Her footsteps slow and heavy, she walked into the house. In the hallway sitting room, she fumbled with matches to light a lamp. When it was burning, she picked it up and went along the hall to the door of Aunt Em’s bedchamber. She paused for a moment with her head bowed, then, lifting her chin with resolution, she raised her hand and knocked.
17
“NOTHING WORSE’N A VIPER in the bosom, that’s what I say. She-snakes are the worst of all, and as for Yankee she-snakes…”
It was Mama Tass who spoke, muttering as she brought a coffee tray and set it down on the table on the back veranda. There was venom in her eyes when she looked at Lettie, and her lower lip was thrust out in a manner that was belligerent as well as sullen.
“I’m sorry,” Lettie said, for what seemed like at least the one hundredth time. “I didn’t mean for Ranny to be caught.”
“Sorry don’t butter no bread. I say—”
“Please, Mama Tass!” Aunt Em said, rubbing a hand over her face.
The cook clamped her lips together. With her head high, her back stiff with anger and hurt feelings, and her wide hips rolling like the sea in a storm, she took herself back to her kitchen where shouts and the crashing of pots and pans could be heard. The calico cat came shooting out of the open door a few seconds later with its tail low and a biscuit in its mouth. A chunk of stove wood sailed after it. The shouting died away to muttering once more, and the steady sounds of something being stirred in a bowl with vigor could be heard.
It was fairly pleasant there on the back veranda, but beyond the eaves the sun was already achingly bright and hot. It was going to be another scorching day.
“Pay no attention to Mama Tass,” Aunt Em said. “Ranny has always been the apple of her eye; I sometimes think more so than her own son.”
Lettie, leaning her head back on her chair, looked at the other woman. “It doesn’t matter; I suppose I deserve it. Are you certain it wouldn’t be more comfortable for all of you if I moved into town to the hotel? I will quite understand if you prefer it.”
“Nonsense. You acted according to what you thought was right. It was just bad luck that Ranny was caught. I don’t suppose Colonel Ward will keep him long.”
On the other side of the table that held the coffee tray sat Sally Anne. A message had been sent at daybreak to Elm Grove. Sally Anne had come at once, in time to go with Aunt Em to the Federal jail. The younger woman had brought a message that her mother and father would be with Aunt Em later. Now she spoke up. “He had better not.”
“My dear, he’s only doing his duty. He isn’t an unreasonable man at all. You know he let me see Ranny before sunup and didn’t search all the baskets and bundles of things I had brought for him very hard.”
“He’s an idiot if he seriously thinks Ranny could be guilty, and so I told him.”
“I’m sure that helped immensely!” Aunt Em said with some asperity.
Sally Anne sent her a dark look. “It helped my feelings, as much as anything can. I have never been so incensed in my life.”
“We must be patient.”
“But just think of what people are going to say!”
“As if that makes a bit of difference.” Aunt Em sounded seriously annoyed for the first time.
“Oh, I don’t mean the silly gossip. I was thinking of the whispers and pointing fingers Ranny will have to endure. A lot of people avoid him already. Only consider what it will be like if they think he may be dangerous.”
“No one who knows him at all will believe for one minute that he’s capable of these murders.”
“People,” Sally Anne said, with a quick glance in Lettie’s direction, “will believe anything.”
If Lettie had thought to gain some idea of whether Aunt Em and Sally Anne thought it possible that Ranny could have committed the crimes while in a temporary state of madness, she had soon put it aside. So partisan were the two ladies, and so delicate her own position as a stranger and a former enemy among them, that it was impossible to suggest such a thing. She had tried to dismiss the possibility during the night, or what had been left of it after talking to Aunt Em, but it would not go away. It worried around the edges of her mind, a theory so close to fitting the facts as she knew them that it could not be dismissed.
Aunt Em’s forbearance was unexpected. Lettie would not have been surprised to be told to pack her bags and leave before dawn. It might have been more comfortable for her if she had. There was the feeling, largely unspoken by her hostess and Ranny’s cousin out of good manners and their concern for him, that Lettie had committed a treasonous act by attempting to entrap the Thorn. They might sympathize with her in her need to see her brother’s killer brought to justice, but not if it endangered a man they thought of as their champion.
“They won’t hold Ranny long,” Aunt Em said again, though there was a pained look in her eyes. “The real Thorn is bound to show himself, go on another of his escapades. Everyone will see how ridiculous it is, arresting Ranny like that, and that will be the end of it.”
“I hope he does something soon.”
So did Lettie. She longed for proof that Ranny was as she had thought him: good, gentle, and fine.
“I suppose it would be useless to put a note in the hollow tree and ask him to stage some public display?” There was a certain hopefulness in Aunt Em’s voice.
Sally Anne looked at Lettie. Lettie reflected that it was a little strange that they saw her both as the Thorn’s potential destroyer and the nearest thing to an authority on him. Still, she answered as honestly as she could. “I expect if he saw the commotion last night and has heard what happened, he will stay as far as possible from Dink’s Pond.”
That was, of course, if he was not now sitting in custody in town.
“Of course he will hear, why didn’t I think of that? And I can’t imagine that he will want Ranny to suffer for the things he is supposed to have done. We will be hearing in a day or two of some new stunt he has pulled.”
Lettie turned her head on the chair back to look at the older woman. “You sound as if you think he lives among you.”
“Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? He must be someone who knows something about the community in order to know what to do to help. He has to live somewhere within a score or so of miles on either side of Natchitoches for him to know so much about it that he can lead the soldiers around in circles. He must have someplace to go, some hiding place somewhere in that same area; otherwise, how could he disappear the way he does? Or if he doesn’t have a hiding place, he must be known to two or three people who permit him to conceal himself until the chase is over.”
The observations were all too familiar to Lettie. “Knowing that, is there no one you think it might be?”
There was a tight silence. It became distressingly obvious that if there was someone, neither Aunt Em nor Sally Anne felt inclined to speak his name in Lettie’s presence.
“Forget, please, that I asked that,” Lettie said.
“Oh, goodness, these are such trying times. When I think of how simple and pleasant life used to be, I could cry.”
“Such awful things are happening now,” Sally Anne agreed.
Lettie caught a glimmer of an opening for the subject she wanted to broach. “Awful indeed. Does it strike you that there is something … crazed about these killings?”
“Crazed?”
“Such as the way that poor man’s neck was broken and the callous manner in which Johnny’s body was hidden.”
“It sounds rather like the doings of a pack of animals to me,” Aunt Em declared. “Animals who think no more of taking a human life than they would of swatting a fly. Now I’ve wrung the neck of many a chicken. The reason it’s done is because it’s quick, it’s bloodless, and it’s not so noisy as other methods. I expect it was the same with the man who was killed. Maybe someone was coming, or maybe there was a house close enough for people to hear and investigate the sound of a gunshot. As for Johnny, the carcasses of dead animals a
nd other garbage are often thrown into abandoned wells, and there are a lot of those around since people are packing up and moving. I would imagine it was just convenient. The wonder is that anybody ever found him.”
“You are saying, then, that you think the outlaws are to blame.”
“Outlaws, jayhawkers, whatever name you want to give them.”
“And you still think the Thorn’s emblem was put on the bodies to place the blame on him?”
“There’s no other explanation.”
“Doesn’t that strike you as too convenient?”
“Anything else strikes me as too unlikely. Why should a man who risks his life to save others suddenly turn and kill?”
“To save himself when he is recognized.”
“You don’t want to accept it because it would mean that you have been wrong, that your brother was wrong.” The older woman’s voice was stern.
“All right, then,” Lettie said, her voice tight, “let’s say that there is no connection between the Thorn and the outlaws Johnny knew. Let’s say that someone wants to throw suspicion on the Thorn for the outlaws’ activities. Why?”
“I think the reason in the beginning was to delay as long as possible the knowledge that there was outlaw activity in the area. I think the first incident when it was used may have been your brother. With the hue and cry directed toward the Thorn, there was that much more time for the outlaws, and the man who is feeding them information, to get rid of the payroll gold. It worked once, so it was used again and again.”
Lettie watched the older woman with her eyes narrowed in thought. It made sense. “And this man, this messenger?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too. It stands to reason that it’s somebody who may have an idea who the Thorn is, somebody who can guess when he comes and goes so that nothing is done in his name when there are witnesses to say he was somewhere else entirely.”
“Such as?”
Aunt Em threw up her hands. “I have no idea.”
“Someone who disguises himself like the Thorn, do you think?” It was Sally Anne who asked the question.
“Probably,” Aunt Em answered.
That particular possibility raised specters Lettie would just as soon not face. Suppose the man with whom she had made love was not the Thorn but the messenger?
No. Her mind slammed some deep internal door on the thought.
Was it possible that Ranny could be the messenger?
He was in a position to hear a great deal with the Union army practically encamped on his doorstep these past few weeks. In addition, he was in and out of town all the time driving Aunt Em or Sally Anne or herself. People had a tendency to speak in front of him as if he wasn’t there, though she had often thought that he heard and understood much more than they expected.
Or suppose the Thorn himself was the messenger? Suppose the good deeds he had done were merely a cover for other, more lucrative crimes?
There were too many possibilities. Lettie wished that she could have Aunt Em’s simple faith, wished that she could believe in the explanation she gave. There was a simplicity to it that was seductive. Good and evil were clearly and evenly balanced. The Thorn was a force for right, the outlaws were the devil’s henchmen, and Ranny was an innocent victim. Few things, Lettie had discovered, were that easy.
Good and evil. Angel and devil.
She was haunted by those words, as if they had some meaning she should be able to decipher. It eluded her now as it had from the beginning.
At a gesture from Aunt Em, Sally Anne picked up the coffeepot that had been neglected until now and began to pour out cups of the hot, strong brew for them. “I suppose we will have to wait. I questioned Thomas, but he is determined to hold Ranny. I think the fact that there is another payroll due tomorrow may have something to do with it. When it comes in and is sent on to Monroe, Thomas may be more reasonable.”
“He told you about the shipment?” Lettie could not suppress her surprise.
“I’m afraid I was rather persistent, and he knows he can trust me. He even told me when it will go out again: on Tuesday at four-thirty A.M., with an escort of two men.”
“If someone tries to take the payroll—” Aunt Em began.
“Then Ranny will be safe.”
Peter had been playing in the backyard with Lionel. Lionel had not come around the veranda but had stayed well away from Lettie. Now and then she saw the older boy looking at her from the corners of his eyes and frowning in furious concentration. She was, illogically, more hurt by his defection than anything else. She had expected him to understand, even if no one else did, how little she wanted to hurt Ranny, how much she regretted that he had been caught in her trap. More than that, she had thought that he had some small affection for her, too.
Now the younger boy came running around the end of the house and leaped up the stairs. “Look!” he cried. “Look what I found.”
“Slow down before you break your neck,” Sally Anne scolded, her attention on the level of the coffee cup she was filling. As Peter slowed to a quick walk and came to lean against her chair with his fist outstretched in front of her, she reached with her free hand to brush back his fine blond hair, which was falling into his face. “Your hair needs combing.”
“Yes, ma’am, but look, Mama.”
He opened his hand.
The coffeepot Sally Anne held crashed to the table as she cried out. Aunt Em sat forward with a sharp exclamation. Lettie froze into immobility.
Peter was so startled by their reaction that he jumped. The locust shell fell off his palm, whispered down the side of Sally Anne’s skirts, and landed on the floor where it tumbled like a falling leaf. It came to a stop in the bright sunlight that edged the floor in front of them and lay there in the hot glow, gleaming like gold.
Aunt Em recovered first. “Where did you get that?”
Peter’s face was pale as he looked around in bewilderment. “On the side of the magnolia tree. I didn’t kill it. It was already empty. Ranny says the bugs inside leave them hanging on the trees when they are through with them.”
“So they do, every year about this time,” Aunt Em said. “I remember telling him the same thing when he was your age.”
“Can I have it?”
“By all means, and as many more of the pesky things as you can find.”
Peter picked up the locust shell and put it on his nose, then went skipping away. Sally Anne sat back in her chair with her hand on her bosom. “I thought it was a — a calling card.”
“So did I,” Aunt Em said. “Too bad it wasn’t.”
The sun slowly crept near the house wall, forcing a move to the front veranda, before the Tylers, Sally Anne’s mother and father, arrived. Mrs. Tyler brought with her a layer cake iced with blackberry jelly that she had made. They had it with more coffee and sat speaking in soft, subdued voices of Ranny’s escapades as a boy and young man. They did not ignore Lettie, they were not that obvious; still, they had little to say to her. She was trying to think of some graceful way to take her leave and go to her room when Martin Eden drove up.
“Aunt Em,” he said as he came up the steps with his hat in his hand, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear about Ranny.”
Aunt Em opened her arms and he came forward to give her a hug. “It was good of you to come,” she said.
“I’ve already been to see him. I did my best to convince Colonel Ward that he’s making a mistake, but he’s so determined to have a scapegoat, however unlikely a specimen, that he wouldn’t listen.”
“I hardly think that’s a proper way to refer to Ranny!” Sally Anne told him.
“I beg your pardon, Aunt Em. I only meant that—”
“Never mind, Martin,” the older woman said, “I know what you meant.”
“Is there anything I can do for you, anything I can take to Ranny?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so, not today.”
“I wondered if he had his harmonica? That mig
ht give him some entertainment.”
“Now that you put me in mind of it, I don’t think he does. I’ll look for it, and you can take that.”
“Good. I’ll feel better doing something for him, no matter how small, since I’ll be going out of town for a day or two.”
“Business, Martin?” Sally Anne asked.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Union business, but then I suppose you have to jump when your masters snap the whip?”
“That’s the way it is,” he agreed, his voice dry.
“Too bad.”
“Why? Was there something you wanted of me?” He tilted his dark head, his manner at its most charming.
“I rather thought you might do something to free Ranny instead of just delivering his harmonica.” Sally Anne’s tone was petulant.
Martin smiled. “Don’t tell me you don’t trust your Yankee colonel to see justice done?”
“You may leave Thomas out of this. He’s only obeying orders.”
“Is he now?”
“What do you mean by that?” The woman sat forward in her chair.
“Nothing, nothing.” Martin held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Besides, he isn’t my colonel!” She threw herself against her chair back.
“I’m glad to hear it. But just what miracle was it you had in mind for me to perform to get Ranny released?”
“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Use your connections.”
“I doubt it will help. This is a military matter now and the sheriff won’t interfere. The governor is hardly likely to step in unless it’s to his benefit.” He gave her a sly look. “Of course, I suppose I could always try to bribe the colonel.”
“That isn’t funny!”
“And in any case, he’s richer than I am, isn’t he? So what’s left?”
Louisiana History Collection - Part 2 Page 145
