Another Dawn

by Sandra Brown

Grady entered the dim, smoky, stuffy room. The smells were hideous, an insult to human nostrils. He tried holding his breath for long moments at a time. When he did breathe, the air was thick with filth and squalor.

  Wanda lay on the bed amid soiled linens. Grady swallowed the scalding bile that filled his throat. The rough sheets were stained pink from the water that had flowed from her womb and precipitated her labor.

  Her knees were bent and raised and opened wide. Her face was gray and puckered. The lips through which passed those gasping sounds were bruised and cracked where she had obviously gnawed them in an effort to stifle her screams. Her hair was matted with sweat. Her eyes were closed. A scanty shift had been raised as high as her breasts, leaving her lower half bare.

  Grady was thoroughly disgusted by the sight of her. So disgusted that he wanted to vomit. The breasts that had once enticed him were now bloated with milk, the nipples large and dark. She evoked no pity in him, even though he could see her body twisting, garnering energy for the next painful assault.

  Her shoulders left the mattress and she clutched her knees, drawing them toward her chest, as she grunted and strained until her face was beet-red and swollen with the effort. When she fell back and opened her eyes, she saw Grady watching her.

  "So you finally put in an appearance," she said in shallow, rapid breaths. "Look what you done to me, you . sonofabitch. You brought me to this."

  "Are you sure it was me, Wanda?" Grady taunted.

  '"You or some other bastard who thought he was too good to speak to me on the streets of town but who sneaked out here when he wanted a good tumble." She gnashed her teeth and groaned in agony. But she couldn't contain her anguish and released it on another scream that pierced the ramshackle walls of the cabin.

  "You're bothering your daddy. He sent me in here to stop your screams."

  "Goddamn him. And goddamn you."

  "Charming as ever, Wanda. Motherhood becomes you." His eyes slid down her puffy body. She was opened, stretched wide. The baby's head was emerging. His gorge rose again.

  Wanda, screaming, propped herself on her elbows and pushed with all her might. She tucked her chin against her chest as she made low, guttural, animal noises that were repulsive to Grady's ears. Then she threw her head back and screamed until her voice cracked.

  "I told you to shut her up," Doggie yelled from me outside. "Goddamn women," he muttered as he staggered off the porch, sending the hounds scuttling in every direction. "I'm goin' to git me another jug." He ambled away into the gathering twilight.

  When Grady's eyes swung back to Wanda, she was in the throes of another contraction.

  "Help me, Grady, help me." She was pleading now, all arrogance gone. Pain had reduced her to a pathetic being. "The babe won't be borned. It won't be. Help me. Do something!" she screamed when he just stood there looking at her.

  "Your daddy told me to keep you quiet." His voice was as devoid of expression as his face.

  "I can't help the screaming. It hurts." Again she collapsed onto the sweat-stained pillow. Then her body con-vised with another pain and her throat opened up and she wailed loud and long.

  The baby's shoulders had pushed their way through. In a moment it would be born. Grady Sheldon, young, handsome businessman, would be saddled with yet another Burns. The thought that he could have sired a brat out of Wanda Burns made him even more sick to his stomach than the sights and smells around him. That he might have to support mis clan of white trash all his life was unthinkable.

  For weeks he had debated about what he should do. He had come to a conclusion, though that, too, had been unthinkable. But he was desperate. And desperation urged men to do things that would ordinarily be unthinkable.

  "Doggie told me to keep you from screaming. I think I should." He picked up the extra pillow on the bed. "Don't scream anymore, Wanda."

  She looked up at him through glassy eyes, filled now not only with agony but fear. "What are you doing? Huh? Oh, God." She gritted her teeth as another spasm seized her. "Oh, God, oh, Jesus," she chanted while her body strained to dispel the life in her womb.

  "Don't scream," Grady warned menacingly.

  "I can't... can't help..." Her mouth opened wide and she let loose a scream that championed its predecessors. It split her throat just as her body split open and the child was expelled.

  Grady acted.

  He closed the pillow over her face, pressed her back onto the mattress, and held her there. She struggled but briefly. Hours of agonizing labor had left her weak. Grady didn't remove the pillow until long after her limbs had become still.

  When he lifted it away, sweat was rolling down his body in cold rivers. He didn't look at Wanda, but lowered his eyes to the mewling baby lying between her thighs. He didn't even turn it over to see it if was a boy or a girl. No use wasting energy on that. It wouldn't live long. Not if his plan worked. And it had to.

  He whirled around when he heard Doggie's shuffling walk. He tiptoed to the door, peeked out, and saw the man weaving his unsteady way back to the cabin. About every third step, he hauled the jug to his shoulder, tilted his head back and took a long draft of the moonshine whiskey.

  When Doggie reached the cabin, his alcohol-befuddled brain discerned that something was amiss. "What's 'is?" he muttered. He started forward, staggered, and almost fell over one of his hounds. Cursing it, he stumbled up on the porch, grasped one of the rough cedar posts to keep himself from falling and called out, "What's goin' on in yonder, huh? Wanda? Sheldon? Is the young'un borned yet?" He took a lurching step forward. "Why ain't there no noise? Huh? Why—"

  He never saw the piece of oak firewood that came crunching down on his skull the minute he cleared the doorway. Heavily he dropped to the floor.

  After having held his breath for the past several minutes, Grady stepped from the shadows and leaned over Doggie. The man didn't move. Grady wiped his sweating face on his sleeve.

  It was their fate to die like this, Grady convinced himself. They were trash, not fit to live on the same planet with decent folks. Who would miss Doggie Burns and his sluttish daughter? He had done the world a favor by ridding it of them. He had only helped fate out a little bit, that's all.

  He went to the apple crate that served as a bedside table and casually tipped the kerosene lantern over, making sure its globe broke against the plank floor and that the fuel spread in a wide pool.

  No one could blame him for this. Fate hadn't been too kind to him lately. He had lost Banner, a chunk of prized real estate, and the backing and endorsement of the Colemans, which went a long way in Larsen County. He had been humiliated in public and shunned in town by people who used to suck up to him. He'd been laughed at. He'd taken about all a man could take, hadn't he? From now on, he intended fate to decide things in his favor.

  He struck a match and lit the end of a cigar he had had the good fortune to bring along. See? Fate was already turning the tide. He sauntered out of the cabin and drew the tobacco smoke into his lungs, releasing it on a long, slow exhalation.

  Everybody knew the Burnses lived like pigs, tat Doggie was constantly drunk. Wanda too. No one had seen him leave town. Even if they had, who was to say he had come out here? He would circle around, ride back into town from the opposite direction and make sure he waved to several people who would remember it later if the sheriff got suspicious about the fire at the Burns place.

  Grady tossed his cigar into the open doorway of the shack. He didn't even wait to see if it caught.

  Fate was on his side now.

  * * *

  The party was already in full swing by the time Banner and Jake arrived. They were late.

  It was an indisputable fact that the Colemans knew how to throw a shindig. Lanterns covered with gaily colored paper were hanging from the lowest branches of the trees. Tables, lined up end to end in the yard, were laden with food. The barbecue pits emitted the delicious aroma of mesquite-smoked meat. Kegs of beer had been set up. Ma kept the punch bowls brimming with lemonade for the l
adies.

  The music was toe-tapping and loud. Two fiddles, a banjo, a harmonica, and an accordion played one lively tune after another. Their musicians' repertoire was as limited as their skill, but they made up for both with their enthusiasm.

  When Lydia and Ross saw the familiar wagon pull into the yard, they rushed toward it to greet their daughter and Jake. Ross lifted Banner off the wagon seat and twirled her around.

  "I almost forgot how pretty you are, Princess. Ranching hasn't made you ugly, by any means."

  "Papa." Banner hugged him tight when he set her back on the ground. She hadn't realized how much she had missed him until now. He felt so safe and strong. She wanted to stay in his protective embrace for a long time. But that would be out of the ordinary, and she had to make things seem ordinary, even though her heart was breaking and she could think of a hundred places she would rather be than at a party.

  She and Jake hadn't spoken since he had said that dreadful thing to her. Of course, she was unfamiliar with the word, but in context and given the brittle quality of Jake's eyes when he had said it, she could imagine how unspeakably foul it was.

  When she had finished dressing, she had come out onto the front porch. He had been sitting in the wagon, smoking a cheroot. He barely glanced at her, but got out of the wagon and came around to assist her. She disdained his extended hand and pulled herself onto the seat. He had merely shrugged and returned to his place, taken up the reins, and driven in silence across the river.

  Banner had sat stonily still, hoping that he could sense the undiluted loathing of him that flowed through her veins with every beat of her heart.

  Again she had made a fool of herself, but that was the last time. He wouldn't have an occasion to humiliate her again. Friendliness between them would cease. She would speak to him only about ranching matters and only when necessary. He wouldn't eat in her kitchen again. She would leave a tray out on the front porch for him. She would feed him as one did a pet, making the food available, but not sharing it.

  "Jake, how are you?" Her father's hearty welcome snapped her back into the present. Ross was heartily pumping Jake's hand. "There's beer over there or something stronger inside in my office."

  "I'll take something stronger," Jake said, his mouth grim.

  Ross smiled beneath his mustache. "Figured you would. I want to talk to you about something anyway."

  "Ross," Lydia moaned, "don't talk business tonight. You'll miss the party."

  He reached for her, drew her to him and kissed her soundly on her startled mouth. "Wanna bet? I have a party planned for you and me later."

  "Ross, keep your voice down and let me go. Everybody's watching," she protested, but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were filled with an excitement mat matched her husband's. After another quick kiss, he released her.

  "Come on, Jake," Ross said, slapping the younger man between the shoulder blades and keeping his hand there companionably as they made their way through the crowd in the yard toward the house.

  "Men!" Lydia turned an exasperated face toward her daughter, but it immediately converted into a smile. "You look beautiful, Banner."

  "Thanks, Mama." It was good to hear it. Jake certainly hadn't complimented her on how she looked. His indifference piqued her more than she could imagine, and that in itself was an irritant. "Everything looks wonderful. You've gone to too much trouble as usual."

  "I had lots of help. Ma and the boys."

  "The boys" was Lydia's collective term for Lee and Micah. "Where are they anyway? I miss those two, though why I do, I can't imagine."

  Lydia smiled and touched Banner's hair which was perfectly coiffed. She had piled it high, but left wisps to coil against her cheeks and neck. A green satin ribbon that matched her dress had been wound though the dark strands. "They wouldn't admit it in a million years, but they miss you too."

  "They have no one to torment."

  "All of your friends are here," Lydia said softly, knowing how difficult it would be for Banner to face them the first time. "They're clustered under the pecan tree."

  "I'll go see them now." Banner squeezed her mother's hand in reassurance.

  "Have a good time."

  Banner nodded and wended her way through the crowd. She went out of her way to speak to everyone, smiling brightly, tossing her head, letting everyone know that she hadn't fallen to pieces after what Grady had done to her. The shame was his, not hers. She intended for everyone to know that and held her head proudly.

  "Georgia, Bea, Dovie, hello," she called out as she reached the group of young women. They were all dressed in summer pastels. As Banner approached them, decked out in the bright leaf green, they all faded to blandness by comparison.

  "Banner!" they chorused, and gathered around her.

  They exchanged pleasantries and gossip about mutual acquaintances. Since she hadn't seen them for several weeks, she was behind on current events. When they asked Banner if it were true that she was ranching, she answered in the affirmative and then went on to describe her life much more colorfully than it warranted.

  But their interest in fences and corrals and crossbreeding quickly waned and the talk turned to engagements and weddings and tea parties and babies and china patterns. It didn't take long for Banner to become very bored, and she wondered if she had ever been as shallow and shortsighted as they.

  Excusing herself, she wandered off. She came up behind Lee and Micah, who had their shoulders propped against a tree. Unaware that she was within hearing distance, their conversation was much more interesting than that of her girlfriends.

  "You think she does?"

  "Hell yes. You can tell by her eyes. Their eyes always give them away."

  "What about Lulu Bishop?"

  "Hmm. I don't know. Probably not. Too scared of her mama."

  "Yeah, but I hear she opens her mouth when she kisses."

  "Who told you?"

  "The fellow who works in her daddy's feed store."

  "The one from Indian territory?"

  "Yep. Think he was lying?"

  "Might have been."

  "Now Bonnie Jones..."

  "Nice on top, huh? Big and ripe as melons." Micah's elbow found Lee's side and they chuckled together. "Bet they taste just as juicy too."

  "I touched 'em once," Lee bragged.

  "The hell you say," Micah scoffed, straightening and facing his friend in challenge.

  "Swear to God."

  "When?"

  "About two years ago. Even then they were bo-da-cious. We were at the Fourth of July celebration the church gave for all the young folks."

  "The church!" Micah said beneath his bream. "Are you lying?"

  "No! You should have come."

  "I had the trots and Ma wouldn't let me. What happened with Bonnie?"

  "We sneaked off from the others. You know that place in the river where the rapids are. She leaned out over the rocks, lost her balance, and nearly fell in the water. When I reached out to catch her, that's what I caught."

  "Liar."

  "I swear."

  "What'd she do?"

  "Oh, she blushed and straightened her dress. She said, 'Lee Coleman, you best watch where your hands are touching.' "

  "I said, 'I'm watchin' 'em, Bonnie honey, I'm watching 'em.' I was looking right down on 'em, ya see."

  Micah snickered. "Then what happened?"

  Lee's face fell. "Then the Sunday school teacher came thrashing through the woods, rounding all of us up for fireworks. Hell, if I'd had Bonnie alone for another sixty seconds, there would have been some fireworks all right." He tossed down a piece of bark he'd peeled off the tree. "Heard she's marrying a guy from Tyler. Tell you what, he's in for a real treat on their wedding night."

  "You two are positively disgusting." Banner stepped from the shadows and nudged her way between them. She glared at them with an air of superiority.

  "Hellfire, Banner," Lee said angrily, "we didn't know you were there."

  "Obviously."

&
nbsp; "Up to your old tricks again?" Micah asked, smiling. "Spying on us?"

  Banner's good nature won out and she giggled. "You're more entertaining than anyone else at this party. But, Lee, how dare you talk about one of my friends that way? Bonnie Jones is a nice girl and if you touched any part of her anatomy, I'm certain she was mortified and highly offended."

  "You shouldn't have been listening," he defended himself. "This is the kind of thing men discuss."

  "And how would you know what men discuss?" He frowned threateningly, but she wasn't in the least intimidated. "What would you do if someone discussed me like that?"

  Both of them all but growled with an instinct to protect. "I'd tear the hair off their heads," Lee said.

  "Well, if Bonnie had a brother... Who invited her?" Banner stopped midsentence to comment on the arrival of another young woman who joined the group still gathered under the pecan tree.

  "Who?" Micah asked, his eyes scanning the crowd. More people were dancing now and it was difficult to distinguish faces.

  "Dora Lee Denney. I can't stand her."

  The boys cast knowing glances at each other. "How come?"

  "She's sneaky and snooty and snide."

  "She's right pretty though," Micah observed.

  "Hmph!".Banner had always thought the blue-eyed blonde was tacky. Her hair was too elaborately styled, her clothes too fussy, her perfume too strong. What Banner disliked most was the way Dora Lee ingratiated herself with men and women alike. She dominated every conversation and her favorite topic was herself. She always spoke in syrupy tones that Banner knew were false. Often Banner had wanted to punch Dora Lee in her petulant mouth just to get one honest reaction out of her.

  "I'd better go back and see what she's saying. It would be just like her to tell everybody that I had attempted suicide after the wedding."

  She left them. Micah stared after her, watching as she insinuated herself into the circle of young women again. "What do you think?"

  Lee's eyes were focused in the same direction as Micah's. "I don't care if my sister likes Dora Lee or not. I'd like a chance to sample some of that. How about you?"

  "I was thinking the same thing. Nothing serious, you understand. Just a nice, quick roll in the hay."