Gold Dust

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  “I don’t care.”

  His trembling lessened. Ned swallowed so loud she heard it. “It won’t make no difference now. I’m too old for jail or prison. If it all starts up again. I’ll just sit down and give it all up myself.” Thunder punctuated the end of Ned’s sentence.

  She pushed back and met his blue eyes. “You’ll do no such of a thing, Ned Parker. We’ll fight them again like we did the first time.”

  “It’ll be different these days.” He absently patted her back. The memory from forty-five years earlier felt like a physical presence in the room. Their roles had reversed, making it his turn to comfort his wife. They both remembered how close he came to being convicted of assisted suicide, while others said what he’d done was nothing short of murder.

  “Now we have television and reporters and folks’ll stay on the phone until their ears fall off. We’re just lucky you can’t walk around town holding a telephone or these people wouldn’t ever get out of one another’s business.” Miss Becky wiped her eyes with her apron. “I don’t know why you Parker men have that burden to bear. But I’m glad you finally used it again to help Jules get Home.”

  Ned drew a long breath and straightened. She could tell he felt better now that he’d gotten it off his chest.

  “Your shirt’s damp, hon.”

  “I sweated through it.”

  “Go get you a bath and I’ll fix us something to eat.”

  “It’s not suppertime yet.”

  “Rain makes me hungry. Let’s make a plate and sit on the porch and watch it rain. I’d dearly love to enjoy it before the kids get home.”

  She was taking leftovers out of the icebox when he came back around the corner still in his damp shirt. This time he was stepping lighter and she was stunned by the transformation that had taken place in only five minutes. The light in his eyes had returned, as if she’d taken some of the burden away with only a hug and her presence.

  “What, hon? Are you all right?”

  “I can’t believe I almost forgot.” His face smoothed and a smile awoke. “You better put that bowl back and set down.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “I swanny. One minute you’re as blue as the ocean and the next you’re bright as a star and tellin’ me what to do. What did you remember?”

  “All right then, if y’ain’t gonna listen to me. There was another miracle today and I plumb forgot it for a minute.”

  She raised her eyebrows, feeling the dried tears on her cheeks. “Tell me.”

  “You sure you don’t want to set?”

  “I said tell me, Ned Parker, and quit this foolishness.”

  He reached out and took her arm. “All right then. Tom Bell’s back. He ain’t dead, and ain’t no ghost, and I saw him and hugged his neck. He’ll be here in a little bit.”

  The sound of a bowl full of cold mashed potatoes shattered on the floor to blend with Miss Becky’s shriek.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’d never seen such laughing and crying in my life. Mr. Tom Bell was back. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  The storm pushed through leaving the sky clear and blue. The grass dried in a hurry once the humidity was gone, and Grandpa sat him in one of the metal shell-back lawn chairs outside our house under the shade of the sycamore and mimosa trees Miss Becky planted when her and Grandpa got married.

  The old two-bedroom farmhouse with its wraparound porch sat on a hill overlooking the Sanders Creek bottoms, only a couple of miles south of the Red River. The whole place was about nine hundred square feet, if you didn’t count the porches. The kitchen and living room took up the west side. A short hall separated the two bedrooms with a bathroom between them.

  The yard was busy as the county fair with folks coming and visiting. It looked like the biggest family reunion in Lamar County, except that even though I’d heard all my life that we couldn’t talk about anyone in Center Springs because we were most likely kinfolk, there was still a lot of people who I only knew by sight.

  Folks gathered around Mr. Tom and Grandpa that Monday evening, sitting on anything they could, including straight-back wooden chairs with their legs digging deep into the soft ground, the kitchen chairs brought out from the house, and even a milk bucket. The rest stood to see over them and hear the old Ranger that was a long ways from dead. Cars and trucks lined the side of the road when there was no more room on the gravel drive.

  Pepper was like a gnat around Mr. Tom. One minute she’d squat on the grass beside him, then she’d stand up and put a hand on his shoulder or arm. Every time I looked over, she was touching him somewhere else. I could tell she wanted to sit on the arm of the chair and hold his hand, but she had sense enough to know she’d be smothering him and in the way.

  “We ought to move this get-together up to the gym,” Neal Box said, referring to our WPA school. He’d closed the store so he could come visit with the rest of the neighbors.

  “No.” Mr. Tom looked embarrassed. “Y’all don’t need to make a fuss over me. Besides, it don’t seem right to sit here like this with Mr. Jules laid out up at the funeral home.”

  Grandpa’s face fell for a moment. His usually cold blue eyes were moist, and I’d never seen him like that. “He was a good man, but we’ll tell him goodbye in a day or two.” He stopped to clear his voice. “Right now we need to hear what happened to you down in Mexico.” He paused. “Tom, we’d never a-left you down there if we knew you weren’t…”

  Mr. Tom grinned and his white mustache widened. “Dead? Hell, Ned, You don’t have to account for yourself. You did what you had to do and so did I.”

  A couple or three years earlier Mr. Tom, Grandpa, and Mr. John Washington drove down south of the border to get Uncle Cody out of a Mexican jail. The guards almost killed him before they broke him out. Mr. Tom was shot up pretty bad and stayed back to cover for them as they escaped back across the river.

  Mr. Tom trailed off at the sound of a siren coming over the creek bridge. A deputy sheriff’s car blew around the curve half a minute later and squalled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. The driver pulled to the side of the road and Mr. John Washington rose from behind the wheel.

  The biggest man in Lamar County pushed up the hill and folks separated the same way they would if a bull was to get loose and come charging into the crowd. “Tom Bell!” He stopped and spread his arms wide. Tears rolled down his dark cheeks and a sob caught in his big chest. “Lordy mercy!”

  Mr. Tom rose and Mr. John gathered him in a bear hug. “If ida knowed…” His deep voice broke.

  Their hats fell off, and them that was closest jumped to catch them before they hit the grass. “Don’t say nothing else, John. It was all meant to be.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. Now turn me a-loose so I can breathe or you’ll kill me sure.”

  The crowd laughed as Mr. John let go and stepped back. “Lazarus.”

  “I wasn’t dead, but dang near.”

  “Listen listen.” Mr. Ike Reader couldn’t stand it. “Tell us what happened.”

  Uncle Cody laughed and put his arm around Norma Faye. “Hang on, Ike. He’ll get around to it.”

  Mr. Tom sat back down. Even though it was hotter’n blue blazes, he looked cool as a cucumber in that black coat of his. “Well sir, I was shot to pieces and thought I was a goner when y’all took off down that alley. Them Mexican guards saw you leave and a bunch of ’em started to take off after you, but I had enough rounds left that I poured it on ’em ’til the B.A.R’s magazine ran dry.

  “That got their attention, and the next thing I knew I’s in a hailstorm of bullets. Before you know it, I was down and nothing worked. I figured I was dead, and so I laid there and closed my eyes and waited for Death to come get me.”

  “Praise the Lord.” Miss Becky raised her hand.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Mr. Tom grinned again and nodded.
“Well sir, I passed out and when I came to, that old Mexican sun was in my eyes and wasn’t anyone but dead people around me.

  “They must have thought I was buzzard bait like the rest of ’em, and just left me laying there. Two guards were dragging bodies of those prisoners out of the front door of the jail and danged if they hadn’t been piling ’em around me. Folks were coming from all over. They heard what happened and came to claim their kinfolk.

  “There was women wailin’ and crying’ wandering through all that death and when they found their friends or kinfolk, they’d get even louder. After a while I heard a voice from a feller standing right beside me.

  “He was speaking Spanish, so I didn’t get all of what he said, but the gist of it was that he wanted to take the body laying next to me. One of the guards said it was all right, and before you know it, two people wrapped me in a blanket and carried me off.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Well, Ned. It was a stranger, the daddy of that young boy and girl that helped us get in the jail. Remember? Those kids were about Top and Pepper’s age. Well sir, him and another big fellow hauled me to a pickup and laid me in the back and the next thing I knew I passed out again. I woke up in a bed with a doctor standing over me. He said he’d taken six bullets out of me and part of my intestines.”

  The looks on the faces of those around me told me they were just as shocked by Mr. Tom’s story as I was.

  “It took me almost a year to heal up. Those good folks smuggled me out of that sorry town and to Progresso. They had family there and they treated me like one of their own until I got on my feet, and here I am.”

  Grandpa took off his hat and ran a hand over his bald head. “Well, hell! That don’t answer all the questions I have.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Why didn’t you let us know you were all right?”

  “’cause I wasn’t sure I was. I expected to die and there was no reason to get y’all’s hopes up and maybe try to come get me. You three were hot down there and I didn’t want you to wind up in that same jail we got Cody out of.”

  “But you had cancer!” Norma Faye’s voice was full of excitement.

  Mr. Tom nodded. “That’s what that skinny old doctor said. He told me that one of those bullets hit me right where the Big C was growing, and they took it out with everything that was torn up in there. The doctors down in Houston told me they couldn’t get it all even if they went in, and that I’s so old I wouldn’t survive the surgery. Shows what they know.”

  The crowd laughed, then laughed louder and longer, and I realized their laughing bled off all the sadness and tension they brought with ’em. Mr. Tom looked embarrassed by all the attention. “Look folks, I sure appreciate all y’all for coming by to say howdy, but you don’t need to make a fuss over me.”

  There was a rattle of dishes behind me and I saw somebody’d put up some sawhorses and laid boards and one door on them. Miss Mable was pulling a tablecloth out of a bright Easter basket she carried that day and I almost busted out laughing. There were so many people, I hadn’t seen her show up.

  Mark was grinning from ear to ear. “Mr. Tom, are you staying?”

  “Here? No, son, I believe Becky’s only got two bedrooms.”

  “We can put the boys on the floor.”

  “No ma’am. I’ll get a room in town.”

  Aunt Ida Belle shook her head. “No you won’t. Me and James bought the Ordway Place. The whole second floor is empty. It’s yours and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  I couldn’t think of anything worse than to live in the same house with Aunt Ida Belle and her sour mouth and loose eyes, but the idea of having Mr. Tom close by again sure gave my spirits a lift.

  “Y’all don’t need me around all the time. I only came back through to see everybody and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “You may as well give up, Tom.” Uncle James chimed in. “We owe you a debt for helping out here and in Mexico. It’s settled. You can live upstairs with us for a week or forever if you want to.”

  Folks clapped and Mr. Tom gave in. “Fine, then. But only for a while.”

  “Praise the Lord.” Miss Becky clapped her hands. “Ever’body, I have a refrigerator full of food, but why don’t y’all go home and bring something back and we’ll have a covered-dish supper out here tonight since the weather’s turned cool.”

  Folks clapped again and the crowd broke up, leaving just our family under the big sycamores for the time being.

  Miss Becky hugged Mr. Tom again and headed back to the house with Pepper in tow. “You come help me, Sister Sue.”

  “Aw…”

  “Enough. Come on.”

  Mr. Tom lowered his voice and leaned in to Grandpa. “Ned, did you get that big envelope I had sent up from Mexico.”

  He brightened. “Sure did, and thanks for…”

  Mr. Tom held up a hand and cut his eyes toward me and Mark. “Did you open all the envelopes inside?”

  “No. You wrote when I was to open ’em, and I did what you said.”

  “Good. I’d like it back now, please, what’s left.”

  “Sure ’nough.”

  Mr. Tom looked relieved, as if Grandpa was going to argue. “I’ll give ’em to you again when the time comes, but I need ’em right now, since I know I’m gonna live a little bit longer.”

  Mr. Tom started to say something else, but was interrupted when a pickup came roaring up from the creek bridge. Mr. John watched him come. “Uh, oh.”

  The truck slid to a stop behind Mr. John’s car and a man I recognized was Pat Walker’s boy standing on the running board to call over the cab. “Ned, Cody! I just found Daddy dead out by his catch pen.”

  “Heart attack?” Ned knew Pat had been in the hospital for the past two weeks and was back on his feet.

  “Not hardly.” He broke down in tears. “He’s been murdered.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Frenchie snagged the coffeepot off the burner and brought it around to the rear booth where Ned Parker, Judge O.C. Rains, Sheriff Cody Parker, and Tom Bell were finishing a late lunch. They’d been to Jules’ funeral that Wednesday morning and their mood was still somber.

  She set empty mugs on the table and filled them without asking. “Now that you boys are finished, how about dessert?”

  Cody leaned back. “I’m full.”

  Tom and Ned shook their heads no. Frenchie topped the judge’s mug. “O.C.? I got peach today.”

  He sighed as if she’d told him the café was closing for good. “That sounds mighty good, but I have an appointment coming in to see me in about half an hour.”

  The corners of her mouth fell for a moment, then her bright smile returned. “Fine then. Maybe next time.”

  She left to make her way past the booths lining the wall opposite the counter. Facing the door, O.C.’s eyebrow rose before he tested the coffee. Frenchie passed Deputy Anna Sloan who came through the door, jangling the bell. She made a beeline toward the back booth.

  Her eyes twinkled as she placed her Stetson upside down on the countertop with the others. She rested one hip on the stool and raised an eyebrow. “You gonna have peach pie today, Judge?”

  Ned sighed before he could answer. “I swear. Y’all talk about pie more’n anyone I know.”

  Judge Rains frowned. “I didn’t bring it up nary time, and no, I’m not.” He blew across the coffee’s hot surface. “Tell me what y’all found out about Pat Walker’s murder.”

  “It wasn’t murder for killing sake.” Cody leaned forward and laced his fingers. “It looks like he came up on some rustlers. They took his cows and his life.”

  “Yeah, and they got plumb away.” Ned worked his dentures to make sure there wasn’t anything under them. He hadn’t been hungry since Jules passed away in his arms and he was surprised that the hot steak sandwich had sounded good at al
l.

  Tom Bell smoothed his white mustache in thought. “Weren’t y’all having this same conversation the last time I was here?”

  “Yep.” O.C. sighed. “It’s been going on since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. It don’t happen all the time, but we get a crook through here every now and then that don’t mind taking stock that belongs to others.”

  “But they haven’t killed anybody doing it.” Cody sprinkled a few grains of salt into his coffee to cut the bitterness. “I had a meeting with George Nobles.” He saw Anna’s questioning look. “He’s the stock detective who works this part of the state and up into Oklahoma. He thinks they might have taken them south, maybe to Fredricksburg or Kerrville, or Austin.”

  “There’s a lot of stock down thataway.” Ned ran a hand over his bald head to think. “But they check brands and bills of sale down there too.”

  “Yeah, but that only works if the rustlers try to sell ’em through the barn.” O.C. sipped his coffee, watching Frenchie wipe her counter. “Cody, how about if somebody who had a big ranch and just slides some money across a table in some honky-tonk and unloads the trailer in a back pasture somewheres? I doubt stock inspectors drive them big ranches lookin’ for brands. After that, you can sell every calf they drop for pure profit.”

  “I can see it happening.”

  The judge drew a long breath, thinking. “So what do you think? Tom?”

  “I think these are some bad folks. They ain’t your usual rustlers. They’re the kind that need killin’, in my opinion.”

  Cody pushed a plate out of the way. “I’m with Tom. This ain’t like some river rat loading up a few head to sell under the table. These boys are mean as snakes, and they’re different. I believe they took them cows south, and I’m gonna send Anna down to Austin to check around.”

  She was obviously surprised. “You are? How come you to settle on Austin?”

  “I got a phone call up at the office from somebody who wouldn’t leave their name, and it ties into what George thinks. They said something suspicious was going on down there and it traced back here to Chisum. My bet is the caller was some of the rustlers’ kinfolk, or somebody they made mad. They wouldn’t give me much more, but it might be enough to scare up some clues or information.”