boy like glory, but you couldn’t crush her with a rock.”

  “Is there any news?”

  Walter nodded. “Why, yes there is. We just heard a few minutes ago that somebody found Laura…”

  Alafair’s heart leaped into her throat. She stopped walking. “Lord have mercy! Is she killed?”

  “No, no, she’s alive. But I don’t know nothing more than that. Don’t know who found her or where or what happened to her. Jack Cecil rode in with the news just before you came.”

  So that was why Doctor Addison was with Jack. Alafair sagged. “Praise Jesus!”

  Walter ushered her into the house. “One blessing, at least.”

  They passed into the foyer, from where Alafair could see through the open French doors to her left into the enormous parlor.

  The room was packed with women. Sally and Peter McBride, Bill’s parents, were seated on parlor chairs off to the side, surrounded by daughters, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters. Most of the furniture had been moved aside and two sawhorses were set up in the middle of the room. The new Christian Church preacher, Mr. Lacy, was hovering solicitously around the bereaved parents.

  Alafair caught her mother-in-law’s eye, and Sally gave her a wan smile. She looked much as usual, except for the swollen eyes. “They haven’t brought Bill home yet?” Alafair asked Walter, under her breath.

  “He’s still with Mr. Moore, the undertaker,” Walter murmured. “I expect they’ll be bringing him home any time, now.”

  Alafair’s daughter Alice and Shaw’s eldest sister, Josie Cecil, rose from their chairs and crossed the room into the foyer to help Walter and Alafair with their baskets. “We’re putting the food in the kitchen, Mama,” Alice said, by way of greeting. “How’s Mary?”

  “She’s up and about. The wound on her head is just a graze. She’s awful quiet though. Don’t have much to say.”

  “Still in shock, I’m guessing,” Josie offered.

  “That’s what I think,” Alafair agreed. “How are y’all doing, Josie?”

  Alafair’s concern weakened Josie for an instant. She turned her head to look out the window just long enough to gather her reserves before answering. “Holding up.”

  Since Alafair was properly handed off, Walter returned to the porch and Alafair and Alice followed Josie’s substantial form straight through to the back of the house and into the big kitchen. The giant kitchen table was completely covered with food, so Josie and Alice began unloading Alafair’s baskets onto an available countertop.

  “I just heard that they found Laura,” Alafair opened. “Walter says Jack just came in with the news. What do you hear? Do you know how she is? I passed Jack and the Doc on the road as I came in.”

  Josie nodded. “Jack just came by to give us the news and fetch Doc Addison. He didn’t give us too many details, but I gather that it was her daddy that found her early this morning. She was sprawled out unconscious in the middle of the road, right between the meadow and her daddy’s house.”

  “I declare!” Alafair breathed. “She couldn’t have been there last night. Shaw said that they searched all around that area before the moon went down and it got too dark to see. Has Laura told them anything?”

  “I don’t think so. She’s still unconscious or somehow unable to speak. Jack says she looks pretty tore up.”

  “Did he think…could they tell if she was…” Alafair was unable to finish the thought aloud, but Josie understood her perfectly well and shot her a rueful glance.

  “Don’t know. Jack told me privately that he wouldn’t be surprised, but even if the Doc finds it to be so, I imagine Calvin won’t want it getting around.”

  “Poor child,” Alafair said.

  “At least she’s alive, though.”

  “She may not feel so glad to be alive herself,” Alice interjected. “She sure did love Bill. I know I’d want to die if anything happened to Walter.”

  Alafair and Josie both smiled. Spoken like a proper newlywed. “I imagine you’re right,” Alafair agreed.

  “Especially if she’s ruined…” Alice added, but Alafair cut her off.

  “Hush, now, sugar. Let’s not get such a rumor started, especially since we don’t know any such thing.”

  Alice’s fair eyebrows lifted. “Well, it wouldn’t hardly be her fault.”

  “Even so,” Josie said.

  Alice puffed, full of disdain for such an old-fashioned attitude, but said, “I expect you’re right.”

  A commotion at the front of the house interrupted the conversation and pulled the three women back into the parlor in time to see everyone moving into the foyer and toward the front door. Josie put her hand on her sister Hannah’s arm. “What’s happening?”

  Hannah looked back at them, her hazel eyes refilling with tears. “Mr. Moore’s hearse just pulled up.”

  Bill’s parents had stood, but neither of them made a move. They just stood there in front of their chairs, their faces blank, staring through the doors that led into the front entryway. Sally clutched a handkerchief, her knuckles white. Peter put his hand on Sally’s shoulder.

  Alafair looked away from them, her eyes pricking. She tried not to think of the times that she had stood in their place, attempting to hold it together for the sake of all the dozens of people who had come to comfort her, when the last thing she wanted in the world was to be comforted.

  Hannah and Josie moved to their mother’s side, and Alafair felt Alice’s hand slip into hers. They walked together to the window. The back of the hearse was open, and the fine ashwood coffin with brass handles was already being slid out into the waiting hands of the volunteer pallbearers. Alafair was gratified to see that Walt
er Kelley was among them. The three men on one side of the coffin were Shaw’s Tucker uncles, the brothers of his late father Jim, Sally’s first husband. When Sally had married Peter McBride after Jim’s death, Peter had been as inexorably and thoroughly absorbed into the Tucker clan as if he had been born to it. Technically, Bill McBride had not been at all related by blood to these three old gentlemen, but Alafair doubted if that fact had ever occurred to any of them. Bill had called them all “Uncle,” after all.

  The six men hoisted the coffin to their shoulders and paced up the porch steps and into the house, where they lowered it reverently onto the sawhorses in the middle of the room. Mr. Moore unclamped the lid and he and his assistant lifted it off and set it against the wall. A low noise, almost like a sigh, rippled through the room. All Alafair could see from where she stood was the tip of a freckled nose, a smooth pale forehead, and a shock of coppery red hair, and then not even that as her eyes flooded. She heard Alice stifle a sob.

  The crowd rustled like wind through a wheat field and parted to give Sally and Peter access to their son. The three daughters, Josie, Hannah, and Sarah, followed close. The family stood with their backs to Alafair, so she was spared the sight of their faces. She knew how they looked, though. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.

  More noise and voices outside caused her to turn and look out the window behind her. The men in the family who had ridden with the posse had arrived and were dismounting and handing their horses off to the boys. Alafair was interested to see that Micah had shown up, and was discussing something with one of the posse members. She caught sight of Gee Dub’s dark, curly hair before he disappeared around the house, leading three horses by the reins.

  Shaw and his brother Charles walked into the house together, and hesitated when they saw the tableau of their sisters and parents standing before the coffin. Only Josie turned to look at them. Shaw’s eyes swept the crowd and alit on Alafair and Alice. Some of the stiffness went out of his stance when he saw his wife and daughter standing by the window, and they smiled at one another. He looked dusty and red-faced with the heat, his shirt sleeves rolled up above his elbows. The other two brothers, James and Howard, came into the house, followed close by several cousins, sons and nephews, including Sheriff Scott Tucker, who moved to the side to stand by his father, Uncle Paul. Phoebe’s husband, John Lee Day, came in and gave Alafair a discreet wave. The four Tucker brothers joined the immediate family by Bill’s side.