I’m not sure how it happened, but I inhaled a big dose of medicine off my puffer and suddenly found myself walking alongside and arguing with her. The next thing I knew, we’d gone through the little wooden gate into the pasture and slipped through the barbed wire on the other side.
Long before they built the highway from the creek bridge, the original dirt road from Arthur City to Center Springs cut through a slight hill on the north edge of Grandpa’s property. Though it was grown up and fenced, the road was still clear, if you knew where it was.
I stopped in the middle of the open cut and watched Pepper climb the steep bank to the top where she crossed still another fence into Joe Daniel’s pasture. “Don’t.”
“We can be there in ten minutes if we run.”
I surprised myself when I sounded like Grandpa. “Oh, hell.”
Chapter Fifty-six
With Cody leading the way for once down the dirt road, Ned followed far enough behind that the rooster-tail of dust didn’t completely obscure his vision. They crossed a plank bridge, and when his front tire dropped off into a deep pothole with a hard jolt a minute later, his radio squawked and came back on.
“…read me, Ned?”
Cody turned left between two plowed fields and for a moment Ned had a clear view of the fringe of bare trees lining the river. “That you, John?” He turned to follow and Cody again turned right.
“Yessir. Did you want me?”
“Sure do. Where are you?”
“Turning off two-seventy-one toward Center Springs. I’m heading your way.”
“Well, put your foot in it and meet me at Donny Wayne Foster’s house. You know where it is?”
“Cain’t say as I do.”
Ned thought for a minute. Donny Wayne didn’t live more than half a mile from a little scratch farm occupied by a colored family who worked the fields for anyone who had enough money to pay them. Ned struggled to recall their name as he spun the wheel to follow Cody. “They’s some of your folks lives down here, not far from the pecan orchard.”
The radio was silent for a moment. “You talking about where Lawrence Walker lives?”
“That’s it. Wasn’t that where Miss Sweet delivered a baby back in the spring?”
“Yep. I know where you’re talking about now. I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Come a runnin’. I might need you.”
“Mr. Ned!” The mention of the bottoms and John’s people suddenly reminded him of a snatch of conversation, a brief exchange between himself and a prisoner the day Ned put Top in jail. The memory tied in with a conversation an hour earlier, when Miss Sweet told him about delivering the misshapen Hart baby, Kendal.
That’s why John was so close. He had important news for Ned.
Norbert said “…it’s in the bottoms” when he was layin’ in the cell. Something ain’t right.
Miss Sweet weeping over the secret she’d kept for years about a disfigured child who had eventually gone insane.
A secret so horrifying that she promised God she’d never tell a soul…
…until she realized the ugly truth about Kendal.
“Mr. Ned! Dammit!” The old man’s radio was on the fritz again.
What’s in the bottoms?
Trying in vain to remember the rest of the song Norbert was singing that day, John stomped the accelerator and knew Ned would need him, soon.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Ned followed, confident Cody knew exactly where he was going, but with the angle of the river cutting through the fields, a direct route was out of the question. He was sure anyone staying with Donny Wayne would see them coming long before they arrived.
They weren’t exactly in a rush to go charging up in the yard, so when they got close, Cody slowed and waved for Ned to come around in front. The Chrysler was parked under the tree, beside the tire swing. Ned pulled his sedan up behind it and killed the engine. Cody stopped his El Camino on the dirt road and stepped out so he could see if anyone came outside and tried to run for the leafless trees not far away.
Dang, that’s familiar. He squinted at the distant pasture and field leading to the river sparkling in the distance.
Ned opened the car door, put one foot on the ground and tapped the horn with the heel of his hand. It was always good manners and a safe way to approach any house in the country. At almost every farm, there was at least one yard dog whose job was to keep wild animals and intruders out.
A mangy mix of skinny bird dog and hound crawled from under the steps and set up a racket until Donny Wayne stepped through the screen door. He picked up a chunk of firewood and threw it at the dog, hitting it in the ribs. It yelped and slunk back under the porch. “Shut up, dog!”
Ned stepped out and spoke over the roof. “Hidy, Donny Wayne.”
The middle-aged man ran his fingers through dirty, tangled hair in need of cutting. “Ned.”
“Isn’t that Harold’s car?”
Cody grinned to himself. Ned already knew the answer. Cody stepped to the rear of his El Camino so he could see around the corner. He wished he’d parked a little farther back to keep an eye on the rear, but he also needed to hang close to Ned.
Donny Wayne pointed a finger at Cody. “What’s that son-of-a-bitch doing here?”
“He’s the law. Same as me.”
“I done said what I’d do if I had the chance.”
Cody spread his hands. “I ain’t alone, like you wanted, but here I am. Get to doing.”
“Uh uh!” Ned said, interrupting their crowing. “I asked you about this car. You take up your business with Cody some other time.”
The irritatingly familiar memory kept itching Cody’s brain. Have I been in that pasture? He might have hunted it in the past, because most folks in Center Springs let you on their property if they knew you, or if you asked.
“You know it belongs to Harold,” Donny Wayne said. “And that’s my truck parked right there. Now, what do you and that wife-stealer want?”
Ned ignored the barb directed toward Cody. “Well, Harold’s been racing again on my side of the creek bridge.”
“He’s full growed. Why are you here?” Donny Wayne pointed. “Ain’t that Cody’s job now?”
Aggravated that people kept asking him that question, Ned rubbed his forehead. “I’god, people kept saying they thought I was working when I was retired, and now that I’m working again, they think I’m not. We’re both constables today.”
“I don’t remember no election.”
“Oh, hell, Donny Wayne. It don’t make no difference no-how, y’ain’t voted since Roosevelt died and you probably ain’t even registered in this state since you moved down from Oklahoma. O.C. Rains made me constable again, but this is Cody’s precinct now. I’m helping him out.”
“Then I don’t need to talk to you. Ain’t that right, Cody?”
He shrugged. “Well, I reckon you need to talk to any of us that ask you to.”
Ned leaned his forearms against the sedan’s roof. “What difference does it make? We’re here to see Harold anyway. Whyn’t you go on and call him out here?”
“You already knew we were on the way,” Cody said. “Didn’t you? You could have already had him out here instead of arguing with us.”
Donny Wayne was having trouble focusing on who he needed to address. First one, then the other constable kept talking to him, and Donny Wayne didn’t think that fast. Mean as a snake, he was only slightly smarter than his brother Tully Joe. Anyone could give him a hoe, tell him to chop an entire cornfield, and he’d do it without a problem, but any type of complicated thinking caused his head to hurt.
“Harold! Come out here!”
“Donny Wayne, what was on your mind earlier today?”
“When, Ned?”
“When you passed me twice and didn’t wave nor nothin’.”
If there was one thing Donny Wayne did know, it was to tell Ned the truth, because he wasn’t good at keeping track of lies. “Well, I had something on my m
ind.”
“I bet you did,” Cody said. “I also believe I heard you have somebody here visiting for a while?”
The different line of questioning completely threw the man off. The only thing that came out of his moving mouth was an exasperated breath. He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh, Harold, Ned wants you.”
From the corner of his eye, Ned saw John’s car speeding down the dirt road.
Donny Wayne stepped to the edge of the porch when he heard the engine. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t matter.” Ned saw a figure through the dirty living room window. Inside, a young woman wearing a blue bandana watched the men in the yard. “I see your company standing in there. What’s her name?”
“That’s Barbara, she’s my wife’s cousin.”
Ned knew most of Shannon and Donny Wayne’s kinfolk, but he couldn’t remember ever hearing Barbara’s name. “Well, I recognize that blue bandana. I met her a while back before Martin passed.”
“That’s right. She took care of him because he always favored her when she was little.”
“All right, then. She was in the car with Harold a few minutes ago, too. Is he gonna come out?”
“I done called him.”
“Well, call him again.” Cody’s thumb ached and his patience was wearing thin.
Donny Wayne’s face flushed. “Harold, get your ass out here!”
Barbara retreated from the window when he shouted through the rusty screen. Finally, Harold stepped through the door and leaned against the frame. He cupped a match around a cigarette, shook it out, and thumped it toward Ned.
“What?”
Ned felt his temper begin to rise. He had no tolerance for rude people, especially rude young people who didn’t have enough sense to comb their hair. “You was racing on the highway.”
“So?”
“So here’s the deal. I’m here to warn you that I’m carrying a badge again and I don’t want to catch you racing no more, not anywhere, or I’ll take you to jail. Y’hear me?”
The young man drew a deep lungful of smoke, blew it out and glanced toward the deputy sheriff’s car. He saw Big John get out of his sedan.
Uncertain whether to stay where he was, John shifted from one foot to the other. “Mr. Ned! I got something to tell you right now.”
“In a minute, John.”
Harold jerked his head toward John. “What’s that nigger doing here?”
“That deputy is here because I called him.”
“Well, he ain’t got no jurisdiction in Center Springs.”
No one hated to have someone tell them their business more than Ned Parker. He stepped around to the back of his car and paused there, his left hand on the deck lid. “That’ll be enough out of you about law work. Now you listen, boy. Racin’ is over, and John and Cody will help me keep it that way.”
“Don’t let them talk to you like that, Harold.” The voice came from inside.
Ned had enough experience to know what happened when a woman kept provoking her men when the law arrived, and it worried him.
“Have her come out here for a minute.”
“She won’t do it.”
“Tell her anyway.”
Harold snickered and turned toward the rusty screen door. “He wants you out here.”
It was a standoff. Donny Wayne stayed where he was, close to John and Cody. Harold leaned against a weathered porch post.
Barbara finally stepped thought the screen, drying her hands on a dish towel.
Now I know that pasture. Cody kept feeling a tickle of memory that barely escaped capture.
Only yards away, the scene was all wrong, but Ned couldn’t figure it out. A chill ran up the back of his neck. He stared hard at the woman dressed in a man’s shirt and jeans one size too large. A leather belt puckered her waistband and she had the cuffs rolled high.
Ned’s radio sputtered to life though the sedan’s open windows. He was surprised to hear O.C. Rains on the other end, and he sounded anxious. “…ammit..Ned…hear me…”
“I’ll call him on mine.” Cody half sat in the El Camino’s seat with his left foot still on the ground. As he picked up the microphone, Ned’s radio finally settled down and O.C.’s voice was crystal clear to everyone in the yard.
“…and that young officer here in town that knows so much and I’ve been talking to the folks up in Tulsa sanitarium. We finally got a judge to release all the information on Kendal Bowden. You’ve been after the wrong person…Ned, Kendal may be dressed like a woman. He’s one of them…morphodites and that’s why y’all couldn’t catch him. Can you hear me?”
John heard. “That’s what Miss Sweet jus’ told me, Mr. Ned. She helped deliver a mixed-up baby with both sets of parts. That’s what Norbert was a-sayin’ when he told me it was in the bottoms.”
The idea ground everyone to a halt. It became so quiet they heard a squirrel scrabbling in the oak tree beside them. Ned studied the ground for a moment to process the information. “A woman?”
Cody rose from the sedan, his stomach clutched in fear. Oh God, now I recognize this pasture. That’s the one I dream about, where a tunnel comes up from the back of a house and leads out toward the pasture…but what does it mean?
He groaned in frustration because the premonition wouldn’t come clear.
Two kids and a dog appeared on the ridge behind the lawmen, and the sight of the children jolted those on the porch into action.
Ned’s head snapped up.
The people on the porch reacted and as if choreographed, everyone moved at once.
All hell broke loose.
Chapter Fifty-eight
I knew we’d made a bad mistake when Pepper and I came over the ridge. The little gray house was clear in the bright sunlight. A woman and two men stood rock still on the porch. Grandpa, Uncle Cody, and John stayed by their cars and they all seemed to be squared off.
It seemed pretty calm at first, but when the people saw us suddenly appear, we could feel the change all the way up on the ridge.
“Shit!” was all Pepper had time to say before they all went crazy down there.
Chapter Fifty-nine
When Barbara saw the kids in the distance, she stopped fidgeting with her hands, and that’s when Ned realized what was wrong with her cup towel. Like falling dominos, the pieces rattled into place.
She’d been at the window long before she stepped outside, so her hands couldn’t have still been wet.
The thin flour sack material was too stiff, because there was a pistol under there.
Kendal was a name for either a boy or a girl.
Bowdens, Harts, Davises, and Fosters were all kin.
The final domino fell.
The murderer wanted by the law in four states was right in front of him, and he wasn’t a man, well, not completely anyway. He’d been hiding in a woman’s clothes. Ned’s head snapped up and he met Barbara’s eyes.
Not Barbara, Kendal!
A blue jay shrieked twice from the nearby oak tree, harsh and clear.
“Don’t you move!” Ned shouted and pulled the revolver from the front pocket of his overalls. “Put that gun down!”
Cody saw Ned’s reaction and awkwardly tugged at his own pistol. The bulky bandage on his thumb made him fumble the automatic from the holster.
The click when Kendal thumbed the hammer back on her gun was crisp in the autumn sunlight.
With a grunt, John ducked toward the rear of his car for cover, almost losing his pump shotgun because of the bandage on his swollen hand.
Still wrapped in the dish towel, Kendal raised the pistol toward Ned. The explosion was sharp. The towel blackened and burst into flame. Donny Wayne dove headfirst into the house through the open window.
Unnerved, Ned’s first shot missed and splintered one of the weathered wall boards, leaving a wound of raw yellow pine. At the same time, Harold threw himself back through the screen door.
Before Ned could react, Kendal shot again. Slinging the towel aside, s
he swung toward Cody and fired three more times.
Ned flinched as the second bullet cracked past his ear.
Cody fired quickly, but his aim was off because of the bandage. Kendal vanished into the house behind a cloud of gun smoke.
There was a brief moment of silence. Then a shotgun blast erupted from the open window, smacking holes all across the right rear fender of Ned’s sedan and blowing out glass in the back passenger door. He ducked and scurried behind the car for cover.
The shotgun turned toward Cody and he heard the load of shot whistle overhead. He returned fire, walking his rounds across the wall beside the window.
As the sounds of gunfire rolled across the yard, Harold leaped out of a window on John’s side of the house. He rolled to his feet with his hands high. “Don’t shoot! I ain’t armed! Don’t shoot!” He ran toward John.
“Get down, boy!” John shouted. “I’m fiddin’ to shoot you!”
Harold flung himself over the hood of the car and jumped to his feet, charging John. “Don’t shoot me!”
Unable to figure out what the teenager was doing, John reversed the shotgun, stepped into the charge, and flattened him with a vicious butt-stroke to the chest. When Harold hit the ground with the wind knocked out of him, John flipped him over and dropped a knee onto the back of his dirty neck, then peered through his car windows.
More gunfire rattled in the front, and John was dismayed to see that he’d been distracted long enough for Kendal to crawl out from under the pier and beam house and bolt toward the bottoms.
He stood, put his foot on Harold’s back, and threw a wild shot in her direction. He shucked another shell into the chamber, but Kendal ducked behind the outhouse that absorbed the second load and kept it between them as she ran. “Ned! She’s gone out back!”
More gunshots erupted from the front of the house, this time all directed toward Cody. He rapidly emptied his .45 in a roll of thunder. Chips of unpainted wood exploded as the big slugs punched through the warped planks. He squatted behind the car and awkwardly used his left thumb to push the button that dropped the empty clip. He slapped another into place.
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