The barn door opened and banged against the inside wall. Nealy struggled to a sitting position and was relieved to see it was Rhy, not her father.
Pyne looked over the horse’s back. “Rhy!”
Rhy looked at Nealy, then at Pyne, his expression full of disgust. “Pa’s in rare form tonight,” he said, picking up a hoof pick and a currycomb as he walked past Nealy toward the second stall.
Nealy didn’t know what to think. Was Rhy going to help Pyne do her chores? Maybe he wasn’t such a bad brother after all. Or maybe he wanted something. With Rhy, you just never knew.
“Hey, Rhy, you ever been horsewhipped?” Pyne asked.
Nealy knew that it wasn’t so much a question as it was a prediction of what was going to happen if their father found out what they were doing.
“You know I haven’t. If you’re trying to scare me, don’t bother. Pa isn’t going to find out unless one of you tell him.” He bent to pick up the horse’s hoof. “I can tell you this, Pa’s worse now than he ever was, and it’s all her fault,” Rhy said, pointing the hoof pick at Nealy. “Her and that illegitimate half-wit of hers have been the talk of the town for the last two years. Christ Almighty, we can’t go anywhere anymore without folks whispering behind their hands.”
Nealy bristled. “Just because Emmie hasn’t talked yet doesn’t mean she’s a half-wit. Stop calling her that, Rhy. Please.”
“Wake up, Nealy. For Christ’s sake, Emmie’s two years old, and she hasn’t done anything but cry and grunt. Like it or not, sis, you spawned a half-wit, but worse than that you brought shame to this family and this farm. It’s pretty damn hard for us to hold up our heads. Guess you didn’t think about that when you opened up your legs.” He tossed the hoof pick into the bucket. “You’d be doing us all a favor if you’d just pack up and leave.”
“Rhy!” Pyne shouted. “You said you wouldn’t say . . .”
“I know what I said,” Rhy interrupted, his face transformed with rage. “But that was then, and this is now. I’m tired of living this way. Tired of the gossip, the whispers, the smirks. I’m tired of it all, ya hear? I’ve had enough.”
Nealy bit down on her lower lip. So now she knew why Rhy had come out to the barn—not to help, but to tell her to leave. And since Pyne always wanted everything Rhy wanted, that probably meant he wanted her to go, too. But where could she go? What would she do? Even if she was almost eighteen, how would she take care of herself? How would she take care of Emmie? She tried to think, but her head was too fuzzy. Tomorrow she would think about it. Tomorrow, when she was feeling better.
A long time later, Nealy felt herself picked up and carried. She heard the familiar squeak of the barn door, then rain beat down on her face. It was cold against her hot skin. She heard her brother whisper something close to her ear but couldn’t make out what he said.
A warm blast of air hit her when the kitchen door opened. She was on her feet a second later, the slicker sliding off her shoulders into a large wet puddle at her feet.
“Take her up to her bed,” Tessie ordered. “As soon as I’m finished with the dishes I’ll go up and tend to her.” She handed Emmie to Rhy. Her shoulders slumped as she faced the mountain of dishes that waited for her in the soapy water.
The moment they reached her room, Rhy dumped Emmie on the bed and left. Pyne set Nealy down on the edge of the bed, his face worried. His gaze raked the room as he looked for her flannel nightgown. He finally found it on the hook behind the closet door.
“Do you think you can get undressed by yourself or do you need me to help you?” His voice was not unkind; nor was it kind. It was cool and flat.
Nealy looked up at her brother. His demeanor had changed since Rhy had asked her to leave. “No, I don’t need your help. I can do it myself,” she said. When Pyne started for the door she added, “Thanks for doing my chores. I owe you one.”
Pyne glanced at her over his shoulder. “No you don’t. You would have done the same for me. But what Rhy said, Nealy . . . I hate to say it, but he’s right. You might as well get it through your head Pa is never going to forgive you unless . . .”
“Unless I give Emmie up and put her in an orphanage,” she finished for him. “I can’t do that, Pyne. She’s my baby, my child. Maybe she came into this world the wrong way, but it’s my fault, not hers. I’ve done everything else Pa’s asked. I quit school. I quit going to church though I haven’t quit praying. I always pray. When I’m not sick, I work as hard as you and Rhy. Tessie says I work harder than most men. I keep up my studies here at home. And I take care of Emmie. I don’t know what else I can do that I’m not already doing.”
“You can go away,” he said, then closed the door behind him.
Tears streamed down Nealy’s face. She’d deluded herself into thinking Pyne loved her in spite of everything. The truth was he was just like Rhy, who was just like Pa—cold and heartless.
They’d always been that way, she realized with startling clarity. Emmie’s birth had only magnified things.
The lack of love between her and her father and brothers was what had brought her to this point. Because she couldn’t get any love or attention at home, she’d gone looking for it elsewhere. It was so easy to find. Too easy. He’d said the words, words she’d needed to hear, words that had lulled her into letting him make love to her. He’d offered her everything her father and brothers hadn’t . . . love, comfort, joy, and promises for the future.
Lies. All lies, she realized now as she picked up Emmie and held her close to her breast.
Late the next afternoon, Nealy struggled to open her eyes and when she did she closed them instantly. Why were so many people in her room? She tried again and slowly opened one eye, thinking she must have imagined seeing the crowd of people. Maybe she was dreaming or delirious. But there they were—Pa, Rhy and Pyne. They were standing at the foot of the bed staring at her. The white-haired man with glasses was Dr. Cooper. What was a horse doctor doing in her room? And where was Emmie?
“Emmie? Emmie?” When there was no answer, she tried to crawl out of bed. It was Pyne who forced her back onto the pillows.
“Tessie has Emmie. She’s got a low-grade fever and a cough,” he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as the others left the room.
Nealy eyed him warily. After what he’d said last night, she didn’t trust him anymore. But what could she do? She was too weak to move. “Am I dying, Pyne?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Doc gave you a shot and said you’ll be fine in a little while. Listen, Nealy. You have to get better real fast. Pa’s planning on sending Emmie to the orphanage in the morning. Once he does that, I don’t know if you can get her back.”
Nealy pushed the covers away and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her face felt hot, her skin stretched to the breaking point. And yet her body was cold.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Pyne asked.
“Taking your advice. I’m going to leave.”
“But . . . You’re too sick, and Emmie’s coming down with the same thing.”
Nealy ignored him. Chills racked her body as she gathered her warmest clothes and took them into the closet. Minutes later she emerged completely dressed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and was pulling on her boots when the door opened and Emmie ran in. Tears streamed down Nealy’s face as she hugged her. “I’ll never let Pa take you away from me. Never.” The toddler burrowed her head against her mother’s chest. Nealy rocked her feverish daughter in her arms. She looked up when her brother came to stand in front of her.
“I knew you would react this way, so I came prepared.” He reached his hand into his pocket, then handed her a neat roll of bills. “Tessie, Rhy and me . . . We scraped together all we could. It’s almost $200. I wish it was more but . . . Wait a minute! I know where there’s some more. Don’t move till I get back,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice. He was back within minutes holding a fat envelope. “There’s four hundred dollars here. Tax money. I saw Pa cou
nting it the other day. Don’t say anything, Nealy. I’ll deal with it later. Here’s the keys to the truck. Tessie is packing up Emmie’s things right now. There’s not much time. Pa went to the barn with the vet, so if you’re leaving, you best do it now. He made the call to the county orphanage last night, and they said they’d come for Emmie in the morning. I don’t expect they’ll go after you, but I covered the license plates with mud just in case.” He reached into his other pocket and took out a napkin. “Doc Cooper left you some pills and gave me instructions to give them to you every four hours.”
Nealy took the napkin from her brother’s hands and opened it up. Staring up at her were five huge pills. “These are horse pills,” she said, looking up at Pyne.
“Doc says what’s good for horses is good for folks, too. He told me to cut them up in quarters. Just bite off a chunk.”
Nealy stood up and tucked the napkin into her jeans pocket. “Thanks for the money and the pills.” She used up another five minutes stuffing essentials into an old carpetbag that Tessie said had once belonged to her mother.
“You’re welcome. It’s cold out, but the heater in the truck is working, and it’s gassed up. I’m sorry about all this, Nealy. I wish there was some other way to . . .”
“Forget it, Pyne,” she said, cutting him short as she struggled to even out her breathing. “Pa is Pa, and that’s it. Wherever I go and whatever I do . . . it’s gotta be better than this.” She gave the room a last look. “I love this place, Pyne. Maybe because I don’t know any better or maybe because Mama is buried here. Then again . . .” She shook her head, unwilling to voice her thoughts. “Am I going to get a chance to say good-bye to Rhy and Tessie?”
“No. Rhy’s in the barn with Pa and Doc, and Tessie is standing guard at the back door. She made up a food basket for you and Emmie.” He took the carpetbag from her hand and opened the bedroom door. “When you drive out, coast down the hill and don’t put your lights on till you get to the main road. Don’t stop till you’re far away from here. When you get where you’re going, call Bill Yates and let him know how you are. He’ll get a message to me. Can you remember to do that, Nealy? Jesus, I wish it didn’t have to be like this. Make sure you remember to call now.”
“I’ll remember, Pyne. But I don’t know where I’m going. Where should I go, Pyne?”
“Head for Lexington, Kentucky. Stop at the first breeding farm you come to. They’ll take you in. You’re good with horses, better than Rhy or I will ever be. Hell, you’re better with them than Pa is. That’s why he worked you so hard. He knew how good you were. You have grit, Nealy. Use it now.”
“Good-bye, Pyne. And thanks . . . for everything,” Nealy said, her voice ringing with tears.
“Go on, git now before Pa comes back from the barn,” Pyne said gruffly. Then he did something that she would remember forever. He bent over and kissed Emmie on the cheek. “You take care of your mama, little one.” He pressed a bright, shiny penny into her hand. Emmie looked at it and smiled.
Nealy held Emmie close as she negotiated the front stairs. “Pyne?”
“Yeah?”
“Emmie is not a half-wit.”
“I know that, Nealy. Hurry up now.”
Perspiration dotted Nealy’s face and neck as she quietly opened the front door and headed for the truck parked in the gravel drive. After settling Emmie into a nest of blankets on the passenger side, Nealy climbed in and adjusted the seat. She saw Pyne toss her carpetbag into the back with some buckets and a shovel. Then she put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. The fact that she didn’t have a driver’s license suddenly occurred to her. She’d driven on the ranch and a few country roads, but she’d never driven on a major highway. If the state police caught her, would they send her back? Would her father tell them she stole the truck? Tessie would say she was borrowing trouble with such thoughts, and since she had all the trouble she could handle at the moment, she concentrated on the problem at hand, steering the coasting truck.
Nealy was almost to the main road when she stopped the truck to take one last look at the only home she’d ever known. SunStar Farms. Her shoulders slumped. Would she ever see SunStar’s lush grassy pastures again? Or its miles of white board fence? Or April Fantasy, the stallion she’d raised and trained herself? Something told her she’d miss pasture grass, fencing, and a horse more than her own father and brothers.
Hot tears burned her eyes as she climbed out of the truck. She reached in the back for one of the empty oat buckets and the shovel. Moving off to the side of the road, she sank the shovel deep into the rain-softened ground, then filled the bucket with rich, dark soil. SunStar soil. That much she could take with her. She lugged the bucket back to the truck and hefted it into the truck bed. Her chest screamed with pain as she clamped a bigger bucket over the top to secure the dirt.
Gasping for breath, she leaned against the back fender and stared into the darkness. “They may think they’re rid of me, but they aren’t. I’ll come back someday, and when I do, things will be different.”
Nealy drove for hours, her body alternating between burning up and freezing. She stopped once to fill a cup with milk for Emmie and once to get gas. She took Emmie into the bathroom with her, careful to keep the wool cap pulled low over her face just in case anyone was looking for them. Satisfied that they had not attracted any attention, she climbed back into the truck. She gave Emmie some baby aspirin that she’d found packed among her things and broke off a quarter of one of the horse pills Pyne had given her.
Two hours later Nealy crossed the state line into Kentucky. She drove for another two hours before she left the main highway and headed down a secondary road with a sign pointing to Blue Diamond Farms. Maybe she could find work there, though why anyone would hire a sick teenager with a sick toddler was beyond her. On second thought, maybe she would be better off to find a cheap motel and stay there until they were both better.
Emmie tugged at her arm just as the truck bucked, sputtered, and died. Nealy steered it to the side of the road. She lifted the little girl into her arms and hugged her. The aspirin hadn’t helped at all. Emmie was so hot she was listless. Fear, unlike anything she’d experienced in her short life, overcame Nealy. Emmie needed help—a doctor—a people doctor, not a horse doctor. She stared out the window and debated whether to take Emmie and walk down the road or cut across the field. If she cut across the field and couldn’t make it, it might be days before anyone found them. With Emmie in her arms, she started down the road, only to turn around to get her bucket of dirt out of the truck bed. She could always come back for the rest of her belongings.
Twice she stumbled and almost fell but managed to right herself both times. She trudged on, the whimpering child clinging to her neck. “I can do this,” she told herself. “I know I can do this.” Like a litany, she said the words over and over.
The third time she fell she couldn’t get up. Holding Emmie close to her she curled into the fetal position and cried. Then she prayed. And when she opened her eyes, she saw denim-clad legs and muddy boots. Through fevered eyes she looked up and saw the biggest, ugliest man she’d ever seen in her life. “Please, can you help me and my little girl?”
Nealy felt herself and Emmie being lifted, and somehow knew they were in good hands. “My bucket. Please, I can’t go without my bucket,” she said, when the giant took his first step. “I can’t leave it. It’s all I’ve got left.” She felt him bend down, heard the click-clack of the handle, and closed her eyes.
Nealy went in and out of consciousness. She knew people were helping her, knew the hands were gentle. She could hear them talking about her and her daughter. Someone named Maud and someone else named Jess. She felt them take Emmie from her arms and didn’t protest because the hands were good hands, gentle hands. “Please God,” she prayed aloud, her voice scratchy. “Let this be a good place.”
“This is a good place, child,” the woman, Maud, said. Her voice had a lilting Southern drawl. “Jess and I are gonna tak
e care of you and your li’l girl. Is there anyone you want us to call? Do you have a family, child?”
Until now Nealy hadn’t considered what she would tell people who questioned where she’d come from. She couldn’t think about it now because she was in too much misery to concentrate. “No, ma’am. It’s just me and my little girl,” she said for lack of a better explanation. Later she would give them their names and tell them something about herself, something that was close to the truth. Later, when she could think more clearly.
“All right then. Don’t you worry about a thing. Jess and me will take care of everything. You just close your eyes and go to sleep. The doctor is on his way.”
“I need my . . .” Nealy’s voice gave out.
“Jess is on his way now to tow your truck into the barn. As soon as he’s through, he’ll bring your things inside.”
Nealy had to make the woman understand that it wasn’t her belongings that were important to her. It was the bucket of SunStar soil. “No!” She struggled to rise up, but Maud held her down.
“What is it, child?”
“I need . . .”
“Shhhh,” Maud hushed her. “It’s right here.” She lifted the bucket for Nealy to see.
“Thank you, ma’am.” And then she was asleep.
2
Nealy’s eyes snapped open. She struggled to move. Where was Emmie? More to the point, where was she? Then she remembered. She let out a small hoarse cry as she felt a wet tongue on her cheek. “You’re not Emmie, you’re a dog!” she said, her eyes wide with awe.
Nealy stroked the dog’s silky fur as she looked around. It was a pretty room, with flowered wallpaper and sheer curtains at the window. It looked like a girl’s room. The bed she was lying on was narrow and comfortable, almost like the small bed she’d had back home. She looked down at the black dog lying on top of a double-ring wedding quilt. He licked her hand. “Are you my guardian?” she whispered as she scratched him gently behind the ears.
Kentucky Rich Page 2
