Spirit of the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  Pauline felt such relief, she deflated.

  “All you do is go back aways,” she said, gesturing with her thumb. “Three, four streets to Crooked Tree Road.” Fiona broke off with a thoughtful expression. “Come to think of it, I don’t know that there’s a sign there anymore, but there’s a big ol’ crooked tree. You can’t miss it. Then, after about a half mile, you’ll see a long fence in both directions. Turn right and you’ll see their place in no time.”

  Pauline nodded and picked up the suitcase again. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I could offer y’all some supper, but our guests have cleaned us out. Not sure we’re going to be able to feed everyone we got.”

  Pauline tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “That’s all right,” she said thickly. “Thank you.”

  “There is Wiley’s in town. That’s a restaurant, but you’ll be going the other way if you head to the Blues’.”

  Pauline flashed a weak smile and turned for the door. Tears were much too close at hand and she needed to keep moving.

  “Bye, now,” Fiona called.

  “Bye,” Rebecca said with a wave.

  Fiona waved back and shifted RJ to the other hip as the trio left. She felt bad that she couldn’t accommodate them. She hadn’t seen a woman looking so lost and desperate since Emeline Wright, now Emeline Wright Medlin had returned to town a few years back. A clamor of pots came from the kitchen and Fiona rolled her eyes. “Let’s go help Granny,” she said dolefully to her son. “Before she has another hissy fit.”

  Jeremy followed Morrison to the front steps of the boarding house, but hesitated when a pretty lady stepped out the door with two children in her wake. He nearly reached out and offered his hand to assist her down the two steps, but she’d deftly lifted her skirt and still managed to take hold of the boy’s hand. As she passed by, he noticed her anxiety. Then he registered the look of fear on the boy’s face and the expression of worry and distrust on the girl’s. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  She glanced at him with a slight nod of acknowledgment.

  Once they’d passed, he realized Morrison had gone inside. He followed, but Morrison was already gone from the lobby. Jeremy hurried to the hall in time to see the man ducking into a room at the far end. Morrison shut the door behind him and Jeremy heard it lock. He quickly followed and knocked.

  “Just a minute,” Morrison called from inside, but then came the telltale sound of a window screeching open, meaning the son of a bitch was sneaking out the window. Jeremy considered busting the door open, but he wasn’t sure the snake could pay for the damage, and he wasn’t about to, so he rushed back outside, rounded the house and went in pursuit. Morrison was running away with his hat shoved down on his head and a soft-sided bag clutched in his hand. Morrison glanced behind, saw Jeremy gaining on him, then promptly tripped and went flying. Within a few seconds, Jeremy stood over him. The man had flipped onto his back with his hands in a pathetic, defensive position. “You got the money you owe me?” Jeremy demanded.

  “I . . . I’m good for it, I swear,” the man exclaimed.

  “You’re a funny one, mister,” Jeremy warned.

  “It’s true! I have plenty of money at a bank in Roanoke. I swear it. You could go with me to get it.”

  “Hand over the watch and the box.”

  The man shook his head vigorously. “I can’t. No. They have great sentimental value.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Be reasonable!”

  “Reasonable? You’re a damn cheat and a liar.”

  “I’m not lying about the money. It’s in a safe deposit box at the City Bank on Third. I swear it. On my life.”

  “Then go get it and I’ll trade your trinkets back for the money.”

  “They’re not trinkets,” the man objected. “I’ll leave something else. I’ll leave the watch, but not the snuff box.”

  “You’ll leave them both or we’ll walk over to the sheriff’s office and you can explain it to him.”

  Grudgingly, Morrison removed the watch from his vest. “I only owe you forty-six dollars,” he complained as he handed it over.

  “Yeah. Only that. Doesn’t seem worth a man’s integrity, does it? Although some men’s is worth less than others.” He held out his hand. “The box.”

  “Just give me a moment,” the man said, hovering over the small silver box. “It may seem silly,” he said as he fumbled in an attempt to open the lid.

  Out of patience, Jeremy reached down and snatched it from him.

  “No, wait,” the man cried, trying to grab it back.

  “Bring me back the money you owe me and you can have it back. I’ll give you three days before I pawn it.”

  “Fine. I will be back within three days. Just don’t pawn it. Please!”

  Jeremy gave him a look of disgust and started off. After several paces, he glanced behind to make sure the man wasn’t drawing on him. He wasn’t. In fact, he hadn’t even gotten up off the ground. Jeremy was halfway back to the saloon when Morrison’s last action struck him as odd. He shook the box and there was a dull clanking sound. He stopped and opened the snuff box and dumped the snuff out. Besides snuff, two keys fell on the ground. He squatted and retrieved them, knowing that they were what Morrison had wanted. Each flat key was two inches long and had a number on it. He studied them a moment, then rose, shoved all the items into his pocket, and walked on.

  Chapter Four

  As Pauline and the children trudged down what they hoped was Crooked Tree Road, Pauline felt her defenses falter. It was a narrow road, wooded on one side, an empty field on the other. They might well be headed down the wrong road, and even if it was the right road, there might not be a place for them at the end of it. They were hungry; her children were hungry, and it wrenched her heart.

  “Don’t worry,” Rebecca said soothingly, reaching up to pat her back.

  The gesture was too much, and Pauline stopped short and burst into tears.

  “Oh, Mama, everything will be all right,” Rebecca said, stepping in front of her.

  “And even if it ain’t, it cain’t be all that bad,” a woman said. They all turned and looked at an older woman wearing men’s trousers and a wide-brimmed hat walking from the woods. She carried a string with dead rabbits on it, and a large, golden-haired dog was by her side. The woman put the string over her shoulder and the carcasses hung one in front of her and two in back. “You lost?”

  Rebecca looked from the woman to her dog to her mother, who was working hard to collect herself. “I think we might be,” she volunteered.

  The woman gave her a cockeyed smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Rebecca.”

  “And yours?” the woman asked, looking at Jake.

  “He’s Jake,” Rebecca supplied.

  The woman pursed her lips. “And the pretty lady sobbing her heart out smack dab in the middle of our property?”

  “That’s my mother,” Rebecca replied defensively.

  “P-Pauline. And I’m s-sorry we’re t-trespassing.”

  “I said you were on my property. I didn’t say you were trespassing. Where is it you’re headed?”

  Pauline took a shuddering breath and set her suitcase down in order to wipe her face and hopefully recover some sort of composure.

  “Goodness’ sakes, Pauline,” the woman said. “Whatever it is, it’s likely not as awful as you’re making it to be. You wanted by the law?”

  Pauline shook her head. She touched her throat, unable to speak.

  “You got an angry mob after you?”

  Rebecca realized the woman was trying to help and that, little by little, it was working.

  Pauline fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and wiped her nose. “We were looking for the Blues’ place. H-hoping for a r-room. Fiona from the b-boarding house sent us . . . since they were f-full.”

  “Well, then, what luck. I’m April May Blue,” the woman announced.

  “Your name is April May?” Rebecca
blurted.

  “Shore is. And my mama thought it was the loveliest name ever given to a girl child, although she did come up with some fanciful ones.”

  “Like what?” Rebecca asked.

  Pauline was torn between telling Rebecca not to be impertinent and being struck by the ease of conversation between them. She also needed the moments to compose herself.

  “Lita Flame for one,” April May said. “Mama said it come to her when she was watching my papa start a fire while she was expecting.”

  “Light a flame?”

  “Spelled L-I-T-A. Then I had a brother named Hunter and one named Sterling. I guess those aren’t too funny. Scarlet Poppy was a pretty good one, and then the baby got named Princess, though we call her Cessie. Don’t know why my papa didn’t up and tell Mama to name us something normal.”

  “Maybe he liked the names, too,” Rebecca suggested.

  “It’s a good point, Rebecca.”

  “Does your dog bite?”

  “Who, Sheeba, here? Naw. She’s gentle as a kitten. Now, we got another dog, Wags, little mop of a thing no bigger than a minute, and she bosses poor Sheeba around something awful, but she don’t bite either. I keep telling Sheeba to stand up to her, but—” The older woman shrugged and then looked at Pauline. “Why don’t we head on up to the house? It’s just round the bend.”

  Pauline nodded gratefully and bent for her suitcase.

  “Here,” April May said, stepping forward to take it. “Let me have it.”

  “Oh no,” Pauline objected.

  “Oh yes,” April May insisted, taking it from her. “You’re not one of those stubborn kinds that won’t let anybody help them, are you?” Pauline nearly lost her frail grip on her self-control, and April May saw it. “I shore hope not,” she said, walking on.

  Rebecca did a double step to catch up with her, looking at her curiously, and the dog trooped along, paying no mind to them.

  “So what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?” April May asked.

  Rebecca looked at her mother, who seemed at a loss. She wished she could help, but she didn’t know how to answer.

  “I hope we can . . . stay,” Pauline replied shakily. “I need work.”

  “That so?” April May looked over at Jake, who was stoically trudging along. “What about you, Jake? You need work?”

  Jake frowned shyly. He didn’t look at her and he didn’t reply.

  “He’s quiet,” Rebecca offered.

  “I, for one, never had that proclivity,” April May stated.

  “Me neither,” Rebecca said agreeably. They rounded a bend and saw the long fence the lady at the inn had mentioned. Across the field, deer froze in place, as if to check out the intruders. “Look, Jake,” Rebecca said, pointing.

  “Surely you seen deer before,” April May remarked.

  “Yes, but not usually so close.”

  “Where y’all from?”

  “In—” Rebecca broke off, remembering what she was and wasn’t supposed to say.

  “Indiana,” Pauline managed.

  Rebecca looked at her and mouthed sorry.

  If April May noticed the strain or the exchange, she didn’t let on. “Here we are,” she announced as they approached a sprawling two-story farm house. It was white with navy blue trim. The front door and the many flower pots on the front porch were also blue. There were chickens in the front yard, which caused Jake to look over and grin at his sister.

  April May put two fingers in her mouth and made a loud whistle. “Oh, Cessie,” April May called. “Brought you something.”

  Moments later, the screen door screeched open and another woman came out of the house, drying her hands on her pink-and-white checked apron, a small gray-and-brown terrier at her side. “You went and caught a whole family in your traps?” Cessie called playfully.

  “That’s right,” April May called back. “That Cessie,” she said to Rebecca. “She’s a sharp one. Not much gets by her.”

  Rebecca laughed. Even Pauline smiled.

  “This is Pauline, Rebecca, and Ralph,” April May said when they got closer. By then the little dog had started barking.

  “Jake,” Rebecca corrected quickly.

  April May pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m going to call him Jake unless he tells me to.”

  Rebecca knew April May was teasing again. She’d never known any grown-up who teased so much.

  “Welcome,” Cessie said cheerfully. She had gray-and-white hair and a still-pretty face. “You have good timing because supper’s nearly ready,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rebecca returned enthusiastically while Pauline nearly teared up again with relief. Whatever this place cost, it was worth it.

  “Oh hush, Wags,” Cessie scolded lightly.

  The little dog looked up at her and stopped barking.

  “Rebecca,” April May said as they approached the front steps. “Why don’t you and Ralph go wash up at the pump around back? There’s some soap on a string and a towel on a rack. Then y’all can look around a bit before you come in for supper.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Rebecca led Jake off and Sheeba started to follow, until April May called the dog back. Jake kept looking back at Mama worriedly. “It’s all right,” Rebecca assured him. “They’ll take good care of Mama. I can tell.” She put an arm around his shoulders as they rounded the house. The sight of a dozen or more donkeys beyond another fence in back stopped them in their tracks.

  “Can we go see them?” Jake asked.

  Rebecca nodded and they went closer. As they peered in between the rails of the fence, some of the donkeys plodded toward them and they backed off a step. “We ought to wash up,” Rebecca said calmly, even though her heart was suddenly beating faster. She turned and walked toward the pump, glancing back at the curious donkeys.

  “Gooseberries,” Jake exclaimed, pointing at the nearby bushes loaded with them. Most of them had turned red.

  “We can have a few, but wash your hands first,” Rebecca said sagely.

  “Here, dear,” Cessie said, setting a glass of red wine in front of Pauline, who was seated at the dining room table. “You sip on that.”

  As Cessie sat, Pauline took a drink. Because her stomach was empty, she felt it hit bottom. She took a breath, determined to calm herself. She simply didn’t have the liberty of falling apart.

  April May plunked herself across from Pauline, pulled the carafe to her, and poured herself a glass. “So, Pauline—”

  “Give her a minute,” Cessie objected in a singsong voice.

  “Who you running from?” April May continued.

  Cessie frowned. “Now, that is nothing but plain ol’ rude.”

  “Your husband?” April May asked, ignoring her sister.

  Pauline couldn’t look at her, at either of them, but she nodded. She’d never planned to tell anyone the truth, but she didn’t have the strength to lie to these women. Their warmth was like a blanket in a chilly room. She needed it. She wanted to wrap herself up in it.

  “He beat you?” April May asked.

  Even as Cessie huffed her disapproval, Pauline felt an unexpected sense of relief.

  “He hit Jake?” April May pursued. “Gave him that black eye?”

  Pauline ducked her head as fresh tears surfaced.

  “April May Blue,” Cessie scolded. “You are making matters worse.”

  “No, I am not. Face up to things and move the hell on, I always say.”

  “I’ve never once heard you say that.”

  “’Cause I never had the need. Now, there’s the need. And that’s exactly what I’m saying. You tell me I’m wrong.”

  “What I will say is that you go too far. But that’s all I’m saying for the time being.” Cessie reached over and patted Pauline’s hand. “You take all the time you need, dear.” She gave her sister another look of reproach, then rose gracefully and walked back into the kitchen.

  “You ask me, you were right to leave hi
m,” April May declared. “Not only does a woman have the right to protect herself and her own, she ought to have the good sense to do it.” She paused. “He know where you’re at?”

  “I don’t even kn-know where I’m at.”

  Cessie came back and handed Pauline a fresh hanky. “You poor dear. Some men are just bad that way.”

  “Where were you headed?” April May persisted.

  Pauline shook her head and shrugged. “Here.”

  “I’m not following,” April May said. “You just said you didn’t know where you were.”

  “We t-took the train for as long as we could. I didn’t have a plan except to get away. I chose to go south and then east and I just went as far as we could. As f-far as I could afford. I chose this place because I liked the name. Isn’t that silly?”

  “Matter of fact,” April May replied thoughtfully, “I think it was a wise move. And I’ll tell you why. It’s an awful big country, Pauline. Even if the son of a bitch does want to come after you, if you chose a direction and went someplace you didn’t know, how could he guess where you’re at?”

  Pauline managed a deep breath. The center of her back ached, but mostly she felt stunned that she’d just admitted her darkest truth. She hadn’t told anyone in all the years of her marriage, yet she’d just blurted the truth to two women she’d known for a matter of minutes. “He’s despicable. But he n-never hurt either of the children before last week.”

  “Oh, honey,” Cessie said as she sat back down. “That must have been terrible for you.”

  Pauline nodded. It had been a thousand times worse than any beating she’d endured, and it had just been one blow—one undeserved blow to her four-year-old son, who had done nothing to provoke his father. “I gathered all the money I’d hidden away over the years, and we ran. We just ran.”