by Donis Casey
Stretch removed his arm from Hattie’s shoulder and leaned forward, interested. “I wondered about that myself.” He ran his hand across the light russet-brown frizz he had inherited from his mother and looked up at her through the sharp blue eyes he had gotten from his father. “I heard she was awful broke up when she found out Bill was dead.”
“The Kellermans are on my list,” Scott said, “but I haven’t talked to them yet. Trent seems to think Shirley was mighty fond of Bill. It’s a long shot that she’d know something helpful.”
Alafair turned to gaze thoughtfully at Shirley’s pretty, dark-haired mother, who was standing with a couple of other women in the corner next to the fireplace. “Still, maybe I’ll ask her why Shirley didn’t make it today…”
Scott nodded. “Let me know if you find out anything interesting,” he said, and she nodded absently. She was barely aware of Scott’s ironic smile as she began to move away.
Hattie eyed her husband suspiciously. “You’re mighty easy going about her asking questions of folks that might know something of killing,” she said, after Alafair was out of earshot.
“I noticed that myself,” Stretch added.
Scott gave a rueful shrug. “I don’t know if it’s just an accident or luck or what, but in the last couple of years, she’s managed to find out things I couldn’t that helped bring a couple of murderers to justice. I expect folks will tell her things they won’t tell me, since she can’t throw them in jail. But however she does it, I’m not too proud to stand back and see what she comes up with.”
***
Mrs. Kellerman was a member of Alafair’s church, and therefore Alafair knew her and her family rather well. Mrs. Kellerman was a short, curvaceous woman with a very pretty face set off by large black, doe-like eyes. Her daughter Shirley bore a strong resemblence to her. But personality-wise, mother and daughter couldn’t have been more different. Mrs. Kellerman was sweet, pleasant and ever helpful, whereas Shirley was…well, to Alafair’s way of thinking, Shirley was spoiled rotten. She was her parents’ only daughter, and the youngest child to boot, and her mother had made very sure that Shirley had never had to ask for anything twice in her entire life. Or even once, if her mother could manage to guess her wishes.
“Them kids were more than just friends,” Mrs. Kellerman assured Alafair, between bites. The two women were seated at one end of the long dining room table, nibbling on chocolate cake and managing to have a fairly private conversation in spite of the dozens of people milling around the food-laden table. “Or at least they used to be. Shirley had it in her head that she loved Bill, and was hurt bad when he fell for Laura. In fact, I was afraid that girl would go completely around the bend when she heard they were going to get married. She was not more than twelve years old when she decided that Bill McBride was the one for her.” Mrs. Kellerman paused to study her forkful of cake. “I wouldn’t have been unhappy if that match had worked out, to tell you the truth,” she admitted.
“But didn’t Shirley wish Bill and Laura well, under the circumstances?”
“She was hurt and angry at first, don’t you know, and thought Bill was mistaken. She thought he should reconsider, but she’s too good a girl to really wish unhappiness on anybody. Anyway, I was actually afraid that Shirley might do herself an injury when Bill died. She’s such a sensitive girl. I’m sure she was feeling guilty for having uncharitable thoughts about Bill and Laura earlier. I expected the funeral would be too upsetting for her, so I sent her on the train to stay with my sister in Oklahoma City for a spell. That’s why she isn’t here.”
“There was never any understanding between Bill and Shirley, was there?” Alafair asked. “If there was, I never heard about it.”
“No, at least not as far as Bill was concerned. You know how young girls are, though, once they get something into their heads. I told her, though, that if he couldn’t see that she was twice as…” She hesitated, apparently thinking better of passing on that particular mother-daughter exchange, and ate her bite of cake.
***
By the time Shaw and Alafair were ready to leave for home, it was evening. The children, all but Gee Dub, had been sent home with Martha and Mary earlier to take care of milking and feeding the animals, and to take their Saturday baths.
Shaw was particularly subdued, unutterably depressed, Alafair knew, by his brother’s funeral and the grief of his mother and stepfather, though he was making an heroic effort not to show it. When the three of them finally walked out of the house, into the dusk and toward their buggy, Alafair gave her son a wordless glance. Gee Dub didn’t acknowledge by word or look that he had gotten her message, but he climbed up into the driver’s seat ahead of his father and took the reins. Alafair and Shaw sat next to Gee Dub in the buggy seat as he drove his parents home. Shaw had removed his tie and collar and sat in silence, with his best suit coat draped over his knees.
Gee Dub, too, had peeled down to his shirtsleeves. He concentrated on the road as he drove, comfortable to be quiet, as always. They were passing the Ross farm, just before the turn to the road out of town, when Gee Dub jerked the buggy to a halt. The horse snorted in protest, and Alafair and Shaw looked over at their son, surprised.
“Look yonder,” Gee Dub said, before they could ask him what was the matter.
Alafair turned her head to look in the direction he had indicated. The Ross house sat at the end of the shaded drive a few yards off the road, looking completely devoid of interest, to Alafair’s eyes. Gee Dub tossed the reins to Alafair, jumped from the buggy, and ran toward the house.
“Lord a’mighty!” Shaw exclaimed, and lit down after the boy, leaving Alafair sitting on the seat in a state of complete confusion.
Gee Dub began yelling, “Mr. Ross! Mr. Ross!” as he neared the house. Calvin flung open the front door, roused by the commotion, but Gee Dub and Shaw veered off toward the side of the house and an open bedroom window.
A pale yellow tongue of flame extruded briefly from the window, then disappeared, and Alafair was out of the buggy and on the front porch before her brain had consciously registered what she had seen. By the time she and Iva Grady and the two younger Ross girls rushed through the house to Laura’s bedroom, Gee Dub had already hoisted himself through the window and ripped the flaming curtains from the rods.
Laura Ross was lying on her bed, her ankle tied to the bedpost by a strip of cotton sheet, staring into some world known only to herself, unconcerned about the little fiery fingers that were beginning to consume the bedclothes. Her aunt tore loose the tether as her sisters grabbed her up out of the bed, and Laura allowed herself to be hustled from the room amidst shrieks of alarm and rough treatment that made no inroads into her private darkness. Alafair dashed the white coverlet to the floor and stamped the flames to oblivion.
***
Sheriff Scott Tucker, still dressed in his funeral attire, stood next to the locust tree by the bedroom window with Calvin Ross, Shaw, and Gee Dub, and examined the burned and muddy curtains. Alafair was in the bedroom, standing next to the open window, ostensibly examining the scorched wall and ceiling. She could hear the outside conversation perfectly.
Scott extended the evidence toward Calvin. “Like y’all thought, somebody set these curtains afire on purpose. See, here’s where the fire started, on the end here. Then when it was good and burning, it sparked the bedcovers. I’ll tell you, Mr. Ross, it’s a mighty lucky thing—a miracle, I’d say—that Gee Dub here has such sharp eyes and was passing by just when he did. If that fire had burned one minute more, it would have flashed up the wall and ceiling and you’d have lost your house and your daughter, at least.”
“Jesus Lord!” Calvin breathed. It was a sincere prayer. “What am I going to do with the poor addled child? I didn’t think she was of a mind to take her life. I already have her tied to the bed like a wandering calf. Am I going to have to keep her trussed up head to toe?”
Scott blinked at him. “It wasn’t Laura did it, Mr. Ross.” He was matter-of-fact ab
out it.
“It wasn’t Laura?”
“No, I don’t think so. Looks to me like it was done from the outside. Somebody stood right here, bold as brass, pulled the end of the curtain out the window and dabbed it with kerosene. Then he fired it with a match and flung the curtain tail back inside. Whether he knew Laura was in the room I don’t know, but it’s common knowledge around here that she’s in a bad state.”
“It wasn’t Laura?” Calvin repeated stupidly.
“Couldn’t have been,” Scott explained patiently. “Smell the kerosene on these curtains. There’s no jar or bottle of kerosene to be found. Besides, I looked at Laura’s hands pretty close. As short a time as the curtains were burning, she would have had to have a kerosene smell about her, and she did not. Nor did she have the smell of sulfur on her fingers, or a smudge, like she had just lit a match.”
Calvin had gone beet red, like the top of a thermometer that is about to explode. “Someone tried to kill her? Someone tried to kill her and all of us in our home?”
Shaw, standing a pace behind Calvin, reached out and put his hand on the man’s shoulder to calm him. “You thinking it’s the same person murdered Bill and kidnapped Laura?” Shaw asked Scott.
“Well, it don’t look good. If you don’t mind, Mr. Ross, I’m going to post a guard out here until we catch this dog.”
“But if he didn’t kill Laura in the first place, why would he be trying to kill her now?” Gee Dub interjected.
Scott eyed Gee Dub with interest, then shrugged. “I expect he thought he did kill Laura in the first place, and now he’s returned to try again. Maybe he’s afraid she’ll come around and remember, and then he’ll get caught. Tell me, Gee Dub, what made you look over here from the road when you did?”
Gee Dub considered, then answered, “I don’t rightly know. Something caught my eye. A movement. I thought I saw something move over to the side of the house, just under this tree. Maybe it was the fire.”
“You didn’t see a person?”
“Nossir. Something moving, is all. I don’t know what.”
“I’ll tell you what, Gee Dub. I want you to ponder on it for a while, see if something floats up that you can get a hold on.” Scott squatted down close to the ground to examine the dust beneath the window. He picked up a half-burned matchstick and examined it thoughtfully.
“Whoever done this is either stupider than a bucket of oats,” Scott said to nobody in particular, “or he has more nerve than he has any right to. Look here. He laid his rifle down on the ground, a bad mistake on his part. He must have seen y’all and had to run before he could cover his trail, which he has done a masterful job of up until now. Look at these butt plate marks—it looks to me like two X’s, then a space, and two more X’s. Mighty slim stock on this gun. Here’s a gouge in the ground—a bolt, I think. A bolt action rifle. I can’t get a handle on the shape well enough to recognize the make. Now, this is quite a break for us. He carries an uncommon firearm.”
He paused and gazed at the ground. “Lots of prints here. I see Shaw’s and Gee Dub’s coming up from the road. It’s a mess. Somebody don’t belong here, though.” He pointed to a heel print to the right of the window that didn’t look any different from the other scuffs, as far as Calvin was concerned.
Scott stood up and meandered down the side of the house and toward the back. He caught a glimpse of Alafair before she took a step back from the window as he passed, and smiled, but made no other indication that he’d seen her. He paused before disappearing around the corner and looked back at Calvin. “I see a partial trail here, Mr. Ross. I’m going to follow it and see where it gets me. Stand guard on those marks under the window. I want to make some drawings. Keep everybody inside till I get back.”
Chapter Eight
Trent had a bunch of stories that were just too grisly for words. Cousin Reginia and Alice finally couldn’t take any more and stood up to leave, so Trent apologized and said he’d stick to funny stories. We talked for a bit about Bill and Laura’s wedding plans. Their engagement was pretty sudden, and we were all surprised. Laura was the most popular girl in town, and there were plenty of broken hearts among the fellows when Laura finally made her choice from all her suitors. I was sure glad, though. She couldn’t have chosen a better man than Bill.
Then Bill jumped in and said that before we quit the scary tales, he had one that would stand our hair on end. So Alice and Reginia got curious and sat down again.
***
By the time they got home, it was long after dark. The children were asleep, some on the porch, some on cots they had dragged out under the trees by the side of the house. Except for Martha, who met them in the drive with a drowsing Grace in her arms.
“Where have y’all been?” she demanded, her anxiety making her short.
“Now, now, don’t worry, honey,” Shaw soothed. “We’re sorry to be so late, but on our way home, we run into some excitement as we were passing Calvin Ross’ place.”
Gee Dub took the mules and wagon to the barn after Shaw and Alafair climbed down. After her parents had filled her in on the story of the Rosses’ narrow escape and Gee Dub’s heroics, Martha brought them bowls of cold canned tomatoes with chopped onion and fresh warm cornbread with butter. They sat themselves down on the porch, exhausted. Both of Shaw’s hunting hounds, Crook and Buttercup, trotted up the steps and lady themselves at his feet, and Grace hoisted herself into Alafair’s lap, complicating the logistics of her supper.
“Come on, Grace-pie,” Martha urged, “let Mama eat.” She tried to lift the toddler out of Alafair’s lap, but Grace shrieked in protest and clung leech-like to her mother’s neck.
“She’s been missing me, I reckon,” Alafair said. “It’s all right, Martha. Just move up that little table from the corner of the porch for me and Daddy to put our bowls on, and I can manage.”
Martha obliged, and Alafair ate her tomatoes with one hand and cuddled drowsy, thumb-sucking Grace with the other. “Thank the Lord for all these grown-up kids,” she noted to Shaw.
“They do make life easier, waiting on us and all.”
“As well they should, after what they put us through when they were little.”
Martha chuckled, but to Alafair’s surprise, offered no riposte. “So did Cousin Scott come up with anything by following that trail from the Rosses’ house, Daddy?”
“Scott tracked him all the way to the back of Calvin’s dairy barns, where the varmint had stashed a horse. After he mounted up, he took off toward the creek, where Scott lost him in the water. When we left, Scott was riding in one direction up the creek bank, and one of Mr. Ross’ hired men was riding in the other, looking for where the horse came out. I expect they didn’t get far before it got too dark to see. Scott will be on it tomorrow first light, I reckon.”
All the children were sleeping, or at least abed, on the porch and in the yard, where it was cooler, occasionally mumbling or tossing uncomfortably in the heat. Alafair inventoried the children and noted two missing. Gee Dub, she knew, was in the barn taking care of the mules and wagon. Her heart skipped a beat. “Where is Mary?” she asked Martha.
“She went over to Phoebe and John Lee’s after the funeral. John Lee just brought her back not five minutes before y’all came in, and they took her horse to the barn.” Alafair nodded, relieved. Mary was with her brother and her brother-in-law, then, and safe. Alafair and Shaw finished their supper in silence, and Alafair sat back in her chair, watching the stars sparkle in the night sky.
Snuffling noises from her lap brought her attention back to Grace. “This child is asleep,” she announced.
“I’m thinking it’s getting about bedtime for all of us,” Shaw said.
“I’ll just put Grace down and clean up the dishes.” Alafair moved to get up, but Martha stood and held out her arms.
“I’ll take her.”
“Why don’t you do the dishes for Mama, and I’ll hold the baby for a spell,” Shaw interjected.
Alafair transfe
rred Grace’s limp little form to Shaw and rose from her chair. “I see Gee Dub coming up to the house from the barn. I’m going to go check up on Mary.”
***
She met Gee Dub half way on the path between the house and the barn. He was carrying a lantern, and he lifted it when Alafair approached, illuminating his own face as well as hers. His dark eyes glinted at her from under his hat brim. His cheek was still smudged with soot. He pushed the old slouch hat back on his head with his fingertips when he recognized his mother. She had to look up at him.
“Mary and John Lee still in the barn?” Alafair asked him.
“She is. John Lee just rode off. After we got our stock took care of, she sat down on a feed sack with a lamp and her little journal. Said she wanted to write down some thoughts before she forgot them.” His eyebrows rose as he described this odd behavior.
“I’d just as soon she not be off by herself since this murderer is still around for sure.”
“She was keen to get rid of me, Ma. Besides, Charlie-dog is in there with her. But I’ll go on back if you want.”
“Well, that’s all right, son. I’m going to get her. Did you tell her what all transpired at Mr. Ross’ place?”
“I did. She didn’t have much to say about it.”
“You go on back up to the house. It’s sure enough past everybody’s bedtime.”
“Take this here lantern, Ma,” he insisted. “I reckon I can find my way back from here without falling on my face.”
Alafair continued on her way, holding the lamp down at her side and watching where she put her feet on the uneven ground. The moon had not risen, and the night was very dark, but noisy with insects. The air had that dry, dusty, ripe smell of late August to it. The lamp blinded her to the rest of the night, and she moved through a world that only existed in a pale yellow circle of light around her. She had almost reached the barn door when a movement caused her to stop in her tracks and peer intently into the shadowy darkness outside her light bubble. She put the lantern down on the dirt path and stepped outside its glow. If she had indeed seen a person, he could certainly see her by the lamplight. She stood in the dark and blinked for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust. Whatever it had been, a darker shape against the darkness, by the corner of the barn, she couldn’t see it now. She walked an arc around the side of the building, making sure that nothing was there to threaten Mary inside, oblivious to any danger to herself.