by Donis Casey
Shaw spared a moment of pity for his brother.
Trenton Calder
Me and Scott rode to the Beldon farm early the next morning. We started before dawn, because those folks lived way to the heck and gone and we didn’t know what state the road was in out that far. As it turned out, once we got past the storm path about three miles west of Boynton, the road was boggy but clear enough. The Beldon farm was pretty big—near to half a section the old man had bought off of Sarah Fishinghawk when he came to the state back in ’07. They raised cotton, mainly, but he had a nice little herd of whiteface cattle, too. We rode by the cotton field on the way to the house. The cotton had taken some damage from hail, but the twister had skipped them over and the crop was still standing. The house stood pretty close to the road so Scott started hollering to let them know we were coming as soon as we turned up the drive. Miz Beldon hollered right back that she was in the kitchen and we ought to come on through.
We found Mildrey Beldon sitting in the corner of her kitchen, brushing Lovelle’s long, yellow hair. The little gal was standing between her mother’s knees, hanging on to a doll and doing her best to endure the grooming session. It was probably seven o’clock in the morning by the time we got out there, but two of those Beldon boys were still at the kitchen table wolfing down biscuits and gravy and giving us the stink eye. Hosea was not one of them.
When me and Scott came into the kitchen, Miz Beldon stood up. Lovelle went to squirming. “You about done, Mama? I want to go play.”
“All right, honey, there you go.” She gave Lovelle a little push, and the child dashed out of the room. Neither of the boys at the table moved.
“Welcome, Sheriff, Deputy Calder.” Miz Beldon said. “Y’all have a seat and I’ll fry you up some eggs.”
I’d have taken her up on it, since at the time I was newly grown and had a hollow leg, but Scott shook his head. “Thank you, Miz Beldon, but we cannot avail ourselves of your hospitality. I’m afraid we have come to deliver some bad news about your boy Jubal.” The two at the table stopped stuffing their faces and fell to listening.
Mildrey eyed Scott warily for an instant, then nodded and sank back into her chair. “I was wondering where he was. He get caught in the tornado?”
“Well, ma’am, it looks like he died the day before the twister hit. Near as I can tell right now he fell off his horse and broke his neck. I’m dreadful sorry.”
Mildrey looked thoughtful. She picked up a peck basket full of green apples from the sideboard and positioned it in her lap. I had noticed an apple tree beside the house when we rode up, loaded down with unripe apples. “I wondered. He pretty much comes and goes as he pleases. But he ain’t usually gone this long.”
I just stood behind Scott and didn’t say anything, but I could feel my eyes bugging out. You never can tell how folks are going to react when you tell them that somebody in the family has died. Sometimes those who you’d never suspect of caring will fall clean to pieces, or someone who you know loved their kin will have no reaction at all. But I didn’t have much experience with delivering bad news back then. I was flabbergasted that a mother didn’t have a tear to spare for her dead son.
“I’d have not expected him to fall off his horse, though,” Mildrey went on in a conversational tone. “Jubal always was a good rider and that horse of his was his pride and joy. He spent many an hour training that beast.”
Scott crossed his arms. “Maybe the horse got spooked. One of the Tucker boys found Jubal’s body in a field right after the twister went through. His horse turned up later that night. You have any idea where he was going Sunday night?”
Mildrey commenced to peeling an apple with a little paring knife. “I don’t know. Maybe he was coming home. I haven’t set eyes on him since he brought me back here after the church picnic last Sunday.”
“He wasn’t home Sunday night?”
“No,” Mildrey said. “Nor Monday neither.” She gestured toward the table with the half-peeled apple. “Likely Hezikiah knows where he got to.”
Scott turned his attention to the fellows at the table. “Did Jubal talk to you before he left, Hezikiah?”
By this time both the younger Beldon boys were standing up. They looked like they wanted to fight with us…who knows why? That was just their natural way, I expect. The taller one, Hezikiah, couldn’t think of a good reason not to answer. “Not to me, but I heard him tell Hosea that he had some business he wanted to take care of and I did see him ride off toward Boynton.”
“What time was that?”
Hezikiah’s face screwed up while he thought about this. “Sunday afternoon. Before dark, anyway.”
“Either of you see him after that?”
Hezikiah shook his head, and the fair-colored one, Caleb, said, “Never no more.”
Scott looked the boys up and down, then told them to be on about their business while he talked to their mama. When they were gone, I kept standing in the corner but Scott pulled up a chair so he could talk to Miz Beldon face to face.
“Miz Beldon, we’ve got your son’s body at the undertaker in Boynton.” His voice was real gentle. “It’s been a couple days so Mr. Lee had to go ahead and embalm him. If that goes against your beliefs, I’m sorry, but we had no choice. I would like for you to come into town at your earliest convenience and claim the body for burial. Now, I’ve got to tell you that the twister picked him up and battered him about, but Mr. Lee did his best. Do you have a place for Jubal to rest? Mr. Lee can help you with all that, funeral arrangements and the like, if you need it. Is there anybody else you’d like for me to contact?”
Mildrey watched Scott’s face while he talked, but her hands kept peeling those green apples. “No, I reckon not. As for a funeral, I reckon we don’t need one of those, either. Jubal wasn’t exactly religious. We’ll just bring him back here and bury him next to his daddy out on the hill next to the grove.”
Scott nodded. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “I know that your late husband left the farm to Jubal, but do you know what will happen to the place now? Did your husband make an alternative disposition, or do you know if Jubal had a will?”
I doubt if Mildrey knew what an “alternative disposition” was, but she got the drift. “D.J.’s will said that I could stay here until I die, but otherwise everything went to Jubal. If Jubal has a will I’ll be mighty surprised.”
“Well, then, you’ll probably have to go through probate. I’ll talk to Lawyer Meriwether on your behalf. But don’t worry. Likely the property will go equally to you and your children.”
Scott clapped his hands onto his knees and stood up. “Well, that’s all, then. You have one of the boys bring you into town as soon as you can. I’m sorry you lost your son. We’re doing our best to figure out how he come to break his neck.”
Miz Beldon looked up at us. “Me and Jubal never did have much to do with one another, and I won’t much miss him now he’s gone.”
Scott didn’t ask her any more questions. I was shocked that Miz Beldon didn’t love her own young’uns any better than she did, but Scott told me that he’d seen a lot worse in his time and not to fret myself about it.
We left Miz Beldon peeling her apples and went out the back door. We were leading our horses away from the house when Hosea Beldon come running up from the barn. When he got up to us he slid to a halt so fast he raised dust. “You found Jubal? He’s dead?”
Scott gave him a narrow gaze. “When was the last time you saw Jubal, Hosea?”
“Sunday evening. He brought Ma and the brat back from that church do and then turned around and went back to town.”
“Do you know what he was aiming to do when he got there?”
“Said he had some business is all. I figured it was some gal since he didn’t come home that night.” He gave me a spiteful look. “Maybe that Tucker gal who lives with the old MacKenzie woman. He has a yen for her.�
�
I would have liked to fling myself at him and rip his arm off, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d got to me.
But he didn’t care about me. He had other things on his mind. “You told Ma that Jubal’s dead?”
“Yes.”
I swear that a look of triumph passed over Hosea’s face before he could school his expression to be properly somber. “Does that mean the farm is mine?”
Scott gave him a suspicious squint. “Ain’t you going to ask how your brother died?”
Hosea shrugged. “It was just a matter of time till somebody shot him, but since there was a twister on Monday I figure that’s what got him.”
“The twister picked him up and blew him into a field after he was already dead. What killed him was a fall from his horse the day before the storm.”
“Is that a fact? So do I get the farm?”
“I was just talking to your mama about that. Y’all will have to take it up with a lawyer, but I expect you will all get a cut.” Scott’s tone made it plain that he disapproved of this line of discourse.
“I’m next in line,” Hosea blurted. His cheeks were getting red. “I should get it fair and square.”
“Y’all will have to hammer that out amongst yourselves, but the law will have something to say about it if y’all can’t agree. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” We mounted up and Hosea went scuttling into the house, more than likely to badger his mother about it.
“Well, that was unseemly,” I said to Scott, once we got out of earshot.
He looked to be mulling the incident over. “It was peculiar,” he decided.
By the time we turned out onto the road, I was almost feeling sorry for Jubal Beldon. Then suddenly I remembered the last encounter I had with him and got over that feeling real quick. “Scott,” I said, “if Miz Beldon and them haven’t seen Jubal since Sunday evening, then I believe I saw him after that.”
He shot me a look. “You don’t say? And when was that?”
“You remember how I told you that after the church picnic on Sunday, when Alice Kelley’s baby was coming, Miz Tucker sent me and Gee Dub out to the Rusty Horseshoe to fetch Walter back home?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So you did.”
“Jubal was there. We exchanged words. That must have been, oh, at least a couple or three hours after Miz Beldon said he took out from home. It was after dark when we got back to town, anyway.”
“I presume he didn’t tell y’all where he was headed?”
“You presume right. We flung a few barbed remarks at one another and then Gee Dub and me left.”
“Well, Trent, that gives us a place to start. Head on over to the Rusty Horseshoe right now and see if Dills knows anything. I’m going to stop over at Cousin Shaw’s.”
Alafair Tucker
Alafair sat on the porch with Mr. Eichelberger beside her, shelling the few beans she had been able to save from the garden. She was supervising Grace, Zeltha, and Chase Kemp as they picked up twigs and branches from the front yard and stacked them in a pile beside the gate. The little children were doing a surprisingly good job, even Zeltha. At least until she decided to create a fence around herself with sticks upended in the soft earth. Alafair left her to it. There was only so much solid work you could expect from a two-year-old. The other two were intent on their task. Chase was eager to help and Grace was determined to do anything her older cousin was doing.
Alafair had sent Sophronia, Blanche, and Charlie into the woods behind the house in order to retrieve anything useful that the twister may have deposited there. Alafair could see from the backyard that the broken trees were decorated with clothing and bedding, flapping in the breeze like Fourth of July flags. Mr. Eichelberger was much as he had been when Shaw had first brought him to the house after the storm—docile and silent. He sat in his chair, wrapped in a quilt in spite of the heavy heat, and watched the children scurry about. Alafair talked to him continually, gentle and kind, saying nothing of any consequence. But the sound of her voice seemed to soothe him.
She stood up when she heard Scott holler to announce his presence as he rode up to the house. The sight of him coming up the drive on his roan made her heart skip a beat. Now what? She handed the basket of beans to Mr. Eichelberger and walked down the path to meet Scott at the gate. The children clustered around her skirt like a flock of ducklings.
“Hey, Scott,” she greeted. “What brings you back so soon?”
“Hey, Alafair.” He dismounted, tipped his hat, and nodded at Eichelberger. “How’s he doing?”
Alafair didn’t look back. “He doesn’t have much to say, that’s for sure. But he knows what’s going on around him and he’s eating all right. I think he’s just nearly too sad to live.” Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. The thought of losing your spouse after so many years, and in such a violent manner, was almost too awful to contemplate.
“The telegraph lines are back up as of last night. I sent a wire to his daughter in El Reno. She wired back this morning that she’ll be here as soon as she can.” Scott reached over the fence to pick up Zeltha before he addressed the real reason he had come. “I need to talk to Gee Dub about…” He hesitated and glanced at the eager youngsters who were hanging on his every word.
Alafair got the message. “All right, you scalawags, are you done with your work? I don’t think so. Off you go.”
When the little ones were out of earshot, Scott got down to business. “I need to talk to Gee Dub about Jubal Beldon.”
“Jubal? What has happened? What could Gee Dub tell you that he hasn’t already?”
“A couple of things. I want to see where he ran across the body, if he can find the place again. And Trent told me that him and Gee saw Jubal Sunday night at the roadhouse when they went to fetch Walter. I want to have a look at that horse y’all found on Sunday night, too. We waited a while for kinfolks to claim Jubal, but we couldn’t wait longer and Mr. Lee embalmed the body. Trent and me made our way out to the Beldon farm this morning to tell Miz Beldon that Jubal is no more—”
Alafair interrupted him. “You made it to the Beldons? How are they? Still standing? How is Mildrey?”
Scott’s mouth quirked. “They didn’t suffer much damage, as far as I could see. As for Mildrey, she wasn’t exactly broke up about her son’s untimely demise.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. That is a strange family, to my way of thinking.” She paused. “Shaw tells me there’s some question about whether he died in the storm or was already dead when the storm hit.”
“That is so.”
“Does his death look suspicious?”
“It looks like he got thrown by his horse. But there’s one or two things about his death that don’t fit, and I aim to look into it. That’s why I need to trace Jubal’s movements on Sunday.”
“Well, I hope Gee Dub can tell you something helpful. He’s over to Kurt’s right now. They’re building onto the corral so they can keep John Lee’s wounded livestock over there for a while. Kurt has Jubal’s horse in his barn, too, so you can kill both your birds with one stone.”
When he rode away, Alafair turned toward the porch and her eyes fell on Mr. Eichelberger. She suddenly realized that he had probably heard every word they said. He had not moved, but he was gazing at her with a startling look in his eye. If she had not known better, she might have called it satisfaction.
Alafair resumed her seat and relieved Mr. Eichelberger of the basket of beans. The old man’s demeanor had changed so much in the space of five minutes that Alafair knew something significant had happened. She took a guess. “Did you hear Scott say that your daughter Abra Jane will be here directly? What a blessing that will be.”
“I heard. I heard it all. Abra Jane is coming. And now Rollo can come home, too.”
Alafair caught her breath. This was the first really sensible thing she
had heard Mr. Eichelberger utter in three days. “Yes, I’m sure Rollo will come home, as well.” Rollo was Eichelberger’s simple-minded son. “I declare, I haven’t seen Rollo since Noah built an ark. Where is he now?”
“He’s been living with my daughter Abra Jane in El Reno for a couple years. We sure have missed having him at home. Maisie would be so happy.” He paused to choke back a sob and wipe his eyes, and Alafair squeezed his hand.
“Why did Rollo go to live with Abra Jane in El Reno in the first place? I remember Rollo as a good, simple soul, but he wasn’t so feeble he needed tending, and he was a good worker and a great help to y’all on the farm. Did he get worse, or have an accident? If I remember right, he left awful sudden. Miz Eichelberger was mighty sad about it.”
Eichelberger shrugged. He didn’t answer for a moment, and Alafair thought he was probably considering how much he could say. “Oh, we just figured it’d be better all around if he lived with Abra Jane. Rollo will need looking after all his life and me and Maisie aren’t getting any younger. It near to broke his mama’s heart to lose him, though.”
“Could it have had something to do with Jubal Beldon?” Alafair asked.
He blinked at her. “What makes you ask that?”
Alafair could tell by the old man’s reaction that she was on the right track. “Just a hunch. Jubal Beldon was known around here for starting dark rumors about folks whether or not they were true. It looks to me that you’ve decided that now Jubal is dead, it’s safe for Rollo to come back. Like I said, I don’t know anything. But I think it would be a good thing if Rollo came back home. I surely do.”
Eichelberger withdrew an enormous handkerchief from the pocket of his borrowed overalls and wiped his nose. “Rollo wants so bad to come home,” he admitted. “He never did understand why we sent him away.”
Scott Tucker
There was so much news to hear that Scott spent more time at the Lukenbach farm than he had intended. If he went back to town without a full report on the state of every member of the extended Tucker family, his wife, Hattie, would never let him hear the end of it.
