“Can I help you, gentlemen?” The teller spoke with an important voice that denoted he was the more regnant of the two employees present. The clerk who had often been reminded of that fact during President Bush’s absence didn’t bother to look up from his bookkeeping.
“We’re the Keeshaws.” Deek smiled amiably. “Stopped by to see Amos yesterday, remember?”
“Yes, of course.” The teller seemed somewhat offended at the notion that he wouldn’t remember. “I’m Raymond Osgood, Mr. Bush’s—associate.”
Deek knew damn well that the little man was just an ordinary teller, but if the little man wanted to bestow a title on himself during Amos Bush’s absence Deek figured there’d be no harm, and maybe even some advantage, in going along with the affectation.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
Deek noted that Raymond Osgood seemed to be doing an imitation of Amos Bush’s voice and manner. He half expected Raymond to step over and sit in Amos Bush’s chair. But Osgood stayed in his cage.
“Oh, nothing special, just wanted to report to Amos on our progress, that’s all. Will he be back later?”
“Oh, I’m afraid not. Amo . . . uh, Mr. Bush has a meeting with a depositor away from the office.”
The clerk side-glimpsed with a flicker then went on balancing the accounts.
“Be in tomorrow?” Deek pulled the pipe out of his pocket.
“Oh, yes. First thing in the morning.”
“Well, like I said, nothing special. We’ll catch up to him.”
“Very good.” The teller cleared his throat as if he might say something important. “Good day, gentlemen.”
“Good day, Mr. . . . Osgood.”
All the Keeshaws cast a farewell glance at the safe, then left the premises.
Raymond Osgood knew, but didn’t mention to the Keeshaws, that Amos Bush’s “meeting” with the depositor would last through most of the night as it had, once a week, every week for nearly two years. The meeting took place between Bush and a young eye-filling widow named Hannah Brown. And it was Bush who made the deposits.
There were others in Gilead who also knew, including Bush’s wife, Laureen, but nobody ever talked about it, except in whispers, for three reasons. Out of respect and affection for Laureen Bush, who was crippled and confined to a wheelchair and bed. Because Hannah Brown was not a bad woman. She had suffered the loss of a husband during the war and was attempting to prevent suffering the loss of her home, on which Amos Bush held a considerable mortgage. The third reason was that almost everybody in town had to do business with Amos Bush. He was not a man to cross—a few had tried and borne the consequences.
Outside, Deek Keeshaw stepped from the wind into the doorway of the sheriff’s office and lit his pipe. As he did he looked inside and saw that Deputy Keeler was passing the time playing solitaire. Elwood Hinge was nowhere in sight.
As Keeler glanced up, Deek waved. The deputy waved back with a ten of diamonds and went on with his game.
“I’m hungry enough to eat a horse, hair and all,” Tom said. “Let’s go over to the restaurant.”
“I’m going over to the barbershop, get a shave.”
“Hell, Deek, you just got a shave yesterday. You’re gonna wear the hide right off your jaw, ain’t he, Bart?”
“I think he’s thinkin’ about wearin’ the hide offa Yellow Rose, that’s what I’m thinkin’.”
“I think you better shut up, Bart, and let me do the thinking. Now, you can go eat, or you can go up to the room and wait for me.”
“We’ll go up to the room and wait. That okay with you, Bart?”
Bart shrugged.
Tom and Bart headed across to the Eden, and Deek took a puff from his pipe and sauntered toward Tony’s Barber Shop.
* * *
It was not yet dark when Homer Keeler looked up in response to a rap on the window of the door. Kathy Lewis knocked again and turned the knob. The door opened. Homer hadn’t locked up for the night. He was waiting for the sheriff to return.
Homer Keeler placed a queen on a queen and rose to meet her. Kathy Lewis was eighteen, leaned a little toward plumpness, but had an attractive, deep-dimpled, heart-shaped face and plenty of soft brown hair. Her eyes were doleful and fawnlike. Tonight they were particularly doleful. A long, knitted shawl covered most of her upper body.
“Kathy, sure didn’t expect to see you. What’re you doing in town?”
“Ma and Pa are over at Inghram’s picking up some goods. Told them I was going to stop by for a minute.”
“Good.” Homer glanced out of the window, then took her in his arms and kissed her.
Kathy Lewis trembled. She was crying.
“Kathy, honey. What’s the matter? Something happen? Somebody hurt?”
She sobbed even more.
“Kathy . . .”
“Oh, Homer, I’m in trouble . . . bad trouble. I . . . I guess we both are.” She stepped away from him and opened the shawl with both hands. “Homer, what am I going to do? Pretty soon it’ll start to show . . . I didn’t want to tell you, but . . .”
“My God! Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“My God!” he repeated.
“I think it was that night after the dance, remember? I told you . . .”
“I remember . . . Does anybody know? Did you see a doctor?”
“I’m afraid to.”
“Damn!”
“I’m sorry, Homer, I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. What’s going to happen when they find out?”
“Damn!” he repeated.
“I knew you’d be mad, Homer. I didn’t mean . . .”
“Kathy, stop saying that! I’m not mad . . .”
“You’re not?”
“Well, I . . . I don’t know what I am. I just wasn’t ready for anything like this.”
“You think I was?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just don’t know what I mean. I’ve got to think on it.”
“What’s there to think about? I’m going to have a baby . . .”
“Shhh, not so loud.” He looked toward the cells. “There’s a couple of prisoners back there.” He wiped the tears from her eyes, but the tears kept coming. “Kathy, quit crying. Just let me think about it, and I’ll . . .”
“You’ll what, Homer? Will you marry me?”
“I guess . . . if I have to . . .”
“Well, what else is there?”
“I don’t know. I guess there’s nothing else. Now, look. First off stop crying. I’ll see you tomorrow, or soon as I can. Don’t say anything to anybody. I’m not going to leave you. I’ll be here with you.”
“But will you marry me?”
“Kathy, please. Elwood might be back anytime. I’ll come see you tomorrow. I promise.”
“Promise.”
“I swear.”
“Homer, do you love me?”
He looked into her fawnlike eyes, then nodded.
“Say it, Homer.”
“I love you, Kathy.”
The moon continued its upward arch across the dark, seamless canvas of sky.
* * *
Shad Parker had eaten as much of the chicken as he was going to, at least this night, and was going up against the bottle. The boy had been right when he said “you can’t eat all them chickens.” Shad ate only one, and only part of that one. The other four he plucked and hung in the smokehouse. He wondered how the three youngsters were going to prepare the bird they took up to the cave with them. He doubted if they had a pan or kettle, but he wasn’t going to think about it, or them, if he could help it.
They had introduced themselves by name, but Shad purposely didn’t pay attention to the girl as she told him who they were. Shad didn’t want to know their names or anything about them. Better they remain nameless, faceless, and better still if they got out of the cave and out of his life. But he couldn’t help thinking about them, particular
ly the girl. And he did remember that her name was Peg. Her eyes were twin pits of tragedy, but somehow there was still an aspect of strength, even dignity, about her little face and frame. It was apparent that she was mother as well as sister to the smaller boy. As for the older one, it was apparent that he sought no pity, nor even quarter. He would be a fighter when he grew up, if he grew up—if any of them grew up. But then Shad’s children never grew up. One of them didn’t even get born.
Chapter 16
There was nothing left of the chicken except bony remains, and Austin leaned against the wall of the cave and gnawed on the last of the chicken leg.
They had plucked the bird and used Austin’s pocketknife to cut it up, and somehow Peg had managed to fry the parts on the sharp ends of sticks. A couple of times the sticks burned through and fell into the fire along with the chicken parts, but Peg succeeded in retrieving most of the parts and all three of them succeeded in eating the cooked meat, including some of the ashes from the fire that the parts had fallen into.
Peg emerged from out of the shadows, walked close to Austin, and sat near him.
“He’s already asleep.”
“Sure ate his share of that bird,” Austin said.
They were no longer hungry. But they were tired. More than tired. Weary. Almost worn out. They sat in silence for a moment, looking at the dwindling fire.
Austin placed another branch on it from the fallen tree and sat back close to Peg again.
“You’re a good cook, Peg.”
“When I got something to cook.” She tried to smile.
“I know.”
They sat, wordless shadows for a few moments.
“Austin.”
He looked at her.
“What we gonna do?”
He ran his dirty fingers through his hair and wiped at his mouth.
“Austin?”
“I don’t know.” He tossed the bone into the fire. “You want to go back to . . . that place?”
Peg didn’t answer. She just stared into the fire.
“You want to go back to old Miss Stench? She’d really have it in for us now. I can’t abide the way that she treats you,” Austin pointed at a dark corner, “and little Davy, whacking him like she does.”
“I know . . . maybe . . .”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe this time somebody’ll come along who’d take all three of us.”
“Who? Who needs three more mouths to feed in times like these? ’Sides, there’s no new people coming into Palestine. People are leaving, going west or north and they ain’t taking no extra baggage with them. No, Peg, if we go back, it’s to stay—at least till I can get out and find someplace for all three of us.”
“I know. But, poor Davy, I just don’t know how much more of this he can take, either.”
Silent shadows again.
“Austin.”
“What?”
“That man down there in the cabin . . .”
“What about him?”
“I don’t think he’s as mean as he lets on.”
“I do.”
“He gave us that chicken, didn’t he?”
“We’re just lucky that cougar came along when he did, otherwise we wouldn’t’ve got nothing from him, and don’t expect to get anything more.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Peg, you know those men we saw today? Those three of ’em?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they said they was coming from a place near here. Said there was a family there, the Davises. Isn’t that what they said?”
Peg nodded.
“Well, tomorrow, you and Davy stay here. I’ll go find the Davis place. See what they’re like. Maybe I can find some work there. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”
“I guess so.” Peg yawned, tired and sleepy.
“Get some rest, Peg.”
“I will.” She touched his hand. “Austin, things’ll come right.”
He nodded and did his best to smile.
* * *
Naked, she lay on the canopied bed. Uncovered. Unashamed. Only a part of him was covered with a towel.
At the Appaloosa or on the street, he, like all the others, called her Yellow Rose. But here, in her room, in her bed, she was Rosalind. His body hard and strong, though past the mid-fifties mark, Elwood Hinge kissed the lips of Rosalind DuPree, an after-passion kiss. She smiled and did not move. Then the smile faded.
“El . . . I’ve got to leave.”
“You going to the Appaloosa tonight?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He rose, leaned on one elbow, and looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m leaving Gilead.”
“Rosalind . . .”
“It’s no use, El. It’ll soon be Christmas, then New Year. I’m not going to spend another year here. There’s nothing for me here.”
“Nothing?”
“Except you, El.”
“But that’s not enough. What about your half of the Appaloosa?”
“Hooter said he’d buy me out. Not for what it’s worth, but that’s all right. I’ll just consider it a business loss. I’ve lost before.”
“Where you going?”
“Not sure. Someplace different. Anyplace. Maybe San Francisco.”
“Well, San Francisco is different, all right.”
“What’s the matter, El?” She smiled. “Don’t you think that I can compete with the girls in San Francisco?”
“Rosalind, far as I’m concerned you haven’t got any competition with anybody, anyplace. And you haven’t got any business . . .”
“Now, El, don’t get maudlin, please. Don’t even get ordinary. That’s one of the things I liked about you right from the start. You weren’t ordinary, like the rest of them.”
“Neither are you, Rosalind.”
“All right, so we’re a couple of extra-ordinary people. We met. We . . . well, here we are.” Rosalind patted the bed. “We had something. Something good. But how long can it stay good? No, El, it’s time for me to move on again.”
“You mean to run away again? Like you been running since New Orleans?”
“What’s the alternative? The Appaloosa . . . and you?”
“Does it have to be both of us, the Appaloosa and me? Isn’t one enough?”
“Which one?” She smiled again.
“Cut it out, Rosalind. You know what I’m talking about.”
“No, I don’t think it is enough, El. Not because I don’t love you, because I guess I do, at least as close as I’m able to come to love. I just don’t think it’s right and after a while you wouldn’t, either. Somebody would say something, somebody I knew once at the Appaloosa or one of the other places, and you, dear El, would have to defend my . . . honor.”
“We could go someplace else, Wyoming, the Oregon Territory. Look, Rosalind, I’m not much, not educated like you. Hell, I was the oldest soldier in our outfit, and I’m pretty damn old to be a lawman, most of ’em don’t last this long, but I’ve got some money coming and . . .”
“El, not only are you not ordinary, you’re noble. And I appreciate it, with all my heart. But it wouldn’t work. There are too many ghosts. Living ghosts. Now, you’d better get back to your duties. You’ve been here a lot longer than usual.”
“Rosalind.”
“No, El. We’ll talk another time.”
“All right. Are you going to . . . the Appaloosa tonight?”
“No. Not tonight.”
* * *
Deek Keeshaw had been shaved again by Tony and had gotten doused again with lilac toilet water. He had stopped by the Eden, met up with his brothers, proceeded with them to the New Heidelberg, and eaten a steak.
He had made it a point to look into the sheriff’s office to see if Hinge had returned. He hadn’t. So the Keeshaws then proceeded to the Appaloosa, had a few drinks, and sat in on a poker game.
But once again Deek Keeshaw’s mind was
not set on poker. Once again Yellow Rose had failed to appear and once again Deek’s game suffered for it. Once again the shave and lilac toilet water had gone for naught. He sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it and the money on Francine or that bag of bones, Stella Bright. So Deek played poker and kept one eye on the saloon door for Yellow Rose and the other eye across the street for the sheriff. While doing so he lost six dollars and twenty-five cents.
Yellow Rose never did appear. After about an hour Deek quit playing poker and stood by the window. It wasn’t too long before he spotted the sheriff across the street. Damn, if he wasn’t coming from the direction of the Eden.
Deek intended to go over and talk to Hinge, find out what he could about the disposition of the prisoners, but thought it best to wait until the deputy left.
As the door opened Homer Keeler looked up with a start. His head had been burrowed into both palms.
“What’s the matter, Homer? You sick?”
“No, sir, not exactly?”
“Not exactly? What’s that mean?”
“Well, sir . . . it’s just that I’ve got a . . . There’s a situation . . .”
“Has it got anything to do with them prisoners back there?”
“Uh, no, sir.”
“Well, then, I guess it’s none of my business—and will you quit sir’n’ me like that!”
“Yes, sir, I mean . . . Well, Elwood, you know I got a lot of respect for you and I was wonderin’, can I ask you for some advice?”
“You can if you get up and let me sit in my chair.”
Homer bolted up from the chair and the sheriff sat in front of the rolltop.
“What is it, Homer?”
“Well, you know I haven’t got any kin, leastwise around here, so you’re about the closest . . .”
“What is it, Homer?” Hinge repeated.
“Kathy Lewis.”
“What about her?”
“She . . . That is, she and I . . .”
“Are you gonna have a baby?”
“How’d you know?!” Homer seemed startled.
“Oh, just a wild guess. That and the way you’re stuttering and stammering and look like you’re gonna wet your pants. So what are you gonna do?”
“Well, she wants us to get married.”
“That’s not unusual.”
“I know . . . but I’m not sure I’m geared to gettin’ married.”
The Christmas Trespassers Page 11