The Last Virginia Gentleman

by Michael Kilian

  His title of “Captain” doubtless sounded like a silly honorific to some, but Showers took it seriously. His father had volunteered for military service in World War II, had volunteered for combat and been decorated for singular performance in it. Showers’ family had been represented on both sides of the Civil War, and at least two of those who had fought for the Confederacy had died of horrible wounds incurred in terrible battles here on the soil of Virginia.

  He hadn’t deluded himself about some of his motives for entering the ROTC program in college. The two years’ active duty that were required of him after graduation meant two more years in which he could keep away from his father, two more years to defer taking any responsibility for his family’s deteriorating affairs. But his army time had been of more consequence to him than that. It was also with his grandfather in mind-all his forebears—that he had first put on a uniform. England’s Prince Edward, dropping out of the Royal Marines to become a theatrical stagehand, could not have experienced more shame than Showers would have felt avoiding military service.

  Unfortunately, the army had not indulged him completely in his wishes to follow in the family footsteps. He’d twice requested duty with infantry units, only to be denied by a computer-programmed assignment system that had sent him to Germany for a year to serve as an administrative officer with an intelligence unit, and then for another year running the army riding stables at Fort Bragg. To compensate for this, he’d maintained his reserve commission long after he needed to, and then joined a local National Guard unit, remaining as active as his foreign service career would permit.

  The unit had been activated only once, during the Persian Gulf war, but his State Department assignment had taken precedence, and he’d been involuntarily excused from active duty. He’d regretted that deeply. He never wanted to regret such a failure to meet a challenge again.

  It was raining by the time he reached his farm, a steady, pounding rain that had turned the waning day instantly to night. In the bouncing flair of his headlights as he turned into his yard, he saw Becky standing out in the midst of it, her head wet and bowed, her arms hanging limply. Alixe, pulling up first, ran to her. Showers slewed the Jeep to a halt nearby, leaving the engine running.

  Becky looked up at them, her eyes wild. One seemed oddly misshapen. Her whole face did. Her lips were swollen. There was clotted blood on her chin. She was whimpering.

  “For God’s sake, child, what happened?” Alixe shouted.

  “They’re after Billy. The sheriff’s after Billy.”

  “Billy was here?”

  “The sheriff’s going to put him in jail.”

  Showers put his arm around her and began to pull her toward his house, but she wouldn’t budge. “Get her some dry clothes!” he shouted to Alixe. “Hurry!”

  As Alixe lunged away toward the cottage, Showers picked Becky up in his arms, surprised at how heavy she was. With great effort, he got them up the slippery porch stairs and into his house, laying the girl down on his living room couch. She had begun to cry, staring up at him helplessly. She had three good-sized bruises on her face, the nastiest alongside her eye. Her lip was badly cut at the corner.

  “Billy did this to you?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “And the sheriff has him?”

  “He’s after him. It’s my fault.”

  “How did the sheriff get here?”

  “I called him.”

  She began sobbing in earnest, lifting herself to bury her injured face in his arms. The door slammed as Alixe came in, a large bundle of clothes and towels in her arms.

  “Get your first aid kit,” she said. “And then get scarce for a few minutes. This girl needs to get dry in a hurry!”

  By the time Showers returned from the kitchen with his medicine box, Alixe had removed Becky’s blouse.

  “Don’t stand there ogling her, man!” Alixe said. “Go make some coffee. And bring back some bourbon with it.”

  He came back this time to find Becky sitting up, snug in a terry cloth robe, her hair all frizzled from Alixe’s efforts with a towel. She winced as the older woman dabbed at her lip with antiseptic. She had stopped crying.

  “You’re sure you don’t feel dizzy?” Alixe asked. “You can see my face clearly?”

  “Yes. I’m all right.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want a doctor? Why didn’t the sheriff take you to a doctor?”

  “I wouldn’t let him. And he went after Billy. He said he was going-to throw him in jail.”

  Showers set down his tray. It bore three steaming cups of coffee, and a nearly full bottle of bourbon.

  “Pour out half of one of those and fill it with whiskey for her,” Alixe said over her shoulder. Becky was shivering.

  Showers did as bidden. The girl took the cup greedily, swallowing and then coughing. Her shoulders heaved, then stilled.

  “I’ll have one of those, too, David,” said Alixe. She reached to touch Becky’s cheek. “There’s no fracture. I hope there’s no concussion.”

  Becky drank again. There was still a slightly crazed look in her eyes. “I’m all right. I was afraid he was going to do worse. I ran and called the sheriff. I don’t think he believed I’d do it. He left. The sheriff came and then turned around and went after him.”

  “What were you doing standing out there in the rain?” Alixe said.

  “I was afraid. I didn’t want to go back inside.”

  “You should have run to my place. Where were my boys? They’re supposed to be looking after the horses over here.”

  “They went back to your stable for something. I guess they were waiting for the rain to stop before they came back.”

  “This’ll be the last time that happens. I’ll make sure there’s at least one man over here twenty-four hours a day.”

  Showers sat down. “What did Billy want, Becky? Did he come here just to hurt you, or was he after the stallion?”

  “No. Not that.”

  “What then?”

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter! Just keep him away from me! Please!”

  “Becky,” Showers said. “It might be best if you went back to your parents for a while. Just until we clear up this problem with the horse.”

  “No.”

  “Becky, please.”

  “No! If I go back there, that’ll be the end of everything.”

  “You’ll be safe there. I don’t know why we should have to be worrying about that, but under the circumstances—”

  “I don’t want to go! I want to be here. I want you to be here! I want the horse to be here! Why is all this happening? It’s like I’m cursed or something. Shit!”

  “You just picked the wrong man for a husband,” Alixe said. “You’re sure as hell not the first one to do that.”

  “I’ll take care of Billy,” Showers said quietly. He rose. “If he’s not at the sheriff’s office, I’ll find him.”

  “You just be careful, David,” Alixe said. “There are a lot more Bonnings in this town than there are Showerses.”

  “I’m not worried about Bonnings.”

  “You sure are having a lot of trouble out your way, Captain Showers.”

  Sheriff Cooke ushered Showers into his office, leaving a sleepy-looking deputy to man the front desk. It seemed a quiet night. The two-way radio was silent. No phones rang.

  “You have Billy Bonning here?”

  “Sit down, Captain. Please. Coffee?”

  Showers did so, shaking his head at the offer of refreshment.

  “Yeah, I’ve got Billy,” the sheriff said. “Got him in one of the detention cells in back. My only customer tonight.”

  “A frequent customer.”

  The sheriff grinned. “Bad Boy Billy has graced us with his presence more than once. I think the first time we had him for the night he was all of sixteen. Drunk and disorderly. When he got old enough, he started doing his drinking at the inn, where you can get away with that.”

  “Is that where you found him?
”

  “No. He was at the Raiders Motel. His new lady friend keeps a room there. It was the first place I looked.”

  “Did she tell you he was with her all evening?”

  “No, not this time. Hell, he was soaking wet.”

  “He attacked Becky. He hurt her quite badly.”

  “I know. I hate these domestic quarrels. We get more calls on those than anything else.”

  “This wasn’t a domestic dispute, Sheriff. The man trespassed on my property, broke into the cottage, and attacked Becky.”

  “Maybe so, maybe not. She won’t press charges, you know. I asked her to file a complaint, but she just stood there screaming at me. I called your place a few minutes ago, and she wouldn’t even come to the phone. Miss Percy gave me a hard time about it. Wouldn’t let Becky talk to me.”

  “So bloody what?”

  “Do you know how many of these domestic hassles we get? I’d have to ask for an annex to the county jail if I charged every husband who took a whack at his wife, or vice versa.”

  “They’re no longer married.”

  “Well, technically they are. The divorce won’t be final for a year. I tell you, Captain, we get these things all the time, especially when there’s a divorce involved.”

  “You said ‘if I charged every husband.’ Haven’t you charged Bonning?”

  “Like I told you, Captain. Becky wouldn’t file a complaint. There were no witnesses or anything. We don’t know what the hell happened. I locked him up for the night. It’s the least I could do. But it’s also the most. Unless he’s charged, I’ve got to let him out in the morning.”

  “Sheriff, this man is a danger to Becky, a danger to my horses, a danger to the town. He tried to steal a horse from someone at the auction. He was on my property the night of the barn fire. It’s more than probable he started it.”

  “You and Miss Percy have already given me an earful of that. But the investigator from her insurance company found no suspicious cause. I couldn’t find anything! The fire started in some hay. You know barn fires. That can happen spontaneously in weather like this. And nobody filed any kind of complaint about horse theft. As I understand it, Miss Percy came home with that horse and sold him to you.”

  “That doesn’t change what happened.”

  “Get someone to sign a complaint. I’ll charge him and we’ll bring him to trial. Gather up your witnesses. But in the meantime, all I’ve got down on the log is a domestic. You can hardly blame the guy for going out of control. Look at what’s happened to him in the last few weeks. You fired him. His wife threw him out. And his sister got murdered by her husband. What would you do?”

  Showers glowered at the sheriff. His father would have dealt with the man decisively. He would have told Cooke that he’d be out of office after the next election. And he and his fellow horsemen would have made that stick.

  “I want to talk to him, Sheriff.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You let me talk to him, now, or I’ll go to Judge Merrick and get a court order to do so.”

  Judge Merrick had been a friend of his father’s. The judge did not like Sheriff Cooke. Horsemen of the stature of Lynwood Fairbrother and Showers could get whatever they wanted from the judge, though Showers had never before abused this peculiar privilege. To his mind, using it in any way was abusing it.

  “Judge Merrick can’t write you any paper that’ll make me overturn proper procedure,” the sheriff said. “But, all right. I’ll give you a few minutes with him. Just don’t get him riled up again, and don’t get near the bars.”

  Bonning was sitting on the floor in the rear of his cell, smoking a cigarette.

  “Fuck you, Showers,” he said, by way of greeting.

  Showers stood without speaking until the sheriff, understanding Showers’ mind, turned and walked away down the corridor.

  “Why did you come to my farm tonight, Billy?” He kept his voice very low. “Did you come for the stallion?”

  “I don’t give a shit about any horse of yours, Captain. You’ve got nothing but nags and hacks.”

  “Why did you come?”

  “I wanted to talk to Becky.”

  “Were you there the night of the fire?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “What did you want from Becky? Money? Information about my horse?”

  Bonning flicked his cigarette out between the bars, narrowly missing Showers. He lighted another.

  “I came to get something that belongs to me. Something I left behind.”

  “You’ve taken everything that belongs to you, and a few things that were mine.”

  “This wasn’t yours. It was a videotape. One of mine. I’ve got a right to my property.”

  “You took that tape. The night of the fire.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Why are you lying? Becky told me about it the next day.”

  Bonning’s blue eyes fixed on Showers. He had known the youth since he was a small boy, had had him living in his house. But he knew him not at all.

  “Yeah, so I was there the night of the fire. Half the town was out there. With everyone running around, it gave me a chance to … well, I went into the cottage and looked for the tape.”

  “You took it!”

  “I couldn’t find it. She’s stashed it somewhere. But it’s mine, damn it.”

  “What’s on that tape?”

  “Vicky’s on it. It’s not something she’d want left around. Vicky was a funny girl, you know? I mean, we just put her in her grave. She doesn’t need any shit like that around to remember her by. I want it back. It’s mine. I went to Becky tonight but she wouldn’t give it to me.”

  Showers stepped up to the bars, gripping them tightly. His voice came out unnaturally deep, startling him as much as it did Bonning.

  “Billy, if you come anywhere near Becky again, if you put one foot on my property, if you even drive by slowly, I’ll kill you.”

  Bonning leapt to his feet. “Sheriff! This man just threatened to kill me! He said he’d kill me! Get him out of here!”

  Cooke appeared in the corridor. He’d been standing not far away.

  “I’m afraid I heard that, Captain. I think we’d better call it a night.”

  Showers dropped his arms to his sides, clenching his fists. He stared down at the floor a long moment, then started walking away.

  “Fuck you, Showers!” Bonning shouted after him. “I’m going to get what’s mine, you asshole!”

  In the outer office, the sheriff took Showers by the arm.

  “Look, Captain. I’ll take care of all this. But let’s not have any more trouble, all right?”

  The rain had stopped. Alixe was waiting for him in the darkness of the porch, sitting in a chair. She had a bottle and glass on the table beside her, and something metallic in her lap.

  “She’s asleep,” Alixe said. “It didn’t take too much hooch. You want some?”

  “Yes.”

  She slid him the bottle. He drank from it, like someone in a western movie.

  “You’ve got a lot of antique firearms in your house, David. Do you have a permit to go with them?”

  “Yes.”

  She took the object from her lap and set it on the table. It was a large revolver.

  “Take it,” she said. “I have a pile of them. My father left me a bloody arsenal. I gave the boys in the stable a couple of shotguns and I have one of these in the truck.”

  “I don’t need it,” Showers said. “I have my army automatic in my Jeep. I’ve had it there ever since the fire.”

  “Your father would be proud of you, David. He’d probably be laughing his head off over all this, but he’d be proud of you.”

  Ten

  At breakfast the next morning, Becky was very quiet, eating little and rising quickly to clear her place. In the kitchen, helping her with the dishes, Showers tried talking to her about Billy and all that had happened, but she would have none of it, saying simply she ne
ver wanted to hear about her estranged husband again. She seemed not so much sad or frightened as embarrassed—even ashamed. There was no point in asking her about the videotape. The bruises on her face now looked quite ugly, but she refused to go to the doctor and insisted she was suffering no pain.

  When they had finished the chores, he let her go off to the stables without another word. He wanted to check on Moonsugar, but decided to wait until later, allowing the girl to deal with her torments, if that’s what they were, unmolested.

  It wasn’t as though he lacked anything to do. His first concern was Robert Moody and his “official” and “unofficial” propositions. Showers would deal with both in straightforward manner. He got his old typewriter down again, deciding it would be just as well to leave it on his desk indefinitely. Only God and the devil knew what words he’d be required to bring forth from it in the next few weeks. The letter he wrote to Moody was very formal and official, but its body contained only one sentence: “Upon consideration of your offer, I find I must decline.”

  He read it over, then penned in a small correction, changing “offer” to “offers.” He put the letter in an express mail envelope, then drove into Dandytown to post it immediately, stopping afterward at the offices of Dandytown Bloodstock to look up the names of those listed as the owners of the stallion’s sire and dam. The sire’s was a breeder in Potomac, Maryland, whom he recalled having met once at the polo club there. The dam’s was a woman with a farm in Pennsylvania. Ned Haney told Showers he’d forwarded a copy of his letter to the outfit in New Jersey, but had heard nothing back. Indeed. The barn fire was reply enough.

  The day was very bright and sunny, cooler and drier than muggy yesterday. If the pastures were not too muddy, he thought he might take his hunter out for a ride. Perhaps Becky would be willing to accompany him. Or Alixe. Another name occurred to him. Lenore.

  Repeating a pattern that had recurred frequently over the long years of their relationship, Lenore had been all over him during race week, when he’d been at the center of attention and activity, but then she had drifted away when he’d resumed his dull, routine existence. She was a woman with a compulsive need for constant stimulation and amusement. He’d long before realized that his inability to provide that was at the heart of the failure of their long-ago marriage.