IV
________
1924
The Grass Widow
1
Elizabeth-Anne read the note for what must have been the thousandth time.
My dearest wife and children,
By the time you read this I will be gone from your lives forever. It was Roy Sexton and his men who have been stealing from us. When I confronted him, he tried to start a fight out at the construction site and fell, splitting his head open on a piece of pipe. He is dead.
I did not kill him, but you know as well as I do that the courts around here are controlled by the Sextons, and that I would surely be sentenced to death for something I did not do.
I am so sorry for this twist of fate which forces us apart, but I must leave, and alone. I cannot ruin your lives by taking you with me.
Elizabeth-Anne, I plead with you to stay in Quebeck and finish the tourist court. You must nurture this dream of yours—this dream that we started fulfilling together.
Regina, Charlotte-Anne, and Rebecca, I plead with you to help your mother and to remember your father as the good man that I hope you believe he was.
Never doubt that I love all of you and always will, but that I must do what I am doing. Please forgive me.
Your loving husband and father, Zaccheus
With a moan Elizabeth-Anne let the note slip soundlessly through her fingers. Once again the tears slid down her cheeks and a lump rose up in her throat. The house seemed so empty . . . so unbearably empty. It was as if with Zaccheus gone, its very soul had departed.
In the days following Zaccheus' flight, she had been as brave as she knew how. Sheriff Parker had questioned her, and she had shown him the note, which he had kindly let her keep. Search parties had been sent out for Zaccheus, but they had found no trace of him whatsoever. It was as though he had disappeared into thin air.
But perhaps the most frightening aspect of the nightmare was the fact that she had heard not a single word from Tex and Jenny. She could only wonder what their ominous silence meant, but she knew Jenny well enough, and Tex's reputation for retribution, and knew they must be planning some awful sabotage to get even.
She had tried to clear her mind of these dark, swirling thoughts and concentrate on her most difficult task—giving the girls comfort. They were heartbroken, as was she, but they proved themselves true Hales. Like herself, they were determined to put a brave face on their sorrow and help each other through this period of emptiness and misery. Each of them harbored the hope that someday Zaccheus would be able to return.
But deep down inside, Elizabeth-Anne realized that was an impossibility. He could never return to Quebeck. Ever. Not if he cherished his freedom. Not if he didn't want to hang.
That terrible truth was horrible to comprehend.
He could never return.
Not if he didn't want to hang.
Elizabeth-Anne's life had suddenly become living agony. One day Zaccheus had kissed her, had made love to her. Now she found herself alone. The girls were fatherless. She was husbandless. They were all of them alone.
Alone.
The terrible ache was enough to shatter her heart. Were it not for the girls and the child within her, she would have tried to kill herself. She wouldn't even have had to use a weapon, of that she was sure. She would simply have died slowly, little by little, grieving herself to death of a broken heart.
She shut her eyes painfully. There was a name for women whose husbands, for whatever reason, had left them.
She shuddered as the name sprang into her mind. Grass widows. That was what they were called. And that was what she had now become.
A grass widow.
She knew how people pitied grass widows. Yet how, at the same time, they eyed them with deeply rooted suspicion, as they did divorcees. There was a stigma attached to being a grass widow. Grass widows, it was said, were always on the prowl. They were after any available man, even other women's husbands.
The tears blurred her vision. Then suddenly she blinked them back and raised her head proudly, holding her chin erect. Right now, she couldn't afford to cry. She couldn't afford the luxury of showing her emotions. She had to be strong. Above all, she couldn't show her misery—not when the girls needed comforting.
She placed her hand on her breast. Zaccheus was in there, inside her heart. There he would live forever. And he would live as well in the child she was carrying.
She reached up and felt the cool crystal smoothness of the pansy charm around her neck. He was there too. In fact, everywhere she looked, she could see evidence of him. And she would keep it that way. She would keep everything of his just as it was.
Zaccheus might be gone, but their love would never die. It would live forever.
2
Elizabeth-Anne could see Regina waving to her from the front of the Good Eats Café. She waved back from the buggy seat and smiled for the first time in weeks.
Thank heaven for the girls and all my responsibilities, she thought. During the hectic hours of each day there is little time to stop and consider just how much I miss Zaccheus.
Although he was gone, her workday didn't change. She kept to her routine, getting up every morning as usual before dawn and riding out to the construction site—from which she was now returning. It was not the same without him. These morning inspections were when she missed him the most . . . and at bedtime. Her bed felt so terribly empty without him beside her.
She drew to a stop in front of the café and looked down at Regina. Yes, she thought again, I've got so much to be grateful for.
Her momentary reverie over, she started to ease her weight down off the buggy. Regina held out one hand to help, and she took it. The moment her boots touched the ground, she rumpled Regina's hair and frowned. 'Why so sullen?' she asked. 'Charlotte- Anne been giving you trouble?'
'No.' Regina shrugged, looked down at her feet, and kicked at a pebble. Then she squinted back up at her. 'It's nothing I can't take care of. You know how Charlotte-Anne is. Pushy.'
Elizabeth-Anne couldn't help laughing; it felt good.
Regina drew herself up with hurt dignity. 'Besides, she's learning. I won't let her step all over me, and I'm not going to put up with those airs of hers either.'
'I'm sure you won't,' Elizabeth-Anne said with mock solemnity. 'Now, how about giving your mother a kiss?' She held out her cheek.
Regina hopped up on tiptoe and pecked her awkwardly on the cheek, then fell into step beside her as they went inside. 'Guess what, Mama? We served twenty-seven breakfasts already.'
Elizabeth-Anne stopped in her tracks. 'Twenty- seven! But that's . . .' She let out an impressed whistle. 'That's our best showing yet!'
Regina nodded happily. 'Comes to a little less than seven dollars.' Suddenly she slapped the palm of her hand across her forehead. 'Yikes!'
Elizabeth-Anne stared at her. 'What is it?'
'Rosa sent me out to bring in some more wood.'
Elizabeth-Anne smiled as Regina hurried off. She was proud that her daughters were such bright, hardworking credits to her. She was certain that each one of them would go far in this world.
With that comforting thought, she went around the side, opened the screen door, and entered the sizzling kitchen of the Good Eats Café. A blast of hot, humid air hit her squarely in the face. She let the screen door bang shut and lifted her crisp white apron down off the hook beside it. Quickly she looped it around her neck and reached behind her, tying it in the small of her spine.
Rosa was standing in front of the big stove, frying eggs and bacon. The moment she heard the door banging shut, she glanced over her shoulder. ' 'Buenos dias, senora. '
'Buenos dias, Rosa,' Elizabeth-Anne returned. 'Busy morning?'
'Busy!' Rosa inflated her cheeks and let the air out slowly. 'It's a real busy day! I don't think we've had no day like today. Never before. We serve so many breakfasts, you soon get thousands of dollars!'
Elizabeth-Anne laughed. 'Oh, Rosa. I only wish that were tr
ue.' She regarded the big Mexican woman with affection. Rosa was a jewel, and as hardworking as they came. She was short and heavyset, with a cheerful moon face and gleaming black hair around which she wore flowered handkerchiefs tied like a turban. Tiny gold loops dangled from her pierced lobes. Due to the stifling heat of the kitchen, her embroidered off-white blouse was unbuttoned as far down as decency would allow, and her sleeves were rolled up her thick, powerful arms . . . arms strengthened from a lifetime of lifting cast-iron pots and heavy skillets. Her tawny skin gleamed with perspiration.
Elizabeth-Anne started to clear the table as Rosa slid a spatula under the rashers of bacon and flipped them over. Suddenly the swinging doors leading to the dining room burst open and Elizabeth-Anne could hear the sound of voices and cutlery and china. She turned around. Rebecca had come flying in.
'Oh, Ma-ma!' Rebecca wailed dramatically. 'My feet are killing me!'
'Then take a break, darling, and let Charlotte-Anne take over.'
'Charlotte-Anne!' Rebecca narrowed her eyes. 'She's still in bed. Claims she's ailing.'
Elizabeth-Anne raised her eyebrows. 'Did she say what's wrong with her?'
'Noooo . . . just that she's unwell.' Rebecca glanced in Rosa's direction and lowered her voice to a whisper. 'Rosa went up and took a look at her earlier. Says there's nothing wrong with her.'
Rosa's acute hearing had caught the whisper. 'No, there isn't,' she scoffed. She turned around from the stove and waved her spatula angrily. 'She likes us to think she's delicate, but she's fine, you mark my words. Meanwhile, Regina and Rebecca have been serving everybody alone. Again. '
Elizabeth-Anne sighed. 'I'll go upstairs and check on her in a little while.'
'Mama?' Rebecca said quietly.
'What is it, dear?'
'Maybe . . . maybe there really is something wrong with Charlotte-Anne. I don't mind serving for her too. Really I don't.'
Elizabeth-Anne hugged her daughter. 'I know you don't, dear.'
'Maybe Charlotte-Anne should see Dr. Purris again.'
'Maybe she should,' Elizabeth-Anne mused aloud. 'She has been feeling unwell an awful lot lately.'
At the stove, Rosa rolled her eyes skyward.
'Well, I'd better go make my rounds in the dining room before everyone's gone,' Elizabeth-Anne said. By reflex she smoothed her hands over her apron and patted her hair. She considered greeting her customers personally and getting their opinions on the food and the service to be of paramount importance. A lot of the café's success, she believed, was due to the personal attention each and every guest received. People liked being made to feel welcome and at home.
'I start lunch soon,' Rosa said. 'We will have pork chops, saffron rice, an' corn. We got a good deal on pork. José bring later. Dinner will be boiled beef, cabbage, corn muffins, and parsley potatoes.' She looked at Elizabeth-Anne questioningly. 'Is okay?'
Elizabeth-Anne clapped the woman on the shoulder. 'It all sounds wonderful, Rosa,' she said, then pushed open the swinging doors that led into the dining room. Smiling pleasantly, she started making her rounds.
At the table closest to her, she saw the thin, pinched face of Hugh McElwee as he gingerly picked at his scrambled eggs with a fork. McElwee was the publisher of the Quebeck Weekly Gazette and he picked at his food just as he picked at the words in the articles he published . . . slowly, as if there was something distasteful about them. A confirmed bachelor, he lived across the street in the Hale Rooming House. A victim of myopia, he always seemed confused by what went on around him.
'Good morning, Mr. McElwee,' Elizabeth-Anne said cheerfully. 'Is everything to your liking?'
He seemed startled to hear her and looked up sharply. 'Oh, good morning, Mrs. Hale,' he said in his high-pitched voice. He smiled and nodded. 'Oh, yes, yes. Everything's fine. Fine.'
Elizabeth-Anne leaned close into his ear and lowered her voice confidentially. 'I'd like to speak with you alone tomorrow, Mr. McElwee, if that's all right with you. You see, I've decided to change some things around here. Starting next week, instead of serving only one entree for lunch or dinner, we'll have dishes for our guests to choose from. Just like in big-city restaurants.'
He nodded somberly. 'My, yes . . . that is news. It will make a good article.'
'Fine. We'll have lunch together tomorrow and I'll tell you all about it. It will be my treat.'
'Oh!' He looked pleased. 'Thank you. Is twelve o'clock all right?'
'Twelve o'clock it is.'
'Good morning, Mrs. Hale!' a voice called out, and she turned to face the Byrd sisters, whose cottage she and Zaccheus had rented. They were seated in their favorite corner.
Elizabeth-Anne inclined her head. 'Good morning, Miss Byrd.' She acknowledged the other sister by inclining her head again: 'Good morning, Miss Byrd.' For some silly reason, she always felt she had to divide her attention and conversation evenly between them. They had that kind of effect on one.
The first sister set down her cup of tea. 'Samantha and I were wondering—'
'Don't take any heed, Mrs. Hale,' the second sister said in quick apology. She glared accusingly across the table at her identical twin and wagged her spindly finger admonishingly. 'That's not nice, Samantha,' she said indignantly. 'You know very well that you're Samantha and that I'm Susannah.'
'Don't listen to her, Mrs. Hale,' the other sister said severely. 'Samantha is always trying to play practical jokes on people. It's tiresome. Really it is.' The sigh of exasperation which followed sounded brittle.
Elizabeth-Anne shook her head and smiled. The dour-looking Byrd sisters were the town pranksters, always in good humor, often cloaking their pranks with a veneer of righteous tight-lipped severity. They seemingly never tired of trying to confuse people. Although Elizabeth-Anne had long ago learned to tell them apart, she still pretended she couldn't. 'If you don't stop this foolishness,' she warned, 'one of these days you're going to get the wrong names on your tombstones.'
'You really think so?' they chorused in delight.
'I do.' Elizabeth-Anne nodded. Then she changed the subject smoothly. 'Is the food to your satisfaction?'
'The food?' A shocked expression of disbelief crossed one spinster's face. 'If we wanted to eat well, why, we'd cook at home! Right, Susannah?'
'Right, Samantha.'
'Aha! I caught you!' Elizabeth-Anne cried, wagging a finger. 'You've just changed identities again.
A moment ago, you were Samantha, and you were Susannah.'
'Good heavens, no. You're the one who's confused. Isn't that right, Susannah?'
'Indeed it is, Samantha.'
Shaking her head in bemusement, Elizabeth-Anne moved on around the large room.
'Dr. Lusk. Dr. Purris.' Elizabeth-Anne acknowledged the town's two medical men, the dentist and the doctor.
Both doctors gripped the edge of the table and started to rise, but Elizabeth-Anne quickly waved them back into their seats. 'I'm delighted to see you both here again this morning. Is everything to your satisfaction?'
'Yes, indeed,' Dr. Purris said.
'Absolutely,' Dr. Lusk added.
'Well, enjoy your breakfasts.' As she started to turn away, Elizabeth-Anne hesitated. Perhaps I should ask Dr. Purris to come upstairs after he finishes eating to examine Charlotte-Anne, she thought. Then she decided against it. First she would see for herself whether a doctor was indeed warranted. And since Rosa believed her daughter's illness to be the result of hypochondria at best, or contrived at worst, she would sit down with Charlotte-Anne and explain to her that doctors' bills, unless absolutely necessary, were to be avoided at all costs.
'Can we be of any help, Mrs. Hale?' Dr. Purris asked curiously.
Elizabeth-Anne shook her head and smiled. 'Oh . . . excuse me. I was just thinking of something . . . no, everything's fine. But it's kind of you to ask. . . .'
But everything was not fine, she discovered at that moment.
'Coyote Building Suppliers was sold yesterday afternoon,' someone behind her was s
aying. 'Tex and Jennifer dropped by the office without warning and had me draw up the papers. Didn't even send for me to come out to the ranch. Imagine.'
'Hmmm, yes. Quite out of character for them. Sold, you said?'
'Well, not really sold. The sale was just a legal formality. For some reason, Tex signed the whole kit and caboodle over to his wife. For a dollar.'
An icy dread froze Elizabeth-Anne to the spot as the words sank in. Jenny now owned Coyote Building Suppliers? Was it possible? Every muscle in her body suddenly seemed to ache. Without even looking behind her, she knew to whom the voices belonged. Eblin Keyes, the lawyer, and Jesse Atkinson, the president of Quebeck Savings and Loan. Both men were in Tex Sexton's employ.
Without moving her head, she glanced numbly around the dining room. She still had people to greet, but she couldn't. After the bombshell she'd just overheard, her feet wouldn't move.
But they had to. It was imperative that she ride out to Coyote right away and find out what in the world was going on. At least she was now certain why Coyote continued to raise their prices so usuriously. Jenny—not Tex, but Jenny—was trying to drive her out of business. Knowing your enemy was supposed to be half the battle, she'd once heard said, but small comfort that knowledge brought her now. Jenny. Vindictive, vicious Jenny, whom she'd never tried to hurt, with whom she'd tried, unsuccessfully, to strike a thousand truces.
Once again, Jenny is out to get me. Will some things never change?
She forced herself to turn around and walk toward the hall door, her every step slow and weary.
3
By the time Elizabeth-Anne closed the dining-room door quietly behind her, the initial shock was starting to wear off. Her mind slowly began to function again.
Texas Born Page 33
