Red had known Stump all his life and didn't particularly like him. Stump had accused him of stealing a horse over twenty years ago, and when the real thief returned the animal a week later, Stump hadn't even bothered to apologize for the false accusation. Nothing consequential had actually come from the incident, except Red hadn't had much to say to Stump since then.
Red sauntered up the street. When he got to the house on the corner, he turned and walked behind a thick hedge and waited to see if Stump had seen him.
Stump showed no interest. Instead, he went back inside Goldie's house, only to reemerge several minutes later carrying a brown paper sack. He put it in his police car and returned to the front porch, where he began to work with a fingerprint kit around the door.
Red turned and walked back to Goldie's house, careful not to attract Stump's attention. He ducked under the yellow tape and quietly entered through the back gate, behind the detached garage, not far from the back porch. The fragrance of honeysuckle hung in the air, mingled with the smell of death. He could see where Goldie's life had been shattered like a delicate piece of crystal, her blood spilled like fine red wine.
“I'm sorry, Goldie,” he whispered.
Steering clear of the porch, he moved on. He could see footprints in the yard that had already been carelessly intermixed with others. He stood at the end of the porch and looked down and to the right at an old whiskey barrel. It contained an unlikely hodgepodge of blooming plants—pink and red lantana, orange and yellow zinnias, and several clumps of purple and red moss rose. The foliage filled the container and cascaded down the side into a tangled bed of purple coneflowers.
Red bent over and carefully parted the leaves, and in doing so disturbed a very busy bumblebee which made a straight line for his head. But instead of swatting at the insect, he stood perfectly still and spoke softly.
“Forgive my intrusion, my friend, but I must find something, and I think it might be among your flowers.”
The bee hovered for an instant and then, as if it understood what the old man was saying, flew straight up and away. Red resumed his search, pushing the mass of flowers from side to side. Nothing. After a few minutes, the bee returned and the two made a truce. “Okay,” Red whispered. “You win.”
If his estimate was right, the shell casing from the shotgun would have become a projectile and landed somewhere near the blooming plants. He stood up and visually searched around the barrel. Goldie's grass had been cut short recently, leaving the small area between her flower gardens looking like the green indoor-outdoor carpet sold at Masters Hardware Store in Tahlequah. Again, nothing. He walked to a small shed in the corner of the yard filled with Goldie's gardening tools. The door hung at a precarious tilt, permanently stuck in an open position. Carefully, he poked his head inside. The contents were neatly organized, everything in its place.
As Red walked back into the yard he heard the front door close and assumed Stump had entered the house. Careful not to be seen, Red hurried back toward the garage. A hummingbird suddenly whirred to a nearby feeder, drank red sugar-water for a second, hovered, and then fled. As he neared the barrel of flowers again, he noticed the bumblebee take flight. He decided to try one more time.
He bent over and painstakingly felt between the dense foliage with both hands. This time, when he brought his outstretched fingers together, he felt a lump. No longer trying to save the plants, he pulled the entangled leaves apart. There, balanced among the vivid blooms, rested the prize: a red shotgun shell casing. He pulled it out and held it up for inspection before shoving it into his pants pocket. He glanced around. When he was sure Stump had not seen him, he left in the same direction he had come.
When Lance Smith pulled his police car in front of the Liberty Diner and killed the siren, he could see a man sitting on the sidewalk, his shirt covered in blood.
“Dispatch, come in. I'm at the Liberty Diner. The front window is broken and there's a man down. Send an ambulance, and see if you can find out who bought this café and get them down here.”
5
Sadie turned off the highway, crossed the cattle guard, and drove up the lane toward her house. She could see her Uncle Eli riding toward the barn on Joe, her paint-horse stallion. Her wolf-dog, Sonny, trailed nearby. She parked next to her old blue truck, jumped out, and hurried through the gate. Sonny met her with a yelp and a wagging tail, and she returned his greeting by scratching his head. Eli raised his chin acknowledging his niece.
“’Siyo,” said Sadie. “What are you guys up to?”
Eli dismounted and began to loosen Joe's saddle. “I wanted to double-check your fence line on the north side.” Eli pulled the saddle and blanket off Joe's back and carried it into the barn while Sadie patted Joe's neck and rubbed his cheek. When Eli returned he was grinning like a mischievous youngster. “Joe said he wanted to go along.”
She knew her uncle loved to ride her stallion, and she felt guilty for not having time to ride him more herself. Standing at Joe's shoulders, she placed her hands on his mane and back and jumped up onto him, balancing herself on her belly until she could throw her right leg over and right herself on top of the gentle creature. Eli shook his head, handed her the reins, and knelt to pet Sonny while she and Joe took a slow walk around the corral. Sadie leaned forward, stroked Joe's neck and whispered into his ear, then slipped off his back.
“Go ahead and let him go,” she said. “I'll brush him in a little while.”
Eli pulled the bridle off over Joe's ears, opened the gate, and watched Joe walk toward a nearby shade tree in the adjoining pasture. He removed his sweat-stained straw hat and wiped his brow with his forearm. “How's the new business adventure coming?”
Sadie frowned and shook her head. “Don't ask.”
Eli grunted and placed his hat back on his head. “Well, let's not stand out in the sun to talk about it.” Without saying another word, Eli struck out toward a well-worn path that connected Sadie's place with her aunt and uncle's adjoining land.
“I think I'd rather drive,” she called after him.
Without a glance, he held up a hand to let her know he'd heard her and continued walking.
Sonny barked, looked at Eli, back at Sadie, and barked again.
“Oh, okay.” She pulled the keys from her pocket and opened the door to her old farm truck. Sonny jumped into his regular spot on the seat next to the window. She turned the key and pumped the accelerator, encouraging the old engine to life. Within minutes they were jostling through the pasture. They caught up to Eli, and Sadie slowed so he could jump on to the truck's tailgate and ride the rest of the way.
When they rolled to a stop, Eli slid off and walked around to Sadie's window. She pushed the truck door open with her shoulder and Sonny bounded onto the ground behind her.
“Come on in the house,” said Eli. “Mary's got the air conditioner cranked up. We'll have a bite to eat.”
Sadie's aunt and uncle had treated her like their own daughter since her dad had died over ten years earlier. Sadie's mother had remarried and moved away. She and Sadie eventually became estranged. They had never gotten along, mostly because Sadie could never please her mother no matter how hard she tried. Sadie identified with her father's Cherokee heritage and never felt like she fit in with her mother's Anglo family. It was a constant strain between them.
Sadie missed the relationship she imagined most mothers and daughters had, but she didn't miss her own mother. In contrast, Sadie's aunt Mary Walela loved her niece with an unconditional love and Sadie relished their bond.
Mary's life seemed to revolve around whatever was happening in the kitchen. She had a large Black Diamond watermelon balanced on the counter, going at it with a knife when Sadie and Eli came through the kitchen door. It cracked and fell open revealing a juicy red center.
“Oh, you caught me.” Mary grabbed a nearby towel and wiped her hands. “You know whoever cuts the melon gets to eat the heart.” She scooped out a chunk and handed it to Sadie.
�
�This is delicious,” Sadie said as she leaned over the sink and slurped the juicy meat. “Where'd you find the Black Diamond?”
“The neighbor's niece stopped in Rush Springs and picked up a backseat full on her drive in from out of state. They were kind to share, so enjoy.” Mary wiped her brow with her forearm. “You two look hot. Sit down and I'll get you some iced tea.”
Sadie washed her hands and then took over slicing the melon while Mary retrieved the drinks. Eli parked his hat on a nail by the back door and splashed water on his face and neck at the kitchen sink.
Mary threw a clean towel at Eli as she returned to the refrigerator to retrieve all the makings for sandwiches: a round stick of bologna, fresh-picked lettuce and tomatoes, and home-canned pickle relish.
Eli finished wiping his hands and face, then tossed the dish towel on the counter and grinned. “Ah, tube steak,” he said, “Indian food.”
Sadie loved the safety she felt in this home as they sat down to a table covered with a summer feast including freshly made deviled eggs and cucumber slices floating in vinegar-water. They waited while Mary blessed the food and then Eli dug in as if he hadn't eaten in a week. Sadie stared at her plate.
“Are you okay?” asked Mary.
Sadie took in a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to tell you about what happened this morning.”
“How's that?” asked Mary. “Eli, could you pass the eggs?”
Eli slid the plate of deviled eggs toward Mary.
“Something happened to Goldie. They found her dead.”
Mary sucked in air and almost choked on a cucumber. “Goldie who?”
“The woman I bought the café from.”
Eli and Mary both stopped eating and stared wide-eyed at Sadie.
“What happened?” Eli flattened his sandwich with his hand so it would fit in his mouth and took a bite.
“I'm not sure.” The words spilled out of Sadie as she began to recount the events of the morning. She included every detail about Red, the workers from the mill, and the “crazy woman” they called Pearl. “After I heard about Goldie, I just kind of freaked and drove home.”
Mary's fork banged against her plate. “I knew you should have stayed closer to home. You know they're still looking for someone to run the drug store in Eucha.” She wiped her mouth with the edge of her apron.
“Did you call the law?” asked Eli.
“What was I going to say? She didn't hurt anyone, and besides, I got the impression she wasn't exactly playing with a full deck.”
“What are you going to do now?” Mary shoved her plate to the side and planted an elbow next to it.
“I don't know. I'd take Sonny with me, but I'm guessing the health department would frown on the restaurant having a wolf-dog as a mascot.” She managed a reassuring smile for her aunt's sake. “I'll be okay. I can take care of myself.”
Mary began spooning food onto Sadie's plate as if eating would make everything better. “Eli, isn't there something you can do?”
Eli leaned back in his chair. “You oughtn't to go down there by yourself, Sadie, until all this is settled. And, I wouldn't care what the health department thought about Sonny, at least until you're up and running.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “You want me to go with you?”
“Thanks, Uncle, but I'm not going back until the morning and I think I'll be okay. The painter should be finished with the windows by then and I need to pay him. You may be right about taking Sonny, though, at least for the next couple of trips.”
When they finished, Sadie helped her aunt clear the dishes.
“I don't think it's safe for you go back to that café,” said Mary.
Sadie kissed her aunt on the forehead. “Don't worry,” she said. “I'm sure everything will be fine.”
She left through the back door and invited Sonny to ride next to her on the front seat again while she drove back through the pasture to her house. When she turned the corner next to the barn, she could see Joe drinking from the water tank. The stallion raised his head and nickered at the approaching truck. Sadie leaned toward Sonny and whispered, “If you're going with me tomorrow, you're gonna have to have a bath.” Sonny ignored her, stuck his face out the open window, and barked.
Back inside the house, Sadie quickly changed into a worn pair of cutoffs and a tee shirt. As she walked toward the door, she noticed the red light blinking on her answering machine. She started to punch the button to hear her messages then changed her mind. “First things first,” she said to herself and pulled the door closed behind her.
When she got to the barn she decided to straighten a few things. She spent the rest of the afternoon sweeping and rearranging in a barn that needed neither sweeping nor rearranging. The muscles in her hands, arms and back ached, and her sweat-drenched clothes clung to her body; her mind, too, was busy, working like an old-fashioned sewing machine. Finally, she retreated to the horse trough and scooped water onto her face. Joe stood in the shade of a nearby mulberry tree persistently swishing his tail at horseflies and shuffling his feet.
The water felt so good, she decided to share the blessing. She wasted no time hooking up the hose and fetching a bucket, soap, and sponge from the barn. The stallion shook his mane in opposition but stood perfectly still while she hosed him down and sloshed soapy water over his back. She rubbed his neck and legs, massaging his hard muscles. When she was through, she rinsed him all over with cool water. When she finished brushing his brown-and-white coat, his tail, and his mane, he looked ready to lead a parade.
Sonny watched the entire ordeal from the nearby shadows of the barn. When she looked toward him, he lowered his head in unhappy anticipation. “Okay, Sonny, you're next.”
Sonny ducked his head, eyes squinted and ears flattened, as Sadie doused him with soapy water. While she bathed the wolf-dog, she carefully laid out her problems, withholding not one detail about the day's events. At one point, he took advantage of her close proximity and licked the end of her nose, bringing forth the first real laughter of the day. After she had rinsed him with the hose, he shook his entire body, starting at his nose and crescendoing to the tip of his tail. She tried to cover her face, and as soon as she loosened her grasp on his thick coat, he surged into a playful run around the barn.
As Sadie laughed, the tension began to drain from her shoulders. She held the hose over her head and let the cold water spill over her tired body, allowing her new resolve to surface. She would return to the café in the early morning and take Sonny with her.
When Sadie got back to the house and entered the screened-in back porch, she took advantage of her secluded surroundings and dropped her wet clothes and sneakers next to the door before hurrying into the house naked. She could hear the phone ring and the answering machine click on. Whoever it was would have to wait until she finished with her own warm bath.
After an extra long soak, Sadie wrapped herself in her robe and sat down on the sofa to listen to her messages. The first message was useless, just a lot of background noise and a hang-up. The second message came from a woman named Maggie wanting to know if she was the new owner of the Liberty Diner, and if so would she call as soon as possible.
When Sadie returned the call, she discovered Maggie worked for the Liberty Police Department and she was calling because there had been an “incident” at the café.
At first Sadie thought Virgil had changed his mind and made a report about the incident with Pearl Mobley. Then the words began to run together on the other end of the line. “Broken window…break-in…vandals…man was hurt.” Then there was a long pause on the other end of the line while Maggie put Sadie on hold to answer another call. “Anyway,” Maggie said when she returned to the line, “you need to stop by the police department as soon as you get to town.”
“I'll be there in less than an hour.” Sadie thanked Maggie, hung up, and began to dress. If someone was trying to scare her away, it wouldn't work. Her grandmother's words came to her. Hi tsalagi. You are a Cherokee, she h
ad said, you are a Walela. Now Sadie prayed this Cherokee—this Walela—would not be as easy a target as Goldie had been.
6
As Lance got out of his car, the man on the curb rose to his feet, holding his left arm close to his side. “I'm okay, officer. I thought I should wait here for the lady.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why are you bleeding all over the sidewalk?”
“When the window broke, I fell off the ladder and hit the brick planter.” He grimaced. “I think I broke my arm.”
Lance could now see that most of the “blood” on the man's shirt was actually red paint. “What's your name?”
“Hector Emanuel.” Hector pulled a billfold from his back pocket and offered Lance his driver's license. “I'm a painter.”
Lance glanced at his identification. “Okay, Hector, is there anyone else here with you? What happened?”
“No, my brother was here, but he went to call the lady.” Hector repositioned his left arm. “She hired me this morning to paint a new name on the window. I just got all the old paint scraped off and was getting ready to start on the new name when all of a sudden someone threw a rock and broke the window. My ladder slipped, and I fell, and spilled all the paint. I guess I tried to break the fall with my arm.”
“Who is this lady? The one who hired you.”
“I had her name and number on a card, but I gave it to my brother to go call her and he isn't back yet.”
“Did you see who threw the rock?”
“No. It caught me off guard. I didn't see anyone.” He twisted his mouth.
“Just relax. An ambulance is on the way.”
“Oh, please, no,” he pleaded. “I cannot pay for an ambulance. My brother will be right back. No need. Really.”
The American Café Page 4
