by Risner, Fay
Lettie nodded. “Yes, that's right.”
“So who dug the baby up, took him out of Gracie's cemetery and reburied him in the Evan's timber? Neff says he didn't do it,” the sheriff asked, taking his cowboy hat off. He rested it on his lap.
Lettie shook her head slowly. “I didn't know that happened. Why would anyone do such a thing, and why was the baby buried in the timber?”
“We'd like the answer to the whys ourselves. I'm guessing someone was trying to protect Neff and thought the baby needed to have a more secret burial place quick. That being because Miss Gracie found the burial site in the cemetery too soon. If the grass had grown back no one would have known the baby was there.” Sheriff Logan scanned the children as he talked.
“Everyone would have knowed sometime or other after I die,” Gracie barked. “That baby was buried in the spot meant for me next to my baby brother. If he had been put any other place in the cemetery I wouldn't have cared.”
“I'm so sorry, Gracie,” Lettie said.
The sheriff went on, “Problem is, Mrs. Graves, whoever did dig up the baby didn't fill in the hole. I reckon that person got scared off before he or she had a chance to finish the job.”
“Oh dear,” Lettie cried.
“When Miss Gracie took me to the cemetery to show me where the new grave was, the hole was what we found,” the sheriff said. “Now as for where the baby was, I took a search party over to Gracie Evans timber. Thanks to Miss Gracie and Shana remembering a spot that looked like another grave with wild flowers freshly planted on it when they were mushroom hunting, we found your baby's grave.”
Shana slipped back in the room with a flour sack dish towel in her hand. She laid it in the sheriff's lap and whispered in his ear, “There be a drawer with six towels in it like this one. Wednesday be missing.”
The sheriff took the dish towel. “Much obliged, Shana.” The girl left the room as the sheriff shook the dish towel out. “Mrs. Graves, this is one of your dish towels I take it?”
“Yes, I have a set of them I made for using if we had company. That's why it's new and white. I never use that set for ever day,” Lettie said quietly.
“Did you know one is missing?” The sheriff asked.
“May Jean stiffened and took Frieda's hand. The sheriff noticed. He glanced at Gracie. She acknowledged that she noticed the motion, too.
“No, I haven't taken the dish towels out of that drawer for a while. Ever little bit, I have to wash them when a mouse has been in the drawer, but not lately,” she said.
“The towel that's missing is the one with Wednesday on it to be exact,” the sheriff said.
“Why does that matter?” Lettie asked.
“I'm getting ready to tell you that, Mrs Graves. When we went to the Evan's timber to dig up your baby boy, we found another grave right beside his,” the sheriff explained.
May Jean eased her free hand over and took Joanne's hand. Now the three girls were standing locked together in support of each other.
That was a puzzle to Gracie. Of course, it did make sense that the girls would come to the aid of each other, but now it was going to be harder to tell which one of them was the mother and buried the baby unless they wanted to confess.
“What has that to do with us?” Lettie asked.
“Someone took your dish towel to wrap the baby in. The best the undertaker can figure is that the baby was born dead. That means the parents of that baby aren't in any trouble. We're curious about what happened. We'd like the real story told straight since I'll have to log why I was out here questioning you,” the sheriff said, looking meaningfully at the three girls behind Lettie.
“I don't know about that baby so I can't help you,” Lettie said sharply.
“Not sure if that's the truth or not but I figure at least one or as many as three of your girls know the story about that baby,” the sheriff said,
Little Mattie came from behind the chair and crawled up in her mother's lap. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and leaned back on her mother as if she was trying to protect her mother.
Shana came back into the room, holding up a girl's white dress.
May Jean cried, “Shana, why are you bringing that dress in here?”
Shana brought it to the sheriff to inspect. The hem had grass stains and dirt on it.
“Young lady, I take it you recognize this dress?” He asked.
“It's my dress,” May Jean said.
“What's the meaning of this, Sheriff?” Lettie demanded. “Why is that girl going through our things while you have us in here?”
“We needed answers, and we sure weren't getting them from you and your younguns. Don't take your sass out on Shana. I asked her to help me find evidence,” the sheriff growled, fingering the brim of his cowboy hat. For a moment, he watched the Graves children. The three girls looked him in the eyes for seconds then looked at the floor.
Sheriff Logan said, “Mrs. Graves, why don't you take all your children except the three older girls and leave the room. I want to talk to the girls alone.”
“I don't see how that's necessary. If you want to question my girls, I should be here with them,” Lettie demanded.
“Girls, you want your mother in the room while I ask you some very powerful questions?” The sheriff said.
Joanne and May Jean nodded yes, but Frieda nodded no.
“Looks like you got outvoted, young lady,” the sheriff said to her. “Ma'am, send the boys out of the room. One of you take that little girl on your mother's lap as you leave.”
After the room was emptied, the sheriff said, “You girls want to sit down on the floor by your mother instead of standing behind her. I figure by now you might be getting weak kneed.”
Gracie thought Sheriff Logan might have that about right. It was easy to see how pale the girls were, and they gripped their hands so tight their fingers had white knuckles.
“The surprise baby boy we found dead had been buried about two months longer than your baby, Mrs. Graves. Someone made a woven basket out of sticks with a lid made the same way. The baby was wrapped in your dish towel and laid in the basket. That's what gave us the idea a girl in this house had that baby.
When the wild flowers popped up in the spring, some well meaning person transplanted flowers on the bare spot to hide the grave. Maybe the mother. When Miss Gracie and Shana went mushroom hunting, the flowers had been fresh planted. They were wilted and hadn't taken root yet. That was how Miss Gracie noticed the spot right off,” the sheriff explained. “Any of you girls want to say anything yet?”
“They sat in silence, looking at the floor.
“The reason Shana looked for this dress, May Jean, is Gracie and Shana saw someone your size running through the timber. That shook Shana up a mite. She thought you were one of her Irish will o wisps. I figure you didn't know about any will o wisps. Your idea was to make them think the timber was haunted. You didn't want them near the grave where the baby in the woven basket was buried. Seeing the dress is proof to Shana that there aren't ghosts or will o wisps in the timber.
What it does tell me, without you saying a word, May Jean, is you know what happened to that baby in the basket. You knew it was buried in the timber. You're protecting someone, and I'm thinking it's one of your two sisters here.” Logan waved his finger back and forth between the two older girls.
May Jean bit her bottom lip with her teeth and stared at her lap.
“Girls, the fact is, the only one in trouble is your father. He murdered your baby brother, and he'll have to stand trial and pay for that with a long sentence,” the sheriff said. “None of you has done anything wrong in the eyes of the law.”
“That isn't whose eyes the girls are worried about,” Melinda said softly. “I think Lettie actually didn't know about the baby. The fact that she had a grandson was keep from her.”
Gracie said gruffly, “Not too easy to be born a Graves. Not good at all to be a Graves girl and have a baby without being married. Yip, we get it, girls.”
“Seems to me, we might as well keep what happened between us in this room,” the sheriff said. “Like I said I need to know for my records since I had to investigate. All I want to know is who was that baby's mother and father?”
The girls broke down. Logan had to wait for them to stop crying. He looked uncomfortable and very sorry to have to put all three girls on the spot.
Lettie stared down at her daughters' heads. “How was all this going on, and I didn't know about it? You would have thought I of all women would have recognized one of my girls was expecting a baby.”
“If this had been a normal family, you might have real quick like, Lettie. Fact is, you had your hands full, trying to protect your children and staying out of the way of Neff's shotgun,” Gracie said.
“Reckon that is right,” Lettie agreed.
Gracie turned her attention to the girls. “One of the reasons, we want to know about the baby is I'm consenting to have both babies buried in my family cemetery. Maybe the mother would like to tell us a name to put on the baby's stone. We don't know your baby's name, either, Lettie.”
“Jackson George,” Lettie said. “You sure you want to do this, Miss Gracie? After all, you've been through a lot of trouble because of this family.”
“I don't mind as long as I can pick the plots for the babies. I want the one next to my baby brother for myself. I don't have any other kin so there is plenty of room for two babies over by Uncle Hiram,” Gracie said.
“Isn't your uncle's wife buried next to him?” Melinda asked.
“Nope, she ran off with a drummer, selling from his wagon, after she found out what kind of a prevaricator Uncle Hiram was. It wasn't long after that Uncle Hiram was struck by lightening.” Gracie turned to Lettie. “I figured we might as well leave the babies in the box and basket they have been using. Less expense that way. Lettie if you had another baby gown maybe Sheriff Logan could take it by the undertakers. The one on your baby was in sad shape.
Funeral can be Monday if you and the younguns want to be there. Melinda and I are working on the service. The preacher in Locked Rock just took off for some other church so we don't have a preacher. I figure the babies ain't going to care about what kind of service we have. It's more for all of us so you want to come?”
“We do, don't we girls?” Lettie said.
The girls shook their heads yes.
“Now how about telling us what happened to the baby in the basket? Which one of you is the mother?” The sheriff asked.
The girls looked at Lettie with pleading eyes.
“Go ahead and tell the sheriff. He said you weren't in trouble, and I trust him,” Lettie encouraged.
In a trembling voice, Frieda said, “The baby is mine. I was almost full term if I was right in my count. Mama, you didn't noticed I was expecting, but Papa did. He caught me out by the barn and beat me to get me to tell him who the baby's daddy is. I wouldn't do it. By the time Papa was done with me, I was having belly pains. My water broke, and I knew I was going to have the baby soon.”
May Jean said, “I found her groaning behind the barn. When I saw she was having a baby, I asked her if she wanted to get further away from the house. That way Mama and the other kids wouldn't see or hear what was happening. We worried that Papa might come back and try to harm the baby or Frieda some more. I helped Frieda to her feet, and we walked out into the timber. Once I got her on a bed of leaves, I ran back to the house for some covers. It was still plenty chilly then.”
Joanne continued, “I saw May Jean carrying off the covers on her bed and caught up with her, going into the timber. I made her tell me what was going on. I went back to the house and got a pail of hot water and rags. I found the girls easy enough in the trees. It wasn't hard to locate them. Frieda was yelling pretty loud.”
“You girls sound like old pros at birthing,” Melinda said.
“We ought to be. We helped Mama several times,” May Jean said.
“Everything went pretty well, and by late afternoon, the baby came,” Joanne said. “Only, the baby didn't cry or move. We knew right off he was gone already.”
“Papa hit me hard in the belly several times. I think he meant to cause the baby to die,” Frieda said, tears rolling down her face.
“You want to press charges for battery and murder of your unborn baby?” the sheriff asked.
“No, Sir! You said no one had to know about this if we didn't want to tell it,” Frieda screamed at the sheriff.
He held his hands up. “I did say that. With as much hot water as your father is in for murder, he's going to get punished anyway. So we don't have to add anything else to the charges against him if you want it that way.”
“I want it that way,” Frieda said. “Who all is coming to the funeral? If you ask people, they're going to know about the baby in the basket being mine, aren't they?”
“Not if you don't want them to know. Plenty of people have heard about the baby in the basket by now, but no one knows who it belongs to. We can keep it that way if you want. The name you choose can be put on the stone later on when no one is at the cemetery but us and your family,” Gracie told Frieda.
“That is the way I want it,” Frieda said.
“All right, when anyone asks, I will say I thought we should bury both babies in the cemetery. No sense putting them back out in the timber for wild critters to dig up,” Gracie said.
“Much obliged, Miss Gracie. We certainly do appreciate all you're doing for us,” Lettie said.
“That's fine,” Gracie said. “Now, Frieda, you should tell the baby's father about the funeral so he can come if he is a mind to do so.”
“Who is the father?” The sheriff asked.
Frieda bit her bottom lip as she looked at May Jean and then at Joanne.
Joanne said, “Frieda has never told me who the father is, Sheriff. I can't help you with that answer.”
“She didn't tell me, either,” May Jean said.
“You can ask all you want, but I ain't saying who the father is. It won't do any good to give you that answer. You might as well not ask me again,” Frieda said. “I won't be asking him to the funeral, so don't be looking for him.”
“All right, we'll abide with that answer if that is the way you want it. I have to ask one more thing. You weren't raped, were you?” The sheriff asked.
“No, Sir!” Frieda cried.
The sheriff held his hands palms up. “Whoa! I wanted to make sure I didn't need to arrest the baby's father. The way I see it, you've been through enough. I don't want to make it any worse for any of you.”
Later that afternoon, Orie and Millard showed up to find out Gracie's plans for the funeral. She asked them to dig two graves next to her Uncle Hiram.
She said the woven basket and Neff's homemade coffin would be what the babies were in so dig accordingly. The graves had to be dug by Monday morning for an afternoon funeral.
Millard decided to stay for supper at Melinda's invitation, but Orie said he wanted to go home and talk to Molly about the funeral details. She would want to know.
Gracie and Melinda decided not to go to church on Sunday since there wasn't a preacher. They took the time to plan the funeral service for the babies.
Chapter Eighteen
Monday morning, Gracie suggested they walk to the cemetery early so they could make sure to be there when Millard and Orie showed up to dig the graves. She wasn't taking any chances. She wanted to make sure the holes were in the place she wanted them this time. Once that was done, the men went back to Gracie's house for lunch.
That afternoon, buggies filed down the road to the cemetery. The buggies parked along one side of the road. More people than Gracie had dreamed would come were gathering around the fence.
Lettie, in her white dress and straw hat, and her children stood with Gracie, Melinda and Shana. They watched at people dressed in their Sunday suits and dresses lined up around the cemetery fence. Millard stood with Orie and Molly. Madeline was beside Molly.
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bsp; Shana saw Molly. She waved and sprinted out the cemetery gate to her mother. Molly knelt down and gave her a hug. “I missed you at church yesterday and for dinner.”
Gracie and Melinda walked up behind Shana. “We figured since there wasn't a preacher we could miss this one Sunday while we planned the funeral,” Gracie explained.
“By next Sunday, the new preacher will be in the pulpit,” Molly said.
“All ready? That was fast,” Melinda said.
“It seems Preacher Whiteside sent him to us. They exchanged churches,” Molly explained.
“Aunt Gracie and Aunt Melinda are going to let me be a part of the funeral service,” Shana said, excitedly.
“That's nice, dear, if you really want to do it,” Molly said.
“I do. Sure and I really do,” Shana said.
“We'd better get back inside the gate and ready. We need to get this over with,” Gracie said.
As Melinda and Shana walked away, Molly grabbed Gracie's arm. “Would you have time to talk with me after the service?”
“Sure thing. You and Mr. Orie come to the house. Melinda left the coffee pot on the back of the stove,” Gracie said. As she walked away, she worried Miss Molly was going to be hard on her for all that happened while they were at the farm. Miss Molly had to be angry about Shana getting shot at by Neff Graves.
The sheriff rode up and tied his horse to an evergreen bough. He dismounted, removed his cowboy hat and stood beside the others. His eyes shifted from one person to the other, looking for the young man who might be the father of the baby in the basket. Gracie had been watching, too, and she hadn't seen anyone that met the criteria. She didn't expect the sheriff to. Frieda must have stuck to her word about not telling the father about the funeral.
The make shift coffins were beside their open graves. One made from old stained barn boards, and the other a basket woven from twigs and sticks with the lid wired on.
Gracie began, “We are all gathered here to say goodbye to two little babies that didn't get a chance to grow up. Just because they didn't have that chance don't mean they shouldn't be given a funeral service to respect the fact that we know about them and want to say goodbye. Melinda is going to lead the first hymn.”
