Tenderness

by Dorothy Garlock

  Jody moved between them carrying a black iron kettle to the table.

  “Put the beans in a bowl, Jody. We have company.”

  “Don’t regard me as company, please.” Jesse moved away from the chair. “I feel I’ve been thrust upon your hospitality. I’ll set the table.” She opened the glass doors of the china cabinet and lifted three plates from the shelf, and from a drawer beneath the doors, she chose three sets of utensils. She laid out the place settings knowing that Wade was watching her, testing her to she how she would react to eating at the table with a Negro.

  At an early age Doctor Forbes had emphasized to his children that Negro people were no less human than white people. He looked beneath the color of a man’s skin and saw what lay in his heart and judged him by his character.

  “I done et,” Jody said and placed an ironstone bowl of steaming beans and ham on the table.

  “You didn’t finish your meal,” Jesse said lightly. “Sit down, Jody. A growing boy can surely eat more than one plateful. Isn’t that right, Mr. Simmer?”

  Wade waited to speak until her blue eyes were looking directly into his.

  “Right as rain, Nurse Forbes.” His voice was deep, husky, his expression remote. Holding her eyes with his, Wade moved around the table and pulled out her chair.

  Jesse sat down. She was emotionally shaken. She would never have dreamed when she left home this morning that she would be completely at the mercy of this notorious man—not that he had made an ungentlemanly move, she assured herself. Still, her logical mind told her, he was so… big and dark and unpredictable. One moment he smiled and the next moment he looked as if he would bite the head off a snake. He did have a beautiful smile, she finally admitted, and wondered why he was so stingy with it.

  CHAPTER

  * 4 *

  Dick Efthim closed and locked the double glass doors of his emporium and put the key in his pocket. He stood for a moment looking up and down the street. This was the quiet time of day—sup-pertime. Most of the businesses were closed, but a light blinked here and there. Two men came toward him on the raised boardwalk that fronted the stores in the block.

  “Evenin’, Mr. Harper. Evenin’, Marshal.”

  “Evenin’.” Boyd Harper’s voice boomed so loudly in the quiet that Dick wondered if the man was going deaf. The short, notably plump banker was puffing on the stub of a cigar he would toss away before he reached home. Roberta Harper, his wife, frowned on tobacco and spirits. They were allowed in the house only on special occasions when it was socially necessary.

  “Howdy, Dick.” Dusty Wright was big, sandy-haired, freckle-faced, and so easy-going that he had managed to get along with Boyd Harper for the past fifteen years. Named Dunstan at birth, a fact he generally concealed, the marshal had been called Dusty for as long as he could remember.

  “I was just tellin’ the marshal that half the town saw Wade Simmer’s uppity nigger runninn’ slap-dab down the middle of Main Street. It was a sorry sight to see, but when trash like that thumbs his nose at our town marshal, it’s more’n a body should have to put up with. Disgraceful, I say. Disgraceful!” Harper continued in his loud voice as he lifted his watch from his vest pocket and flipped open the case. “Them niggers are just gettin’ uppitier and uppitier. But they know better than to be in my town after sundown. Isn’t that right, Marshal?”

  Dusty nodded and glanced at Dick. He listened to the banker’s advice, then did what he thought was right according to the law. Now he could scarcely keep the grin off his face. The handlebar mustache that covered his upper lip jerked, the only sign of his amusement. Both men remained silent and let Boyd talk.

  “Keep that trash in the hills, Marshal. We can’t let them sully our town. My granddaddy built this town with his sweat and blood. He didn’t build it for lazy hill trash.”

  When Boyd got on this subject, it always made the storekeeper uncomfortable. A number of hill families did business in his store. He had extended credit to a few of them and they had always paid when they promised, unlike Boyd, who let his bill run a year or more and then pretended to have forgotten it. Dick also knew of hillfolk who did business with Boyd’s bank. The man seemed to forget about that when he launched into one of his tirades.

  “You should’ve gone right out and arrested that darkie for indecent behavior.”

  “Indecent behavior?” Dusty scratched the back of his head, tilting his hat over his face to hide his amusement. “I don’t even know what it means when a person ‘thumbs his nose.’ Do you, Boyd?”

  “Why, course, I know,” the banker blustered. “It means… it means somethin’… nasty.”

  “If I arrested everyone who called me somethin’ nasty, Boyd, I’d have that new jailhouse full and overflowin’. Think of the expense havin’ to feed that bunch. I’d be havin’ tramps and rotters and good-for-nothin’s thumbin’ their nose just to get a good warm bed and three squares a day.”

  “Well, now.” Boyd chewed vigorously on the end of the cigar. “We’ll write up a new ordinance. Any nigger that acts disrespectful while in Harpersville—”

  “It wouldn’t stand up in court, Boyd. Tennessee law says we can’t have one set of rules for whites and another for coloreds.”

  “What do those high-binders over there in Nashville know about what goes on over here in this part of the state?” Boyd puffed rapidly on his cigar, then took it from his mouth. “I never thought I’d see the day Harpersville would have to put up with uppity niggers and womenfolk not bein’ safe in their own homes. My granddaddy would turn over in his grave if he knew what’s been goin’ on in his town.”

  “Has another woman been attacked?” Dick asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Dusty said. “But women are shamed about talkin’ about such things. I suspect there’s been more’n what we know about.”

  “Do you have any idea who it could be?”

  Before Dusty could answer, Boyd’s voice boomed.

  “Course, we got a idea. Wade Simmer. He’s got to be brought to justice. There’s been nothing but trouble since he come back here. Bad blood!” Boyd shook his head so vigorously his jowls quivered. “I got proof written in my granddaddy’s hand, God rest his soul, that Simmer’s old granddaddy was a smuggler, a thief, a womanizer, and a Yankee to boot. Bad blood was passed on down to Alvin, then to Wade. Everybody knows Alvin Simmer killed my brother, Buford, and got hung for it.”

  What everybody doesn’t know, Dusty thought to himself, is the truth about that killing.

  “I can’t arrest Wade Simmer without some evidence he’s guilty,” Dusty said.

  “Arrest his nigger then.”

  “I have no evidence it’s him either. He’s no more’n fourteen or fifteen. I figger he’s not smart enough to get in and do what’s been done to these women without being seen.”

  “Hell, man! You got to arrest somebody.”

  “I will when I catch the guilty man. This bird is bound to slip up sooner or later, and one of the women will be able to identify him.”

  “It better be soon. I never thought I’d see the day a white woman wasn’t safe in my granddaddy’s town.” Harper looked so indignant that Dusty wanted to laugh. “Why, I’m havin’ to send Edsel home early to stay with Mrs. Harper. She’s near scared out of her wits.”

  Dusty had a difficult time holding back a smile at the thought of The Looker getting the corsets off Mrs. Harper’s barrel-shaped body. So far, the man had picked sightly young women and girls. Unless he got the urge to look at a belly shaped like a watermelon and breasts like two good sized cantaloupes, Roberta Harper was as safe as if she were locked in the bank vault.

  When the banker said goodnight and walked on down the street leaving the marshal and the storekeeper standing on the boardwalk, they looked at each other, careful to wait until Boyd Harper was out of hearing, and they both laughed.

  “A man would have to be really sick to want to see Mrs. Harper naked,” Dick said, then added, “I don’t mean to make light of what’s
happened. It’s not a jokin’ matter. I keep wonderin’ who’s doin’ it and if it’s somebody I know.”

  “It’s a bet it’s someone who knows what’s going on in town. So far he’s picked women whose menfolk were out of the house. I don’t think it’s one of the hill people. I don’t have any idea who it is. It’s not one of the bridge crew. I’m almost sure of that. They don’t bathe from one month to the next and stink like a slop bucket. A woman would notice such as that. It’s hard for me to believe it’s Wade Simmer. I’m thinkin’ that if he took a notion for a woman, he’d not be sneaky about it. Besides, he can go up to Knoxville or over to Frederick or Grover or Finny and get a woman who’ll give him a fine time for four bits. Why risk gettin’ caught just lookin’?”

  “Maybe it’s a game with him. Maybe he feels he’s getting back at the town for what it did to his pa.”

  “Preyin’ on women?” Dusty snorted. “Ain’t Wade’s style.”

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  “No. I don’t know for sure. Could be you, Dick.”

  “Or you, Dusty.” Dick laughed and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I heard they got a run of scarlet fever in the hills,” he said after a pause. “Susan Forbes was in the store and bought sage to send back by that darkie. He was down to get medicine from the doctor. Miss Jesse will have her hands full. It don’t seem right her bein’ up there all by herself.”

  “She’s probably as safe there as she’d be in town right now. If she’s tending the younguns, the hill people’ll look after her.”

  “You a friend of Simmer’s, Dusty?”

  “I know him. I was raised in the hills myself. My pa knew his pa. Wade’s a ornery sonofabitch when he’s riled, but he tends to his own business if folks leave him be.”

  “He comes to the store four or five times a year. Seems to have money to buy what he wants. Gives me a bill to fill, pays and leaves. Don’t say three words all the while.”

  “He ain’t a talker, that’s certain. Well, I got to be makin’ my rounds. Night, Dick.”

  “Night, Dusty.”

  “This piccalilli is delicious.” Jesse spooned a second helping of the relish onto her plate. “Which one of you made it?” She tried to smile into Wade’s eyes, but he refused to look at her.

  “Mrs. Bailey gave us a half dozen quarts last fall,” Wade finally said reluctantly.

  “After we sawed up a bunch of—” A quelling glance from Wade stopped Jody’s words.

  “I’ll have to ask for the recipe,” Jesse said. “Mine never tastes this good.”

  She glanced at Jody and found him looking at her. He scooped a piece of ham out of his plate with his fingers and filled his mouth, letting the juice run down his chin. He was being deliberately ill-mannered. Why? She slanted a quick look at Wade. His face had tightened with a scowl, but he said nothing.

  Jesse finished her meal in silence after that. Jody was doing his best to live up to what he thought she expected of him, and she was tired of trying to make conversation with Wade. Since she had stepped inside his home, he had been different—as if he didn’t want her here. Sitting at the table with a colored was not something she did every day. Not that it bothered her. It was just strange, and she had tried to make everyone feel at ease with her ceaseless chatter. She could see now that it had been a mistake.

  Wade finished eating, moved his chair back from the table, and carried his plate to the dishpan in the sink. Jesse quickly followed.

  “I’ll wash these before we go.”

  “No. We’d better not take the time.” Wade stacked the dishes in the pan and covered them with water from the teakettle. “Jody, take Nurse Forbes’s bundle over to Granny Lester and tell her the nurse will be spending the night there. Tomorrow night she’ll go to the Baileys. We can’t be playing favorites.”

  “Favorites? What do you mean?”

  “To these folk it’s an honor to have the nurse in their homes. It’s only fair to pass you around.”

  “My… goodness.”

  And you, Wade? Jesse wanted to say, are you glad I’m here? You act as if you can’t get me out of here fast enough.

  “I’ll go saddle up Samson.”

  “Oh, Mr. Simmer… I’ve had very little experience riding horseback.”

  “You won’t ride alone. You’ll ride in front of me. We can make the rounds in half the time.” Wade plucked a wool shirt jacket from a peg and slipped into it. “Jody, I didn’t see Delilah when I came in.”

  “She was layin’ by the chicken house. Think she’s gone off to have her pups?”

  “It’s about time.” At the door, Wade spoke to Jody again. “Get Nurse Forbes a shawl out of Granny’s chest.”

  “Please… don’t bother. I’ll be all right.”

  “You’ll be cold. It’s chilly up here at night, even in the summertime.” With that, he was out the door.

  Granny Simmer had been the only person in the world ever to be close to Wade. Since her death he had constantly guarded against letting anyone, even Jody, get too close. He had controlled every aspect of his adult life, closing his mind to what had happened in the past. After years of drifting first into one job and then another, he had returned to the place of his birth. The decision had been made suddenly after fate had stepped in and placed him at the right place at the right time.

  He had been standing on the wharf looking at the Statue of Liberty in the Upper Bay of New York Harbor, marveling at the colossal figure that had been a gift of the people of France. It was dusk and the wharf was deserted, or so he thought. But suddenly he heard a muffled cry and turned to seek out its source. With a shout he ran toward two men who, with clubs raised, were ready to strike again the couple they had knocked to the rough boards of the wharf.

  Wade had brawled in the coal mines, aboard merchant ships, and in the roughest dives that lined the seaports of the world. The two toughs didn’t stand a chance against him, even though they were armed with heavy clubs. He kicked one in the groin, broke the arm of the other, and tossed the two of them into the cold water of the bay.

  The couple he rescued were elderly. As he helped them to their feet, making sure they had come to no serious harm, a big man in the uniform of a servant ran up to them.

  “Oh, Lord! I shouldn’t’ve left ya.”

  “We’re all right,” the man said shakily, reaching to straighten his wife’s hat. “This young man saved our lives.”

  After thanking Wade profusely, the feeble old man escorted his wife to the waiting carriage.

  The incident and the surprising event that occurred the following morning were turning points in Wade’s life. For the first time he accepted himself as he really was. The realization made him feel oddly secure and able to face all the hideous details of his birth and childhood. A few days later he began the journey back to the hills of Tennessee, back home to the place where he was born.

  Wade had been fairly content—until now.

  He groaned inwardly as he saddled the horse. He had once thought of himself as invulnerable. Now he wasn’t sure he could get Jesse Forbes or the empty, lonely years that stretched ahead out of his mind. He was certain that waiting for Jesse beside the road, getting to know her, bringing her to his home, was a mistake.

  When she came out of his house, Wade was glad to see she was not wearing the nurse’s cap and that she had one of his granny’s shawls wrapped around her shoulders. He moved the horse up close to the porch where it would be easier for her to mount.

  “Do you have chores to do before we go?” she asked.

  “None that won’t keep until I get back.” Wade hung her nurse’s bag over the saddlehom and stepped into the saddle. “Put your foot on mine and I’ll boost you up.”

  She hesitated and gestured to where lightning flickered in the sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

  “I have a slicker.” He held out his hand.

  “I… don’t know about this—”

  “Don’t tell me a woman who w
ill go alone into the woods with a strange man—even come to his home—is afraid of riding a horse.”

  “It isn’t that. It’s just that I’m not dressed—”

  Wade leaned from the saddle and placed his hands on her waist, and before she could even think of what he was doing, she was sitting on his lap.

  “Swing your leg over. You’ll be more comfortable without the saddlehom poking you in the side.”

  “But… my skirt—”

  “—Will come up and show your legs. Who’ll see them out here, but me? I’ve already seen every color, shape and size of female legs. Yours won’t excite me one bit,” he added in a bored tone.

  “In that case—what the heck!” she snapped and swung her leg over the horse’s neck.

  The skirt of her dress was full enough to cover her knees. As she tugged on it, she was aware that her bottom was nestled snugly against the V made by his spread thighs. She could feel the warmth of him through her clothing and his. He adjusted the shawl around her shoulders, then his arms were around her, pulling her back against him. The horse tossed his head. Wade spoke sternly and the animal stood motionless again.

  “Relax. I’ll not let you fall.” His voice was a low rumble close to her ear.

  The nearness of Wade’s hard body was something Jesse hadn’t anticipated. His arms pressed her close to his chest, her thighs lay alongside his. Lord help her! The intimacy was wildly exciting, and she prayed he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.

  “Ready?” Warm breath fanned her ear.

  Jesse nodded uncertainly, for she was trying desperately to cope not only with the unaccustomed experience of being on horseback, but also his physical nearness, the way in which he held her and the fact that every nerve in her body was aware of the lean hardness of his.

  Wade put his heels to the flanks of their mount. The animal responded and they moved out away from the house. Jesse looked straight ahead, not daring to look down and see how far she was from the ground.

  “Relax,” Wade said again. “You’re stiff as a board. You’ll be worn out by the time we get to the Prestons’.”