“Sure. It ain’t but a couple of hours northeast.”
“Good. I have some men at the Holiday Inn there. Do you know Michael Braccaro?”
“By reputation. He’s a good man.”
“Yes he is, but he has an assignment that might require some help. Call him at the Holiday Inn in Chisum and get the details.” He read the number written on the damp linen napkin. “Take your best men with you, but remember, Michael is my lieutenant. You do what he says. Once you are finished, I will fly you and the guys out here for a week, on my tab, and you will be paid your usual rate.”
“That’s fine, Mr. Best. Thank you. We’ll get right on it.”
“Good, and take plenty of artillery. I want this to make an impact. I want you to take an army to do this job. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are a good man, Ray.”
Again, Best ended the call by pushing the disconnect button. His operator came on. “Yes, Mr. Best.”
His eggs were cold. “Another breakfast. Right now.”
Then he hung up and beamed. It was going to be a good day.
Chapter Forty-one
Mr. John’s car still wasn’t in the yard when I came back to the house. I already felt at home, so I wove through the clutter on the back porch and peeked through the rusty screen door to see Miss Rachel standing over her worn out table, peeling potatoes.
A colored man was singing on a plastic Titan radio about when a man loves a woman, and I found my head moving with the music. I thought she was talking to someone, and then I realized she was talking to the radio.
When he sang “a man can’t keep nothin’ else on his mind when he loves a woman,” Miss Rachel bobbed her head. “Tha’s right.”
Every time he finished a line, she said something else. “Tell me honey!”
Another line.
She talked to the radio. “Yes, he can.”
She saw me and clicked the radio off. “Top, you get in here and set down at this table. What’d you do with them gals?”
“They’re still out there…being girls.”
“Them two’re ’bout as sorry as they come, all right.” She gave me another one of them dimpled smiles that made me feel so good. “I swear I wouldn’t hang around ’em no more than a minute if I didn’t have to. You’re smart to leave them to their devilishness. You hungry, baby?”
“Yessum.” I glanced into the living room and saw three of the kids asleep on a rag pallet on the floor. “Kinda.”
Behind them a bright half-finished quilt was rolled on a portable floor stand. I recognized the wedding ring pattern from the one on Miss Becky’s bed and remembered her saying that only married folks slept under them. Since Miss Rachel wasn’t married, I wondered who the quilt was for.
“Growin’ boys is always hungry. I’m gettin’ ready to start supper, but I bet you could eat a bite to hold you. How ’bout I fry you up an egg sandwich?”
I’d never thought of eating eggs after breakfast. “That’d be good.”
“All right, then.” She handed me a bucket that was old when Miss Becky was a baby. “I’m ’fraid you gotta work for your supper. The chicken house is out back yonder. I didn’t gather the eggs this mornin’, so you’ll need to get ’em all fuh me.”
It was my job to gather the eggs for Miss Becky, so I knew what to do. I took and carried the bucket out to a little gray shack that looked like it was about to fall down. From the smell, I knew it was the chicken house long before I got there.
It had one of them Dutch doors, and only the bottom half was open. I ducked under and peeked inside. Imagine a ladder six feet wide with only three rungs leaning against the back wall, and that was the roost. At the opposite end, directly across from the door, were twenty nesting boxes nailed to the wall. Most of the raw wooden boxes were empty, because the chickens were out scratching round the yard and pasture, but a few still had some old hens setting in there, watching me with their black eyes.
I’d have left them alone, if they were trying to hatch some chicks, but Miss Rachel said to get all the eggs. I held my breath from the stink, and went inside. The chicken shit was at least six inches deep underfoot. I thought the whole thing was going to give way under me, but it held as I crossed to the far wall. I pretty near filled up the bucket with eggs, but then had to get those from under the hens still on their nests. That slowed me down some.
My hand was under the second hen when a car door slammed. I figured it was Mr. John come back, but then it was followed by another. When I glanced through the loose chicken wire on the window, I saw a woman standing beside a baby-blue Chevrolet parked in the yard at the corner of the house. I probably wouldn’t have paid much attention to the car, except it had a long groove in the paint that went from the front fender on the driver side, across both doors, and dug deep into the back fender where it was bent out from the body.
A pair of legs crossed the front of the house and disappeared up the steps.
I put the warm egg in my bucket, and reached back under the hen for another when a loud shriek stopped me. The screen door banged open and Miss Rachel busted out onto the back porch. I thought she was going to run off through the yard, but she had other ideas. She grabbed a double-bit ax leaning against one of the porch posts.
The spring squealed and started to pull the screen closed again when a slimy-looking man boiled out behind her. She swung the sharp ax, but he was too close. He stepped inside the swing, grabbed the handle with his left hand, and caught her a lick with his right fist. Her head snapped back and she yelped, but she wouldn’t let go of the ax handle. He jerked it twice, and then punched her in the cheek. Her knees sagged, but she grunted and threw her weight behind the ax head to drive it into him.
Instead of hitting her again, he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her off her feet. “Don’t fight me, gal!”
Miss Rachel landed hard on her back, but that feller never let go of either the handle or her hair. He dropped to one knee and slammed her hand against the porch. She finally turned loose and he threw the ax out into the yard.
He gave her head a shake. “Where’s your man? We have some business.”
She shrieked and used both hands to hold the fist buried in her hair. “Ain’t no man lives here!”
He gave her another hard shake and spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t you lie to me, you black bitch! I know Washington’s always sniffing around. When’s he coming back?”
The little ones in the house started tuning up from the commotion. Movement caught my attention, and I saw two of the other kids standing inside the woods, stock still, like wild animals that know better than to run or else they’ll be seen.
Tears ran from her eyes. “I had a husband, but he run off a while back. I ain’t seen Rudolph in months.”
From inside, the woman hollered. “Y’all shut up!” The kids cried louder.
The man’s eyes were glassy. I’ve seen that when people get mad, their eyes get hot and don’t look natural. He glanced around the yard, but didn’t see me. I was standing too far back in the chicken house and the shade kept me hidden.
The man stood up and yanked Miss Rachel to her knees. She kept both hands on his wrist to take the pressure off her head. He put his face close to hers and spit flew. “You’re lying! I was told he’d be here.”
Miss Rachel quit fighting. “Rudolph left after he got outta jail. Said he was goin’ back home to Jefferson. Said he intended to pick up where he left off with some woman he quit me for. That’s all I know.”
“I don’t give a shit about Rudolph. When’s Washington coming back?” He jerked her back and forth, and Miss Rachel’s head looked like it would come off in his hand.
Her mouth opened in pain. “I don’t know! He comes by to see me and bring groceries for the kids every now and then. That’s all!”
A snak
y-looking, big-chested woman stomped onto the back porch. She looked like what Miss Becky would call a hussy, with bleached hair and bright red lipstick. Her voice traveled as if they were standing right next to the chicken house and I could tell she was mad. “He said Washington would be here by now. I wanted to be finished with him before Agrioli showed up.”
My head spun. They were looking for both Mr. John and Mr. Tony at the same time. I couldn’t figure out why Mr. Tony would be at Miss Rachel’s house at all. I couldn’t imagine how she knew him.
The man was mad, too. “What, you don’t think we can handle both of them?”
“Look, stupid, it don’t matter…they aren’t here!”
Miss Rachel cut her eyes up at the man. “I don’t know no Agrilo, either.”
“I’s told he’d be here! Now where is he?” He gave Miss Rachel another pull. A sudden look on the hussy’s face caused him to stop for a minute. “What?”
“Ralph, are you sure he said Agrioli’d be here?”
He hesitated. “Well, I believe he did.”
The hussy threw up her hands. “Goddamn it! You either know or you don’t.”
“I don’t remember, Myrna! I think he said he’d make sure Agrioi would be here with Washington.”
Myrna used both hands to hold her head. I’ve seen folks do that if they’re surprised or worried. “You idiot!” She was furious and stomped her foot. “This is just like you, to go off half-cocked without being sure of what you’re doing. You don’t think, Ralph, you’re like a pinball in a machine, bouncing around and knocking into things. You hear what you want to hear, or dream it up in that empty skull of yours. What made you think Agrioli would be here?”
The man stopped yanking at Miss Rachel’s head and stared off at the tree line, like he was working on a hard math problem. “I thought he might be…I don’t know.”
“You do this all the damn time!” She got mad and told him how the cow ate the cabbage. Ralph took it without a word, still holding Miss Rachel down and listening with his head bowed.
She slowed down and he spoke to the floor. “I remember now, he said he’d be here at five.”
Like someone had thrown a switch, Myrna calmed down and studied on Miss Rachel for a minute. “Well, we’re early, but what are we going to do with her now?”
“I ain’t being paid to kill no woman, black or white. Let’s tie her up and wait.”
Myrna waved her hand. “Look around us. There’s kids everywhere. We can’t sit here and twiddle our thumbs while they all run around like a bunch of chickens. Think of something else.”
I wanted to cry like a little baby, watching that man handle Miss Rachel the way he did, but fear and the realization that I was no match for a grownup kept me huddled right there in that stinkin’ chicken house.
Ralph was thinking, his eyes jerking first one place, then another. He yanked at Miss Rachel again. “I know for sure he’s supposed to be here. Where’s Washington?”
I swallowed down the acid rising in my throat.
Miss Rachel found some place down deep inside. She set her jaw and stared into his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He slapped her, and the sound was sharp, but instead of crying, she glared a hole through him and I knew then she’d die before she told that man anything.
“What the hell’s going on?” Myrna worried at her hair like it was getting messed up and somebody cared. I’d seen confused old folks do the same thing. “Are we at the wrong place?”
Crying hard, little two-year-old Bass Reeves came through the door and ran to Miss Rachel. Ralph backslapped that little feller and he rolled across the back porch and lay still. Miss Rachel shrieked and punched the bad guy in the nose. Blood squirted and she twisted away and jumped to her feet, leaving him with a handful of hair.
She almost made it, but Ralph caught her by the shirt collar and yanked her hard enough that her feet left the ground. She hit on her shoulders and neck, and I thought it mighta killed her, but still laying on the floor, she swung again. That’s when he commenced to beat her like a natural man.
No, he beat her like a dog.
The thing that hit me the most was how quiet they all were, him grunting each time he swung, and Miss Rachel taking it all rolled up in a ball, and that hussy woman Myrna standing there watching like it was the most common thing in the world. I guess it finally hurt his fists too much, because he stood up and went to kicking her.
He might have kicked her to death, but he stopped when a scream cut across the yard. “Quit it! Quit it you sonofabitch!”
I knew that voice and it jolted me out of my trance. It was Pepper at the edge of the woods with Daisy and Jere.
Ralph had a wild look in his eye when he saw them. He let go of Miss Rachel and stood up. When he reached into his pocket, I knew I had to finally do something.
I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out to draw another. “Run!” I dropped that bucket full of eggs. It bounced and fell over. I jumped to the empty window covered with chicken wire and started slapping my hands against it. “Hey! Leave them alone! Help! Mr. John, they’re right here! Help!”
The wire rattled each time I hit it, and that caused the sheet iron roof to rattle too. The whole building sounded like it was about to fall down around my ears, but I couldn’t stop screaming and yelling.
Bubba, the oldest boy came around the house and saw what was happening. He took off running toward the porch and saw the ax laying in the yard. He picked it up and charged at them, holding it over his shoulder like a batter getting ready to swing.
Ralph pulled a pistol out of his pocket with a shaking hand and pointed it at Bubba.
All of us suddenly appearing must have startled those two pretty bad. “Come on!” The woman yanked at his arm and jumped off the porch. “You can’t kill ’em all! Let’s get out of here!” A rock zinged through the air and thumped off his leg.
Those two headed for their car like the ol’ Devil hisself was after them. A rock slapped the side of the house with a bang, and then another hit the man’s back. Belle had joined Pepper, Daisy, and Jere, who were pelting them pretty good as they ran around the corner. Bubba stayed after them with the ax held ready for a swing.
I raced out of the chicken house and pointed, waving toward the woods like there was somebody behind me. “Here! Mr. John, they’re over here and getting away! Shoot ’em!”
The car started up and shot out of the yard, tires spinning in the dirt. A cloud of dust filled the air as they sped off down the road.
It didn’t take but a minute for Pepper and the girls to run up on the porch, holding onto Miss Rachel who laid there with little Bass in her arms. The slap had knocked the wind out him, but he had it back and was tellin’ it with long, loud shrieks. Everyone else was squalling and sniffling, and I wanted to join them, but I couldn’t. I had to stay tough with Bubba until Mr. John showed up, or Mr. Tony.
But I still couldn’t figure out why Mr. Tony would be here in the first place.
Chapter Forty-two
Despite the heat and humidity, Ned and Miss Becky were enjoying the late evening under the fragrant blooms covering the umbrella-shaped mimosa tree. He watched her hands as she shelled peas into a stewer balanced in her lap. He’d never say it aloud, but Ned always loved her hands. When he’d slipped a simple gold ring on her finger, they were smooth and well-shaped. Now, decades of farm and housework had taken their toll, but he still felt a deep sense of comfort when she touched him.
Hootie lay in the grass between their shellback lawn chairs. He raised his head at thunder rumbling from ugly thunderheads rising in the distance.
Ned watched them over his shoulder. “There it is, finally. At first I thought it was heat lightning, but now I think it might storm and break this humidity.”
Miss Becky watched the clouds for a moment, then wen
t back to shelling. “From the looks of it, it’s liable to go around us.”
“I wish it wouldn’t.”
“I can smell it.” She drew a deep breath. “If you can smell it coming, it won’t rain.”
“That’s what they say, but we need the rain. I’d be satisfied if it dries the air out. Mama, what’s the word for rain?”
She took a moment to flip through her mental Choctaw dictionary. “Omba. That means, ‘to rain,’ I believe.”
“Well, I want it omba. That don’t sound right.”
“It’s hard to mix both languages, but you’re doing real good.”
“I don’t know what it matters.”
“Y’all used it down in Mexico.”
“We did.”
An unfamiliar truck crossed the creek bridge. Moments later it passed below their hill. The driver tooted his horn and waved. Ned waved back. “Did Dan Bills get a new truck?”
Miss Becky looked up and stopped shelling for a moment in good-natured exasperation. “My stars. Now how would I know that?”
“Well, that looked like Dan driving, but it wasn’t his truck.”
“I heard tell up at the church that he came into some money.”
Ned’s eyes twinkled and he rocked backwards in the springy chair. “That sounds like gossip.”
“Well, it was after preaching the other night.” Miss Becky went back to her purple hulls. “Ike Reader was talking to Jeff Wright about it.”
“Don’t Jeff go to the Baptist church?”
“He does, but he was in the Assembly churchyard with Ike when I saw him loafing with the men waitin’ on their wives.”
“Ike shoulda been inside, too.”
“Well, he’s backslid, but the good Lord’ll bring him back.”
A flock of dove winged by overhead, the wind sizzling through their feathers. Ned watched them disappear toward the south and finally realized that the house behind them was quiet. “Where’s Top?”
“John took him and Pepper to Rachel’s. They oughta be back in a little bit.” She paused for a moment, wondering whether to tell Ned about Pepper’s fib to John. She heard the conversation through the open window on the porch, where she was sewing.
Vengeance is Mine Page 21
