by Stephen Bly
“Maybe you had them all buffaloed.”
“I assume charm is a foreign concept to you.”
“For pete’s sake, Catherine . . . skip the carp, and charm . . . and tell me what in the world is going on. Who is it that you so didn’t want to have see you that you would actually go against your best interest and kiss the likes of me?”
“I assure you, it was in my best interest to hide behind your lips.”
“Do I need to pull my gun and point it at you to get you to talk?”
“Why is it that you must always resort . . . yes, well . . . this is not easy to talk about.”
“Nothing we have discussed of any importance has been easy.”
“I agree. Okay . . . listen . . . you know about my sister?”
“You have a twin sister named Catelynn who lives in New York City and is trying to break in as an actress, but she is as tall as you are and finds parts scarce.”
“Yes, well . . . Catelynn is currently . . . eh . . . she has a, eh . . .”
“She’s living with some guy she’s not married to?”
“Yes, and it breaks my heart. She’s a wonderful woman, and she knows better, but she’s been running away from God ever since Mamma and Daddy died.”
“She blames God for their deaths?”
“Catelynn blames Him for their deaths, the entire Civil War, and most of the natural tragedies of history.”
“Everything bad is His fault?”
“I suppose it’s that way. Oh, Race, I love her dearly. But she believes He is sovereign, so that all this could have been prevented, if He wanted it to.”
“Does she believe in the sinful nature of mankind?”
“Oh, yes, and she’s not sure why God allowed that either.”
“But what does your sis have to do with the kiss?”
Catherine raised her rounded eyebrows. “The carp kiss?”
“Catherine, just forget . . . .”
She brushed down the front of her dress. “I’m droopy and kiss like a carp. You know how to impress a girl, Hillyard.”
“Catherine! I might not live long enough to find out why you kissed me.”
When Francine entered the car, there was a sideways sway, as though the train it were moving. “There you two are. I was looking for you. They say we’re stuck here a while. We have to wait for another express train. Here, hold Preston and Nancy while I go, eh, powder my nose.”
Nancy stood in Catherine’s lap. “I’m hungry.”
With gloved hand, Catherine tried to wipe a smudge off the child’s cheek. “Didn’t you just eat breakfast?”
“I didn’t like it. I gave mine to Preston.”
Hillyard held the little boy in front of him as if her were a leaking bucket. “I need a little help here.”
“Why don’t you just shoot him?” Catherine chuckled.
Nancy’s eyes grew large. “Is he going to shoot Preston? Can I watch?”
“That’s just a joke, honey. Of course he’s not going to shoot him. He might drop him out the window, but he won’t shoot him.”
Nancy puffed out her cheeks, then blurted out, “Just like he did the devil?”
Hillyard still held the wiggling Preston at arm’s length. “What did I do?”
“Mamma said that the bad man was acting like the devil and Mr. Hilly threw him off the train.”
Catherine clapped her gloved hands. “I like that. Mr. Hilly threw the devil off the train. That would make a nice title for a book, don’t you think so, Mr. Hilly?”
Race’s attention fixed on Preston’s sagging drawers. “Catherine, I need some help.”
She sat Nancy on the floor next to him. “Come on, Preston, let’s go find your Mamma. You watch Nancy.”
“I don’t want to stay with him,” the little girl muttered. “He might throw me out the window.”
“I’m not going to throw anyone out the window. But if I did, it would be a Goodwin twin. And I wouldn’t do that until the train is moving.”
“Come along with us, Nancy. Mr. Hilly is in a surly mood.”
When she returned alone, Race slumped in the window seat. “Are you asleep, Mr. Hillyard?”
“Of course not.”
“Why are you hiding under your hat?”
He sat up. “Just hiding from the bogyman in the Pullman compartment.”
“But you don’t even know who is up there.”
He pushed his hat back. “And at the present rate, I may never know.”
She perched next to him. “Nonsense. It’s Matthew Zane.”
“Who is?”
“Catelynn’s eh . . .”
“The one she lives with?”
“Yes. I detest him with every bone in my body.”
“The Lord can help you with that.”
“Oh, He has . . . I’m much more calm around him that I used to be.”
“Calm? That panic kiss was calm?”
“What I wanted to do was pull your revolver and shoot him dead. Zane has dominated Catelynn for years. He tells her what she can do and not do, what friends she can make, or can’t make. He takes every cent she earns, encourages her to drink with him, and when he’s drunk tends to beat her.”
“Why would she stay with such a jerk?”
“She loves him.”
Hillyard tossed his hat over the saddle horn and tried to smooth down his matted hair. “And can’t admit failure to her school teacher sister?”
“Perhaps. He dresses her up in gowns and jewels and shows her off around town. Says it’s good for business.”
“What kind of business?”
“He calls himself a promoter.”
“And he promotes what?”
“Everything. Anything. Prizefights. Real estate. Art auctions. Railroads. The list goes on and on, but all seem to be on the shady side.”
“So, Catelynn’s the diversion?” Hillyard seemed to be studying her face. “They are all looking at a beauty, while he slips a hand in their bank account?”
“I suppose, but I’ve never really thought of Catelynn as a beauty.”
His stare intensified. “She’s your identical twin, isn’t she?”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Hilly.”
“It was just a statement of fact. Nothing personal.”
“It was personal to me.”
“So, you spotted him on the train, don’t want to see him . . . and used the old kiss-a-cowboy diversion?”
Catherine tugged off her soiled, pale yellow gloves and fiddled with her fingers.
I can’t wait to have a ring to wear. Oh, Phillip, you promised a gold ring with a large stone. Right now I’d settle for a small band of gold and hot bath.
“Right after Christmas, I traveled to New York to inform Catelynn what was happening with the family estate in Virginia. When I saw her situation this time, I couldn’t hold back. I railed at her.”
“About all the things you didn’t like in her life.”
“The list started with Matthew Zane. Then her weight gain. And how she lived a life that would have grieved mother and daddy. She let me know with a choice variety of words, that I knew nothing about all that she faced. After our screaming fight, I stormed out. I haven’t spoken to her since then. I sent a note of apology last February, but didn’t hear back. I don’t know why I had to say all those things. They were true, but not helpful to either of us. I talk too much and am way too tactless.
“I’ve been accused of being insensitive and blunt.”
“I’m sure you have.” She didn’t smile. “Then I met Zane in the hall as I left the building and told him what I thought of him.”
“You didn’t shoot him in the leg?”
“That’s not funny, Race Hillyard. I detest the man. I don’t trust him. And hate what he has done to my sister. I don’t want to ever see him again.”
“How do you know your sister isn’t with him now?”
“He goes to San Francisco often and she’s never allowed to accompany hi
m.”
“I wonder why that is?”
“He’s crook and a liar. She’d be in his way on one of these trips, I suppose. He would only bring her if it was to his advantage.”
“Maybe he has eh, you know, other living arrangements out west. He doesn’t seem worry too much about gettin’ married. I’ve heard of that kind of thing.”
“I’ve thought of that, too.”
“So, when he’s gone, Catelynn has a little time to herself?”
“Not really, his associate, Chet Pinehurst, keeps an eye on her.”
“Doesn’t sound like a happy life.”
“When she’s out on the town, she loves it. Catelynn loves the social functions, and pretending she’s someone important. I don’t think I’m much better than she. I said all of those things and made her hate me for life. So, where does that put me? Race, I love her and we aren’t even speaking. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“Is that why you are dashing off to your beloved Phillip?”
“I am attracted to the idea I can start over. Maybe I can. I also realize all of those things hold a lingering effect on me. I have to get away. But, I need to know how to make things right with Catelynn. I’m not that wise yet.”
“And seeing good old Zane today reminds you of the whole mess?”
She bit her lip and looked him in the eye. “Sometimes my failure at Christian charity is so appalling I wonder why the Lord doesn’t give up on me.”
“I reckon if he was only lookin’ for perfect people, he wouldn’t have many to chose from. So, the kiss was not only so Zane wouldn’t see you, but so you wouldn’t have to face your own failures?”
“Yes, I guess that’s it.”
“That will make your beloved Phillip’s arms even more tender. He’s the haven from all your strife.”
“Well put, Race. For someone I hardly know, you have become a good friend.”
Hillyard cleared his throat. “Hardly know?”
“It’s only been a day or so.”
“Well, let’s pretend you visited a friend every week. Say, you spent a couple of hours sharing things about your lives. What if you did this every week, without fail, for three months. Would you call that one a good friend?”
“Yes, I would, although I’ve had very few of those relationships.”
“We’ve spent over twenty-four hours together, not more than a foot or two apart. That’s like two hours a week for three months. And we’ve been a number of emotional and stressful situations. I’d say we are better friends than the ‘hardly know’ stage.”
Race, you continue to challenge my way of thinking. I think that’s good.
“Bravo, Mr. Hilly. You make an excellent point. We are good friends. I’m hoping you will stop by Paradise Springs to see Phillip and me. I know you two will get along. He’s much like you.”
I think. I hope. Oh, dear, sweet Phillip . . . I’m not so sure I know you at all.
Two teenage girls in green gingham scooted up to them. “Mr. Hillyard, I’m Balera Jordan,” the shorter one said. “You have to come quick. Papa wants you to shoot Gibraltar.”
“What happened to your dog?”
“I’m Ermina. Please come quick. He’s suffering a lot,” the taller one added.
“The dog?” Hillyard said.
“No, Papa,” Balera explained. “They are very close. But he’s eaten something and gone mad. He’s stuck under the train station.”
“Your papa?” Catherine asked.
Ermina shook her head. “No, the dog. Calida and Damia offered to shoot him, but papa wanted someone who . . . .”
“Wasn’t related to the family?” Catherine finished.
Hillyard shoved his hat back on. “I don’t like shooting dogs.”
“If it’s something he ate, sounds like plant poisoning.” Catherine shoved the girls down the aisle. “Race, you get Gibraltar out from under the station. I’ll get a remedy from Mrs. Harrison.”
“A remedy?” the girls parroted.
“An old Goodwin family secret remedy.”
Mrs. Harrison’s kitchen combined three main layers of filth. Dishes and food stacked the floor. Dirty dishes and food piled the counter. And dishes and food stacked the shelves. Open air-tight cans mixed with pots of beans and shattered pieces of hard bread. The aroma blended rotting fruit and cinnamon.
“Do you have any red apple vinegar?” Catherine asked.
Gray hair fell out of it’s pins. A once beige apron hung like a flag of surrender. Mrs. Harrison waved across the room. “Over there. Second shelf.”
“And honey?”
“On the floor by the door, last time I saw it. What are you making?”
“A purgent, I hope. Where is your spice rack?”
“My what?”
“Never mind . . . I’ll find it.”
Catherine held two tin can cups when she rounded the train station. A crowd of onlookers had gathered, including six teenage girls in green gingham long sleeve dresses. They all stared at Race Hillyard’s boots. The rest of him burrowed under the building. Mr. Jordan, on hands and knees peered low beside him.
Catherine bent low. She spied Race in the dirt, with a rope loop tied to a four-foot stick.
“Haven’t you got him out yet?” she queried.
“He’s not exactly cooperating. He keeps biting the rope,” Mr. Jordan explained.
“Don’t hurt him,” Ermina wailed.
“Hurt him?” Hillyard grumbled. “You want me to pull him out and shoot him, but I shouldn’t hurt him?”
“I think we should pray,” one of the girls suggested.
A sister jabbed her with an elbow. “That’s all you ever do.”
Catherine stooped over again. “What’s taking you so long?”
There was a growl and a frightened yip.
“He clamps onto the loop with his teeth, so I can’t get it over his head,” Hillyard roared.
“Drag him a little at a time,” Catherine suggested. “When he chomps down, pull him towards you slowly . . . then when he turns loose, go for the loop around his neck again. He’ll be so busy he won’t realize you’ve moved him little by little.”
“How did you figure that?” Mr. Jordan asked.
“It’s how father used to get raccoons out from under the store,” she explained.
“Did it work?” one of the girl’s pressed.
“Oh, yes.”
The girl with hands folded in front of her stepped forward. “What did he do with them when he got them out?”
“He shot them. He just didn’t want dead animals decomposing under the store.”
“Hey, it’s working,” Hillyard called out. “He slides fairly well in the vomit.”
“I’m going to be sick,” one of the girls whimpered.
“You always get sick,” another replied.
Catherine motioned to one of the girls. “Get a wet sack to wipe him off. And grab that stick. No, the big one. We have to shove it in his mouth so he can’t bite anyone.”
“Here he comes,” Mr. Jordan shouted.
“Grab him,” Hillyard called as he scooted out.
“He stinks!” one shrieked.
“Don’t let him bite you,” Catherine warned.
Mr. Jordan staggered to his feet. “There he goes.”
“I’m not going to touch him.” One of the girl’s back away.
Hillyard tackled the panicked dog.
“Jam the stick in his mouth,” Catherine called out. “Hold it there.”
She poured a full tin can cup of liquid into the dog’s mouth.
Covered with dirt and slime, Hillyard looked up at her. “How long do I hold him?”
“Until he’s swallowed it all.”
“Oh, he’s swallowed it.” Hillyard turned the dog loose.
Gibraltar threw himself into the dirt and wallowed into a muddy paste, then bolted towards the train. He stopped half-way, spun around six times, let out a tail-curling belch, and fell over on his side.
; He didn’t move.
“Is he dead?” one of the girls asked.
“No, he’s quite well.” Catherine brushed hair out of her eyes. “The medicine is doing it’s work.”
Mr. Jordan waved his hands. “Girls, take the wet towels and go clean him up.”
“All of us?”
“Yes, Adora, all of you.”
Hillyard retrieved his hat. “I’m quite impressed, Catherine.”
She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Thank you, Race. Not bad for a droopy woman who kisses like a carp.”
“I need to clean up. What a mess.” He brushed the dirt off his britches. “I don’t suppose we could just forget all of that droopy stuff.”
“Not in a hundred years. I am sure I’ll go to my grave remembering those two things you said about me.”
He took a couple steps towards the train, then wobbled. “Why don’t we just get back on board? I can sleep and you . . . can . . . whew . . . wow.”
She held his arm. “What is it?”
“It’s like someone kicked me in the gut.” Hillyard stumbled to the train platform and collapsed on a small wooden barrel. “Mrs. Harrison’s plate wasn’t that bad, was it?”
One of the girls followed them. “You’ve lost color in your face. You don’t look so good.”
“What is this? Oh, man . . .” Race scooted over and laid on his back on the rough wooden train platform. He glanced up at Catherine. “You have my permission to shoot me.”
“Maybe Mr. Hilly should have the rest of the medicine,” the girl suggested.
Catherine nodded. “You might be right.”
He waved them off. “That’s for dogs.”
“You’re sick as a dog. Drink it.” She bent down and lowered the cup.
Hillyard held up his hand. “Will I run around in circles and fall over?”
“No, but you might belch. Drink it.”
“What is it?”
“Slightly fermented red apple vinegar, honey and a couple of spices.”
Hillyard held his stomach and rolled back and forth on the platform. “Are you sure it’s fit for human consumption?”
“Shall I get the big stick and push it in his mouth?” the girl pressed.
“Grab his nose and yank it back quick.”
The teenager pinched his nose and jerked it back. “Like this?”
“Wait!” he protested.
Catherine poured the entire contents of the can in his mouth. “Drink it all, Mr. Hilly!”
