The Last Blue

by Isla Morley

  Mama blasts after her, screaming, “Give me back Levi!”

  “This isn’t Levi, Mama, this is Sarah’s baby.” With a firm hold on the baby, Jubilee flicks the reins and tucks in her heels and sets off, Mama screeching at her to stop and Pa running after her. How few times does the right way make itself so plain, and still there’s a part of Jubilee that wants to turn back and give Mama what she most wants.

  Uncle Eddie lives where the holler flattens and widens. At a gallop, Lass could have them there in twenty minutes, but there’s the baby to consider, so she takes it slow, especially along the steeper parts of the trail. The air is cold and damp, and they make foggy breaths, Lenny’s just a tiny little puff. He’s wide awake, taking in everything.

  Uncle Eddie’s cabin is set in a hard field that is nothing but dirt and scrubby bushes. A rusty old manure spreader sits in the middle of his land from the one time he thought he might make something of it. His livestock have long since succumbed to starvation, even the last of his goats are gone, and now only Reverend Tuttle’s pony is in the coral. The poor thing looks far gone. Uncle Eddie’s cabin is dug partway into the ground, so when Jubilee walks up to the front door she can see the weeds growing up from the dirt roof.

  She knocks several times. “Sarah?”

  She walks around to the back. The outdoor kitchen has a piece of corrugated iron for a roof, a couple of tarps for sides, and a coatrack from which pots hang, but Sarah’s not here or in the outhouse either. Hearing moaning inside the cabin, she steps over a tub of rotting potatoes and enters through the back door. There’s barely any light to see by. “Sarah?” The walls are papered with flattened cereal boxes, a new dartboard hangs above the fireplace, and the table is a mess of playing cards and darts and beer bottles. The only womanly touch is the dainty white lace curtain that hangs in the window above the iron bed, where Uncle Eddie is slouched among army blankets. The smell is strongest at the foot of the bed, where a five-gallon drum serves as a latrine.

  “Foot’s gone.” Uncle Eddie pulls at the covers, disturbing a colony of flies, and exposes a bandaged stump soaked through with blood. She has to cover her nose to keep from gagging. Uncle Eddie watches the flies settle on his stump. “So, you blue again. Couldn’t cut it as one of us, that it?”

  “Where’s Sarah?” she asks.

  A heavy swing of his head brings muddy eyes to hers. “Where’s my foot, is what I’d like to know.” He reaches for the bottle beside his pillow and takes a swig. “Do they bury a foot? Or do they grind it up and feed it to the hogs?” Uncle Eddie seems to be enjoying himself until he spies what Jubilee is holding. “Is that a baby?”

  Taking a step backward, she answers, “This is Sarah’s child. I need to give him to her.”

  Uncle Eddie sneers. “You can’t trick me. Her baby’s long gone.”

  She goes cold at the words. “Did you leave this child to die in the woods?”

  “Does it look like I can go anywhere on this leg?”

  Uncle Eddie slumps to one side, instantly nodding off.

  She prods him.

  His eyes clack open. “They wanted to take my leg all the way up to my nuts.”

  “Who took Sarah’s baby? Did she agree to it?”

  “You always were a meddlesome little coon.” Agitated, Uncle Eddie tries to sit up, slinging his good leg over the side of the bed and reaching for his stump. “Scoot that bucket over.” Uncle Eddie starts fussing with his pants. “Quick!”

  She pushes the pail with her foot and turns away as Uncle Eddie leans forward and takes aim.

  “Who left this child out there in the woods?”

  “Why are you pestering me?”

  “Who was it?”

  “Why should I tell you anything? You’ve never helped me. Your father never helped me. He just stole my inheritance. But I’ve got my own boy now. He’ll help me turn this place around, and next summer you won’t be able to see anything out there except tobacco, then your pa will be the one coming to me with his hand out.”

  “Ronny took Sarah’s baby?”

  “Oh, he’ll be along presently, and he’s not going to be too pleased.” Uncle Eddie starts coughing and then retching. The only reason she doesn’t let him suffocate on his own vomit is so he can tell her of Sarah’s whereabouts. Could she be lying out there somewhere?

  “What did you do to Sarah? Where is she?”

  “I’m glad she’s gone. Let her father put up with all her blubbering.”

  Jubilee has no time to lose. With Uncle Eddie yelling that there are ways to make it so a witness can’t talk, she tears out of the cabin, mounts Lass, and gallops off. A Blue going into town is asking for trouble, but skin can’t be worth much if it isn’t worth risking to save someone else. “Come on, little one; let’s go find your mama.”

  Once they cross the wash, there is no turning back. They follow it to the road, where the sheltering trees fall back and Beaver Creek rushes to their left, and Lass becomes skittish, as if she knows blue skin is no condition for coming to town, especially with someone else’s ill-got baby.

  “Just a little farther,” she tells Lenny as they pass Rudy’s filling station, which would be a pile of rubble were it not for the Regal beer signs holding it together. On the swaybacked porch sit four of Chappy’s kin. They tip their hats.

  As they reach the first of the electric poles at the four-way, with town but a mile ahead, she hears horses behind her, and she turns in the saddle to see Ronny and Faro racing toward her. She considers bolting for town, but Lass is no match for Ronny’s stallion, so she tucks Lenny under her blouse, doubles her coat around her, and trots on, waiting for them to catch up. “Not a sound now, okay, Lenny?”

  Ronny’s face is sanded smooth with spite. He steers his horse in a circle around Lass. “You must have some kind of death wish.”

  She nudges for Lass to keep going, but Ronny brings his horse to a halt in front of her, blocking their passage. She reminds herself she has a man who loves her and a little one who has given her a purpose much bigger than Ronny’s wickedness. Town’s in view now, so she fixes her sights dead ahead, keeps a firm grip on Lenny, and steers Lass around the stallion.

  She hears Ronny ask Faro, “Was I not clear when I made a deal with her?”

  “Oh, you were clear, all right.”

  “Was it not a fair deal?”

  “I’d say more than fair.”

  Again, Ronny blocks her way. She ought to know better, but the words are out before she can stop them. “You killed my brother, Ronny, and there wasn’t ever any deal.”

  His voice has a rusty edge to it. “He got himself killed! What kind of fool takes on two guys bigger than himself with an itty-bitty pocketknife?”

  She won’t listen to this. She flicks the reins, but Ronny blocks Lass going to the right, and she veers to the left, and he blocks that side, too.

  “Poor Mrs. Gault’s gonna die any day because of your brother!”

  Ronny rebukes Faro, who argues that since Levi’s not around, it’s only right that Jubilee take responsibility for the fact nobody will talk to Mrs. Gault, not even her friends or even her own husband, and that she didn’t even ask for Eddie’s baby or any babies for that matter. “It’s not fair Eddie makes you do all his dirty work, neither. Just so he won’t blab more details about your mama.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Faro!” Ronny shouts.

  Jubilee understands that she is not just dealing with malice anymore. Avenging is Ronny’s aim.

  Ronny leans in close to her. He smells like lard gone off. “You don’t feel bad about what you’ve done to my mama, do you? And now you’ve come to town so you can rub her nose in it.”

  If the World of Wonders taught Jubilee anything it’s how to make as though your adversary is gone.

  “Jesus, she’s something, isn’t she?”

  Suddenly Lenny whimpers.

  “Is that a baby?”

  “What man would be stupid enough to breed with a Blue?” asks Faro.<
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  Jubilee shoots the gap between the horses, flicking the reins for Lass to give it her all. She clicks her tongue for Lass to go faster, but she’s no match for the two horses, which close rank and put an end to the chase.

  A viper’s eyes have more feeling than Ronny’s. “It’s not yours, is it?”

  There are people in the street up ahead now; if Ronny does something, he’s going to have to do it in full view of an audience.

  “I know what you did, Ronny.”

  “Hand it over!”

  “No one’s going to excuse you of that much hate, not even those who can’t stand Blues.”

  Ronny tries reaching for Lenny, but Jubilee slaps the reins and Lass lunges ahead as though a wolf’s snapped at her heels.

  Instead of chasing, Ronny and Faro peel off the road and head for the path that runs along the railway tracks.

  Lass slows when they reach Main Street, flicking her tail and twitching her ears. She stops a hundred yards from the nearest cabin, locks her knees, and sets her head in that stubborn position as if someone’s just thrown a sack over it.

  “Come on now, Lass.”

  She flares her nostrils as though she’s caught the scent of trouble and won’t budge.

  “Lass, move.” Jubilee digs in her heels, and Lass obliges with two steps before stopping again. At this rate, they’ll reach Sarah’s front door by Christmas. Keeping Lenny tight in her arm, Jubilee dismounts and leads Lass by the reins, and still the horse keeps yanking her head back. “None of us likes being here, okay?” Dragging a stubborn horse is not how she wanted to come to town. She wanted everyone to see her as resolved, proud to do the right thing, proud, too, of blue.

  The Tuttles live on the south side of town, up the dirt road that leads to the church. If she goes through the middle of town, there’s no telling what kind of crowd she’ll draw, so she leads Lass along the gravel road to her right and goes by way of Anderson’s mill.

  Lenny squirms and whimpers.

  “Nearly there.” She hums, even though you can’t call it a tune.

  A man in his front yard eyes her as she goes by, and falls in behind them, along with two other men and a boy on his bicycle. Two women pass her, each swiveling to join the men. Sweat sticks Jubilee’s dress to her legs. Just keep going. People are marching behind her, others streaming toward her from every which way, faces bearing down on her, eyes boring into the back of her head. Three houses from her destination Verily Suggins dashes into the road from nowhere, yelling about this being private property and grabbing Jubilee’s jacket, revealing what Jubilee intended to keep private. Lenny starts bellowing.

  A person can go her whole life running and hiding and believing she’s put on this earth only to be sorry for being blue, but Jubilee is not sorry anymore. “This is Sarah Tuttle’s boy and I aim to return him to her, so best you get out of my way.”

  As though she’s had her head held underwater, Verily gasps and tells the crowd, “She’s dug up the grave! She’s robbed the grave! Fetch Sheriff Suggins!”

  Jubilee prepares to run bull-hard against anyone who dares step in front of her, but the crowd suddenly allows her passage, and she can’t be sure what has subdued them more, Lenny’s presence or a Blue standing up for herself.

  Jubilee ties Lass to the hitching post in the Tuttle’s front yard and rushes up to the door. No one answers her knock, so she yells at the window. “Sarah, I’ve brought back your baby!” Jubilee raps on another window. “Sarah, your baby is out here and he needs you!”

  A gaunt face appears from behind the lace curtain.

  “See for yourself.” Jubilee lifts Lenny.

  The front door opens a crack, and Sarah pushes past her father. She’s so frail. There’s hardly any woman left to her. All it takes for the life to go filling up in her is a look at Lenny’s face. “My baby!”

  Jubilee lays him in the cradle Sarah makes of her arms. He fits so perfectly. It’s this she’ll tell Mama when she’s ready to hear.

  Mrs. Tuttle comes to her daughter’s side with a baby blanket, and Reverend Tuttle introduces himself to his grandson while Jubilee gives an account of where she found him and how she took him home because she didn’t know what else to do and that she is sorry she didn’t come right away. Instead of telling about Mama, she explains how they’ve all come to love him in just two days and what a good boy he is and that they’ve been calling him Lenny in the meantime, but of course he’s hers to name.

  “You did a very brave thing today.” Reverend Tuttle thanks her, but she would rather he save his respect for Levi. “My brother wanted to marry Sarah. He would’ve done everything to make her happy and he would’ve raised this boy not to hate anyone.”

  Sarah tells Lenny, “Your daddy would’ve been so proud of you for being so brave out there in the woods all by yourself.” Never has there been a Buford so content. “He favors Levi, don’t you think?” Sarah asks Jubilee. But her face clouds over. “He came out blue, and Eddie just went crazy. He hurt me pretty bad, and when I came to, he said my baby had died and been buried, and I was to go along with him being stillborn and forget it.” Her eyes flicker as she describes searching everywhere for her baby in the hope that Eddie was lying, and having to give up eventually. “I told myself it was better that he was with his daddy in heaven than in this wicked world.”

  So she won’t cry, Jubilee touches Lenny’s little face and brings her back to what matters now.

  She recounts her run-in with Ronny. “It was Eddie’s plan, but Ronny carried it out, though I expect they’ll find a way to try pin this on me.”

  “I will have a word with Sheriff Suggins,” promises Reverend Tuttle.

  “Who’s done exactly nothing about Levi’s murder!”

  Mrs. Tuttle rests a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, but Sarah won’t be placated. “We let Ronny get away with killing an innocent man; are we going to let him get away with trying to kill an innocent child? When’s he going to be stopped?”

  Reverend Tuttle looks like a man at the bottom of a well with a rope that’s too short. “We’ve got a town council meeting coming up this week. I can raise the issue of having Sheriff Suggins replaced.”

  “And what makes you so sure they won’t replace you, Pa?” argues Sarah.

  “I think I’ll be on my way.” Jubilee teases Lenny’s cockscomb and passes her finger over his cheek. “Goodbye, little rooster.” This little boy, beautiful and perfect and purpose-giving. “You being in the world makes it less wicked.”

  Sarah follows Jubilee to the steps. “Why isn’t he blue anymore?”

  “I don’t know, but you’ll see when he cries that some of it comes back in his lips and fingernails.” There will be time later for explaining all Jubilee’s learned about blue, but for now she tells her about Dr. Fordsworth, who will welcome a letter from Sarah on the matter, and will surely write back with an answer as to why his color faded and if it’s likely to come back.

  “I’ll never be able to repay you.” There’s something different about how Sarah holds her head now. “Maybe I can bring him by for a visit sometime, if your ma will allow it?”

  “We would all like that very much.”

  Reverend Tuttle follows Jubilee to her horse, thanking her and saying again how sorry he is about Levi. “I can only promise his child will want for nothing, and I will make sure he grows up surrounded by music.”

  “Not just church music,” Jubilee barters from her saddle. “Sarah’s and Levi’s kind of music, too.”

  Reverend Tuttle leads Lass to the front gate where he pauses and looks up at Jubilee and says in earshot of the crowd gathered around, “The Lord looks with favor on those who walk in the paths of righteousness.”

  She feels she’s contradicting God when she says, “Favor’s good, but justice is better.”

  The crowd parts for her as soon as Verily starts yelling for people to mind they don’t get touched or cursed, but Reverend Tuttle’s reprimand is stern and loud. “No one wants to hear that
kind of talk, Verily!”

  Not everything can be put right by what Jubilee’s done, Mama’s heart for sure, but has not one stolen item now been returned to its rightful owner, one prisoner gone free? All this time Jubilee supposed the Year of the Lord’s Favor would be a rush of captives going free all at once, every debt forgiven, every sin pardoned in one fell swoop, but perhaps the Jubilee Year begins small, with one true deed followed by another true deed.

  JUBILEE

  Just past the sawmill, Faro jumps her. He pulls her from the saddle and whips Lass’s flanks to make her tear off down the road.

  “Time someone taught a witch a lesson.”

  Ronny is waiting behind the mill shed. Faro’s eyes slide around like loose marbles on a cracked saucer, but Ronny’s are wide and fixed. “We were down to no Blues, but now there are two again. Pretty soon, there’ll be three, then four, then the whole goddamn town will be crawling with them.”

  “We are people, Ronny. We have names.”

  They drag her to the weedy clearing on the other side of the greenbrier, where a car tire is propped against a barrel. As soon as she sees that it’s to be fitted over her, she fights and struggles against Ronny, and when that gets her nowhere, she drops into a crouch, which only makes it easier for Faro to throw it over her head. Ronny pulls her to her feet so Faro can tug the tire down past her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides.

  She makes a dash for the road, but the weight of the tire makes her lose her balance. She screams for help.

  “Get her up.” Her panic has only made Ronny more patient.

  Faro pulls her off her knees, turns the tire, spinning her around and around before letting go. She lurches left then right, trying to find her balance and eating dirt instead. Faro’s laughing sounds like buzzards bickering over a fresh carcass.

  Fighting the urge to throw up, she struggles to her feet again. “You won’t get away with this, Ronny. The truth is going to come out about what you did, and everyone will know if you do anything to me.”