The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

by Donis Casey

  He strikes back. Alafair could understand it. Faced with the loss of all that is dear to him, the boy pulls the derringer that Phoebe has given him for protection and fires.

  She looked down at Phoebe, who was standing just below her on the hillock, looking up at her mother patiently. “Show me what happened,” Alafair instructed.

  Phoebe nodded. “Me and John Lee were sitting right here like this.” She demonstrated by sitting down. Alafair moved down off the hillock and stood off to the side where she could take in all of Phoebe’s reenactment.

  And Phoebe was quite a little actor, Alafair noted to her amazement. She watched, skeptically, to be sure, as Phoebe hopped around the clearing, playing the parts of innocent maid, evil accoster, and heroic rescuer with desperate verve. Alafair interrupted the performance periodically with questions.

  “Now, did Mr. Day fall down like that right on top of you?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, he did,” Phoebe assured her. “Knocked the wind right out of me.”

  “And that was right about here?”

  “Yes, near as I can remember, it was right here.”

  “When you and John Lee came to the house afterwards, you didn’t look much like you had been rolling around in this leaf litter, here,” Alafair noted.

  Phoebe reddened. “John Lee and I hid out for a bit, like I told you, to get our breath back. Brushed each other off as best we could. John Lee picked a mess of twigs out of my hair.”

  “Couldn’t disguise that black eye John Lee had, though,” Alafair observed.

  “No,” Phoebe agreed with some heat. “It wasn’t the first one his daddy had given him, either.”

  “Well, go on, then,” Alafair urged. “John Lee fell down right over there when Mr. Day clobbered him, and then you two struggled and fell down here. Why didn’t you run away when you had the chance?”

  “I couldn’t leave John Lee,” Phoebe told her, surprised that she would suggest such a thing.

  Alafair’s eyebrows shot up. “No, of course not,” she conceded. “So, anyway, you hollered, and John Lee sat up and pulled out the pistol. Is that when he shot at his dad?”

  “He yelled at him to leave me alone,” Phoebe told her. “But Mr. Day kind of staggered up to his feet and lunged at John Lee on the ground there. He looked like he meant to kill John Lee, with his fists all balled up and his face screwed up real mean. I think John Lee was still kind of woozy. It was my fault that he fired, Ma. I thought his dad would murder him, so I yelled at him to fire.”

  “You yelled at him to fire?”

  “Yes, Ma. I thought it was kill or be killed. I was scared witless.”

  “And John Lee fired.”

  “He did. Mr. Day stopped in his tracks, I guarantee. He reeled a bit, and I thought he was hit. But he just stood there for a second, surprised, I guess. I reckon he suddenly thought better of whacking on John Lee. After a half a minute, he just sort of reeled off toward the barn.”

  “And then what did you kids do?”

  “I helped John Lee up and we ran off back that way, further into the woods and down to the creek bank, until we figured it was safe. Then we made our way to the road and John Lee walked me home. He told me that when his pa was so drunk, he didn’t even remember what he had done, so after I got my wits back and calmed down, I wasn’t too worried that Mr. Day would still be after him.”

  “But you didn’t see John Lee throw down the pistol?”

  “No, I didn’t even think about it. But now that I look back, I know he didn’t have it in his hands when he helped me get up.”

  “Let’s start looking for it here, then,” Alafair suggested. “And look sharp. That little thing has been lying out there for a week and is surely covered up with ground stuff by now.”

  And the two women looked. They looked for an hour, covering every scrap of ground between the hillock and the property line, and then they covered it again. No leaf lay unturned.

  “But he said he dropped it right after he fired it,” Phoebe protested to no one, close to tears. “It has to be right here!” They had made their way back to the hillock for the second time.

  “It isn’t here,” Alafair stated. “It isn’t here, honey. If John Lee is telling the truth, then somebody has been here and picked it up.”

  The tears that had been welling in Phoebe’s eyes trickled down her cheeks, and she scrubbed at them with the back of her mitten. “That’s what happened, then, Mama,” she assured Alafair. “’Cause John Lee wouldn’t lie.”

  Alafair caught her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully. She stepped purposefully into the spot where John Lee was sitting when he shot at his father. “John Lee was right about here when the pistol went off,” she said. She sat down on the ground. “He would have been, what? About like this?” She held her two hands straight out in front of her, aiming a phantom gun.

  Phoebe sniffed and gazed at her mother, interest replacing frustration. She walked to a place behind the hillock. “I was lying on the ground right here,” she said, pointing to her left. “Mr. Day was standing over there. Everything happened pretty fast, but it didn’t look to me like John Lee aimed very carefully. Or maybe he was aiming at his daddy’s knees, because I don’t think he lifted the gun very high before he shot, just shot straight ahead.”

  “Did you hear the bullet hit anything?”

  “Oh, heavens, Mama. I can’t remember. I don’t remember any ricochet or anything like that. What are you getting at?”

  Alafair glanced at Phoebe before peering off into the woods again. “I’m thinking, my girl,” she said, “that if we can’t find the gun, maybe we can find the bullet. At least that would prove that your part of the story is true.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened. “You ever heard of the needle in the haystack story?” she asked.

  “Don’t be sassy, now,” Alafair replied offhandedly. “Try and remember. You think he aimed right about this way?”

  A thoughtful look passed over Phoebe’s face as she gazed at her mother, trying to superimpose her memory of that evening over what she was seeing at the moment. She moved to where she remembered Mr. Day standing when John Lee fired. “This way, Mama,” she said, and Alafair aimed her imaginary gun at Phoebe’s knees. One hand clutching the phantom pistol dropped down, and the other pointed into the woods. “That tree, there,” she stated. Phoebe turned to look at a scrubby oak about twenty yards from her that looked identical to all the other scrubby oaks in the grove.

  “What if I was wrong about the angle?” Phoebe wondered.

  Alafair scrambled to her feet. “We won’t know until we look, now, will we?”

  Phoebe reached the tree before her mother, and bent down to look at where Alafair had pointed. She nearly fainted when she saw it—a little pale bore in the black bark of the slender oak, right at waist height. It was too round to be natural, and it was new. Limp with amazement, she stuck her finger into the hole and felt metal at about half an inch. She laid her forehead against the tree trunk and prayed her thanks. It never occurred to her that divine guidance might not be involved. Only God could have led her to find a single bullet hole in a forest.

  She heard her mother come up behind her. “Is it there?” Alafair asked.

  “Yes, Ma, it’s here,” Phoebe said. “It’s a miracle.”

  Alafair moved her aside and knelt down to look at the hole in a businesslike manner, more sanguine about God’s intervention than Phoebe was. She nodded. “Well, girl, that’s one piece of evidence down,” she said. She picked up a rock and scored a white scar on the trunk, so that they would be able to find the tree again with ease. She looked up at Phoebe, her brown eyes full of determination. “Now we have to find that bothersome gun.”

  ***

  Alafair and Phoebe were approaching home, trudging hand in hand in grim consort against the cold. Alafair had her eyes on the ground before her feet and didn’t see Scott’s big horse tied up in front of the house until Phoebe squeezed her hand in alarm. Alafair’s
steps faltered. “Now, what is he doing here this time of day?” she wondered aloud.

  They walked up the porch steps together, moving more quickly now, from anxiety. “You keep quiet, girl,” Alafair instructed in a low voice, as they approached the front door. “No use to assume anything. Just let me do any talking that needs to be done.”

  Phoebe didn’t have time to assent before they entered the house. From the front door they could see into the kitchen. They could see Scott and Shaw sitting at the kitchen table, both holding steamy mugs of coffee clutched in two hands. The men both turned and looked at the women when they came in. Alafair squeezed Phoebe’s hand as a reminder, then calmly began to unwind the wool scarf around her head and face.

  “What are you two up to, lolling around and this time of day?” she called to them.

  Shaw picked up her bantering tone. “Just not in the mood to mend harnesses,” he called back.

  Alafair and Phoebe finished peeling themselves out of their outerwear, and walked into the kitchen. Alafair sat herself down opposite her husband and his cousin. Phoebe leaned uncertainly against the cabinet.

  “Now, I might ask,” Shaw continued, “what you two were doing strolling around out in the frigid for so long?”

  “How long have you two been here?” Alafair asked.

  “Oh, just about fifteen minutes,” Scott told her. “Don’t let him give you a hard time. Shaw and me met in town and I rode back out with him. Got a little news for you.” He glanced up at Phoebe. “Seems John Lee Day marched into town a couple of hours ago, right into my office, and gave himself up.”

  Phoebe gasped, and Alafair shot her a stern glance.

  The glance that Shaw gave Scott was even sterner. “Come sit down here by your daddy, sweetheart,” he said to Phoebe, patting the chair next to him. She did as she was told in stunned silence. Shaw draped his arm over his daughter’s shoulders and looked at Alafair. “We were thinking to tell you about it,” he said to her, “so you could break the news to Phoebe, but it looks like the cat is out of the bag, now.”

  “Oh, come on, Shaw. Phoebe is hardly a baby, are you, honey?” Scott defended himself.

  “No, she’s not,” Alafair answered for her, unaware that all three of the adults were treating the poor girl exactly like the baby they were professing she was not. “Where has the boy been hiding himself?”

  “He says he’s been in the corn crib out behind the Day house. Which he ain’t,” Scott assured them. “I searched that crib, that whole farm, in fact, and I’d have seen sign if he had been sleeping there. But it don’t matter now, I expect.” He leaned back in the chair, his blue eyes widening. “He apologized to me for hiding out, don’t you know. Said he thought at first that he really had shot his dad, but now he knows it wasn’t him, so there is no need to be afraid.” The look he gave Shaw spoke volumes about what he thought of the naivety of youth. He looked back at Phoebe. “You try not to worry about your friend, darlin’,” he soothed. “I already talked to Judge Sutton about getting him a lawyer. If he’s innocent, like he says, we’ll find out.”

  Innocent and naive herself, Phoebe was comforted by the sheriff’s assurances. “Thank you, Cousin Scott,” she said. “Will I be allowed to see him, you think?”

  Scott glanced at Shaw again, whose eyebrows disappeared up under the dark hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “Maybe in a few days, Phoebe,” Scott told her, “if your mama and daddy don’t object.”

  Before Shaw could tell them whether or not he objected, Alafair leaned over the table and put her hand on Scott’s forearm. “Have you told Miz Day that you got her boy?”

  “Not yet. I was just on my way out there. In fact, I’d better get.”

  “Would you let me tell her, Scott?” Alafair asked, her voice betraying some anxiety for the first time.

  It was Shaw who responded first. “What in heaven’s name is on your mind, Alafair?” he wondered.

  “I’m the one to tell her, Alafair,” Scott interjected. “I want to tell her what her rights and obligations are, here, and answer any questions she might have about what to do now.”

  Alafair nodded. “Yes, I guess you do need to do that. But still. That poor woman never had anything but a hard time. It would be a kindness to let me break it to her first, woman to woman, rather than have the scary sheriff do it. You can come along in a half hour or so. I’ll make you out to be just a big old angel in a badge.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Alafair could see Phoebe gazing at her, perplexed. What is on your mind, Mama, Alafair could practically hear her say. Once again, Scott looked at Shaw, and they gazed at one another in silence for a moment, wordlessly commiserating about the unfathomable female mind. At long last, he looked back at Alafair. “I guess I could do that, if you think it’s important,” he conceded, as graciously as he could. “As long as you don’t go to questioning her or giving her legal advice.”

  Alafair jumped up out of her chair with such alacrity that her feet left the floor. “Thank you. It’ll be better this way, you’ll see.” She was halfway into the parlor by now, talking to them over her shoulder. “I’ll just run over there on Missy right now. You give me, oh, forty-five minutes, then come on over.” She was shrugging into her coat.

  “You want me to come with you?” Shaw asked, standing up.

  “No, no,” she called, impatient. “This is woman stuff.”

  “Mama?” Phoebe wondered.

  “You walk me out, Phoebe,” Alafair instructed. “You might as well start supper while I’m gone.”

  Phoebe flew to her mother’s side. Only one arm was in her coat when she and Alafair walked out onto the porch.

  “Now, listen, girl,” Alafair said to her, talking fast. “Something just occurred to me and I want to ask Miz Day about it before Scott gets to her. You offer Cousin Scott and your daddy some pie. Try to stall them a bit, give me some time. Just try not to act suspicious. When they start champing at the bit, let them go.”

  “What is it, Ma?” Phoebe huffed, straining to keep up with the longer-legged Alafair as they strode toward the barn. “What are you going to ask Miz Day?”

  “I’d rather not say until I know more.”

  “Ma, why did John Lee turn himself in? He was safe where he was. He could have let us find out who done it.”

  Alafair swung the barn door open. “He was trying to protect you, silly girl,” Alafair informed her sharply. “And he was probably smart to do it. If he’d been found out in that soddie with all our blankets and food, there’s no way he could say somebody in our family didn’t help him. And turning himself in makes him look less guilty, is another thing.” She slid the halter over Missy’s head, which was hanging serenely over the stall door, and led the mare out into the barn.

  “As soon as Daddy and Scott get completely gone, you rush on out to the soddie and get rid of every trace of John Lee.” The saddle made a hollow whump as it hit the saddle blanket on Missy’s back. Alafair’s voice was momentarily muffled by the horse’s belly as she reached under for the cinch. “Don’t put that comforter back on the bed,” she warned. “Somebody’s bound to smell hay. Shake it out good and fold it up with some cedar chips in it, and put it in the chest at the end of my bed.” She took the reins and the saddle horn in her left hand and the crupper in her right and hoisted herself up into the saddle. She adjusted her full skirt with a flick of her hand. “If ever you had any stealthiness in you, Phoebe, you’d better use it now. Try to be invisible around Scott and your daddy, and if they ask you anything, try to answer with one word or less.”

  “I don’t like to lie, Mama,” Phoebe told her, anxious. “I’m not real good at it.”

  Alafair chuckled humorlessly. “You’ve been doing pretty well at it for the last few months, to my thinking. But don’t worry, I doubt if you’ll have to. Daddy thinks you have hurt feelings and he won’t be bringing up anything he thinks might cause you pain. Just try not to raise Scott’s suspicions, or he’ll be all over you like a duck o
n a junebug.” She kicked Missy and was out the barn door, leaving Phoebe watching after her.

  Chapter Ten

  Mrs. Day came out on the porch to meet Alafair long before Alafair reached the house. Alafair reined at the porch and dismounted in silence, and she and Mrs. Day eyed one another as she tied her horse to the porch rail and walked up the steps. Alafair couldn’t see the woman’s face, since she was wrapped up in a quilt, top to toe, and only her black eyes were visible. Those black eyes gazed at Alafair with a combination of curiosity and dread, and at first Alafair wondered if Mrs. Day already knew about her son. By the time she reached the top of the steps, Alafair had realized that Mrs. Day was simply not a woman who expected anything good to happen to her. It made Alafair feel bad that she was not going to do anything that would change Mrs. Day’s mind about that.

  “What can I do for you, Miz Tucker?” Mrs. Day wondered.

  Alafair took a breath and came out with it. “Miz Day, I came to tell you that Sheriff Tucker has just arrested John Lee for the murder of your husband.”

  Mrs. Day’s eyes widened, and the quilt fell back from her head. “Oh, no, it can’t be,” she said. “I can’t believe he done it.” Her voice was curiously detached at first, then without warning, a wail escaped her that literally made Alafair jump. “Not John Lee,” she moaned. “Oh, mercy. Oh, Lord Jesus. Harley was a bad man. Harley deserved to die. But not John Lee. I can’t believe he done it.”

  “I don’t think he did it, either,” Alafair interjected firmly.

  Mrs. Day abruptly stopped wailing and stared at Alafair stupidly. “You don’t?” she asked, at length.