When Silence Sings

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Two boys already sat at the table. One looked to be sixteen or so, and the other maybe twelve. Younger brothers to Nell, Colman figured. There was no sign of her gun-toting father.

  Colman cleared his throat. “Will, uh, Mr. McLean be joining us?”

  “Daddy’s got a job riding the rails,” Nell said. “Sometimes he’s gone three or four days at a stretch.”

  Colman let his shoulders relax a notch. Maybe he wouldn’t get shot right off. “That so? You must miss him.”

  Nell huffed a breath but didn’t answer. The younger boy laughed. “Nell likes it when he’s gone—she can get some sparking in.” The older boy jostled his brother, although he looked like he didn’t really mind his brother giving their sister a hard time.

  “You boys hush,” Lena said as she carried a platter of fried rabbit to the table. Colman felt a rumble of hunger, which was a relief. Maybe his appetite was coming back. Nell added a bowl of kilt lettuce, giving her brother a mean look Colman guessed he wasn’t supposed to see. There was also a dish of spring peas with a pat of butter melting over the top and a basket of biscuits.

  Nell batted her eyes at him again. “There are strawberries for dessert. I picked them myself, so don’t go filling up on Momma’s cooking.”

  Colman smiled, wishing filling up were something he could do. He hoped to do the meal justice, but his stomach still turned on him unexpectedly. He hitched up his borrowed britches. If only he could put some meat back on his bones.

  Once everyone was seated, Colman said grace before they all dug in. Lena’s cooking was indeed delicious. But after only a few mouthfuls, Colman knew he wasn’t going to be able to eat enough to satisfy this good woman. She kept eyeing his plate as he moved the food around trying to eat another bite and then one more.

  “You ever get in a tangle with one of the McLeans?” Tim, the younger boy, asked.

  Lena reared back and looked like she was going to smack her son, but Colman jumped in before she could do so.

  “That’s a good question. If you’re going to let a Harpe sit at your table, it’s best to know what kind of man he is.” Lena relaxed but stayed wary. “I don’t guess I’ve ever really gotten caught up in the feud between our families. I’ve been trying to make my way as a preacher, and I’m supposed to turn the other cheek.”

  “But what about all your kin and the low-down way they’ve treated us?”

  “Timothy Davis McLean, you go outside right this minute!” His mother stood and pointed at the door.

  While he was grateful no one was paying attention to how much he was eating anymore, Colman figured he’d better take the reins before things got out of hand. “Now, the boy has a right to question a man who comes into his home and partakes of his hospitality.” Colman pushed his chair back some. “Of course, I’d probably say the Harpes haven’t done anything worse than the McLeans have.” He held up a hand before the boy could jump in. “Which doesn’t make either side right. Seems to me we all need to start over and let go all that business about Holy Spirit gifts.”

  Tim looked puzzled. “I don’t know what ‘Holy Spirit gifts’ are, but I do know a Harpe stole a mule from a McLean and then tricked the law into letting him go free.”

  Nell made a face. “It wasn’t about the mule. It was about the girl riding the mule who ran off with a Harpe, and he didn’t do right by her. Left her alone with a child.” She flushed. “And no wedding ring.”

  “That’s enough,” Lena said. “Seems like everybody’s got a story.” She turned to Colman. “And seems to me you must be trying to make peace, what with coming here to preach and all.” She began scraping their plates into a pan. “And peace has been a long time coming. Just like these young’uns, most everybody thinks they know why we oughta hate the Harpes. I’d just as soon find a reason to turn loose of the hate and maybe even”—she nodded at Nell—“find some love in our hearts.” Nell ducked her head and carried a serving dish to the kitchen.

  This was not going as Colman planned.

  Lena pinned him with a look. “So, you bringing peace or not?”

  Colman reached for his glass of buttermilk and took a swig. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I’m hoping to do.” He prayed it wasn’t a lie.

  She nodded emphatically and braced her hands on her hips. “Good. You go on out and sit on the porch now. Nell will bring you those strawberries directly.” She glared at her boys. “You two sit out there with him. And if you can’t say anything respectable, keep your mouths shut.”

  The three of them shuffled outside and sat on the porch steps facing the yard, hands on knees, looking straight ahead.

  Tim sighed. “I still say it was about a mule, but I reckon you weren’t the one to steal it.”

  Colman felt the corner of his mouth quirk. “Nope. I’ll swear to that.” He glanced at the boys sitting to his right. They were both trying not to smile.

  “Probably the two of you weren’t there, either.”

  They laughed, and soon they were talking about hunting and fishing and how Tim wanted to be an engineer on the railroad one day, while his brother Fred wanted to go to college. By the time Nell came out with dishes of strawberries and sweet cream, Colman felt like he was practically an older brother to these fine boys. And as they enjoyed their dessert, he found he didn’t want to try to trick them into revealing the location of their wayward cousin Jake. He’d just have to find that out some other way.

  chapter

  eighteen

  Serepta woke early and dressed for the day, brushing her graying hair vigorously and then twisting it snug at the back of her head. She opened a drawer to retrieve hairpins and found a slip of paper with “Song of Songs 1:15” written on it. Charlie. It wasn’t the first time he’d left her this particular message, but she refused to look up the verse. She had no use for the words of a God who cared so little for His creation. She crumpled the paper and dropped it back into the drawer. Better that Charlie use his own words or none at all.

  She made her way downstairs to her office. There was a shortage of workers at one of her mines, and she needed to apply pressure to the superintendent so that production would not flag. She was mentally composing the letter she would write even as she entered her office to find Jake slumped in his usual chair with soft snores rolling out from underneath the hat pulled low over his brow.

  Serepta flipped the hat to the floor and circled her desk as Jake blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Mornin’ to you too, Ma.”

  Serepta pulled out heavy writing paper and her favorite Montblanc ink pen as though Jake weren’t there.

  “Yeah, well, I was just wondering if you’ve had any luck figuring out who’s stealing your liquor.”

  She stilled and looked up. So, both sons knew about the missing shipments. How interesting. “What do you know about liquor being stolen?”

  He yawned and scratched behind his ear. “Mack said something about it.” He curled his lip. “I can’t think why you’d send him after it when you’ve got me.”

  “I thought you were busy running Colman Harpe out of town. He doesn’t seem to have budged an inch.”

  “Aw, he’s not worth the trouble. I figure tracking that liquor matters more. You need to tell Mack to lay off and let me handle it.”

  Serepta slid the cap off her pen and smoothed the sheet of linen stationery in front of her. “You might consider partnering with your brother. If you’re not careful, he just might prove more valuable to this family.”

  The barb landed right where Serepta intended. Jake leapt to his feet. “Mack’s full of himself. He thinks all that education makes him smarter than me.” Jake leaned on the desk, his breath yeasty and stale. “You tell him to back off or I will.”

  Serepta began carefully inscribing the day’s date at the top of the blank page. July 14, 1930. “I’ll do no such thing. Perhaps it’s high time one of you took the lead and proved your mettle.” She laid the pen down and folded her hands. “I�
�ll be interested to see which one of you comes out on top.”

  Jake snorted like a bull, snatched his hat up from where it had fallen, and stomped out of the room. Serepta watched him go with a half smile. Finally her sons were starting to act like men. Now all she had to do was make sure she shaped one—or both—into the kind of men she needed.

  “A baptizing. That’s just the ticket.” Ivy beamed at Colman across the table.

  Colman filled his mouth with a big bite of rhubarb pie so he didn’t have to answer right away. After finishing another four-day meeting, he’d told the crowd he’d speak on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings. No way could he keep up with speaking night after night. He’d gotten to the point where he was praying for rain hard enough to keep folks home.

  They’d taken up a love offering, and talk of starting a proper church was percolating. Colman gave most of the money to Hoyt, since he knew Ivy wouldn’t accept it. As for starting a church, as much as he wanted a church of his own, he wasn’t sure he wanted it deep in McLean territory.

  “I’m not sure I’m qualified to baptize anyone,” he said.

  “You’re as much qualified as any of us, and the ladies around here are eager to have one.” She grinned. “They figure they’d better get their men dunked before they change their minds.” Ivy pushed the pitcher of cream closer, and Colman obliged by pouring a little over his pie. “You’ve been eating better. It’s good to see you fattening up.”

  He finished the pie and pushed his plate away. He was feeling some better but knew he still needed to gain strength before he’d be back to his old self. “Maybe we can have a baptizing later in the summer. The water’s running high right now.”

  Ivy’s brow furrowed. “Of course. You’re not well enough yet to stand in cold water with a strong current. I wasn’t thinking.” As she cleared the dishes, Colman struggled against feeling like half a man.

  “That’s not it. It’s just that—” Colman didn’t get to finish his thought before Tim McLean burst through the door.

  “Ma says she needs you,” he said.

  Ivy let a fork clatter into the dishpan. “Is she sick?”

  “Not Ma—somebody over at the Dunglen. She wouldn’t tell me more’n that, just said to fetch you to the house.”

  Ivy began stowing items in her gathering basket. “If you want to run ahead, let her know I’m coming as fast as I can.”

  The boy had caught his breath. “Mack’ll drive us. He picked me up when I was almost here and said he’d be happy to carry you to the house.”

  “Mack McLean?” Colman asked, rising to his feet.

  Tim looked at him as though he were a fool. “Yeah. He’s my cousin.”

  Colman squirmed. It was one thing to see Ivy being sought out by one of the local ladies, but Serepta’s son was another matter. “What’s Mack doing around here?” The boy shrugged. “I’m coming, too,” Colman said.

  Ivy paused long enough to give him a hard look, then nodded. “Bring that sack,” she said, pointing to a lumpy burlap bag in the corner. Colman lifted it, the aroma of dried plants rising to his nose. He followed the others out to the road, where Mack sat in a Model A, the engine running. He raised one eyebrow upon seeing Colman but didn’t say anything as they all climbed in—Colman and Tim in the back while Ivy rode up front.

  Ivy turned to Mack as they started out. “Do you know who’s ill over at the Dunglen?”

  Mack cast a pointed look toward Tim. “One of the ladies from Ballyhack.” Ivy’s pale cheeks pinked. “She’s kin. Lena will tell you the rest.”

  They rode in silence for a while, at last pulling up to the house where Colman had enjoyed dinner not so long ago.

  Nell stood on the porch, watching them. Spotting Colman, she clasped her hands and smiled. “Oh, Pastor Harpe, God just knew we’d be needing a man of faith during this trying time.”

  Colman grunted. He hadn’t come to offer the comfort of his faith. He mainly meant to keep an eye on Ivy while she was in the presence of that scoundrel Mack.

  Lena opened the door and waved them in. “Tim, you go on out to the barn with your brother.”

  “Aw, Ma, I want to know what’s going on.”

  She turned him and swatted his bottom. “Not if I can help it. Now go on, git.”

  Inside, they gathered around the bare table. Colman stood back, not sure he needed to be part of whatever was going on.

  “Come on and take a load off, Preacher,” Lena said. “Maybe you can pray Maggie’s baby into the world.”

  Colman sat, holding himself stiff in Mack’s presence. Mack, on the other hand, seemed utterly at ease. He relaxed in his chair, one foot propped on the opposite knee, his arm stretched along the table near Ivy’s hand.

  Lena turned to Ivy. “I guess you know what kind of girls they have over there in Ballyhack near the Dunglen. Maggie’s my cousin’s girl, and she had a rough go of it coming up. Guess going to work in Ballyhack was better than being around her . . . well, better than being at home anyway.” Ivy nodded. “They had ’em a doctor what took care of their—” she stopped and glanced at Mack, then Colman—“female issues.” She shook her head. “But he’s a pure drunk and a gambler, and Maggie don’t want him for this baby that’s coming.”

  Ivy nodded and moved as though she would touch Lena’s arm but then pulled her hand back before she did. She ignored the men in the room, her focus on the woman speaking. Nell sat across from her, lips pinched tight like she’d just tasted a lemon. Colman guessed she either didn’t care for the topic or for the woman who’d come to help.

  “She sent word she thinks the baby’s about to come and she don’t want that doctor tending her. She heard about your momma catching babies and asked for you.” Lena looked down and fiddled with her sleeve. “She knows about your . . .” She waved at her own face. “Well, she don’t care about that. Says it’s better than having an old drunk who might kill her and the baby both.” She looked back up. “Will you help?”

  Colman marveled at the expression on Ivy’s face. She looked positively luminous. “Nothing would make me happier. Helping new life into the world is the greatest blessing there is. I’ll be glad to go.”

  Lena blew out a big breath and grinned. “Alright then. All we’ve got to do now is get you to Thurmond.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Mack said.

  Colman jerked as though he’d been stung. Mack looked like a fox that had been offered a chance to watch over a nest of baby birds.

  “It’s high time I checked on my dad,” said Colman quickly. “How about we take the train?”

  Ivy’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ride in one of those beautiful passenger cars.”

  Colman swallowed hard. He could probably wrangle a ride in a caboose, but a passenger car might be trickier. “That can be arranged.”

  “When do we leave?” Ivy asked.

  “First thing in the morning, if I remember the schedule right.” Colman ignored the scowl on Mack’s face, then whispered a prayer that God would help him make such a thing happen.

  Rising later than usual after a restless night, Serepta walked into her office Monday morning and found several crates of liquor stacked there. Mack stood leaning on the fireplace mantel, a cigarette between his lips.

  “I don’t allow smoking in this house,” she said.

  Mack laughed. “Leave it to you, Mother, to focus on the fly in your ointment.” He waved an arm toward the crates. “As you can see, I have recovered a portion of our goods.”

  “I do see. And will the perpetrator be brought to justice? Will the rest of our goods be recovered?”

  Mack blew smoke toward the ceiling and smirked. “Let’s just say that process is in the works.”

  Serepta moved around the crates to her desk and pulled out writing paper. “I would rather you share the pertinent details with me.” She leveled a gaze at her son. “So that I might be certain of the outcome.”

  Mack stubbed out his cigarette in a crystal dish on a side
table. “I know you better than you think. And I know that if I tell you the who and the how, you’ll get involved and leave me out of it.” He moved to the front of her desk and braced his hands against it. “Not this time.” He leaned closer so that she could smell the foulness of his breath. “This time I’ll do things my way so you can see once and for all what I’m made of.” He stood tall. “So you will understand that sometimes I’m right”—he stepped back to slap one of the crates—“and you’re wrong.”

  Serepta watched him saunter from the room. She wanted to tell him to get some men in here to move the crates from her expensive rug, but she didn’t do it. It would sound petty, retaliatory. No, she would give Mack some room and see what he did with it. He might even surprise her by succeeding.

  She shook her head and tapped her pen on the blank paper in front of her. She wouldn’t go so far as to suppose Mack might prove her wrong, but she wouldn’t mind if he turned out to be more of a match for her own intellect than she’d dared to hope.

  chapter

  nineteen

  It was a miracle. Colman figured if God were going to work a miracle in his life, it would be something more important than getting Ivy into a plush coach on the C&O heading to Thurmond. Never mind that it was only because a large party had canceled at the last minute and the two other passengers moved away when they saw a working man and such an unusual-looking woman step into the car. Ivy was so enchanted she didn’t notice.

  Or maybe she was used to people turning away from her.

  Regardless, the ride passed so quickly that Colman thought the engineer must have found a shortcut. Now they were standing outside the depot in Thurmond, looking across the wide river at the Dunglen Hotel. Colman had been there several times, while respectable folks mostly steered clear. He’d even heard the south side of the river called the Dodge City of the East due to its reputation for gambling and carousing. The only thing his mother would approve less than his going there would be his letting a woman like Ivy go there alone.