Hornswoggled - An Alafair Tucker Mystery

by Donis Casey

  The Boynton Cemetery wasn’t very large. The first occupant had been buried there less than twenty years before, shortly after the town began to grow up on the trail between Okmulgee and Muskogee, before it was surveyed and named. Fewer than a hundred graves were dotted around the enclosed grounds, and Alafair found herself purposefully picking through the longish grass to find the newer ones.

  It didn’t take her long to find the stone marked with the name of Louise Kelley. She stood and looked down at it for a few minutes, thoughtful and more than a little curious about her own motivation for being there at all. The small, gray, granite stone didn’t look to have been laid long, since the earth around it was still disturbed and the carved letters were sharp and unworn. Louise Boyd Kelley, the stone read, February 10, 1882 - July, 1912. No day of death. Had to have been late July 5, after Louise was seen at the Rusty Horseshoe, or early on July 6, the day the boys found her in the creek. Alafair squatted down on her haunches before the grave and gathered her coat collar closer in her hand. Someone had placed a ragged branch of redbud blossoms on the grave. Ned, she thought. It was a chilly day, for the third week of April. The wind was up pretty good, and the sky was overcast with low scudding clouds. Alafair wiped a flying strand of hair out of her eyes and thought of Louise.

  What was on your mind, Louise, she wondered? What made you think that dragging yourself through the gutter could possibly cure whatever ailed you? Did consorting with low men make you feel better about yourself? Did it make your husband love you?

  To her own surprise, Alafair’s eyes filled with tears of pity. No matter how low Louise Kelley may have sunk, she didn’t deserve to be stabbed in the heart and dropped into a creek. “Who did you in, Louise?” she wondered aloud. She lifted her eyes from the grave stone and stared into the middle distance for a long moment. The cutting wind was shaking the pale-leafed elms and oaks that shaded the cemetery, making a disturbing sound that reminded Alafair of the rustling crinoline petticoats her aunts and grandmothers had worn when she was a girl. Lost in her own reflections, it took a moment for Alafair to realize that there was a strange, faint odor on the wind, and she blinked herself back to consciousness and took a cautious sniff of the air.

  Ammonia. The odor was so unexpected that she glanced around curiously, half expecting to see a dog urinating on some poor soul’s monument. But Crook was still sitting obediently in the buggy, and aside from her horse, who was standing at the side of the road quite continent, she saw no other living creature. The acrid smell grew stronger, and it became apparent to her that she was smelling nothing more than common household ammonia. It was a smell that was familiar enough to her, though she would never spend the money to buy ammonia for cleaning when she could make her own very serviceable soaps and disinfectants from lye or vinegar.

  Now, where is that coming from, she wondered, and rose to turn a circle where she stood, trying to pinpoint a direction. The wind was blowing out of the northwest, but the odor was no stronger from the northwest than it was from the southeast. It was almost like she was standing right on top of it.

  Before Alafair could further ponder the mysterious smell that had come to her out of nowhere, she became aware of two people walking toward her from the cemetery gate. She immediately recognized the new pastor, Brother Ulises Bellows, and his wife, Sister Norma.

  Alafair forgot her dilemma and sighed when she saw them. She liked the pastor, a short, cheerful, rather pompous man of middle age with a hearty laugh, but his religion was too scrupulous and legalistic for Alafair. Mrs. Bellows was a bit prim, but outgoing, and made no secret of the fact that she held a very high opinion of her husband’s quality as a preacher. Alafair suspected that being the wife of a Christian Church pastor was the end all and be all for Sister Norma, and she was inclined to be forgiving of the woman’s minor shortcomings.

  “Sister Alafair!” Mr. Bellows called as they neared and recognized her. The three people greeted each other, the women clasping hands cordially, before the preacher continued. “What brings you out to the cemetery on such a blustery day?” he wondered. “I didn’t think you had any family here to visit.”

  “I don’t,” Alafair confirmed, “but, the strangest thing, I was just passing by on my way to town and I felt a need to stop and pay my respects to Miz Kelley here. If you’ll remember, my sons found the poor woman’s body in a creek that runs through our property.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Bellows both crinkled their foreheads and shook their heads sadly. “I do remember,” Mr. Bellows said. “That unfortunate incident happened only a few months after my wife and I took up our ministry here. I knew that unhappy woman well for those few months, since she came to us several times for spiritual guidance before she was so cruelly murdered by those passing wastrels.”

  “Did she now!” Alafair exclaimed. “I have heard that she spent a lot of time in church.”

  “She did,” Bellows affirmed. “We prayed together many times. She was real concerned about the state of her soul, and that of her husband, as well. Why, I told her that any time she felt the Tempter at her heels, she could come and find me or my wife, day or night, at church or at our home, and we’d cast him out together. But sadly, the devil had too strong a hold on her, and here you can see the sad outcome.”

  “Ulises sweated drops of blood over Sister Louise,” Mrs. Bellows interjected, “just like Jesus did over his disciples at Gethsemane. Ulises fought like a soldier of the Lord against the devil that possessed that woman’s soul.”

  Alafair was taken aback at hearing Mr. Bellows compared to Jesus, but she added it up to his wife’s devotion to her husband and her faith in his calling, and she smiled, amused.

  “She was a soul in need,” Mr. Bellows was saying. “Norma and I tried to help her as best we could.”

  “If she could have been saved, my husband would have saved her,” Mrs. Bellows assured Alafair.

  “She was too weak,” the preacher said, accepting his wife’s accolades as his due.

  “Why, I came home late the very night she died,” Norma said, “from helping Doctor Ann Addison deliver Miz Click of a fine boy. Doctor Ann brought me home in her buggy near on to nine o’clock. I was probably on the road at the same time as the devil that ruined and killed Miz Kelley.” She slipped her hand into the pastor’s, looking overcome at the thought. “You know it had to be Satan who was behind that death.”

  “Satan,” Mr. Bellows seconded.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Alafair said noncommittally, not wanting to embark on a lengthy theological discussion. “Well, I’m afraid I must be on my way. I didn’t really have time to stop in the first place, but the unfortunate woman was on my mind, don’t you know.”

  Mr. Bellows nodded solemnly. “My wife and I often come to the cemetery to pray in the presence of the saints who have gone before and will be waiting for us in our heavenly mansions. It’s too late for Louise, I fear, but I always pray that the Lord will allow me to save souls by using her life as a sad example of the Deceiver’s wiles.”

  “Amen,” said his wife.

  Oh, dear, Alafair thought, but she too said, “Amen.”

  “Sister Alafair,” Mrs. Bellows said, warming to Alafair’s apparent religious enthusiasm, “my husband and I would be proud if you and your fine family would take Sunday dinner with us at our home.”

  “Indeed!” Brother Ulises seconded.

  “Why, we’d love to,” Alafair said, “if you’re sure you’re up to feeding such an army all at once.” She was teasing, but Mrs. Bellows missed the humor.

  “Why, I’ve had bigger broods than yours over, Sister. Mr. Bellows and I weren’t blessed with a family of our own, since the Lord wants us to minister to his Christian family, so I make a point of surrounding us with as many of the sheep in our flock as I can.”

  “We live in fellowship,” the preacher added.

  Alafair thought that the minister and his wife might not find her family very sheeplike, but she kept that thought to herself. “We’d
be pleased,” she said. “What can I bring?”

  “Not a thing, Sister,” Norma assured her. “And I’ll have all the help I’ll be needing. You may know that colored girl, Sugar Welsh, who lives over yonder toward Taft. She does most of the cooking for me when I have folks over. Why, she’ll have the meal done and waiting for us by the time we get out of church.”

  “Yes, I know Sugar. Her brother and his family are tenants of ours. But I reckon we could bring the dessert, save the gal some baking.”

  Norma shook her head, firm. “It’s a blessing to provide for my guests.”

  Alafair hesitated, surprised that the preacher’s wife would feel able to feed such a large family without some contribution. “All right, then,” she said finally, unsure of how to protest graciously. “When do you want us?”

  “Two weeks from next Sunday, I’m thinking,” Mrs. Bellows said. “Is that the tenth day of May? I think that it is.” She clapped her gloved hands together delicately. “What a joy!”

  “Yes, indeed,” Alafair agreed brightly. “And now I’d best get going. I have a baby at home who’ll be fussing up a storm before long.” She walked a few steps toward the buggy, then hesitated and turned to look back over her shoulder at the pastor and his wife. “Brother Ulises,” she said, “do you think that Walter Kelley contributed to his wife’s downfall?”

  Mrs. Bellows said nothing, but her mouth thinned to a lipless line, which gave Alafair a pretty good idea of her opinion. Mr. Bellows looked thoughtful for a minute before he replied.

  “Well, Sister Alafair,” he said, “Brother Walter cannot be held blameless, but I believe the wife’s demons were the main reason that marriage soured.”

  ***

  When Alafair arrived home at about eleven o’clock, she found Alice and Phoebe playing with the baby in her kitchen. The table was already set for dinner and several pots were simmering on the stove. Phoebe rose to help her mother unload the boxes of staples.

  “Nice to see you, hon,” Alafair greeted her newlywed daughter. Little auburn-haired Phoebe, Alice’s fraternal twin, had married their neighbor John Lee Day only a few months earlier. They lived in a tiny newly built cottage on the adjoining eighty acres, which Shaw owned but leased to John Lee for a share of his crops. John Lee also assisted his father-in-law with the horses and mules that Shaw raised and sold, and was consequently learning the business. Like most newlyweds, John Lee and Phoebe were poor as church mice, but John Lee, with his liquid eyes and serious demeanor, was a hard worker with good prospects. Alafair particularly loved him for his devotion to gentle Phoebe.

  “Are you and John Lee joining us for dinner?” Alafair asked.

  “I will, Ma,” Phoebe told her. “But Daddy asked for us to send some dinner for him and John Lee and the hands out to the stables. I think they’re checking shoes or shaving hooves or some such.”

  Alafair nodded as she hung her coat on the peg by the back door. “He’s got an order for a dozen mules from Fort Sill for next week. I expect he’s getting them ready. Well, let’s get something up for them. Where’s Mary?”

  “Oh, we’ve already done it, Ma,” Alice informed her from her seat at the table. “Mary’s on her way out there right now with Charlie’s little pull-wagon piled up with food.”

  “She volunteered,” Phoebe interjected with a laugh. “I think she can’t decide which of those new hands she’s sweet on, that gray-eyed Micah or the big tall blond one.”

  “That’s Kurt, the Dutch fellow,” Alafair reminded her, tying on her apron. “Nice polite boy. Your daddy likes him. I wish he’d learn to speak English in a way that I could understand him.”

  “He told John Lee that he’s from a place called Bavaria, over in Germany. Only been here in America for a few years.”

  “That Kaiser over there is crazy,” Alice said. “I read that he might be spoiling for a war.”

  “All that has nothing to do with us,” Alafair informed them, as she relieved Alice of the baby and lifted the lid off of a pot. “So it’s just us females for dinner. Let’s see what you girls have come up with—why, chicken and dumplings, my favorite! What with y’all fixing dinner for everybody while I go off gallivanting to town, I’m the one getting spoiled.”

  “Don’t worry, Ma,” Alice teased. “You’ll get us all married off one of these days, then you can do all your own cooking again.”

  Alafair gave Alice a sharp glance. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  The women sat down at the table, and after saying grace, continued the conversation.

  “I’ve got more carrots coming up than I know what to do with, Ma,” Phoebe said. “I thought I’d pull a mess of fingerlings and can a bunch of them. If I can borrow some canning jars from you, I’ll give you a couple of quarts.”

  “I had the same plan,” Alafair told her, “so I don’t need any of yours, darlin’, but you’re welcome to as many jars as you need.”

  “Mercy me,” Alice said, “be sure and tell me when y’all intend to be canning, because I’ll make plans to be somewhere else.”

  Phoebe and Alafair snorted with laughter and Grace waved a cracker at her. “Alice, I’ll swear you’re as lazy as Uncle Ed,” Alafair told her.

  “I didn’t know that was possible, Mama, at least by your way of thinking. Nobody is as lazy as Uncle Ed.”

  “Why, sugar,” Alafair assured her, “Uncle Ed hated to work in the field so much that he cut off his own toe with an ax so he wouldn’t have to chop cotton any more.”

  “I’d have liked to have seen that,” Alice said. “Well, I don’t think I’d go to cutting off any body parts to keep from canning, but maybe near to it. I like to make pies, because I like to eat them, but sewing is my calling, I expect.”

  “You’re quite the tailor,” Phoebe acknowledged.

  “I am,” Alice stated matter-of-factly. “Not as good as Mama yet, but I aim to be.”

  “I think you will be,” Alafair told her. “You like it better than I do. But I’ve had so much practice what with eight daughters I reckon I could sew dresses in my sleep.”

  “I’d like to have a couple of new dresses,” Alice said.

  “Summer’s coming,” Alafair noted. “Everybody needs some new things. Maybe tomorrow we can pick through the rag bag and find some nice pieces to make some new shirts and blouses.”

  Alice shook her head. “I’ll help you with making things for the kids, Ma, but I saved a couple of dollars and bought myself some material. I intend to make myself some pretty new frocks.”

  “I think Alice is going sparking,” Phoebe interjected, raising her voice to be heard over the baby’s babbling. Grace began to squirm in her highchair and Phoebe lifted her out and set her on her lap.

  Alafair looked over at Alice, gimlet-eyed. “You still have your eye on that barber?”

  “I do,” Alice admitted gaily.

  “Even with all the talk about what happened to his wife?”

  Alice’s blue eyes snapped her opinion of the woman in question. “Don’t waste your pity, Ma,” Alice said tartly. “Louise Kelley didn’t deserve it.”

  “Alice!” Phoebe admonished. “Speaking ill of the dead and all!”

  Alafair was taken aback. “Well, Alice, what makes you have such a hard opinion?”

  Alice lowered her spoon. She was an outspoken girl, but she looked somewhat abashed at her outburst. But only for a moment. She shrugged, unrepentant. “She was loose,” Alice assured her mother. “She didn’t honor her marriage vows and shamed her husband and drove him away.”

  “Now, how are you so sure of that? Maybe it was the other way around.”

  “Walter told me, and I believe him.”

  “Walter?” Alafair’s heart fell. “When did you talk about such a thing with Mr. Kelley?”

  Alice hesitated before she replied. Eighteen years of her mother’s gentle tyranny had left their imprint on even such a lively and independent soul as Alice. She glanced at Phoebe, who was gazing back at her, curious but unhelpful
. Too passionate to be deterred for long, she looked back at Alafair. “I’ve been seeing Walter for a couple of weeks now, Mama,” she said. “I’ve met him outside of town on Monday afternoons, when his shop is closed, and we talk for a spell. I’ve even taken a ride with him in his automobile once or twice.”

  The look of disapproval and even fear in Alafair’s eyes gave Alice a moment’s pause, but encouraged by her mother’s silence, she continued. “I believe what Walter told me, Ma. Louise was a bad, bitter person. He couldn’t please her no matter how he tried. And he tried, Ma. He’s a good man.”

  “You went for a ride in his automobile?” Alafair asked. She seemed to have forgotten about Louise for the moment.

  Alice blinked. “Just for a little ways out of town. Nothing bad happened.” She paused, then added, “I think I love him, Ma.”

  The look in Alafair’s eyes turned to horror. Phoebe said nothing, but turned to cleaning the mashed cracker off of Grace’s face with desperate concentration.

  “Alice,” Alafair managed, “you’ve got to be careful. You don’t know this man…”

  “Yes, I do,” Alice interrupted.

  “You don’t know this man after only a few weeks,” Alafair insisted. “I know he’s rich and all, but…”

  “Rich,” Alice echoed. “You think that I only care that he’s rich? That isn’t so. You’re the one doesn’t know him, Mama. He don’t have a mean bone in his body. He’s just a happy, laughing man who wants nothing more than a good life and a loving family, which I would like to give him. I love him, Ma. He makes my heart sing.”