by Donis Casey
“This is a bad time of year for all of us to go gallivanting off to Arkansas. I’m not going to up and quit my job, either.”
“You can stay with Alice or Aunt Josie in town,” Alafair decided. “As for the rest of you, I’d rather be short handed at harvest and the kids start school a few weeks late this year than have y’all in danger.” She nodded to herself, satisfied with her plan. “I’ll talk to Daddy about it tonight.”
Martha didn’t argue with her, though in her own mind this was far from settled.
“Maybe I can talk John Lee and Phoebe and the baby into coming to stay with us in the house,” Alafair was saying. “That way I could help her with the baby and she wouldn’t be all alone out there in that little house while John Lee is off working. Grace will have to stay here with me, of course.”
When she heard her name mentioned, Grace got up off the wagon bed and draped herself across Alafair’s knees. Alafair lifted her up into her lap. “Who’s that crazy man, Mama?” Grace asked her, clearly worried.
Alafair felt a pang of remorse that their unguarded conversation had frightened the child, and she patted her dark hair to comfort her. “Don’t you worry about that, butternut. There ain’t nobody crazy around here. Mama wouldn’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”
From Alafair’s lap, Grace gave Martha a skeptical glance so adult that Martha laughed in wonder. But Grace wanted to be persuaded, and laid her head on her mother’s breast, ear to heart, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and closed her eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
After the boys stood there and watched the blacksmith get his skull smashed, Bill said they jumped the killer, but it was too late to help the smith. Him and Nix held the rascal down while Farrell Dean ran for the marshal and the doctor. Turned out that the murderer was the smith’s own son, name of Arvid Weiss. Seems old Weiss, the father, was a hard man on his children, and had finally driven his boy to bash in his skull.
Well, no matter why he did it, he did it, plain as day, before three witnesses. The marshal had the boys stay in town and testify at Arvid’s trial. Art and Johnny Turner hadn’t seen the murder, and didn’t have to stay, but they did, out of friendship, I guess. All five of those boys were such good friends that nobody hardly ever saw one without the others, even if they all were vying for Miss Laura Ross’ attention back then, same as every other boy in town.
Arvid Weiss was found guilty and was hanged on the day after the boys finally made it home with Farrell Dean’s body.
***
August was ending, and Alafair could finally tell that the days were getting shorter. Still, it didn’t become totally dark until close to eight o’clock, and it was difficult to get all the children corralled and interested in bed while the daylight lingered.
After supper, the family repaired to the parlor to read aloud to each other, play the piano or a guitar, perhaps sing or play a game or two before bed. But Grace usually began to fade shortly after she had eaten, so while the rest of the family entertained themselves, Alafair filled a large washtub full of cool water from the pump by the back door. She stripped the baby’s clothes off, stood her in the tub, and sluiced her down, all the while discussing Grace’s day and singing nursery songs to each other. Grace was seriously drooping as Alafair toweled her off, and by the time she was dressed for bed in an ex-flour-sack nightie, temporarily clean and cool, she was beginning to doze on her mother’s shoulder. Alafair put her in her cot, then stood for a moment and admired her sleeping angel before going back to the parlor to gather the next batch of youngsters for bedtime ablutions.
Blanche and Sophronia didn’t go gracefully, but they knew better than to argue with their mother. It was miserable enough to wash sheets in this weather; Alafair wasn’t having any children complicate the matter by going to bed dirty.
After Alafair managed to get them cleaned up to her satisfaction, the young girls were allowed to sit in the parlor in their nightgowns while she brushed their hair, and the older girls took their turn in the kitchen. Since Phoebe and Alice were no longer at home, this was not as crowded a proposition as it used to be. It was amazing to Alafair what a big hole the twins had left in the family when they married. How had two girls taken up so much space in such a crowd of children? However, their departure had allowed room for Ruth to move up in the hierarchy, and she was now accompanying Martha and Mary every evening as they pulled up kitchen chairs around the used bath water and soaped, washed, and toweled their feet and legs. Then one of the girls would draw some warm water into a big pitcher from the reservoir in the stove, and the three of them went to their bedroom to wash faces and more private parts before changing into night clothes.
The ritual was so well established that the moment the girls disappeared into their room, the boys stood and slipped away into the kitchen, accompanied by Charlie-dog. Since they didn’t have the luxury of a bedroom, though, Gee Dub and Charlie had established a practice of tossing out the grimy water, filling a bucket or two at the pump, and cleaning up on the back porch.
By the time the boys came back in their night shirts, the girls reappeared to make the goodnight rounds in the parlor, kissing their parents and each sibling, even Charlie, in spite of his many protestations of disgust. It was the same every night. No matter how he objected, Alafair suspected that he enjoyed both the game and the affection. The girls withdrew to their room, the boys to their corner of the parlor, and Alafair and Shaw put out all the lamps but the one they carried as they drew a pitcher full of water of their own and retired to their bedroom.
It felt good to lave her body in the cool water and slip into a light gown. It was too hot to sleep with her hair down, so while Shaw lathered his arms over the wash bowl, Alafair stood by the window, gazing into the yard and twisting her hair up off her neck. She was just sticking in the last hair pin when she saw a movement close to the garden fence.
She froze, her hands at the back of her head, and blinked. Surely not. You’ve been seeing things for days, she scolded herself.
It’s the wind stirring the branches.
But there was no wind. Just hot, heavy, sultry stillness.
It’s the shadow of a cloud passing over the moon.
But the moon was dark.
If someone was walking about outside, she couldn’t hear it over the shirr of the cicadas. She held her breath and peered into the gloom.
There it was again. A definite shift in the darkness, a movement.
“Shaw!”
She had whispered, but somehow she had conveyed her alarm, because he was at her side before his name was quite entirely uttered.
“There’s somebody out there,” she breathed.
“Where?”
“Over by the fence.”
“I don’t see anybody.”
“No, he’s gone, now, off toward the woods.”
“A man?”
“I hope not! But I think so, the way he moved.”
Shaw didn’t try to talk her out of it. Shirtless and barefoot, he pulled his galluses back up onto his shoulders, grabbed the key to the gun cabinet out of a drawer in the chiffarobe, and disappeared.
Alafair stood at the window, holding her breath, for several minutes, watching the night for any sign of something sinister.
After some time, Shaw appeared around the corner, still half-dressed and pistol in hand, searching the yard. He waved at her, then moved out of her line of sight.
Alafair stood there at the window for another fifteen minutes, until she heard the back screen creak, and Shaw came back into the bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed, still stiff with tension.
Shaw sat down next to her. “I didn’t see anything that shouldn’t be there, honey, but I expect you did see something. I went down to the shed to roust out them hired boys, and sure enough, I met both of them out and about. They said they had heard something outside that sounded funny. Micah was standing a watch, anyway. Could be that you saw one of them.”
Alafair relaxed a lit
tle. “I was wondering why the dogs didn’t bark. They wouldn’t if it was someone they knew prowling about. Did either of them say if they’d seen anything?”
“They had not. But when I come back in, they were still looking around.”
“That’s good. But I would feel better if you’d bring in one of the hunting dogs tonight.”
Shaw looked over at her, surprised. If she was willing to let one of his hunting dogs spend the night in the house, she was more nervous than he had realized. Neither hound had nearly the house manners of Charlie-dog.
“I don’t like you being so scared, honey.”
“I don’t like it, either, Shaw. I don’t want the kids scared, and they look to us for an example of how scared to be. I try my best to be a comfort, but it’s getting harder and harder. This afternoon, I was talking to Martha about sending the kids to Arkansas to my folks. Especially Mary, though we may have to hog-tie her to get her to go. Yet, if she stays, I’m like to get so nervous and chary about this murderer on the loose that I’ll drive her to distraction. She’s as like to poke me as look at me as it is. What do you think, Shaw? They’ll go if you say so.”
***
Shaw agreed that it was a wonderful idea to send the children to their grandparents in Arkansas until the murderer was caught. Charlie and Blanche were thrilled. Ruth and Sophronia were sorry that they might miss the beginning of school. Gee Dub, who was to accompany his siblings on the train to see that they arrived safely and then return on his own, kept his feelings to himself.
Mary was exasperated almost beyond endurance. This plan would put an end to any possibility of her teaching this year. She considered refusing outright. She was of age, after all. And yet in the end, she didn’t even protest very loudly. She was still emotionally and intellectually impaired, and she knew it, and in spite of everything she trusted her parents’ judgment.
But she didn’t like it.
On the afternoon before the children were to leave, Phoebe and John Lee moved in with their newborn and Martha moved out to stay with Alice in Boynton. Alafair was running at full throttle, directing the action. There would be plenty of room in the house once the travelers had departed, but for tonight, they were all going to be packed in like sardines. Mary sat in a corner and tried to keep out of the way. She let Alafair pack her little bag for her—her mother wanted to do it, anyway. As the day progressed, the noise and excitement became almost more than Mary could bear.
Grace was beginning to tire and fuss, and Martha picked her up and sat down in the rocker close to Mary. Martha pressed the child’s little head to her chest as she began to rock and sing:
“Let me tell you the story of sweet Betsy from Pike
Who crossed the wide prairie with her lover Ike
With a pair of white oxen and a big spotted hog,
A tall Shanghai rooster and a ol’ yeller dog…”
Thank God for a cheerful song, at last, Mary thought to herself. She was getting pretty tired of that kitty song that kept playing itself over and over in her head.
She shook her head unconsciously. Two weeks ago, all this happy noise and activity would have been great fun for her.
Alafair was in the girls’ bedroom helping Blanche and Ruth fold their dresses properly, and Phoebe was busy with her baby. The boys were out in the stables with their father and John Lee. Sophronia was trying to cram herself onto Martha’s lap along with Grace, making all three of them laugh hysterically. Mary stood up, easy as you please, and took herself out of the house. She paused at the front gate and took a free breath before she began walking toward the barn.
***
S.B. Turner, owner of Turner’s Livery and father of Art and Johnny, puffed down the center of Main Street as fast as his short legs would go without breaking into a run. Just down the block, he could see Sheriff Tucker and Trent Calder adjusting their saddles and untying their reins as they prepared to mount and ride off. As soon as he judged himself to be within shouting distance, he called the sheriff’s name, and Scott paused, one hand on his saddle horn and his left foot hovering half-way between the ground and his stirrup.
“Hang on, there, Sheriff, hang on! I got some news…” Turner came to a winded halt and placed his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath.
Scott lowered his foot to the ground and peered aslant at the gasping man. “Where’s Johnny, S.B.? We’ve been looking for Johnny all morning. I want to ask him a few questions about that trip to Waco he made with Bill McBride.”
Mr. Turner shook his head, distracted. “I ain’t seen him since last night. I never know where he is half the time. But, listen, Sheriff…”
“We have to be on our way, S.B., but I expect you and me need to talk as soon as we get back.”
Scott made a move to mount, but Mr. Turner grabbed his stirrup. “No, listen to me, Sheriff. I just heard. I have some news you better hear. About Art.”
***
Martha, Sophronia, and Grace were alone in the parlor when Sheriff Tucker and Deputy Trent Calder appeared in front of the house on horseback. Martha peered at them curiously through the front window and handed Grace to Sophronia before she went outside.
“Hey, Cousin Scott, Trent,” she greeted as she walked down the path toward them. Trent doffed his Stetson and Scott touched his hat brim and grinned at her, but neither man dismounted.
“Hey, Martha, honey,” Scott replied. “Where’s your daddy?”
“Him and the boys are at the stables. What are y’all about? Have you caught the murderer?”
“Pretty soon, I think,” Scott said. “Your ma and the rest of the kids in the house?”
“Yes. Phoebe and John Lee are moving in for a bit. Ma and Daddy are sending Mary and the kids to Arkansas till this blows over.”
Scott pulled his horse’s head up and the animal danced a bit. “Good idea. You seen Kurt Lukenbach around?”
Martha blinked. “Not all day. What do you want with Kurt?” she asked their backs as they rode off toward the stable.
But Trent called back to her over his shoulder. “Just got some questions for him.”
When Martha turned around to go back into the house, Alafair was standing on the porch with Sophronia and Grace. “Did I hear him say he wants to talk to Kurt?”
“So I gather. He asked for Daddy at first. Asked me if we were all in the house.”
Alafair immediately counted off the children. Gee Dub, Charlie, and John Lee were with Shaw. Martha, Grace, and Sophronia were standing before her, and she could see Phoebe with baby Zeltha watching through the screen door. She turned and went into the house and checked the kitchen and bedrooms. Blanche and Ruth were still laying dresses out on the bed.
Alafair returned to the parlor and planted herself in the middle of the floor with her hands on her hips. “Where’s Mary?” she asked anyone within earshot.
“She was sitting right here on the settee, last I saw,” Martha said, “not five minutes ago.”
“I seen her, too,” Sophronia affirmed.
“I saw her myself,” Phoebe interjected.
For a long minute, all the occupants of the parlor gazed thoughtfully at the settee, where Mary plainly was not sitting.
“No one saw her leave?” Alafair asked.
Martha, Phoebe, and Sophronia shook their heads and murmured feebly, bewildered.
Alafair turned quickly on her heel and headed outside. “Ya’ll stay inside,” she ordered over her shoulder, too loudly, as she banged out the front door. “Martha, make sure everybody stays inside!”
Grace started to cry, frightened by her mother’s tone and the sudden atmosphere of dread in the room, and Phoebe’s infant emitted an empathetic wail.
***
Shaw and his son-in-law John Lee Day were standing just outside the big stable doors when Scott and Trent arrived at a gallop and slid out of their saddles.
“We heard y’all coming all the way from the house,” Shaw opened, concerned. “What’s going on?”
“I hope nobody else has been kilt,” John Lee said.
Scott removed his hat and wiped his glistening brow with his forearm. “Not that I know, John Lee, but we have had a break.” He turned and addressed Shaw directly. “I went over to Okmulgee this morning and did a little research on the gun markings we found in the dust outside of Calvin Ross’ house. I took the drawings to Mr. Vann the gunsmith over there and showed them to him, and we pretty well got a handle on it. Mr. Vann thought he recognized the general shape of the rifle and a thing or two like the rounded pistol grip. Those markings that I thought were two sets of X’s Mr. Vann said are probably a ‘WM,’ and what we’ve got is a bolt-action Mauser ’98 rifle. Takes a five bullet clip, which Hattie tells me no one has bought lately in the caliber we’re looking for. But, the caliber of the slugs we have from the murderer’s rifle would be right for a Mauser ’98.”
“A Mauser?” Shaw repeated. “That’s a military gun. The same gun the Spanish used in Cuba, ain’t it?”
Scott nodded. “They make sporting guns, too, for game hunting. But what’s important is…”
“…it’s a German gun,” Gee Dub finished for him. The men turned and looked at Gee Dub, who had come out of the stable with Charlie and slipped up behind his father unseen.
“A German gun,” Scott affirmed.
Shaw blinked. “Scott, there is no reason on this green earth that Kurt Lukenbach would have to go around murdering my brother Bill and committing mayhem on Bill’s particular friends.”
“Well, because of something Alafair said to me just the other day, I got to looking into the trip that Bill made down to Waco a couple of years ago, along with some of his friends, that time they got delayed because they had to testify at a trial. Strange things have been happening to the boys that went on that trip.”
“What does that have to do with Kurt?” Shaw was unable to grasp a connection. His forehead wrinkled as he pondered the problem. “But Alafair and I have noticed of late that the boy has been acting mighty odd.”