Then Came the Thunder

by Rachael Huszar

  “No. Doctor Hale’s just left, but he let us know that—”

  “You.”

  A voice came from the back of the dark room. Sam looked over Giles’ shoulder to see Lilah, and a girl who looked like a future version of Lilah huddled together in a corner, both their cheeks faintly shimmering with tears.

  A woman emerged from the darkness, the same woman Sam now knew to be the Templeton matriarch. Rather than the sadness that colored her daughters’ faces, this woman was enraged.

  And she was staring directly at Jessalyn. In two steps, she was at the door.

  “Margaret, what are you—”

  “You!” Margaret cried again. She drew back her hand and swung it hard, her palm connecting with Jessalyn’s cheek.

  “Mama!” Lilah cried.

  “Hey, now!” Sam stepped forward, throwing his arm in front of Jessalyn, who looked completely shocked.

  “How dare you come into my house!? After what you did!?” Margaret screamed.

  “Jessalyn hasn’t done anything!” said Sam. He moved to keep his own body between the two women.

  “What would you know, stranger? Who even are you?” She thrust an accusing finger at Jessalyn. “Ever since this woman showed up she’s been trying to tear my family apart. She tells Lilah to travel across the country, filling her head with crazy ideas day after day. Always pushing people! I bet Amos couldn’t wait to enlist and get away from your pushing. You did that! You took Amos away from us. And now this happens to my son.”

  “Margaret, please, I want to—” Jessalyn started to say, quietly.

  “You want to what? Explain? Apologize? Horn in again where you aren’t wanted? Teaching children the alphabet does not make you a mother! How dare you come here?”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Sam, “you’re acting like she murdered the boy!”

  “He may never walk again!” Margaret yelled back. “You’re a storm, Jessalyn Joy, raining down your misery on all of us. Well, I won’t have you coming near my family again. Now get out of my house.”

  Jessalyn still looked startled and in pain. “I’m sorry . . .”

  Margaret was breathing hard. Giles placed an arm around her shoulder and nodded at Sam.

  Without a word, Sam pushed open the front door and held it for Jessalyn as they both left.

  Sam waited until they were a good distance from the Templeton house before speaking up. “How did sweet, smart kids like Lilah and Charlie come from that harpy of a woman?”

  Jessalyn was fixed on some point in the far distance. “Margaret is just distraught,” she said dully. “It’s—it’s understandable.”

  “She hit you.”

  “We’ve never really been on the best of terms.”

  Sam scoffed. “Could have fooled me.” He paused. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

  She waited for a long moment. Their encounter with Margaret Templeton had certainly cut through the lingering tension of their late-night conversation, though Sam could tell it was still there in the back of both their minds.

  Jessalyn sighed. “No.”

  Sam gently took her chin in his hand and tilted up the struck cheek. He kept his touch light, knowing his rough hands were probably uncomfortable against her smooth skin. The red mark was blotchy around the edges, and looked slightly raised. “Yep. She cracked you good. It’s pretty red. If it starts to feel swollen, let me know, okay?”

  “Fine,” Jessalyn said, taking a step back.

  They resumed their walk along the dirt road. Sam expected them to turn back in the direction of Jessalyn’s house, but they didn’t. He followed her lead.

  “So,” Sam said, “I’ve been meaning to ask, and am even more curious now after all of that business, how did you and Lilah come to your tutoring arrangement?”

  She stayed quiet, and Sam feared for a moment that this truly would be another silent day, but then she spoke. “. . . you have to understand that children here have their paths pretty much set for them. Most of the families have a ranch or farmland that needs to be worked. And it’s a perfectly lovely place to live, I have nothing against it, but at the same time, well, that’s not all there is to life. As the teacher, I see the majority of my students learn to read and write and use arithmetic to a level proficient enough to operate their family’s business, then they’ll have no more need for schooling.”

  “Mm hm.”

  Jessalyn’s mouth bent into a small smile. “But Lilah was different. When I first met her, she was a very angry girl, always boiling under the surface, constantly picking fights. She still does, sometimes. She’d come to school, mostly stare out the window, then head straight home. Lilah is the third of seven in her family. I often wonder if she’s had much time to figure out what kind of girl she wanted to be before there were more babies to take care of.” She looked up. “And I’m not speaking ill of the Templetons, or large families, or anything of the sort.”

  “No,” Sam said, “I catch your meaning.”

  “She took to reading like lighting, you see. Soon, she was asking to borrow more and more books from me. Then she wanted to talk about them, and not just summarize, but analyze. She’s able to see literature as works of art with messages and purpose. And being able to devote her mind to something like that has almost been an escape.”

  “So, you encouraged her?”

  “Of course, I did. I hated seeing her harden as soon as she left the schoolhouse. That’s when we started doing private lessons, so she could keep reading and growing and expressing herself.” Jessalyn paused again. “You were right, last night,” she said.

  “I was?”

  “I don’t want her to only hear my opinion. I want her to see as much of the world as she can, to meet all kinds of people. To just be Lilah, and decide what that means for herself. She has so much potential to really become something if she pursues college. It certainly opened my eyes. Unfortunately, it also comes with the side effect of pushing her out of her mother’s nest, which Margaret sees as an incredibly vile thing to do.”

  It made a lot of sense. Becoming a teacher sounded like it had changed Jessalyn’s life for the better. Of course, she’d want a promising student to experience the same. And from what Sam knew about the Southwest, there weren’t many prestigious, or coeducational, colleges a stone’s throw from Three Willows. “I see,” he said. “You motivate her. No wonder Lilah loves you so much.”

  “I push people.”

  Quiet fell between them, the echo of Margaret’s words heavy. As they approached the center of town, the noise of other people going about their business, calling out and laughing grew steadily louder. The few storefronts had their doors open, ready to welcome customers. Friends met and spoke excitedly, sharing their own news. It seemed as though no one else knew of last night’s event besides the two of them, the Templetons, and the doctor.

  As the ambient noise grew louder, Sam felt the intimacy of his conversation with Jessalyn drifting away. A knot of worry settled in his throat, thinking that if he didn’t apologize while he had her attention now, he might not get another chance. And he didn’t want to stop talking to Jessalyn, not just yet.

  “Jessalyn,” said Sam, “about our, um, talk last night—”

  “I don’t think much more needs to be said. Not right now.”

  He thought about insisting, pressing her to acknowledge his apology, to apologize even more for some of the things he’d said, but he let it rest.

  The hum of the streets grew louder, and as they turned into the town square, they saw a large assembled crowd talking amongst themselves, but mostly focused on the steps of the Piper Hotel.

  “Is something going on?” Sam asked.

  “Usually we have the open market Monday mornings. I needed to pick up some supplies I’d ordered for the school before classes begin. Not sure why things aren’t set up yet . . .” Jessalyn scanned the crowd, but everyone looked just as confused as she was.

  “Folks!�
�� A loud voice echoed from across the square. “If we might have your attention please!” The slick and shiny figure of Mayor Carson stepped up onto the hotel’s raised porch, waving his arms. Reverend Finley and Mamie Piper joined him on either side between the bright red columns.

  “The Founders again?” said Sam.

  With some shushing, the murmurs of the crowd settled as all eyes turned towards the Founders.

  Mayor Carson coughed to clear his throat. “Hopefully, those of you who attended church yesterday remember our words of warning regarding the attacks at the ranches. We need to be just as vigilant inside of town as we are outside. Keeping track of our young and our wares.”

  “Last night, through an unfortunate accident, young Charlie Templeton got turned around in the storm, and ended up injuring himself on some tools that had been left outside,” said Mamie.

  “What?” Jessalyn said, but her surprise was drowned out amongst the other gasps from the townsfolk.

  Reverend Finley raised his hand for silence. “We’re hoping he will make a swift recovery, but in the meantime, please spread the word and keep track of your equipment. Let’s all do our best to keep the Templetons in our prayers.”

  “In light of these recent events, we’re asking everyone to please return to their homes, or out to their farmland. We’ll reschedule the market and postpone all school classes and community meetings for the time being. Any hunting party volunteers, come see us here at the hotel. That’s all.” After his announcement, Carson turned to speak with the other two Founders.

  Chatter and whispers flooded through the crowd once more. Some men broke away and started gathering at the hotel steps.

  Something didn’t feel right about all this.

  Sam looked over at Jessalyn to ask what she would do now with school cancelled, but she wasn’t standing where she had been a second ago. She was marching forward towards the hotel.

  “Whoa! Hey!” Sam grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Where are you going?”

  “To tell them they’ve got it all wrong,” Jessalyn said.

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

  Jessalyn yanked her arm from Sam’s grip. “Charlie didn’t trip into a toolshed, Samuel, we found him in the middle of the road! He was attacked by something!” Her voice was rising in volume, and some people were starting to look over at them.

  Sam leaned in, muttering. “Just think for a second. We know that, and the Templetons know that, but who else does? No one. This feels like a cover.”

  “Cover? What cover? Anyone who looks at the poor boy can tell that isn’t what happened.”

  “And who’s going to see him? He’s unconscious with a broken leg.”

  Jessalyn opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, seemingly realizing Sam was right.

  “Something else is going on here.”

  “Like what?” asked Jessalyn.

  “Miss Joy!”

  Before Sam could answer, he was interrupted by the voice of the young man who was currently rushing towards Jessalyn. He stumbled, but quickly regained his balance and pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. When he straightened, Sam recognized him as Roger Shaw, the young preacher.

  Jessalyn blinked a few times, mildly startled. “Oh, Roger. Good morning.”

  Roger lifted his chin, his eyes darting between the two of them. “I was just passing by when I heard your exclamation and saw this man lay a hand on you. Are—are you in need of assistance?”

  Samuel looked at the bespectacled man, who might snap in half at the next strong wind, and snorted in disbelief. “What?”

  “What?” Jessalyn said at the same time, her brow furrowed in confusion. “No, no, nothing of the sort. Roger Shaw, meet Samuel Brooks, my boarder.”

  “Boarder?” Roger asked, his eyes growing wide. “This man is living in your house?”

  Sam tucked a hand in his pocket. “Saw your service yesterday, Preach. Thanks for spreading the good word.”

  “. . . charmed.” With such force that Sam swore it was deliberate, Roger turned away from him to face Jessalyn. “Miss Joy, I can’t help but notice you seem somewhat distressed. Is anything the matter?”

  Jessalyn glanced around. “I’m afraid I already take advantage of your confidence, Roger.”

  “Not at all, Miss Joy!” Roger said hurriedly. “I am at your service.”

  Sam watched this exchange, amused. She had no idea what she was doing to the poor preacher.

  “Have you heard about Charlie Templeton?”

  “Oh, yes, I have,” said Roger. “The reverend informed me early this morning. What a tragic accident.”

  “That’s just it. What the Founders told everyone isn’t true,” Jessalyn said.

  “What?”

  “Charlie had come to my place with Lilah last night, and went outside to play by himself. Lilah found him a little while later cut up and bleeding out in the middle of the street. He’s hurt much worse than they’re letting on. And, I don’t think it was an accident.”

  “Neither do I,” said Sam.

  Roger blinked rapidly, as if trying to process this new information. “But I—I don’t understand. Reverend Finley would never lie. And even so, why would he lie about this? If this was some sort of malicious act, shouldn’t people be even more aware?”

  “I don’t know,” Jessalyn said, shaking her head.

  “I’m sure it’s just a slight stretch of the truth, to avoid causing a panic,” Roger said.

  “Well, I’m not sure. But I want to get to the bottom of this so I can be.” Jessalyn looked determined.

  “I was going to say the same thing,” said Sam. This sudden wave of secrecy in a town that prided itself on being so honest and hospitable was giving him feelings of doubt that he couldn’t shake.

  “Good,” Jessalyn said. “I want to go back to the spot where we found Charlie. See if there’s any sort of clue there.”

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  “Uh, um, Miss Joy! I—I would like to accompany you,” Roger said as they’d begun to turn away.

  “You would?” said Jessalyn, lifting an eyebrow.

  Sam waved his hand, dismissively. “No need to trouble yourself, Preach. Jessalyn and I are already up to our knees in this mess. Wouldn’t want to drag you down.”

  Roger drew himself up to his full height and his scrawny chest puffed out a minuscule amount. “I think I could be of some service. Miss Joy and I have an intellectual partnership with each other. I could lend another head to the situation.”

  “ ‘Intellectual partnership’ ?” Sam asked, looking at Jessalyn.

  “Roger and I often meet to share and discuss books.”

  “Yes, we do,” said Roger, nodding vigorously.

  Sam made a connection, and a grin crept across his face. “Hold on. The Castle of O’Donoughoe. That one of your recommendations?”

  “I—yes. Yes, it was. How did you—?”

  “It’s been on the bedside table of my room. Been flipping through it these past couple nights. Quite the page turner. Some of those scenes are, well, downright saucy. Didn’t think a man of the cloth would have that sort of taste.”

  Roger fumed. “It—it is NOT . . . s-saucy. Now, see here, y-you . . . scoundrel! There are a myriad of elements in that book well deserving of—”

  “Gentlemen,” Jessalyn said, stepping between them. “Please. D’you think we might have this story circle some other time? We’re wasting daylight. Roger, you’re free to come with us, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Sam, tipping his hat.

  “Certainly, Miss Joy,” said Roger, brushing off his vest.

  The two men fell into step behind Jessalyn as she set off.

  Sam chuckled to himself. He placed a hand on his chest and the other dramatically on his forehead. In his worst impression of a British woman, he recited, “Oh, to think we should discover that birthmark here at the a
ltar! Lord Belvedere, you are my father! We cannot be wed!” Perhaps that memorable passage had been one the preacher had found so remarkable.

  Roger muttered unintelligibly under his breath and picked up his pace.

  13

  ILLUMINATED BY THE BRIGHT LIGHT of a clear sky, the side road and surrounding area seemed completely different than it had last night.

  Sam stopped and gestured around. “D’you think it was about here?” he asked.

  Jessalyn surveyed the area. “I’d say. Far enough from my house that we didn’t hear most of what happened, but still close by.”

  “Right. Let’s take a look around.”

  Roger wrinkled his brow. “And what are we looking for, exactly?”

  “At this point, anything at all,” said Jessalyn. “Anything to show that there was some kind of disturbance.”

  The three of them spread out along the road. Sam glanced at the wall of house back that faced them to one side. Further down the path was the bend that led to the school and Jessalyn’s house. Directly across the road was a line of trees. Sam leaned back and looked up, trying to see beyond the boundaries of town if he could. He remembered the gratitude he’d felt upon entering Three Willows, finding so much green in the middle of the dry desert. Suddenly, he stopped short. Jessalyn’s tour of the town hadn’t included a river or lake. He hadn’t thought anything of it before, but now, staring up at these decades-old trees, Sam found himself wondering. Something was off.

  Jessalyn had crouched down in the middle of the road, and was running her fingers over the dirt. Roger was a few feet from her, doing something with a stick.

  “Let’s see,” he said to no one in particular. “Perhaps . . . we could divide this portion of the road into some sort of grid system . . .” Roger began scratching out lines. “From here to . . .” He dragged the tip of the stick a few feet. “. . . um, let’s say about here. If we break up this area into quadrants of a certain size, and each—” he paused. “Well, not quadrants, there’s three of us. That won’t do. Thirds, then. We break the grid into thirds, and each systematically—”