Beloved Enemy, The (House of Winslow Book #30)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Well, what do I do now?”

  “Don’t you remember the rehearsal?” Hannah asked gently. “We went through it all.”

  Missouri Ann swallowed convulsively. “I don’t remember a thing.”

  “Kat will walk up the aisle and throw flowers. Then Hannah and I will go down one at a time,” Jenny said. “And then you step out and go down the aisle. When you get there, Dad will greet you, and you’ll turn around and face Brother Crutchfield. Just say what he tells you to say, and you’ll be fine.”

  Suddenly Missouri Ann laughed shortly. “I haven’t been so skeered since I got surprised by that grizzly lookin’ for her cubs. I had only one shot in my rifle. If I hadn’t hit her right in the brain, she would have et me.”

  “Well, Dad’s not a grizzly. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in years.”

  “All right. If you say so.”

  The three women stood there, and then Kat came bursting in. She was wearing a new pink dress with a bow in her hair and a basket of flower petals in her hand. “They’re ready to start! Do I go now?”

  “Yes, go now. You look very pretty.”

  Kat hitched her skirt up and shook her head. “I don’t like dresses. Overalls are more fittin’.”

  She left the room, and Jenny said, “The longer we live down here, the worse her grammar gets. She does look pretty, though.”

  Hannah had the door cracked, and she watched for a moment, then said, “Here I go.” She stepped out, and Jenny took her place.

  In a few moments, Jenny said, “My turn. Now, you walk very slowly, just like we practiced. All right, Ma?”

  The words seemed to encourage Missouri Ann. She nodded but could not utter a word.

  Standing there listening to the music with the women who were about to become her legal daughters, Missouri Ann Ramey could hardly believe what was happening. When her first husband died a couple of years ago, she had resigned herself to a solitary life in a small house in the deepest part of the woods. She had learned to fend for herself, and the thought of remarriage had never once entered her mind. But as time went on she began to yearn for a husband and started to think about having more children. When she found Lewis Winslow almost unconscious with a broken leg, God spoke to her and said in effect, “You will marry this man, and you will bear his children.” Thinking back, she remembered how she blurted out this revelation to Lewis and how he had turned pale and would have run away if he’d had two sound legs. A reluctant smile tugged at her broad lips, and she shook her head. “It’s a wonder he didn’t run off—broken leg or not,” she muttered.

  And then the sound of the wedding march came, and Missouri Ann suddenly bowed her head. “Lord, I’d appreciate it if you’d help me get through this.”

  Opening the door, she began to walk down the aisle, and somehow a great calm settled on her. She looked over the congregation and noticed Mayor Potter Flemming with his wife, Ellen, turning to smile at her. H. G. Huntington and his much younger wife, Edith, were smiling also. There was Jude Tanner, the big blacksmith who played the mandolin, and Dr. Harrison Peturis, a big shambling bear of a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a full beard. Jesse Cannon, who had served under General Longstreet in the Civil War, sat with his wife, Dolly.

  She passed them all, and a feeling of pride swelled within her as she realized that, despite her apprehensions, these people were her friends, and they wished her well.

  Finally she looked up and saw Lewis waiting for her at the altar, so handsome that she felt inhibited in his presence. She faltered and he smiled broadly. The smile did everything. It made her feel like a woman. He always made her feel like this—like a beautiful, delicate woman, despite her size and lack of culture. She came to stand beside him, and then she turned, and Devoe Crutchfield began speaking.

  “We are gathered together in the sight of God and in this company to unite in holy wedlock this man, Lewis Winslow, and this woman, Missouri Ann Ramey….”

  Missouri Ann listened to the words. They had a beauty and power that swept through her so that tears came to her eyes. There was something so solemn and so rich in those words—words that had been spoken millions of times, she supposed, yet somehow she knew she and Lewis would love each other as long as they both lived. Finally, when Lewis had slipped the ring on her finger, Devoe Crutchfield said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Missouri Ann turned, and Lewis put his hand on her cheeks, leaned forward, and kissed her firmly on the lips. Then he whispered, “I love you, Missouri Ann.”

  The world seemed to explode with color and music for her, and she smiled broadly and said, “I’ll be the best wife I know how, Lewis.”

  The couple turned and walked out to the triumphant swell of the small pedal organ, and the congregation broke into spontaneous applause as the two disappeared out the front door.

  ****

  The Bethel Church was a converted barn, made into a church when Devoe Crutchfield had been dismissed from the First Baptist Church in town after a disagreement among the elders over an alleged scandal. The rift had caused a painful split in the church, with much of the congregation supporting Reverend Crutchfield and following him to the new church. Many others in the community had joined as well, some who had never set foot in a church before, coming to hear his powerful preaching and getting baptized into the faith. The congregation showed their support by working endlessly to transform the old barn into a comfortable and roomy church, donating their time and whatever materials they could find. The men had divided the large space in two—one half for the sanctuary, and the other half for a meeting hall, where the reception for Lewis and Missouri Ann now was being held.

  The large room was quite bare, with wooden walls and floor, so the voices and laughter caused quite a commotion as the guests enjoyed their punch and wedding cake. Despite the jovial atmosphere and happy occasion, Josh Winslow had an urgent desire to whirl and leave through the nearest door. He knew that Dora Skinner was standing across the room from him. His eyes had met hers once, and though he had turned away, he was swept by feelings for her he did not want to admit he still had. Every day he fought against powerful memories of Dora and of their intimate moments together, thoughts that sometimes assaulted him unexpectedly at night when he was almost asleep. His desire for her had tormented him in his prison cell, though he had hoped that after his conversion such impulses would wane, as had his desire for whiskey.

  But it was as though Dora sent out some strange and mysterious signal that exploded in his brain, especially now that she was in the same room with him. Even in the midst of the laughter and rejoicing about him, he struggled to shove the unwanted images and memories out of his mind.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello, Josh?”

  Swallowing hard, Josh turned and kept his face as still as possible. “Hello, Dora. It’s good to see you again.” This was a lie, but it was the polite thing to say.

  “Why don’t you fix me some refreshments. I like a man to wait on me.”

  The words dripped with meaning. There was a brilliant light in her wide eyes, and her lips, red and soft, seemed to draw Josh’s gaze.

  “Of course,” he said quickly. He turned and busied himself getting a slice of cake and a glass of punch. When he came back he handed them to Dora, who said, “Let’s stand over there. I want to hear what you’ve been doing since you got out.”

  There was no avoiding this, so Josh followed her. He caught a glimpse of Jenny, who was watching him unsmilingly. He took his eyes away from his sister and tried to act nonchalant. “How have you been, Dora?”

  “I’ve been fine….” She drew out the last word in a sultry voice. “Ever so lonesome, of course, while you were gone.”

  He remembered the slight huskiness in her voice from other, more intimate, circumstances. He could not drive the images from his mind, and he was well aware that Dora knew exactly what her presence was doing to him. It seemed to bring her a mixture of satisfaction and possibly greed. She did not p
hysically touch him, but in all other ways he was intensely aware of her presence, of her lips, eyes, and hands, and of the lush figure that strained against the material of her dress.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t been by to see me.”

  Josh then did look into her eyes. “I’ve been a little busy.”

  “Too busy to see me?”

  Josh had never known such an inner struggle. He wondered briefly, God, why are you letting this woman get to me like she is? Why don’t you just rip it out of me? I wish you would, and I ask you to do it now. He waited for God to answer his prayer, but for some reason he felt the urges within him increase rather than diminish. He felt he had to get out of there, and he suddenly knew he had to break this off. “I’ve got something to tell you, Dora.”

  “What is it?” Her eyes were teasing and her lips provocative.

  “While I was in prison I found the Lord.” He saw a sudden change in Dora’s eyes and felt strengthened, knowing that somehow this had struck a chord in her. He then spoke earnestly, telling her how God had taken away from him all desire for drink and ending with, “So I won’t be going back to my old ways.”

  “You don’t want to drink anymore?”

  “No, it’s a miracle.”

  “And you don’t want me anymore, Josh?”

  Josh hesitated only for a fraction of a moment, but Dora saw it. He said, “I’m not going to let myself think about that. What we had was wrong, Dora. Maybe you don’t think so, but I do. It cost me my reputation and a month of my life, and I’ll be carrying some memories around I’d just as soon not.”

  Dora stared at him intensely. “You think that now, but that’s not the way it will be.”

  Josh said plainly, “Let me go, Dora. You have to. We have nothing for each other.”

  Dora Skinner had never been dismissed. Anger flickered in her eyes and something else—a grim determination—but she smiled and said, “I’ll be seeing you, Josh. You’ll be back.” She turned and walked away, leaving the room. The eyes of practically everyone in the reception hall followed her, then they swung back to look at Josh. Josh went over to Jenny at once and said, “That’s all. It’s finished.”

  Jenny put her hand on his arm. She wanted to hug him, but she contented herself by saying, “I’m very proud of you, Josh.” Then hesitantly she added, “But Dora isn’t going to give up.”

  “You’re right about that. It’s a good thing I’m leaving soon.”

  ****

  The morning sun was bright and warmed the cold earth as Lewis and Josh stood in front of the bus station. The loamy odors of the field and the rising temperature heralded the approach of spring to both men. Josh had said good-bye to all the others, but Lewis had insisted on driving him to the bus station. He had also insisted on buying Josh his ticket, and now as they stood there waiting for Josh to board with the other passengers, Lewis reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills. He pushed them toward Josh, but Josh at once shook his head. “Dad, please don’t do that. Take it and use it for fixing up the place. You’ve done enough buying the bus ticket.”

  “You may need it, son. I know you’re broke.”

  “I won’t starve. Hopefully I’ll get one of those jobs.”

  “How will you live until then?”

  “I’ve got a little money.” Indeed, Josh did have the money that the warden had pressed into his hand. It wasn’t much, but he knew that at least he would not starve. “I’ll be sending back money as soon as I get a paycheck. I want to help fix the place up. I want it to be the showplace of the county, Dad. You and Ma will be dressed up just like rich planters one of these days, and I’ll be proud to say that’s my dad and my mom, the best mom and dad anybody ever had.”

  Lewis blinked and then chewed his lower lip to disguise his emotion. At one time he had almost given up on this boy, but now God had intervened, and it made Lewis feel as if he were swelling up inside with the pride that now came to him. He looked at Josh, studying the clear gray eyes of the tall, strong figure, and then he reached down and pulled his watch from his vest. He loosened the chain and extended it toward Josh. “You can’t refuse this,” he said.

  “Dad, I can’t take your watch! It was Sky Winslow’s.”

  “Yes, it was. It’s got a good heritage. We’ve got a good family, son.”

  Josh took the watch and stared at it. He had admired it all of his life, and now his hands trembled slightly as he held it. Sky Winslow had been his hero. He had cherished the stories of the man who had been almost a legend in his own time. He held it, knowing that he could not refuse it. “I’ll keep it the rest of my life, Dad. I’ll give it to your grandson one day.”

  “Good, son!”

  “Get on if you’re goin’!” the bus driver yelled at them.

  Josh reached forward, embraced his father, and received his hug. The two men stood there a moment, and then Josh stepped back. “Good-bye, Dad. I’ll write. Take care of the family.”

  “You take care of yourself. God bless you, son.”

  Lewis Winslow watched Josh get on the bus. He stood waving as Josh pressed his face to the window. Finally the bus pulled out, and Lewis waited until it had disappeared, then turned and walked slowly back to the truck, feeling a sense of pride in Josh that stirred him more than he thought possible.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A Matter of Pride

  By the time the pale sun had positioned itself high in the sky, Josh was already filled with a despondency that was shared by many other men who stood in front of the ugly brick building. The sign hanging on the front read Ingalls Manufacturing Company. The sign was new, even though the building was old. Some architect had, no doubt, been told that beauty was not a necessary ingredient for a building dedicated to the manufacture of wheelbarrows and other construction equipment, and he had obviously been obedient to the suggestion. The building was nothing more than a matchbox enlarged ten thousand times, with opaque-glass windows widely spaced along all three floors. They seemed to stare out at the men gathered beneath the facade with malevolent intent. The brick itself had been stained by time and weather and had degenerated from what had probably been a dull red into a smoky, leprous gray. The factory sat in the middle of a field shorn of every blade of grass and every tree, anything that had life, so that the hard gray surface lay bare to the pale rays of the March sun. The sun itself seemed to be a dull orange wafer pasted in the sky, giving off neither heat nor warmth but simply hanging there, a dreary ornament for an unattractive world.

  Josh felt his shoulder nudged and turned to see a thin man whose clothes hung on him, accentuating the sharp angles of his shoulder blades. The coat was so small that his bony wrists stuck out, and his fingers were scarred, the knuckles nearly twice the normal size. He cracked his hands together and twisted his catfish mouth into a sneer. With a vile curse he said loudly in Josh’s ear, “There ain’t no jobs! There never was any jobs.”

  Josh turned quickly and stared into the man’s muddy brown eyes. They seemed to be opaque with nothing behind them, no sign of life or joy or humor, simply instruments that enabled him to make his way through the world without running into things. “Why, there have to be jobs. Why would they advertise?”

  “Advertise? They ain’t advertised! You didn’t see it in no paper, did you?”

  “A friend of mine said he did.”

  “Well, your friend is a liar. It’s always this way. Somebody says, ‘We’d better hire five new men,’ and by the time the gossips get through with it and it gets to punks like you and me, they’re sayin’ they need five hundred.”

  Josh stared at the gangling form, taking in the gaunt face that looked as hopeless as the many others milling around the pair. All wore tattered clothing, mostly old suit coats, and almost all of them had soft felt hats pulled down over their heads as far as possible. “I don’t believe it,” Josh said defiantly.

  “You probably believe in the Easter bunny, too, and the tooth fairy. I’m gettin’ out of here. It’s a wast
e of time.” With a final curse and lifting his raw-knuckled hand with a shake at the Ingalls Manufacturing Company, the man turned and shoved his way out of the crowd, using his shoulders to clear a way. There were murmurs of discontent, but the men were too cold and weary and hungry to fight among themselves.

  Josh’s feet hurt, and he was hungry. He had had only a doughnut and two cups of coffee for breakfast, and now gloom settled over him like a palpable curtain. He had been so hopeful when he’d left home, but as soon as he had arrived at Ingalls and seen the huge crowd of men milling around, he had begun to doubt the truth of what he’d heard. He slapped his arms to get his circulation going and saw that the crowd was thinning out. They simply turned and walked away, hopelessness written on their features. A stubbornness rose in Josh Winslow, and the thought pounded at his mind, Well, I’m not leaving. I’ve come this far, and I’m going to stay until they tell me to my face that there are no jobs.

  The virulence of his thoughts surprised him, for he had taken the easy way for most of his life. Born into a rich family, spoiled and given every luxury, he had not been trained to throw himself against an obstacle. He remembered how shocked he had been when the market had crashed and he had found himself destitute, along with the rest of his family. Shame brushed against his mind as the memory came of how he had drunk himself into insensibility and finally had wound up selling moonshine liquor so that he could buy more whiskey. He quickly put that out of his mind, for he had learned that those thoughts would bring him down quicker than anything else. He remembered his friend from prison, Thad Gilbert, who had led him to the Lord, saying, “The minute you begin thinking, Josh, that you can’t do it, that all is going to go wrong, that God’s just a figment of your imagination, that He’s forgotten you—you can believe you didn’t think of those things yourself. The devil can put doubts in your mind. The thing to do, brother, is simply look right up and tell the old devil, ‘You didn’t die for me on a cross. Jesus did, and He’s told me that everything He begins He finishes. So you go right ahead and take your best shot, for I’m on the side of Jesus, and He never loses!’”