A Little Sin

by Sionnach Wintergreen

  Avery hung on the back door as Garland madly pumped water. “Do you mind if I stay here while you’re gone?”

  “You’re not going to church?” Everyone in East Texas went to one of its many churches on Sunday morning.

  “After what Pastor Daniels and his buddies did to you? No and hell no.”

  Garland didn’t bother with the stove. He poured the water straight into the tub. “Come to my church. We’ll be glad to have you.”

  Avery looked away in disgust. “We can’t just go to church together, Garland. What’s wrong with you?”

  “You go home and get dressed, then come to church. It’s the one at the bottom of Blue Hunter’s Hill.”

  Avery shuffled his feet. “Is it one of them where you sing without music?”

  “No, we have a piano.” Garland added another pot of water.

  “Do you get the Holy Ghost and dance around?”

  “No, it’s not that exciting. It’s just a Bible church. We sing songs. There’s a sermon. That’s pretty much it.” He looked up at Avery as he pumped more water. “Are you all right? What was Lucinda doing here?”

  “I’m fine. Lucinda was concerned about the paper. There’s an article in there about Billy Jenkins. And another that makes me sound like a sorry excuse for a sheriff.”

  “Come to church with me,” said Garland with a touch of petulance. “We’ll figure all of this out later.”

  “Won’t it look…odd?”

  “Men are allowed to have friends. I’ll just say I invited you. People know we’ve been working together. It won’t look odd. It’ll be Christian. That’s it.” He unbuckled his overalls and Avery’s thoughts drifted very far from church.

  Avery couldn’t help smiling. “I suppose.”

  “So get going!” Garland shooed him away.

  Avery walked off the back porch, reluctantly turning his back on a soon-to-be-naked Garland, and went to the stable to saddle Bluebird. Lucinda’s question nagged at his heels. Why hadn’t Margaret’s family reported her missing?

  ***

  Piney Woods Bible Church

  Avery sat in the pew beside Garland. Despite what the morning paper had said, all of the faces he could see smiled at him. An odd feeling came over him as he stood and sang Amazing Grace with the rest of the cheerful congregation. Somewhere across the train tracks, Lucinda and her family were also at church. A black church. This was a white church. Both churches worshipped the same God. Both believed Jesus died on the cross for their sins. But they didn’t worship together. Being friends with Lucinda had made him more aware of the separateness of their people. It hadn’t seemed that strange before. Now, it seemed entirely odd.

  He tried not to look over at Garland, who smelled like soap and some lime-scented aftershave. They both wore suits and ties. Garland had taken his brown jacket off and set it next to him. Periodically, he fanned himself with his flat cap and the muscles in his brawny arms strained against the white fabric of his dress shirt.

  Avery had his cowboy-booted ankle on one knee and held his Stetson on the other. He glanced at the ladies fanning themselves, at the sweaty, neatly-dressed children straining to be quiet. He watched some of the couples clasp hands as they sat together, listening to the sermon. How easy it would have been to take Garland’s hand, to squeeze it in pure love while the Holy Spirit filled the wooden building around them. He knew no good would come of it, but the thought crossed his mind.

  When the congregation bowed their heads to pray, Avery silently prayed his own, private prayer. Please, dear Lord, let me find this killer. Let me bring him to justice. Amen.

  ***

  Dogwood Road

  Bluebird and Britches rode well together. They didn’t nip at each other. One didn’t try to go faster than the other one. They walked side by side very pleasantly, allowing Garland and Avery to talk to each other as easily as if they had been walking on foot.

  Garland had been saddened that Avery didn’t want to stay at the church picnic longer, but he understood that Avery had a lot on his mind. The paper had bothered him a great deal, Garland was certain. Avery had brooded quietly at the picnic while smiling people swarmed around him. Whenever his eye caught Garland’s, storm clouds brewed there.

  “Lucinda’s right,” Garland said as they rode down Dogwood Road back to his farm. “Where is Margaret’s family? Where are her friends?”

  “So far, the only one who misses her is…her lover. They had to be lovers. Something in his eyes. I could feel it.”

  “If you went missing, I would miss you.”

  But Avery didn’t seem to have heard him. “He took a risk coming to see me. It meant that much to him. She meant that much to him.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “They couldn’t be together in the open. They were like us. They had to sneak around.”

  “They had a secret. Secret love.” Garland couldn’t help himself. “That’s romantic, isn’t it?”

  Avery didn’t appear to be listening. He stared straight ahead. “They had a secret love.” He sighed deeply and looked down. “Damnit. That Eloise.”

  “What about her?”

  “I didn’t tell Billy that I thought his girl was dead. I promised to find her. If he reads the paper, or someone reads it to him, he’ll realize she’s gone.”

  “He’ll have to find out sometime.”

  “What if you had to find out I was dead in the paper?”

  The thought sent a chill up Garland’s spine. “Poor thing,” he said softly.

  “Garland. Stop a minute.” Avery pulled Bluebird up.

  Garland brought Britches to a halt alongside him. “Is something wrong?”

  Avery turned to him. “Remember I told you how Burrell shot that woman?”

  “Yes.” Garland held back his anger. He had warned Avery about that boy.

  “I want to deputize you. I want you to catch this sonofabitch with me.”

  Garland tried to gather his thoughts. “You aren’t afraid—”

  “I trust you. I know you better than anyone else. I know you won’t let me down.” He looked right into Garland’s eyes. “I can’t make you my husband, but I can make you my deputy.”

  Garland couldn’t stop grinning. “Yes.” He laughed. “Yes, I’ll be your deputy, Sheriff Avery O’Rourke.”

  “Don’t leave your gun on the kitchen table. You might need it.”

  “I’ll keep it loaded and on my side.”

  Avery looked this way and that, then took off his hat, leaned over, and brushed a whiskery kiss against Garland’s lips. “I love you, Deputy Sands.”

  ***

  Monday, August 6, 1923

  Sands’ Farm

  Morning sunlight streamed through the open kitchen windows. Avery clenched his cigarette between his teeth and flipped a pancake. He heard a noise and looked over his shoulder. “Good morning,” said Lucinda, smiling. “Aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” He saw she had the paper with her. Avery almost dreaded reading it.

  “Would you like some pancakes? Someone gave Garland a tin of cane syrup.” He didn’t tell her that they had drizzled some of it on each other and licked it off last night. “Garland’s been hankering for pancakes ever since.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He just finished his chores. He’s washing up. He’ll be in any minute.”

  Lucinda looked at the phone as if she expected it to ring. “I already had breakfast, but thank you for the offer.”

  “Have you had coffee?” Avery pointed to the pot. “I just brewed some. You want a cup?”

  “I’d love one.”

  Avery got a couple of cups down from the cupboard. He stuck his cigarette in his mouth and poured Lucinda a cup and handed it to her. He flipped his pancake onto the stack on the plate, then stirred the batter and poured another pancake on the griddle.

  “Billy Jenkins’ mother caught me as I was leaving. She said he won’t believe Margaret’s dead and has gone looking for her.”

&nbs
p; “That’s hard. Maybe I can go looking for him after breakfast. Try to talk some sense into him. It’s partly my fault. I gave him false hope.”

  “I suppose false hope’s better than no hope at all.”

  Avery put his cigarette in the ash tray. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

  Katydid brushed against Lucinda’s legs. “Well, good morning, Miss Katydid.”

  “Oh,” Avery said. “You’d better watch your step. The kittens are loose.”

  “Anthony and Cleopatra?”

  Avery smothered the fire and set the plate of pancakes on the table. He scoffed at Lucinda. “Jack and Jill. Garland doesn’t know how to name cats.”

  Lucinda laughed. “You better watch out. He’ll send Jack and Jill home with you.”

  “Jack and Jill!” Garland strode in. “Did he tell you what he did to my kittens?”

  Lucinda giggled. “I heard they have new names.”

  Garland sat in the chair opposite Lucinda. “Tell me, honestly, who picked the better names?”

  Avery pointed to his chest as he sat next to Garland. Lucinda giggled at him. “I think Jack and Jill sound more like kittens.”

  Garland sagged in mock defeat. “You wound me.” He forked some pancakes onto his plate. “These are perfect. Mine always turn out funny.”

  Avery shrugged. Lucinda unfolded the paper. Avery looked at her. “What does it say?”

  Lucinda sighed. “Who is the Timberland Ripper? Will he strike again? And that sort of thing.”

  “Great. Just what we need. A panic-stricken town.”

  Garland poured syrup on his pancakes. “This syrup is from the Rutherford’s. Their cow had a breeched calf the other day. They paid me, too, but they felt bad for getting me out of bed.”

  Avery bit his lips together because he remembered how Garland had left their bed to help the cow calve. He thought of how the doctor left in the middle of the night. He looked up suddenly. “How is the doctor related to Margaret? Maybe she had a problem with the baby?”

  “A miscarriage?” said Garland. “Or a difficult birth?”

  Lucinda put the paper down on the table and frowned. “Look at this map.” The paper had printed a map of the town with an ‘x’ where each body was found and the question, ‘where will the next body lie?’ “Is that where you found Margaret’s body, Garland?”

  “Looks close.”

  Avery squinted at the map. “And here’s where the doctor’s body was….”

  Garland pointed to a place on the road. “That’s where Clyde found Apollo.”

  Lucinda put her finger on the railroad tracks. “Look. That’s around where Ruby found Hope. It’s almost like a triangle if you connect the dots.”

  “A baby. An unwanted baby.” Avery stared at the map.

  Lucinda looked up at him. “A black baby. Born to a white woman.”

  “Billy’s baby,” said Avery.

  “In a fit of rage,” said Garland, “Margaret’s husband kills Doc Watson. He kills his wife. But he can’t kill the baby.”

  “So,” said Lucinda, “he leaves her on the railroad tracks, probably hoping the train will take care of her for him.”

  Avery looked at the map, the hairs standing up on his arms. “That morning, after I found the doctor, I talked to a man who said his wife had just had a baby. I heard the baby. I never saw the wife.” He swallowed. “I should have questioned her. I should have asked to speak with her, but she was just a woman, so I didn’t. Maybe she was still there. Maybe he hadn’t thrown her in the creek yet.”

  “You don’t know that,” Lucinda said gently.

  Garland shoveled pancakes into his mouth. “We should go talk to that man,” he said, mouth full of pancakes and syrup. He took a huge swig of milk and stood. “I’ll get my pistol and my rifle.”

  Lucinda raised a brow at him. “What are you doing, Garland?”

  “He’s my new deputy,” Avery told her. He stood and pushed his chair under the table. “Get ready and let’s go. I’m bringing him in.”

  ***

  Whitetail Trail

  They rode past Doc Watkin’s house at a lope, a rocking chair-like gait that covered a lot of ground without being tiring for the horse. After a while, they passed the magnolia where Doc Watkins had been hanged. Then O’Dell’s place. Finally, they pulled up at the long drive that led to the Mitchell’s house.

  Avery lifted the hoop of barbed wire that held the barbed wire gate closed. They trotted past the little graves. The Mitchells had tried to have a family, but fate kept getting in the way. Maybe Lucas Mitchell was a cold man. Maybe that had been why Margaret had fallen for Billy. Billy was kind and he obviously thought she’d hung the moon.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. All Avery cared about was that Lucas Mitchell had killed Doc Watkins and his own wife. He had to be brought to justice.

  Avery pulled Bluebird to a halt. He dismounted and flipped the reins over the horse’s head. Bluebird was trained to stand still whenever the reins were in front of him. He would stand that way until Avery took up the reins again. Avery wasn’t surprised that Britches knew that trick, too. He doubted she had Bluebird’s cutting horse experience, but she was a well-trained mare.

  Garland, now standing beside him, frowned at the house. “What do we do now?”

  “We go knock on his door.”

  Garland looked at him askance. “And then we arrest him?”

  “Let me handle it. You just be ready to shoot if he gets violent.”

  “I can do that.” Garland drew his pistol.

  Avery didn’t think they needed to have their guns drawn yet, but he didn’t say anything to Garland. He knew Garland wouldn’t fire wildly like Dawson Burrell. He drew his long Colt and cocked it. “Let’s go.”

  He walked up to the house, along the path lined by dark clumps of monkey grass, with Garland beside him. He could feel Garland’s tension, but he felt confident himself. Almost giddy. It would soon be over. Just a few quick questions, the snap of handcuffs. He knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  He knocked again. “Lucas Mitchell, this is the sheriff. I need to talk to you.”

  A muffled scream sounded from inside the house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mitchell’s Farm

  Avery slammed his shoulder against the door. It flew off its hinges and landed inside the home with a wooden thud and billowing clouds of dust. Billy Jenkins sat in a kitchen chair in the middle of the living room. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead, falling into his eyes. A wadded dishtowel was stuffed in his mouth. Behind him stood a shirtless Lucas Mitchell, holding a knife to Billy’s throat.

  “One more step and the colored dies.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” said Garland from just to Avery’s left.

  “No? Why’s that?”

  “He’s the only reason we haven’t shot you dead,” said Garland, his voice calm and soothing. “Let him go and we’ll talk. He’s innocent and has nothing to do with this.”

  Lucas laughed. “You think I don’t know who this is?” He gripped Billy’s hair tighter. “I saw this little prick in the paper. I know who he is. I know what he did. He ain’t no innocent! I kept Margaret on a short leash. Kept her home and with child. She was mine! But she snuck off selling eggs and met this varmint. He’s the one you should shoot. He’s the reason for all of this. Thinking he had any right to screw a white woman—”

  Avery pulled the trigger in a flash and put a bullet in Lucas Mitchell’s forehead.

  Lucas’ fingers let go of the knife as he slumped over Billy. The knife glinted in the sunlight streaming through the busted doorway as it tumbled down Billy’s body and to the wood floor. Garland stared at Avery with wide eyes. “I thought we were negotiating.”

  “Negotiations are over.”

  Garland rushed to Billy’s aide. He took the rags from Billy’s mouth as Avery shoved Lucas aside. As Billy sobbed, Avery examined the body on the floor. He shoved it with his booted foot. The unm
istakable marks of large, flat teeth indented Lucas’ shoulder. “This is one of the Klanners who hurt you,” he told Garland. “Bluebird bit him.”

  Garland tore off his shirt and began ripping it. “The toes of one of Billy’s feet have been amputated.”

  Avery stared at Lucas Mitchell’s lifeless face. He wasn’t sorry. Killing people, maiming people that was sinful. Killing because you had to, that was justice. He watched Garland bandage Billy’s bleeding foot. Loving someone—even if others said it was wrong, couldn’t be sinful. Love was pure, as pure as the sunlight glinting off the dust motes.

  Avery untied Billy’s hands from behind his back and patted Billy on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Garland will take care of you.” He lit a cigarette and gave it to Billy. He lit another for himself. He wouldn’t tell anyone about the affair. They would say Lucas Mitchell kidnapped Billy and was going to kill him because that’s what evil ripper-types do.

  “Thank you, sheriff, for saving me.”

  “It was no hill for a stepper.” Avery looked again at the dead eyes staring up from the floor. All of the man’s hatred was gone.

  ***

  Tuesday, August 7, 1923

  Sands’ Farm

  Lying in bed with Avery snuggled beside him, Garland read the latest edition of the Wakeforest Daily Gazette aloud. “The citizens of Timberland can sleep well tonight, knowing that the Timberland Ripper has been caught and killed by Wakeforest County’s brave Sheriff Avery O’Rourke.”

  “Stop that. I’m going to have it memorized soon. How many times are you going to read that?”

  “As many times as I think you need to hear it.”

  “Blow out the candle and let’s go to sleep.”

  “I think this is one paper we won’t be using in the outhouse.”

  Avery chuckled. “I guess we can keep it.” Garland leaned over, deposited the paper on the nightstand, and blew out the candle. “Seems wrong that they didn’t mention you or Lucinda,” said Avery.

  “We don’t mind being in the background. You’re the sheriff.”