by Kate Whitsby
Jude jumped at the sudden snap of his voice. Alma brightened. “That’s a good idea. You two probably have a lot to talk about.”
Jude looked over his shoulder and back to Alma, but she had already pushed her chair back and began gathering up the plates.
He took the chair Allegra loaned him and settled himself across the fire from his new father-in-law. As soon as he sat down, though, he had to move back to make room for Alma to get to the kettle hanging over the fire. She squatted in front of it and washed the dishes in the steaming water. Even with her back to him, she sensed Jude’s eyes on her back. Every word her husband said to her father, he said to her.
“Alma says you come from Amarillo,” the old man began.
“That’s right,” Jude answered.
“But you didn’t always live there, did you?” Clarence asked. “You moved there from somewhere else. Where was that?”
Jude’s voice hardened. “No. I was born in Amarillo. I was born in the house my parents live in now. My father built that house with his own hands.”
“I don’t think much of the mail-order marriage system they have going now,” Clarence growled. “A man could tell a woman any old thing he wanted, and she would have no way to verify if he was telling the truth.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Jude told him.
“Maybe you would and maybe you wouldn’t,” Clarence shot back. “We have only your word for whatever you want to tell us. We have only your word that you came from Amarillo.”
“I would have no reason to lie about that,” Jude maintained. “It wouldn’t mean any more if I said I came from Kansas City.”
“Kansas City!” the old man thundered.
“Or Galveston, or Baton Rouge, or any other place,” Jude continued. “What difference would it make?”
“It wouldn’t” Clarence returned. “Unless someone knew someone from Amarillo, or if they knew something about you because of it.”
“Knew something,” Jude answered. “Like what?”
“Oh, I think you know very well what,” the father-in-law shot back.
Jude waved the accusation away. “I don’t see how lying about it would profit me any. I’m marrying Alma. I could only benefit me for her to know the truth about me from the beginning. Marriages aren’t built to last on lies.”
“I’m glad you realize that,” Clarence replied. “And you aren’t marrying Alma. You already married her. It’s over and done with. You’re married.”
Jude lowered his eyes. “Okay. I married Alma. But I didn’t lie about coming from Amarillo.”
“Maybe you didn’t lie about that,” Clarence replied. “But you could have lied about that or just about any other thing.”
“I just told you I wouldn’t do that,” Jude insisted. “I married Alma in good faith. I could accuse you of the same thing. Alma could have lied to me about anything to do with your family, and I wouldn’t know about it until after we were married and I came back here and found out for myself.”
“Maybe Alma doesn’t know everything there is to know about her own family,” Clarence declared. “Like she said before, her mother died before any of the girls really got to know her, and they’ve never gotten to know either her family or mine. But I’ll sit right here and tell you anything you want to know about me. Come on. Just ask me and I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t want to know anything,” Jude told him. “I’m satisfied with what Alma told me about your family. Everything she told me has been true so far. I trust her.”
Clarence snorted. “Then you’re very trusting. Well, I’ll tell you anyway, just so you won’t be able to accuse me of withholding any important information.”
“Are you accusing me of withholding important information?” Jude asked.
Clarence ignored him. “I was born in Tuscaloosa, and I joined the Confederate Army at the age of twenty-four. I fought with Robert E. Lee, and I even had the honor of shaking his hand after the Battle of Little Crooked Ridge. So what do you think of that?”
“I don’t think anything of it,” Jude replied. “I didn’t ask you to tell me. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Do you know,” Clarence asked. “About fifteen hundred Confederate soldiers were massacred at Little Crooked Ridge? Did you know that?”
Alma detected a slight hesitation in Jude’s voice before he answered. “No, I didn’t. I never heard of Little Crooked Ridge until right now.”
“A certain detachment of Union infantry surprised a certain detachment of Confederate soldiers there,” the old man continued. “They overran them while they ate their morning porridge. They wiped out all but about five hundred of them. Did you know that?”
“I just told you I didn’t know,” Jude shot back. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
Clarence didn’t hear him. “I was there. I was one of the survivors. Afterward, General Lee came down from Arlington. That’s where I met him. He gave everyone of the survivors of the attack an honorable discharge and a small pension. He said we’d done our duty to the Confederacy. I took my pension and came down here. I spent some time in Juarez, and that’s where I met my wife.”
“That sounds like a nice way to ride out the rest of the war,” Jude returned.
Clarence shot forward in his chair, gripping the arms with white-knuckle fists. “You would think that. Now I know I was right about you. Of all the things you’ve said so far, that confirms what I knew about you from the very beginning.”
Jude shifted in his chair. “Which is what? What exactly are you accusing me of?”
The old man turned his milky eyes back toward the fire. “Now I know you’re not the man you claimed to be. Maybe you could pull the wool over the eyes of some innocent girls from the south Texas desert who’ve never had any dealings with men. But you can’t pull the wool over my eyes. No sirree! I know you. Just remember that.”
“You know me,” Jude replied. “Because I’ve told you everything about me. I haven’t kept anything hidden.”
“Listen to me, Alma,” Clarence called out. She turned around and wiped her hands on the towel. “This man is a lying scoundrel. You can’t trust him further than you can throw him. Mark my words. And now you’re married to him. This is what comes of flouting the older generation.”
Alma threw the towel onto the table. She drew herself up to her full height and towered over her father. “What exactly are you accusing Jude of? If you have something to say, then say it and stop blowing smoke out of your ears.”
Clarence wouldn’t say any more. He clamped his mouth shut so tightly that his whiskers stuck straight out from his face. He kept his face averted from his daughter and her husband.
“That’s what I thought,” Alma concluded. “You can ignore him, Jude. If he isn’t willing to come out and say what’s on his mind, then there’s nothing you need to concern yourself with him. Come with me. It’s getting late, and we have a big day tomorrow.”
She strode away from the fire. Jude took one more look at his father-in-law before he followed her to the other side of the room. As she passed the table, she took the lamp with her, leaving her father in darkness.
Chapter 14
