A Woman on the Place

by Harry Whittington

  “Get up, Rosanne.”

  “You pick me up, Will. You pick me up.”

  He looked around the room, glanced at the bedroom door.

  He knelt beside her, lifted her in his arms. Where he touched her, her flesh was hot, as if with fever. She was trembling.

  He held her in his arms, walked toward the front door. She pressed her face against his throat.

  There was a blanket on a straight chair. He picked it up, carried it dangling from his hand.

  He closed the door behind him and stepped out into the darkened front yard. The lighted house cast narrow oblong splotches of yellow on the black sand.

  He opened the door of the truck, set her inside. She was shivering with the chill, but her flesh remained feverish. She whispered, “How far we going, Will?”

  His laugh was soft in the darkness. “That depends on you, Rosanne.”

  He got into the truck beside her. For a moment she sat there before she realized he was not going to start the car. His hands closed on her, and in panic she thought he was honest about it, he was not gentle.

  Thank God, she thought. Thank God. She’d have died if he’d been gentle.

  The way he pulled off her dress told her he’d pulled off a lot of other dresses in a lot of other car seats like this one. Maybe this one. She tried to care. But she couldn’t care.

  “You’re going to be cold, Rosanne.”

  “No.”

  His finger caught the band that held her pony-tail. He snapped it. Her hair fell loose on the car seat.

  “Will.”

  “Come closer to me.”

  “I don’t even know how, do I, Will?”

  His voice had turned savage. “You know everything there is to know. You were born knowing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Love me then.”

  “Yes, Will.”

  “Like all them nights you been dreaming about me.”

  She gasped, bit back a scream.

  “Yes, Will.”

  Her head twisted back and forth, she writhed against him. Her fingernails clawed into him and she screamed his name into his ear, over and over until it wasn’t a lot of separate words but one word stretched out taut-to-breaking like a high sustained note on a violin. Loving him was all there was in the world for her, and his name was the only word she knew….

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  RHODES fell asleep in the chair beside Cousin Tom’s bed. He awoke with Will’s hand gently on his shoulder.

  “All right, boy. We’re going home now.”

  Mechanically, Rhodes stood up. Will lifted him easily.

  “It’s all right,” Rhodes protested. “I can walk, Will.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “Rhodes is a big boy,” Rosanne said. “He wouldn’t want you to carry him. He wants to rely on himself.”

  Rhodes was aware of Will’s soft laugh.

  “Rhodes relies on himself,” Will said. “But it don’t hurt none to be helped a little — at three o’clock in the morning, when you’re tired and been up all night.”

  Rosanne followed them from the bedroom. Rhodes protested once more, but it was half-hearted. Will carried him so easily, he was hardly aware of being held. And Will was right about something else. It was a good feeling to know that Will cared enough about him still to carry him out to the car when he was sleeping. Will hadn’t done anything like that in years.

  Half asleep, Rhodes was aware that this was what he needed, to be reassured like this. Everything had changed since Rosanne had come down here from Alabama. It was fine to know Will hadn’t shut him completely out of his life.

  Rosanne walked out to the pick-up. She stood there as Will unloaded Rhodes like a sack of sugar on the front seat. Will got in under the steering wheel.

  Rosanne stood for a moment although the night was bitterly cold and she wore no wrap. She had her arms clasped across her breasts.

  She looked up at Will.

  “I’ll come back, Rosanne,” Will said.

  “Yes.”

  That was all they said. But Rhodes had read eighth grade poetry that had a lot less in it. He shivered on the front seat of the truck.

  Will drove the three miles slowly. He kept both hands on the wheel and he did not speak. He had his gaze glued on the lighted lane, but Rhodes was sure Will hardly saw it.

  Rhodes rode, jolted and half-awake, remembering the hours he’d sat in that room with Cousin Tom. The sounds from the other room, the rustling whispering sounds, the low voices and the long unbroken silences. He had felt the tension in that shack, and now in the truck some of it returned to torment him.

  Rhodes glanced at Will, the lean, sharp-hewn features, the hands tense on the wheel.

  He closed his eyes and his head rolled on the seat rest. In his mind he saw Rosanne, her lovely face, her full body, her gentle smile.

  • • •

  He swallowed back the lump in his throat. He devoutly wished she’d never come to the scrub country. Things had not been good before she came. You didn’t have to be grown, and wise, or all-seeing like Grandpa to know that Will was unhappy, and that maybe he’d never loved Rhodes’ mother, and that there were a lot of reasons for marriage besides love. But whatever Will Johnson’s reason had been for marrying Lena Burris, Rhodes had never once doubted that Will would take care of her with all his strength and all his will as long as she lived.

  Now he was no longer sure.

  He was afraid, and he wished Rosanne had never come here. He wished Cousin Tom had never brought her. Rhodes did not know how things would be from this night forward, but whatever they would be, they would not be the same again….

  • • •

  Rhodes sat with Grandpa on the last row in the County courtroom at Pine Flat.

  They were both dressed up. Lena had insisted that if they were to attend court, they were to go dressed up. Grandpa had fought harder than Rhodes against the idea. But Lena had won. “Will’s on trial,” she’d said. Her whine was more pronounced. There was more sickness in her voice. “He’s on trial for drunken assault. I want my family to look nice in that court — I don’t want people to think they’re all tramps.”

  “I’d feel like I was in church,” Grandpa whispered, “if I didn’t see so many people I know.”

  Will’s case was called. Will stepped from the first row and sat in a chair with his back to the spectators. He faced the judge, looking up at him across a polished desk.

  The charge was read. The original papers had called it “drunken assault with intent to kill.” In court this charge had been watered down to “unprovoked assault.”

  The county prosecutor called a long line of witnesses, beginning with Kannister, Cadman and Miller. Cadman and Miller were swathed in hospital bandages.

  The other witnesses were the men who’d been working in the picking crew. It did not take long. Most of them simply told the same story. Will Johnson had come to the groves, and they’d felt, although none was willing to swear that Will had been drunk. At least they were all sure he’d been drinking. He had attacked Cadman and Miller, unprovoked, and driven the pickers from the grove.

  The judge looked over his desk at Will. “Do you have an attorney, Mr. Johnson?”

  Will shook his head.

  “You know you’re entitled to counsel in this court. If you wish, we’ll postpone your trial until you have provided yourself with counsel.”

  “I don’t need a lawyer,” Will said. “It’s a simple matter of right. These people were trespassing. I drove them out. I didn’t want any trouble. I tried to tell them that.”

  “Did you have a gun, Mr. Johnson?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And were not these people on your premises through a contract negotiated with your wife, giving them the right of entry, to lawfully transact their business without disturbance, interference or hindrance?”

  “They had no contract with me.”

  “But with your wife?”

  “I�
��ve handled all business matters for the past six years. She’s made no contracts in that time. I make all the contracts.” Will’s voice shook. “I’d already told these people — ” he nodded his head toward Kannister, “not to come in my groves.”

  “You have neglected to answer my question. Were not these men lawfully on your property?”

  “I’d told them not to come.”

  “Answer the question, Mr. Johnson.”

  “They had a letter from my wife. But she doesn’t sign contracts.”

  “They had a contract with her?”

  “Yes. But she doesn’t make contracts — ”

  “You’ve answered my question. These people believed in their minds that they did have the legal right to enter the groves. Did they not?”

  “No, sir. In their minds they knew I’d run them out.”

  “That’s not true, sir. Mr. Kannister has already testified that so far as he knew the contract between him and Mrs. Johnson was legal and sufficient.”

  “He’s a liar.”

  “Mr. Johnson, I won’t tolerate any such accusations in my court. The testimony given by all witnesses is given under oath. Mr. Kannister has presented his contract in evidence of his good faith. Now let us get along to your actual attack on Mr. Cadman and Mr. Miller.”

  “I didn’t attack them. They tried to rush me. They tried to take the gun away from me.”

  “Isn’t it true, Mr. Johnson, that you were violent, fractious, and they attempted to subdue you, when you attacked them without cause?”

  “If you’ve got your mind made up, Judge, why did you bother to bring me in here? You could have jailed me or fined me without bothering to look at me.”

  “Mr. Johnson, you’re in contempt of court.”

  “Yes, sir. I guess so.”

  The clerk of court spoke up. “Would you like to apologize to the court, Mr. Johnson?”

  “If I’ve said anything that needs an apology, I apologize.”

  “Don’t talk too much, Johnson,” the clerk said.

  “You mean I’ve got to pretend I like the way things are run here?”

  The judge drew in his breath sharply. The clerk closed his fist on his pencil. “You have, unless you’d like to pay a fine for contempt. I’m only trying to warn you.”

  “I won’t tolerate another outburst,” the judge said.

  “Thank you, judge,” the clerk said.

  Will shook his head, looking up at the politician behind the desk, and across at the smaller, worried man who actually ran the court.

  “Had you been drinking, Mr. Johnson?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you went out there to your groves where these people were at work, drinking and armed with a lethal weapon?”

  “I went out to tell them what they already knew, I didn’t want them in my groves.”

  “And when Mr. Cadman and Mr. Miller attempted to restrain you and reason with you, you attacked them violently so that both were forced to receive hospital treatment?”

  “That’s one version of it, Judge. But it’s not quite true.”

  “And further that you attacked these two men without cause and provocation.”

  Will laughed sharply. “The whole crew left the groves, your honor. That was what I wanted. I didn’t attack these men without cause. They were going to stay in my groves, they were going to force me to let them stay there. That looks like all the provocation a man would need in God’s world.”

  The judge looked at the county prosecutor. “Have you anything else you wish to say?”

  The prosecutor shook his head, handed the judge a thick book in which he’d encircled a short paragraph of fines and sentences. The judge read the paragraph.

  “I find you guilty as charged,” he said. “Your fine will be three hundred dollars or ninety days in the county jail. If you elect to pay the fine, you may pay the clerk of the court.”

  Three hundred dollars more, Rhodes thought, staring at the back of Will’s head. One more debt. It looked like that was all Will needed now.

  Court was recessed. Rhodes and Grandpa moved up the narrow aisle and stood behind Will while he arranged payment of his fine with the clerk of court.

  “A week?” the clerk said. “That will be all right.” He pushed a sheet of paper toward Will. “Of course you understand, if the full amount is not paid within that time, you’ll be liable for a jail term of ninety days, plus whatever the judge might fine you for contempt.”

  Will scratched his name on the sheet of paper. “I’ll pay it,” he said. He nodded toward Rhodes and Grandpa. They followed him into the hallway.

  “Reckon where you’ll get a loan, Will?” Grandpa said.

  “I won’t get a loan,” Will answered. His voice was cold. “I’ll have to cut out some of the yearlings and sell them.”

  “What kind of price will you get now?”

  Will’s laugh was short. “It’s the best I know to do. Unless you and Rhodes want to run the farm by yourselves for the next ninety days.”

  “You know we couldn’t do that,” Grandpa said.

  Rhodes touched Will’s arm. “I’ll be pleased to help you cut out the yearlings, Will.”

  Kannister stepped out of the courtroom. He walked up to Will and extended his hand. Will just looked at it.

  “Sorry about the stiff fine, Will,” Kannister said.

  “Sure you are.”

  “Now, I’m sorry to see you take this attitude, Will,” Kannister said. He dropped his pudgy hand at his side, but went on smiling. “Looks like you’d see how it is. I’m a business man with my company’s interests to protect. There’s nothing personal in any of this.”

  “Funny, how I’m suppose to see your side of it,” Will said. “But you can’t understand how I’d want to protect my property.”

  “Looks like that kind of action didn’t buy you much,” Kannister said. “Looks like you’ll be needing some extra money here, Will. Now just to show you, my heart is in the right place, you sign a release on the rest of the groves out there, and well forget all about this breach of contract suit — and pay you a little bonus to help you through this immediate trouble.”

  Will took a deep breath. “Looks like you’re a man that can’t be told, Kannister. But I’m trying one more time. Stay away from my groves. If you come in out there again, I’ll start shooting, and I promise you, I’ll use that pretty Buick as the center of my target.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Kannister snapped. “Maybe you don’t know that threats like this can be dealt with through the law.”

  Will stared down at Kannister. The stout man flushed. Will’s mouth pulled in a wolfish grin.

  “If you’re real smart, Kannister, you’ll get to hell away from me. Now. You got sense to know you won’t ever get me back in a court on any small charge. If you try it, I’m going to fix you first. You see that, don’t you, Kannister? And whatever it costs me, it’s going to be worth it.”

  Kannister looked about helplessly. He took two steps backward, turned and started away. He stopped and spoke rapidly over his shoulder.

  “All right, Johnson. But don’t forget. My company is still suing you. And if you think you got a bad deal in this court — wait until our lawyer gets through with you in civil court.”

  Kannister turned then and scurried away down the dust-glinting corridor.

  They didn’t speak as they went out of the county court house and across the scabrous lawn to the pick-up truck parked at the curb.

  As Will started to get into the truck some one called to him. They saw Enoch Gaines come out of Doctor Beck-well’s office and hurry across the street.

  Will was in a bad mood, and it showed in his voice. He greeted Darl Hollister’s farm superintendent sharply. “Don’t tell me you’re running Darl’s messages now?”

  Enoch Gaines shook his head. “Just in town to see the Doc. Little touch of trouble. Nothing serious. No. I saw you and thought it would be friendly to warn you about Darl. I don’t know wh
at’s happened to him, but he seems set on taking your farm from you. Talks about it all the time.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You ought to see him, Will. He walks around that big place over there all day, talking about what he’s going to do. What he’s got to do, he calls it. It’s as though he’s trying to justify it in his own mind. I’d say he has a bad conscience, and has to soothe it before he can act in any positive manner.”

  Will smiled. “I might have said that, too, if I’d gone all the way through the University like you, Enoch.”

  Enoch grinned. “Maybe it was a little flowery, Will. But you’ve — well, you’ve been a good friend. I thought I ought to tell you.”

  Will nodded. He got into the truck then, started it and they went all the way home without speaking.

  Rhodes waited all that day for Will to mention the yearlings he was going to pen for market. Rhodes didn’t like to say anything. He and Will had always gotten along well. And suddenly now Rhodes was afraid to say anything that Will might consider criticism. He didn’t want Will to think that he had joined with the others against him.

  Will worked hard in the fields and around the barn. It seemed Will could always find a hundred things that needed to be done. Things that you’d never see alone. A man could be tired to the bone after following Will Johnson around that farm just one afternoon.

  As Rhodes worked silently behind Will, answering him only when Will spoke, doing anxiously everything he could to please him, he turned over in his mind the reasons why he would be afraid to mention the yearlings to Will.

  If the range cattle calves brought between thirty-five and sixty dollars a head, Will was going to have to sell at least a dozen of them to pay that fine. If he sold off some of the Santa Gertrudis breed, they might bring up to a hundred dollars a head, but Will was working hard with that herd, and to part with the yearlings now would put him months behind.