by Donis Casey
***
At dinnertime, Alafair showed Holly how to make red-eye gravy by pouring black coffee into the inch of drippings left after frying slabs of fatty ham. The food here in Oklahoma was as foreign to Holly as Chinese. Everything was fried, fatty, sugary, and rolled in cornmeal. She longed for a bowl of fish chowder or some nice steamed lobster or clams. The memory of clam-digging with her mother arose again, and she was overcome with homesickness. She missed the smell of the ocean and the fresh feel of the wind off the Atlantic, the cry of the seabirds and the creak of the hawsers that moored the fishing boats down at the harbor. She dragged her attention back to the skillet on the stove in front of her and ran the back of her hand over her eyes before a tear could drop into the hot grease. She followed Alafair’s instructions and poured the coffee-fat-ham bits combination into a serving dish, where the coffee sank to the bottom and the grease floated to the top. No flour, no thickener of any sort. Holly felt her nostrils thin at the sight. They called it “gravy,” but it seemed to her like an awful waste of good coffee.
Holly was just setting the table when Gee Dub and Mr. Tucker came into the kitchen from the barn. They were accompanied by a tall, red-haired young man whom she had not seen before.
Gee Dub made the introductions as the men were seating themselves at the table. “Miz Thornberry, this fellow is Trenton Calder, Scott’s deputy. He’s also aiming to marry my sister Ruth, so after next month he will be my brother-in-law, to boot.”
Before he sat down, Trent held out a hand. “Miz Thornberry, happy to meet you at last.”
“Mr. Calder. I do believe everyone in Boynton is related in some way to this family.”
“That is our aim,” Alafair said. “Trent, what brings you out here in time for dinner? Do you have some news for Miz Thornberry?”
“I do,” Trent said, and Holly instantly lost her appetite.
***
The serial number on the identification disc had been the key. Scott had wired the number to the military registration office in Oklahoma City and had had his answer in a matter of hours. “Our dead soldier,” Trent said, “or at least the man who had previously owned the ID tag, was one Harvey Stump from Council Hill, Oklahoma. Harvey was discharged on December 10, 1918, in Baltimore, which is very near the last date and location we have for the deserter Daniel Johnson. Scott figures that Dan took up with poor old Harvey, who was none the wiser about Dan’s status, and they traveled together down to Oklahoma. Now, we haven’t figured out yet how Harvey ended up dead of the flu on the road between Muskogee and Boynton with Dan’s identification card on him.”
Gee Dub said, “It sounds like Harvey died of the grippe and Dan just took advantage of the situation to become somebody else and take off for parts unknown. But aren’t Harvey’s people looking for him?”
Trent glanced at Holly before he answered. “Well, here’s the kicker. I wired Postmaster Case down in Council Hill yesterday afternoon, and he wired back that he knows this Harvey Stump. He is living in a house in Council Hill that he inherited from his parents, who both died of the influenza back in the fall. I wired him right back and asked Mr. Case if Harvey had changed into somebody else while he was in Europe, and he answered me that the Stumps had just moved to Council Hill a few months before they died, and nobody in town had ever seen Harvey until he got back from the war to claim his inheritance.”
The color drained from Holly’s face. “Oh, Lord! Are you saying that this Harvey Stump is really Dan?”
“I don’t know, ma’am, but it’s possible. Scott telephoned the county sheriff’s office and they’re sending out a deputy. Scott and the deputy from Muskogee will head down there tomorrow and go to the Stump house—see if the man living there is the lowlife scum who stole Harvey’s life and did wrong by this lady.”
Shaw had a couple of questions of his own. “Hang on, now. If Dan Johnson killed a fellow in a bar fight and deserted, why would he be so stupid as to head back toward Okmulgee, his hometown, in the first place? Any fool would know that’s the first place the military police are going to look for him. Why not head for Canada or Mexico?”
Trent shrugged. “Who knows why anybody does anything? Could be he met Harvey somewhere betwixt Baltimore and Oklahoma, and Harvey told Dan about how his folks had died and now he was sole owner of their new house in Council Hill, where he had never even been. Maybe Dan devised a plan to do harm to Harvey and steal his life before they even got to Oklahoma. Could be it was just luck, if you can call it that, that Harvey died before Dan could dispatch him. Or maybe I’m dead wrong about the whole thing. After Scott goes down to Council Hill tomorrow and talks to whoever is living in Harvey Stump’s house, we’ll know better.”
Holly scraped her chair back and left the kitchen in a hurry, fighting back tears. Alafair made a move to follow her but Shaw put a hand on her arm. “Let her be, honey. Even if the yahoo down in Council Hill is Dan Johnson, it’s not her concern anymore.”
Alafair looked at him with a mixture of surprise and disdain. “Maybe not. But that don’t mean her heart isn’t broke.”
***
Holly had no thought of what to do when she walked out of the house by way of the front porch. She simply could not stand the sympathetic looks she was getting from the people at the table. When she stepped out the door, all four of the family dogs stood up from their afternoon siesta on the porch, languidly performed a coordinated stretch, and ambled over in a friendly, wagging, slobbery pack to greet her.
She gave them each a head-pat and an ear scratch, grateful for their nonjudgmental affection. Shaw’s two hunting hounds, Buttercup and Crook, went back to the corner to resume their nap, but the old shepherd Charlie Dog and the young mutt Bacon followed her down the steps and out the gate into the drive. She stood quietly for a long minute, gazing toward the woods behind the house, but not seeing.
She started walking, and before she knew it she had traversed the long drive. Bacon, the mutt, had lost interest and disappeared by the time she made it to the section line road, but Charlie Dog kept her company as she turned toward town.
Charlie Dog was old and fat and could only follow at a stately pace. But that was no problem since Holly’s damaged feet began to protest long before she reached the highway, and the best she could do was limp along. When she finally reached the turn onto the wide, graded, dirt road that led to civilization, she could go no longer. She found a likely rock between the road and the drainage ditch and sat down. The persistent shepherd sat down next to her and leaned his furry bulk into her side. She put an arm over him, enjoying his warmth.
The weather had cleared, but the air was chilly and she had not thought to take her coat. Or thought of anything at all. She and the dog sat there for a quarter of an hour or so before a white delivery vehicle lumbered down the road from the north. It pulled to a stop beside her with a rattle and grinding of gears, and a pleasant-looking young man with unruly straw-colored hair sticking out from under his cap leaned out the window.
“Howdy, Miss, anything wrong?”
Holly gave him a thorough once-over before she replied. “Where are you headed?”
“Why, Miss, I’m hauling a load of screws and nails to Henryetta. You need a ride?”
“Is Henryetta anywhere near Council Hill?”
The driver grinned. “I’ll be going through Council Hill on my way to Henryetta. If you’re looking for a lift, jump right in and I’ll drop you off.”
Chapter Twelve
Gee Dub didn’t finish dinner, either. He waited until everyone’s attention was engaged elsewhere and slipped away from the table and out the back door. He hunted for Holly around the property for quite a while, but she was nowhere to be found. Finally he gave up and went back to the toolshed. Moretti was already there, sitting next to the Franklin stove, smoking a cigarette.
Gee Dub pulled up a chair. “When did you come in?”
“Just now. I nearly got my eyes pecked out by a mockingbird when I opened the door.”
“Yeah, there’s a pair building a nest under the eaves, here.”
“You want me to climb up and get rid of it for you?”
Gee Dub was shocked by the suggestion. “Forget it, Private. Leave them alone. They’re just trying to make a place to raise their family. Listen, before you came in, did you see a woman run out of the house?”
“No, I didn’t see nobody. Hey, Lieutenant, you look like you’ve been sucking lemons. What’s up?”
Moretti listened with interest as Gee Dub filled him in on the new developments in Holly’s case. He threw his cigarette butt into the stove before he said, “Well, this is interesting. What do you expect she’ll do now?”
“Nothing. What can she do?” Gee Dub got up and paced the room for a minute or two, then sat down on his bunk and drew one of the cartridge boxes out from under his pillow. He slid it open and retrieved the solitary cartridge.
“What’s on your mind, Mr. Tucker?”
Moretti’s voice startled Gee Dub out of his reverie, and he smiled. “Justice.”
“You like her.” It wasn’t a question. “You think maybe she’d be grateful to you if you got rid of the rat.”
“She was already rid of him. I doubt if she’s the kind of woman who would subscribe to vengeance.”
“Who knows what a woman thinks, Lieutenant? I’ve known some of them to be way more vengeful than any man. One thing, though. Is it her you want to avenge or is it those women in France you couldn’t do anything for? Even if you could avenge the wrong done to Holly, that wouldn’t cure what ails you.”
“I don’t think anything will cure what ails me, Moretti.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Mr. Tucker. You saved my life a bunch of times before you got sent off to help the Limeys.”
Gee Dub held up the bullet between his forefinger and thumb and regarded it thoughtfully. “If I was back in France and caught a soldier abusing a civilian, I’d have him up on charges faster than you could spit.”
“What if it was a bunch of Fritzes?”
“I’d shoot them.”
“You did shoot them, Lieutenant. You remember that?”
“Of course I do.”
“Not all them were Germans, either.”
Gee Dub leaned forward and placed his hands over his ears. “God Almighty,” he murmured, not entirely blasphemously, “men are sorry creatures.” He stood up. “Come on, Private. Let’s you and me go for a ride.”
***
Holly knew she must look as awful as she felt. When she walked into the Westlake Restaurant on Main Street in Council Hill, Oklahoma, the waitress took one look at her and hustled her to a table in the corner.
“Whatever happened to you, honey?” The woman’s tone was full of concern. “Do you need some help, sugar? Is there anything I can do for you?”
Holly unconsciously raised a hand to her cheek. It was wet with tears. She wished the kind woman would leave her to her misery, but since it was obvious that was not going to happen, she said, “It’s all right. I just found out that someone I cared for once has died. It took me aback, is all. I’d just like to sit here for a few minutes and get myself together, if that’s all right.”
The woman emitted a sympathetic cluck. “It sure is. I’m sorry to hear of your loss. You sit here a minute and I’ll get you a drink of water.” She hustled off, and Holly lowered her face into her hands.
It was all over at last, at least for her. She finally had enough money to go home, and that was what she intended to do. If it had been possible for her to leave Council Hill for Maine without going back through Boynton, she would have done it. She didn’t much care about the few possessions in the carpetbag she had left at the Tucker farm. But the Tuckers had done so much to help her that it seemed to her like the height of ingratitude to leave without even a thank you. She would need to come up with a story to cover her sudden disappearance, though. She knew she wasn’t going to alert the law about Dan. The wheels of justice would turn without any help from her.
The waitress set a tall glass of water on the table and Holly looked up. “When is the next train to Boynton, do you know?”
“Oh, the last train north left a couple of hours ago, Miss. Next one will be through tomorrow morning at seven. If you need a place to stay tonight, my sister sometimes takes in boarders. She keeps a nice clean place.”
Holly sighed. The faster she could leave Council Hill, the better. It sounded like she’d be hitchhiking again. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
“You want something to eat? Might make you feel better.”
Holly almost refused out of hand, but reconsidered. It had been hours since she had left the Tuckers’ dinner table without eating, and she did feel a bit hollow. “I could eat a little something.”
“My husband caught a big old catfish yesterday. I can fry you up a nice piece with some fresh cornbread.”
Holly turned slightly green at the idea of more freshwater fish rolled in cornmeal and deep fried in bacon grease. “Maybe something lighter.”
“I just baked a loaf of real wheat bread. Thank goodness the war is over and I can use as much wheat flour as I want! How about a couple slices, still hot from the oven, with some butter and honey.”
“Perfect.”
The waitress nodded and looked over Holly’s shoulder at the front door. “I’ll be right with you,” she said, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Holly glanced behind her to see who had come in, expecting nothing. Her heart jumped when she recognized him. “Oh, my goodness. How did you find me this time?”
Gee Dub sat down and gave her an ironic smile before removing his black Stetson and hanging it on the back of his chair. “It didn’t take a college degree to figure it out, Holly. Trent implies that Johnson could be living in Council Hill, and off you go.”
“You’re not my keeper, you know.”
“Is that right? You could use a keeper. So you found him, did you? You were in his house for quite a spell. What did y’all have to say to one another?”
“You followed me?”
“Not exactly. It looks like you’ve been bawling again. Your eyes are all swollen. You are not a pretty cryer, I’m afraid.”
“Gee Dub, Dan has changed. He knows he’s been caught. When the sheriff comes, he’s going to turn himself in without a fight.”
His eyebrows lifted, as though he could not quite believe what he was hearing. “Oh, you think so, do you? Holly, Dan proved a long time ago that he’d do whatever he had to in order to weasel his way out of trouble. No, Dan is not going to turn himself in.”
Holly grabbed his hand, and he winced. “Please don’t interfere, Gee Dub. Please let it be. I don’t have the strength to deal with it anymore. Let things turn out on their own now. I just want to forget all about it and go back to where I belong.” She looked down at his hand, still clutched in hers. “What happened to your knuckles? They’re all skinned.”
Before he could respond, the waitress came out of the kitchen with a plate containing a fragrant pile of fresh bread covered with melting butter and honey. She gave Gee Dub a suspicious glare. “Is this man bothering you, dear?”
“No, it’s all right. He’s a friend.”
“I’m here to take her home,” Gee Dub said to the waitress. “But first, I’ll take some of that good-smelling bread, if you don’t mind.” He watched the woman until she disappeared into the kitchen, then turned back to Holly. “Now, you and me need to get our stories straight.”
Chapter Thirteen
After disappearing from the dinner table, Holly did not come back to the house again for the rest of the afternoon. Alafair tried not to worry about the poor girl. Considering her reaction in Okmulgee to finding out that her supposed husba
nd was already married, Alafair figured Holly was one to try and run from her pain. She had left her belongings on the bed in the girls’ room, so Alafair knew she couldn’t get very far. She would show up eventually. Surely she would.
The children came home from school and Alafair put them to their chores. Charlie Dog padded into the house late in the afternoon and followed her around while she did housework. The business of living occupied Alafair’s attention and she didn’t have time to think about anything else—until Shaw came in for supper alone and it occurred to Alafair that she had not seen Gee Dub all day, either. Alafair turned around to look at Shaw, wiping her hands on her apron. Her brow was knit. “Gee Dub went off on his own again today?”
Shaw read her expression. “I expect. I haven’t seen him since he slipped out of the house at dinner. Did Holly ever turn up?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since dinner, either.”
Shaw didn’t like the implication, but he wasn’t going to let Alafair know that. He walked over next to Alafair at the cabinet and nonchalantly picked up a biscuit off the serving platter. “Gee Dub doesn’t tell me his plans these days. Maybe he finally went into Boynton to scare up a job of work for himself, or for Holly. Maybe they went off for a ride together. Don’t worry, honey, they’ll show up.”
