by Harper Lin
Judge’s heavy boots could be heard clomping down the hardwood floor from the kitchen. Within seconds, he appeared in the sitting room.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s a fire! Looks like our property. Judge, what do we do?” Kitty asked while wringing her hands.
In two long strides, Judge was at the window and looking in the direction of the smoke.
“Hugh Loomis? Is your automobile out front?” His voice was loud and firm.
“Yes, sir,” he stuttered.
“Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Judge stomped past Becky, Kitty, and Fanny toward the front door with Hugh clumsily hurrying behind him.
Becky wasn’t going to wait for an invitation. She hurried on tiptoe behind the two men sneaking out just as the screen door was about to bang shut. Before they could say a word, she was in the rumble seat of Hugh’s car, ready to go.
“Now, Becky, I don’t think this is any place for a lady,” Hugh started.
“Son, don’t even bother trying to tell her no,” Judge said without looking at his daughter. “Let’s step on it.” He pointed in the direction of the old dirt road that would run right in front of the Ruthmeyer farm. Within seconds, all that was left in front of the Mackenzie house was a plume of dust and the wheel tracks in the dry red earth. The smell of smoke was in the air, and the sky over the far acres of Mackenzie property was getting darker by the minute.
I’ve never seen a fire outside of the fireplace, Becky thought. I do hope it isn’t too bad. Daddy will be in a state if it spreads across the fields.
“Step on it, boy! This is a fire, not a dance we’re going to,” Judge ordered.
Becky saw that Hugh was distressed at having to speed his jalopy down a dirt road with debris and mud coating the sides. She immediately thought a man like Hugh would be more concerned about his vehicle than a man’s crops. It was a fact she’d be sure to share with her mother upon their return.
“There’s the fence!” Judge shouted. “Turn here and follow along.”
It was the barbed wire fence that separated the Mackenzie property line from Mr. Ruthmeyer’s. Becky squinted down the row to see where the fire was. From her point of view, she saw nothing. No flames. No smoke. Then it came into view. It wasn’t the field that was on fire. It was a house. Mr. Ruthmeyer’s house. And as they got closer, Becky was sure she could hear screaming.
Chapter Two
The Ruthmeyer homestead was a simple place. It could have been nice with a new coat of paint or maybe a garden of sunflowers growing alongside of it. But as it was, John Ruthmeyer didn’t see the need for such upkeep.
Now the chipped and faded paint along the sides of the house was all that contained the blazing fire inside. Each window on the first floor glowed with monstrous flames. Black soot clung to the windowsills as smoke poured out. Somewhere, someone else had seen the smoke, and the clanging bell of a couple of fire trucks could be heard in the distance. They’d never arrive in time to save anything.
“Stay here, Becky,” Judge said to his daughter as he got out of the car.
Hugh followed for no other reason than he thought he should.
Becky did as her father asked and remained in the rumble seat. The smell of smoke would cling to her dress and hair for days. But it was the sound above it all, above the crackling fire and the collapsing of beams inside, that would stay with Becky. It was almost inhuman.
“Daddy, there’s someone inside!” she yelled.
“What?” Judge stopped for a moment.
“Don’t you hear it? The screaming. Don’t you hear it coming from inside the house? Daddy, I think Mr. Ruthmeyer is still inside.”
Judge held still for a moment and listened.
“I think that’s just the wind. Maybe a gust catching through some glass.” Hugh shook his head. “This is too much for you, Becky. You don’t belong at a scene like this.”
Judge paid no mind to Hugh and looked sternly at his daughter. Although no one in the Mackenzie household spoke about it openly, Judge knew his daughter was different and had special talents that couldn’t be explained.
Becky, also paying no mind to Hugh, climbed out of the rumble seat and clutched her father’s strong arm. “Up there! In that room!”
Judge whirled around and ran toward the burning building. Standing just feet from the inferno, he shouted over and over at the small window at the very tip-top of the house. The flames inside had not reached that high yet. If there was anyone inside, there was a chance, a small sliver, that they might be able to wriggle out of the window and suffer a few broken bones instead of death.
“John! John, are you up there?” Judge shouted, his face already black and drenched in sweat.
Hugh stood nearby in case Judge called to him. He looked lost and confused.
“She took my legs!” was all Judge could hear John screaming. “Give me back my legs! Give me back my legs!”
“John! Get to the window! The firemen are here, and they can catch you!” Judge ordered but to no avail. Mr. Ruthmeyer had gone insane with terror.
Becky stood by and heard his cries. No matter what the rumors were about the man or how he lived his life, this wasn’t anything she’d wish on even her worst enemy. To die alone in flames, Becky thought, should be the cleansing process that sent a person straight into Jesus’s arms. Any sins were paid in full.
Just as the fire trucks pulled up, Judge was screaming at the top of his lungs for Mr. Ruthmeyer to get to the window. Everyone saw a hand go past the pane. He was trying. He was feeling his way around. It had to be black as pitch inside that small attic room, with no air to breathe. Becky had no idea she was holding her breath, but just as Mr. Ruthmeyer was able to get the window open, the entire inside of the building collapsed. The roof caved in as flames writhed and snaked their way over the shingles, consuming everything. Sparks and smoke blew toward the tobacco plants. The firefighters did what they could to prevent the fire from spreading, but there was little else they could do.
It was when the Judge and Hugh joined the firefighters, telling them that they believed Mr. Ruthmeyer was still inside, that Becky saw the woman emerge from the nearby line of trees. She was wild-eyed and crying. Some of her hair had fallen from the bun in the back of her head and clung in dark wisps to her sweaty cheeks.
“John!” she screamed. “John! John! Oh no, John! No! No! No!”
It was Mrs. Tobin. Becky’s heart broke for her. She might have been in an adulterous relationship, but the pain on her face at this very moment made her appear to age right before Becky’s eyes. Mr. Ruthmeyer had been consumed by the fire just as something in this poor woman was consumed as well.
Before she even thought to go to Mrs. Tobin and comfort her, the woman ran toward the building. It took two firefighters to hold her back. She was willing to end her own life in those flames too. Was she so much in love?
Becky thought of the man she loved and considered if she’d do the same. Just as she was about to reveal the answer to herself, she saw someone else emerge from the trees. Nothing about her looked familiar to Becky. She wore a white linen dress with a purple printed scarf wrapped around her head. Her skin was dark like coffee and hung off her bones in crinkled flaps. Plus her body looked frail and thin beneath the loose-fitting clothes. She stood at the edge of the trees and didn’t move but watched what was happening with morbid fascination.
In the meantime, several cars that Becky recognized pulled up to help. Teddy Rockdale, Becky’s dear friend and neighbor since childhood, arrived with his father and what looked like a couple of his cousins. There were also some of the other folk who had farms out this way.
The ladies and young ’uns just watched as the men all pitched in. There were quite a few lollygaggers among the bunch who didn’t help, and many were more interested in taking notice of Mrs. Tobin, who was on her knees sobbing into her hands.
Becky couldn’t take it. Adulterer or no, no woman should ever be left so alone in her pa
in. After squaring her shoulders, Becky proceeded to hurry over to Mrs. Tobin. But before she could reach her, the small black woman with the scarf around her head shouted something Becky didn’t quite make out. But something told her to stop in her place, thinking the woman was addressing her. Their eyes met, and Becky saw just sharp, black discs staring at her.
Before Becky could inquire what the strange woman wanted, Mrs. Tobin got up from her knees, turned around, and went to the lady. Becky’s first thoughts were that maybe the woman was her nurse or caretaker. The Tobins had no children. After losing each attempt, they had given up. But if Mrs. Tobin found comfort in keeping a nurse around, Becky certainly wasn’t going to find any fault with it.
The women disappeared into the trees and were not seen again.
Judge’s clothes were black and torn in places. For all his bad manners and clumsy conversation, Hugh was not much better off than Judge, as he had also rolled up his sleeves when the time came. It took three-quarters of an hour for the fire to finally go out, leaving behind nothing but smoldering ashes, blackened wooden beams, and one gruesome element: the charred body of John Ruthmeyer.
“I just don’t understand it,” Becky heard one of the firemen say to Judge. “It was like the water was evaporating before it hit the fire. I’ve never seen such a thing. Not in all my years. ”
“You did your best. The house was already gone when you got here,” Judge soothed as he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Any idea what could have started it? It’s been quite dry these past couple weeks. Maybe a stray cinder from the fireplace or a cigarette.”
“That might be, Mr. Mackenzie. I couldn’t rightly say. Mr. Ruthmeyer didn’t smoke as far as I know. I thought I picked up the smell of gasoline. Right now, I can’t be sure. But we should have been able to salvage something. It was like we tried to put the flames out with steam. I don’t know what could have made the heat so high.” The fireman reached under his hat and scratched his head. “I just never saw anything like that. Not in all my years.”
Becky returned to the car and waited for her father and Hugh. She turned her back as the men ventured into the glowing ashes to retrieve Mr. Ruthmeyer’s body. When the gory task was complete and the body had been placed away from the smoldering structure and covered, Judge and Hugh returned to the car. It was bad enough the two men smelled of smoke, but only a person with no nose would escape the faint odor of burnt flesh that was clinging to them.
The people who had come to stare still meandered around, trying to get a closer glimpse of the destruction of the property and its owner. If everyone thought that fire had spread fast, wait until the news of this tragedy and the appearance of Mrs. Tobin hit the streets.
Unlike the regular folks wanting to hear the gossip, Becky felt herself most disturbed by the black woman in the purple head scarf.
“Daddy, who was that woman who tended to Mrs. Tobin?” Becky asked.
“I didn’t see any lady,” Judge replied and then let out a deep sigh.
“You didn’t see that woman lead her back through the tree line?” Becky asked further. “I’ve never seen her before, and we know just about everyone in Savannah and the surrounding counties.”
“What are you getting at, Becky?” Judge snapped.
“Nothing, Daddy. I’m sorry.” She saw sadness in her father’s eyes. He hadn’t been able to help save Mr. Ruthmeyer or any of his property. That sort of disappointment always weighed heavily on a man of solid character.
The rest of the ride back home was quiet. Once they pulled up and Kitty stepped out on the porch, she nearly screamed at the sight of her husband. She fussed over Judge and Hugh, who she instructed to go around to the back of the house, where Moxley, the family butler, would get them water and soap to clean up with.
“And you. Oh, my poor dear,” she said to Becky, who up until this point hadn’t paid any attention to her own appearance. “Come and take that dress off in the foyer. Fanny, get your cousin her robe, and tell Lucretia to run a bath.”
Becky looked down and saw she was also covered in black soot. She didn’t think the smoke had come close to her, but her clothes and hands said differently. The natural folds in her skin were caked in black, and she was sure she smelled horrible. But that was of little consequence. Who was that black woman, and why had Mrs. Tobin followed her away from the house? Becky had a gut feeling she had something to do with this tragedy.
Chapter Three
As usual, once the sun set on the Mackenzie plantation, Teddy Rockdale appeared in his new jalopy wearing spiffy duds and ready to take Becky to any speakeasy they could agree on. Of course, Fanny would also be joining them, and since Hugh Loomis had been invited to clean up and stay for supper, he was crammed into the rumble seat.
“I could have fit all of us in my boiler,” he offered.
“Hey, that’s a mighty nice gesture, Hugh, ol’ boy, but this way, we can all get to know each other better. And get used to the close quarters, because we’ll be picking up one more.” Teddy lifted his chin.
“We are?” Fanny batted her eyes.
“We can’t go dancing without Martha,” Becky said as she smoothed out the front of her dress. She was wearing a gold getup with long strings of black beads across the front. “Do I still smell of smoke?”
“I don’t know,” Teddy replied. “If you do, I probably do, too. What a sight. I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened to that fellow.”
“What do you mean?” Becky asked.
“Mr. Ruthmeyer was as mean as a snake. I’d bet that by now, half the town is lit after celebrating his demise,” he replied.
“That’s horrible.” Becky wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know much about the man, but he was alive in that fire. If those same people were to have heard him crying out, they might not be so uppity.”
“So where are we going?” Fanny asked.
“Let’s let Martha pick,” Teddy suggested.
Becky smirked, since she had known for some time that Teddy and Martha were sweet on each other.
Fanny wasn’t used to coming in second place, and it was obvious her nose was out of joint. “I do hope she knows of a nice place. When I was in Paris, even the most simple bistros were more elegant than the finest clubs here in the States. They just tend to handle themselves better than we do here,” Fanny babbled.
“Hit the gas, Teddy. I’m itching for some excitement,” Becky said.
Once they pulled up in front of Martha Bourdeaux’s house, it was seconds before the girl was dashing out the door and hopping into the back seat.
“Hi, Fanny. Who’s the new fella?” Martha asked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder after giving Teddy and Becky a peck on the cheek.
“Martha, I’d like you to meet Hugh Loomis. My mother invited him over for tea today, and he’s decided to move in.” Becky rolled her eyes.
“Well, hello, Mr. Loomis.” Martha offered her hand. “Have you all heard about the commotion today? Of course you have. John Ruthmeyer lived a stone’s throw from your property. Becky, tell me none of your father’s crops were harmed.”
“No. Not a leaf.”
“Well, thank God for that. In my humble opinion, that is cause to celebrate. Where are we going?” Martha pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it.
“Teddy said we were leaving it to you. Fanny asked that we go somewhere refined, you know, like they have in Paris,” Becky replied.
“Oh, I believe I know just the place. The Crazy Calico. I think the word used to describe it is rustic. Is it just me, or do any of you smell smoke? And I don’t mean from my ciggy,” Martha asked.
Hugh apologized and proceeded to tell Martha how he and Judge had arrived at the fire. Teddy pitched in his two cents, and before anyone realized it, they were all talking at the same time.
“It was horrible,” Becky said.
“Was Mr. Ruthmeyer really inside?” Martha asked.
“The firemen retrieved him once the fire was out,”
Hugh added.
“Did Mrs. Tobin really make such a scene?” Fanny gasped.
“I didn’t see her. But the way the smoke was blowing, I didn’t see much of anything,” Teddy replied.
The conversation went on like this until Teddy pulled the car down a quiet street with rows of simple, cheap houses.
“All right. Everybody out,” Martha said as she stood in the back seat and swung her legs out the window and slid to her feet. She linked her arm with Becky’s.
Hugh joined Teddy with a quick question about his automobile. Fanny pushed her way between them.
“Would you boys mind if I walked with you? I feel that drive has left me breathless and fear I may lose my legs if I’m not careful.”
“Of course, Fanny,” Teddy said without giving her a second look. He had grown used to her like someone might grow used to a needy cat. Give it a tickle under the chin, and it’ll be content.
Hugh, on the other hand, was struck stupid when she pulled him toward her, making sure to accidentally brush her bosom against his arm. They followed Becky and Martha down the sidewalk until they reached the alley.
“Where are we going?” Fanny asked.
“The Crazy Calico,” Teddy whispered.
“It looks rather…dangerous,” Fanny said, snapping Hugh out of his stupor. He looked around nervously.
“Don’t worry, Becky knows people.” Teddy smiled like a crocodile.
“Becky? What kind of a lady knows people?” Hugh asked, his hopes of winning Becky’s hand suddenly doused with cold water.
“Oh, you’ll see, Hugh ol’ boy.”
They all gathered around a dirty door that could have easily been overlooked. There was no light over it and no signs or even an arrow painted on the dirty brick wall to indicate there was a club there. But as Becky knocked, a small square in the middle of the door opened.
“Who’s that?” Becky stood on tiptoes, her fingers on the sill of the small window. “Is that Patsy or Bluto?”
“Who’s askin’?” the grumbly voice behind the door asked.
