by Sharon Ihle
Cradling her tummy with one hand, Rayna lifted the other and shook her fist. “Nothing.”
Twenty-One
Rayna and Sweetpea arrived at the jailhouse on the coattails of twilight. She stood at the rear of the building a long moment, catching her breath. Between the sultry June air and the mounds of makeup she wore, she felt as if she were suffocating, melting from the inside out. Rayna glanced down at Sweetpea, wondering if the gobs of black kohl they’d rubbed on him to disguise his color had the same affect, or if it somehow cooled him the way mud usually did. He buried his snout in the soft earth, rooting for a moment, and then snorted.
Nothing ever seemed to bother Sweetpea. Nothing, that is except for Gant. For those two it had been hate at first sight. She might have laughed, but at the thought of Gant, of the real possibility that she might lose him forever, Rayna squared her shoulders, tugged on the rope she’d tied around Sweetpea’s neck by way of a leash, and then resumed her journey up the steps leading to the sheriff’s office. Without further hesitation, she took a deep breath and pushed her way inside the office.
A lone deputy, who was sitting at the desk, glanced up and offered a short nod. Then he looked down at Sweetpea and grimaced.
“Evening, Ma’am,” he drawled. “Kin I hep you?”
“I reckon you can.”
Rayna looped the free end of Sweetpea’s rope around an object that she knew he could pull over, a metal tree branch sprouting from the hat rack. Then, careful to remain in a hunched-over position, she shuffled over to where the lawman sat.
Rapping her bamboo cane sharply against his desk, she made her demands in a voice that crackled like an electric storm. “I come to see my boys. Where you got em?”
Startled by her aggression and appearance, the deputy hopped up out of his chair and took a long look at her.
Rayna was dressed in Mollie’s oldest, most patched-up housedress, a red and tan gingham plaid with a high starched collar that fit close along the well-padded bodice and hung loosely at the skirt without hoops or petticoats to give it flare. The sleeves of the dress were full, not puffed, the only possible area other than beneath her skirt where she might have hidden weapons. And in which she had.
She wasn’t particularly worried that the lawman would be interested in checking her armpits for the knife and gun she and Mollie had hidden there. As they’d hoped, he was too busy staring at her face, the withered witch-like features she and Mollie had created with a fresh batch of face putty. They’d smeared the putty across her cheeks and jaw, etching and shading a myriad of wrinkles across her skin, and then used the rest of the putty to build a broad, hawk-like protrusion over the delicate structure of her own nose. Below that, just to the edge of her bottom lip, Mollie had glued a large unsightly mole that sprouted a three-inch section of one of Rayna’s long black hairs. This blemish was designed solely to distract the deputy’s attention from her distinctly unattractive and rather masculine putty-enhanced nose.
Pleased to see that the deputy’s gaze was pinned to the mole where it belonged—where it would have to be later—Rayna smoothed the sides of her puffed-up pompadour, the normally rich ebony color powdered down to a dusty gray, and slapped her cane against the desk again.
“You deef?” she screeched. “I want to see my boys before you hang em. Now let me in.”
“Your boys, Ma’am?” The deputy’s gaze followed the end of that long black mole hair, and then shot up to her eyes. “You ain’t talking about the Gantry boys, are you?”
“Hell, yes.” Rayna narrowed her gaze, hoping to add a few more wrinkles around her clear, much too youthful-looking eyes. “You can’t hang them boys till their ma gets a chance to say goodbye. Now let me in.”
The deputy scratched the back of his neck as he circled his desk. Then, almost as an afterthought, he reached over and grabbed his shotgun.
As he approached Rayna, he muttered, “I suppose it’s only fitting the Gantry boys get a last visit from their ma, but first I got to, you know, search you.”
Rayna kept her arms to her sides as she snapped, “Well, then go ahead, you dolt, but I don’t know why you got to bother an old lady. An idiot can see that I’m not carrying a thing but a broken heart.”
“Them’s the rules, ma’am.” The deputy stood there staring at her as if he couldn’t quite decide where to start.
“Well,” Rayna screeched. “Hurry it up. I ain’t got all day.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Since she hadn’t donned a hat of any kind, the deputy’s gaze merely skimmed Rayna’s pompadour, and then fell to her tightly fitted bodice and down to her slim hips. Settling his attention on the only area he seemed to be concerned about, mid-knee, he gestured with his shotgun.
“Mind raising your skirts up a bit, ma’am?”
“Why you dirty little bastard,” she spat. “Ain’t you got nothing better to do than look up an old lady’s dress?”
He leveled the shotgun at her mid-section. “You got to raise em or leave, Ma’am. Them’s the rules.”
Grumbling to herself, Rayna filled her palms with wads of gingham, and then tugged the hem of her skirt up well past her knees, exposing padded, knobby legs held together with tight stockings and a pair of rolled up pantalettes.
“Well, you pervert, are you satisfied? Or do I have to stand here showing off my legs while you diddle yourself.”
The deputy’s neck flushed at her words. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Ah, you can drop your skirt, Ma’am. I reckon you can see your boys now.”
Moving quickly, he walked over to the door, peeked inside, and opened the lock. As Rayna approached, he said, “You got ten minutes, ma’am. Call me if you need out quicker.”
Rayna whacked the cane against the heavy oak door. “That’s a damn fool thing to say to a mother who’s about to set eyes on her boys for the last time.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
She cracked the cane against the door again and issued another demand. “Be sure to keep an eye on my pig while I’m gone. He’s about the only family I got left in the world.”
“I’ll do what I can. Now I have to take that cane, ma’am.” The deputy held out his hand, and then winced as Rayna slapped it against his palm. “Your boys are in the last cell.”
“Humph.”
Rayna set her jaw, bringing the mole into line with the deputy’s vision, and then crab-walked inside the cellblock. The door clanged shut behind her, the sound of the key turning in the lock an ominous reminder of her dangerous task. When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she started down the stone aisle, struggling to ignore the foul odors and lewd remarks from the half dozen men she passed on the way.
When she reached the last cell, a sudden attack of nausea threatening to ruin the entire mission, she caught the steel bars in her hands and hoarsely whispered, “J.R.? Come here.”
Gawking at her as he moved in her direction, J.R. stopped well before he’d reached the bars of his cell. “Who are you?”
“It’s Rayna,” she whispered under her breath. Taking a moment to glance back at the oak door leading into the cellblock, she caught sight of the deputy’s shadow watching her through the peephole. Launching into her act to keep him from getting suspicious, she spoke loud enough for the lawman to hear.
“My boys,” she wailed. “How am I gonna live without my boys?”
Rayna began sobbing then, waiting for J.R. to get close enough to risk further discussion.
“Is it really you under all that makeup?” J.R. asked, moving up closer.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said, reaching up into the coils of her hair with her left hand. After unpinning the packets, she began to hand them to J.R., explaining, “There’s gunpowder in these little packages, enough to blow the lock on this door and then some.”
“Gunpowder?” He glanced down at the packets and then back to her. “Are you breaking us out?”
“Yes, I am, but for it to work, you’re going to have to keep your voice dow
n.” She glanced toward the door. The shadow remained, watching.
“Damn your pa’s filthy hide,” Rayna screeched, following her lines. “I begged him to stop this life of crime and to let you boys be, but would he listen?”
By then Lou had joined J.R. His eyes wide with fright, he asked, “Who is she?”
J.R. leaned over and whispered into Lou’s ear, filling him in. Then he turned back to Rayna. “What are we supposed to do with this gunpowder? It won’t work all by itself.”
Her movements more furtive now, Rayna reached up and scratched at her nose, whispering as she began removing small section of it. “Seal the gunpowder inside the lock with this putty,” she instructed, taking her nose down several sizes. “In one of those packs you’ll find the wick from a candle to use as a fuse, and in another there are several matches.”
Increasing the pitch of her sobs dramatically as J.R. and Lou followed her instructions, again Rayna glanced at the end of the cellblock. The shadow remained.
“Okay,” J.R. said, his bomb finished. “Now how are we going to get out of here once we blow the lock?”
Keeping her movements hidden from the shadow, Rayna raised her left arm, stuck her finger into the hole Mollie had torn in the seam, and then ripped it open enough to fit her hand inside. After tugging off the bindings holding a small pistol to her arm, she passed the weapon through the bars.
J.R. palmed the gun and lowered it to his side. His eyes gleaming with the first hope he’d had since his arrest, he quietly asked, “So what’s the plan?”
Rayna glanced at the end of the cellblock again. The shadow was gone. Tearing a small gaping hole in the other sleeve, she quickly removed her dagger from its binding, and then explained the rest of the plan.
“When I leave and I know for sure that the deputy has unlocked the cellblock door, I’ll turn and say, remember, I love you boys. That’s the signal to light the fuse. You won’t have much time to get out of the way. Don’t forget that’s a candlewick. Duck out of the way, and when you’re free, get up front as fast as you can, while the door is still unlocked.”
“But what if we can’t get up there before he locks the door?”
This was the shakiest part of the plan. “I’ve got Sweetpea tied up in the office,” Rayna explained. “I figured between me, my knife, and the pig, we could keep the deputy distracted from the door until you and Lou come in the office and get the drop on him. Do you think it will work?”
J.R. shrugged. “Don’t sound like too bad a plan. What’s Gant think?”
Rayna gave him a broad smile and lied through her teeth. “He thinks it’s one hell of a fine idea. He’s planning to meet up with us later.”
J.R. smiled and glanced at Lou. “Ready to bust out of here, little brother?”
Before Lou could answer, the deputy’s voice boomed out, echoing throughout the cellblock. “Time’s up, ma’am.”
Rayna’s manufactured sobs increased to fever pitch. Between them, she whispered, “How does my nose look, J.R.?”
He squinted, and then reached through the bars as if patting her cheek. “It’s crooked as hell. Hold still a minute.”
After maneuvering the putty back into a much smaller facsimile of the hawk nose she’d possessed when she first arrived, he said, “It don’t look too bad, but try not to let him get too good a look at you.”
“Ma’am,” the deputy shouted. “I don’t want to have to come gunning for you.”
“Bye boys,” she wailed, backing away from the cell. “God rest your souls.”
Hiding the dagger in the folds of her skirt, Rayna slowly made her way back up the aisle. When she heard the distinctive clang of the key turning in the lock, she counted to ten.
Then, looking back over her shoulder, she called, “Remember. I love you boys.”
*
Outside in the deepening shadows of dusk, Gant paused before entering the jailhouse. Although his heart was heavy, his mind was fully on the task at hand. He would walk through the door, smile at the deputy, and then draw on him before he had a chance to realize what was happening. Using the man’s own handcuffs, he would disable the lawman, and then turn his brothers loose. The operation would be neat and simple. A minor incident that would turn his life around forever.
Shrugging off his doubts, the deep regrets, Gant mounted the steps and then twisted the doorknob. He stuck one foot across the threshold, but that was as far as he got. Before he could enter the room, some beast from hell leapt toward him, growling and squealing, its tusks bared. Gant leapt back out of the way and slammed the door, cutting off the animal’s attack.
He could hardly believe what his eyes had told him, but Gant was pretty sure that a pig, of all things, had threatened him. This one was mean and black, smaller, but looking a lot like the sow that had ripped into his leg as a small child. How could this be, he wondered? A pig in the sheriff’s office?
Gant broke into a cold sweat. His hands started to tremble and his gut clenched into a knot. He had to get hold of himself, and now. He couldn’t let a stupid pig or old fears keep him from the task at hand. His brother’s lives depended on him. He wouldn’t let a damned pig ruin everything.
Gun drawn this time, Gant started for the door again. As he reached for the knob, an explosion rent the air.
He leapt backwards again, more than a little concerned that the pig would come flying out the door. Now what? he wondered. Stand out here worrying about being attacked by a swine? And what of the explosion? Had the boys figured a way out of jail without any help from him? Or was he wasting precious time when he should be in there carrying out his plan?
*
Rayna turned back to the cellblock door in time to see it open a crack. Before she could push through it, Sweetpea went berserk, snapping and growling without any sort of signal from her. What had set him off? she wondered just as the jailer slammed the door shut in her face.
Behind her, Rayna knew the wick had already been lit. The gunpowder would ignite at any second. Had she come all this way just to be trapped? Using all of her strength, she pushed against the door, gaining some ground, and prevented the deputy from turning the key and locking her in with the other criminals.
“Let me out,” she shouted.
The deputy spoke through the crack. “I ain’t so sure it’s safe, ma’am. That pig of yours has gone plum crazy. What the hell is wrong with him?”
“He’s just worried about me. Let me out and I’ll calm him down.”
The deputy relinquished his position then, and fully opened the door. Gesturing her inside the office, he said, “Someone just tried to come into the office and I thought that animal was gonna take his leg off.”
Feeling in control of the situation again, Rayna stepped into the room and gave Sweetpea the signal to attack. At the exact same moment the expected blast resounded from inside the cellblock.
The deputy swiveled this way and that, shotgun in hand, not sure which direction held the most danger—the pig or the cellblock. Before he could make the determination, much less cock the hammers on the gun, the cold steel of a knife blade pushed against the flesh at his throat.
“Drop the gun and don’t move,” Rayna said, her voice still disguised, but infinitely more threatening.
From behind her, J.R. added, “Do what my mama says, Mister, and no one’s going to get hurt.”
Sweetpea stood just inches away from the trembling deputy, his tusks barred. Feet shuffling nervously, the lawman dropped his weapon and held his hands high overhead.
Rayna stepped away from the man, allowing J.R. to take over, and then signaled Sweetpea to quiet down.
His confidence rising, chest puffed out, J.R. said to the deputy, “Toss them keys on the floor and back yourself into the cellblock, nice and slow.”
His eyes still trained on the pig, his Adam’s apple bobbing in time with his rapid pulse, the deputy did as he was told. The minute he stepped into the cellblock, Lou slammed the door behind him and then grabbed the key
s off of the floor and locked him inside.
That done, J.R. turned to Rayna and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“In a minute,” Rayna said, cautioning him. “I think someone is outside waiting to come in. I’ll go out first and if it’s all right, I’ll signal you to follow me. If it’s not all right and we get separated, head for the swamp, and then take the levee road back to the steamship one at a time. Got it?”
J.R. nodded, checking the rounds in his gun, and then motioned for Lou to move up close behind him, out of view of the doorway.
With a deep breath, Rayna picked up Sweetpea’s rope and pushed opened the door. The slab of wood instantly collided with something, and then gave way as a man groaned. Moving cautiously, Rayna peeked through the crack between the door and the jamb. She was surprised to see Gant stumbling back down the steps, his hand clamped to his nose.
