by Donis Casey
Alafair stopped rocking. Of course she hadn’t been alone. She had had Lester, who loved her, and loved her daughter, and made them his own.
Monday, September 20, 1915
“Once Hanlon spilled the beans, it was all over for Buck Collins.” Sheriff Elsworth Hume spooned a pile of fried tomatoes onto his plate and gave Ruth Ann a benign smile.
Kenneth’s funeral was over, and Lu had done more than her usual masterful job with the funeral dinner. Ruth Ann had invited both the sheriff and Chief Burns to dine with them, along with Mike Ed Beams and his wife and boys, and Streeter McCoy. The dinner had begun with a tureen of vegetable soup, followed by the most sumptuous tenderloin of beef that Alafair had ever seen. Lu had simmered the gorgeous piece of meat in a big roasting pan in the oven, surrounded by onions, carrots, turnips, and celery, and then added allspice and butter to the resulting juices. The tenderloin had been presented on a serving platter, surrounded by tiny fried meatballs and the vegetables, all drenched in gravy.
Lu had shaped mashed potatoes into balls as well, then brushed them with egg, browned them in the oven, and served them alongside the late summer tomatoes which she had breaded and fried. Also served were buttered lima beans, fresh-baked rolls, a mixed salad, iced tea, and pots and pots of strong, black coffee. On the sideboard, peach pudding, apple tarts, slices of cheese, and a bowl of whipped cream waited, in case any of the mourners managed to retain any appetite at all after the feast.
Olivia had begged off dinner, and was now lying down in her room upstairs with little Ron. The funeral had drained all the emotional strength she had left and Alafair expected that the idea of being pleasant and hospitable for another minute was more than Olivia could bear.
Lu was attending Lester upstairs, while Alafair and Martha did any necessary waiting on table and Ruth Ann acted as hostess.
“Why would Hanlon admit anything?” McCoy asked. “He looks like somebody who’s had enough experience with the law not to let himself be tricked or intimidated into implicating himself so easily.”
Chief Burns answered. “We spun him a tale about being able to lift fingerprints off of some of the things we collected from the scenes of all three break-ins, including the empty can of nitro from the Crawford well, so he figured he was caught anyway, and he might as well make the best deal he could.”
“A tale?” Martha repeated. “You tricked him?”
“I’m afraid we did.” The chief shot an amused glance in Alafair’s direction. “I got the idea from Mark Twain himself, and Mr. Puddin’head Wilson.”
Alafair made no indication that she knew what he was talking about. “You mean you really can’t lift fingerprints?”
“Oh, we might have been able to get some kind of useful information off that can, if it hadn’t been cleaned out, or if a dozen people hadn’t handled it after it got picked up. Or maybe if we sent it to an expert in California, all wrapped in cotton wool, and had a couple of months to wait for an answer, or best of all, if we actually had a fingerprint kit and anybody at all in Garfield County had the slightest idea how to use it.”
“Besides,” Hume said, “I got the feeling that after the Kolocek boy got killed, Hanlon finally decided he hates Collins more than prison.”
Alafair looked back up at Hume after helping Grace navigate a couple of little meatballs with gravy. “I feel kind of sorry for poor Mr. Hanlon.”
Hume’s eyes widened and he made an incredulous noise.
“Well, I think he’s right sorry that Zip got killed. I expect he doesn’t have a bunch of friends.”
“He didn’t have to do Collins’ dirty work, Alafair,” Ruth Ann pointed out. “He could have gone to the law.”
“Men like him probably don’t much trust the law, Mrs. Yeager,” Mike Ed Beams said.
Hume nodded his agreement. “Hanlon is just the latest in a string of muscle men that Collins has used to squeeze and scare people into doing what he wants. Collins gets ’em fresh out of Leavenworth. When he needs a new bully boy, he sends up there to Kansas and has some low critter paroled out to his custody with the promise of a job. If the fellow has grown some scruples while he was in prison and don’t want to knock heads and break legs any more, all Collins has to do is say the word, and he’s back in the pen quicker than you can spit. After a while, the fellow disappears, and I doubt if he moves on to a more fulfilling situation, neither. Collins ain’t a thoughtful and tender employer to his enforcement squad. I reckon it is almost enough to make you feel sorry for the murderers, Miz Tucker.”
“I’m surprised one of these characters hasn’t turned on Collins, if what you’re saying is even half true!”
“I guess he’s managed to keep his abuse less disagreeable to the thugs than going back to prison, at least to now. Buck covers his tracks better than anybody I ever seen. He owns a whole stable full of lawyers, any one of which can twist the law around ’til it’s plumb standing on its head.” Hume gestured with his fork. “Whether he meant to kill the boy or not, Hanlon is still responsible for his actions. I reckon we’ve got him for manslaughter, at least.”
“What about Buck Collins?” Ruth Ann asked.
“Oh, we do owe Hanlon for helping us get Collins,” Burns informed her. “Seems Collins bought the absinthe by the carload and brought it into the country from Mexico. Crawford then arranged through Yeager Transfer contacts to have the cases shipped all over the southwestern United States. Collins was making thousands of dollars a year on it and giving Kenneth a cut, which he was using to keep his well in business.”
“The business really picked up after Congress outlawed the use of absinthe in this country,” Hume added. There was a hint of irony in his voice.
“But what about Kenneth and those other folks?” Ruth Ann demanded. “Buck killed them sure as he did them in himself.”
“Oh, we’re charging Collins in the deaths of Zip and the Mexican,” Burns assured her. “Your son-in-law, too, but all we have is circumstantial evidence in that case, ma’am. Maybe it’s enough, I don’t know. He insists long and loud that he didn’t have anything to do with Crawford’s death. If Collins’ lawyers are good enough, that murder charge may not stick. But don’t worry. Between the smuggling, the break-ins, and the other deaths, he’ll go away for a good long time.”
Alafair wiped Grace’s hands while she studied her sister’s face across the table. He has a lot more to answer for than Burns knows, she thought.
***
Alafair did her best to act as intermediary hostess and to look after Lester while Olivia and Ruth Ann entertained callers after the funeral dinner. As the day wore on, Alafair’s already favorable opinion of the remarkable Lu grew to high admiration. The housekeeper not only did everything that needed to be done elegantly and excellently, she managed to do it invisibly as well.
Early in the afternoon, a boy in a gray Western Union uniform and cap rode up on a bicycle and delivered a telegram for Ruth Ann. Alafair felt a slight trepidation as Ruth Ann opened it. She wasn’t sure if her sister would be able to handle another catastrophe.
She was relieved to see Ruth Ann’s expression lighten as she read the message.
“It’s from Daddy. Him and Mama are in Fort Smith. They should be here in the morning.”
Alafair felt her shoulders relax and she emitted a relieved sigh. Their mother’s presence was never anything but a comfort. Their father would take over, now, like the patriarch he was. Had it been Alafair in her sister’s position, she and her father would spend the next week butting heads, but Ruth Ann would be quite happy to defer to his judgment. She felt a brief pang for Olivia, but decided that contending with her grandfather’s benign tyranny would at least keep her mind off of her grief. And it would be good for Lester to know that Ruth Ann’s parents would be here to see to her for as long as necessary.
Alafair walked out onto the porch and found Martha and McCoy sitting together in the swing, talking quietly and watching Grace entertain Ike with a feather on a string. Ron w
as burbling on McCoy’s lap, waving his arms and doing his best to be the center of attention and interrupt the young couple’s conversation.
“What was in the telegram, Ma?” Martha asked her.
“It’s from Grandpa, honey. Looks like they’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, that’s good! I was beginning to wonder if they were going to make it before…”
Alafair sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs and unburdened McCoy of the baby so he could be free to wipe the drool off of his trouser leg. “Looks like they’ll be here while Lester’s still with us. Too bad they didn’t quite make it in time for Kenneth’s funeral. Still, Ruth Ann will be mighty glad to have them, and I’m glad we’ll get to see them before we have to leave.”
“When are you planning on going home, Mrs. Tucker?” McCoy asked.
“Well, I’m thinking maybe a day to visit with my mama and daddy. Then we can leave on Wednesday.”
“So we won’t be here for Lester’s funeral?”
“There’s no telling how much longer Lester will live, Martha, honey. I think it’s better to do for the living. There will be plenty of folks to attend the funeral without us. Now, why don’t you two go get yourselves something to eat, or take a little walk for a few minutes? I’ll watch the kids. Then when y’all come back, I’ll go up and check on Lester. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, lately, and I’ve got a thing or two I want to talk to him about.”
After Martha and McCoy left, Alafair took their place on the porch swing with Ron in her arms, just as Grace decided to decorate the protesting cat with the feather.
“Grace, don’t squeeze Ike like that. He doesn’t like it.”
Grace loosened her grip and crawled up onto the swing next to her mother while Ike made his escape into the yard.
Grace snuggled down at Alafair’s side. “I want to go home, Mama. I miss Daddy and all of them.”
“So do I, baby girl. We’ll go home pretty soon, don’t worry. You’ll get to see Grandma and Grandpa Gunn tomorrow. That’ll be nice.” She shifted the wiggly baby in her lap.
Grace brightened. “Grandma?”
“Your other grandma, sweet pea. Grandma and Grandpa Gunn from Arkansas.”
The girl deflated. “I want my grandma. I want to go home.”
Alafair felt a pang. Grace hadn’t seen her Gunn grandparents in over a year. She probably didn’t remember them at all. “You’ve had fun at Aunt Ruth Ann’s, haven’t you?”
“I like Ron. I like to play with Lu and Ike. Can Ike come home with us?”
“No, sugar. Ike lives here. He’d be homesick at our house. Besides, he might not get along with the other kitties.”
“Ike’s not like our kitties.”
Alafair laughed. “He sure ain’t! He thinks he’s a person.”
The idea tickled Grace and she gave Alafair a pearly grin before continuing. “I like Zip.”
Alafair had not told Grace that Zip was no more. She hadn’t seen the point. “I like Zip, too.”
“Zip showed me his big new house.”
“Does Zip have a new house? When did you see his big new house?”
“Last night, up in the sky. He’s real happy there. He has a real good dog, too. His name is Junior.”
“Is that so? I’m so glad to hear that! What’s his dog like?”
“Oh, Ma, he’s beautiful!”
Alafair was almost overcome by a sudden urge to cry, profoundly moved to think that Zip and Muddy were well and happy together somewhere. Muddy deserved to be beautiful. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Tell me, sugar, have you seen Mr. Wing-Neck lately?” She figured that since she had the opportunity to make use of a little child’s direct line to heaven, she might as well check on Kenneth.
“Oh! I forgot about him. He got tired of waiting and went away.” Grace sat up, round eyed, and returned to a topic of more interest to her. “Zip went sky high,” she said.
Alafair’s heart skipped a beat. “Where did you hear that, darlin’?”
“The man in the hat said it.”
The man in the hat? Chief Burns, maybe? Grace could have been talking about any number of men. There had been so many people coming and going, discussing the parade of events that had occurred over the past week, none of them paying any attention to one little pair of ears that heard a lot more than anyone credited.
Grace lifted her arms over her head. “He went so high he never came down, right up to heaven, and the sky took him!”
***
With Ron in one arm and Grace by the hand, Alafair stood to go into the house just as Martha walked around from the direction of the garage. She was alone, and looked rather forlorn. Alafair paused and waited for her to approach.
“Did Streeter go back to the hotel?”
Martha took Ron from her mother before she replied. “Yes, he’s got to pack. He’s leaving out to go to the City tomorrow afternoon.”
“Grandma and Grandpa will be here in the morning, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t go ahead and see him off at the station when he leaves.”
“We’ve said our goodbyes, Ma.”
“Well, I expect you’ll see each other again when we get home.”
Martha bounced the baby in her arms and gazed off into space, but didn’t comment. Alafair looked down at Grace, who was standing quietly at knee-level, holding her mother’s hand and listening to the conversation with unusual interest. “Grace, go on inside. Look at your picture book that’s on the hall table. I’ll be right in.”
“Okay,” she said, instantly distracted, and banged into the house.
Martha was eyeing her warily when she turned back. “I don’t want to go over this business about Streeter again, Mama.”
Her attempt to stave off her mother’s questions did her no good.
“So y’all haven’t gotten anything settled?” Alafair asked.
“Nothing has changed that I can see.”
“But you love him.”
Martha laughed, but she didn’t sound very happy. “Maybe I do, Ma, but this isn’t a fairy tale. Love doesn’t make everything turn out all right. In fact, it makes things pretty complicated, in my limited experience.”
“I know it’s your life and all, and you have to make your own choices about it. But you’ve said straight out that you love him, and he’s told you that he wants you to do whatever will make you happy. I think something else is bothering you that I don’t know about. What else do you want? Do you want to live with me and Daddy for the rest of your life?”
Martha smiled. It didn’t escape her notice that her mother had never considered the possibility that an unmarried woman might live on her own. But that was never her plan. “Well, why not, Ma? I could work for as long as I wanted to, then. And when you and Daddy got too old to work the farm, I’d have a bunch saved up, and it’d be no problem for me to quit and take care of y’all. You’d never have to worry about anything, ever. I’d take good care of you.”
Alafair had just drawn a breath to argue, when it dawned on her what Martha was saying. Her eyes widened, and she stood there for an instant with indrawn breath, stunned. “Do you mean to tell me that all this is because you think you have to take care of me and Daddy?”
Martha looked away, suddenly struggling not to cry. “I worry about you, Ma. Y’all are doing fine right now, but you’re not getting any younger. I mean, I know you aren’t going to live forever, but I had always figured I wouldn’t have to deal with that for a long, long time. But anything can happen, can’t it? Last year, when you got so hurt trying to protect Mary…why, it’s a miracle you healed up as well as you did. You could have been crippled, or lost your sight! What’s going to happen when you can’t do for yourselves anymore? Who’s going to see to things, then?”
Alafair was speechless for a moment. When on earth did this happen? When had the daughter become the mother? And why had Alafair not even noticed? “Martha Tucker,” she said gently, “I don’t know whether to be touched or to be
insulted within an inch of my life. First of all, me and Daddy don’t hardly have one foot in the grave. It’s going to be a bunch of years before we have to have somebody mash our food and change our drawers for us. And second of all, if something does happen to one of us before our time, we do have nine other children who will bear some responsibility for us. It’s not all going to be on you. In fact, I expect you’ll be no spring chicken yourself when it comes to it. You might do better to be having me some grandkids right about now who can take care of both of us.”
Martha blinked. She had never actually considered her siblings. “Who knows what the other kids’ll be up to, by then? Why, they could all be living in Texas, or Europe, or China.”
“Daddy and me could be rich as Midas, with a bunch of servants to carry us around on their shoulders all day, too, and not need y’all kids at all. You don’t know what’ll be going on in thirty years, Martha. Your pitiful old parents know enough to make arrangements before we’re too feeble to think straight. Besides, where did you get the idea that this is all up to you, anyway? I know I’ve always counted on you when I’ve needed some help with the other kids, or with the house or some such. More than the others, now that I look back on it. But if I’ve given you the idea that you have to sacrifice your life and happiness for us, I sure didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry for it.”
Martha gripped Ron and leaned forward, earnest and intent on making her mother understand. “It’s not a sacrifice, Mama. I want to do it. I’ve wanted to take care of you for as long as I can remember. Since little James died and you were so upset that we had to go live with Grandma while Daddy stayed out on the farm, building the house. I was scared that if I didn’t do something to help somehow, the family would never get back together. And then we did move home, and everything was just like it should be, until Bobby died. Then I was scared that both you and Daddy would go crazy or die of grief, and I’d be raising all the kids myself, me and Mary.”
“Honey, you were fourteen years old when Bobby died! Your grandfolks may have had something to say about what happened to the rest of you if something had happened to me and Daddy, too.”
