Whisper Town

by Patricia Hickman

  “You good with a revolver?” he asked. His name was Buddy.

  “Not as good as my brother. But a lot better aim than Miss Coulter.”

  “That I believe. Sis was always better on the archery range.”

  “Your family has a nice house,” said Angel. “Is that your wife?” She had had trouble matching up all of Fern’s brothers with their women.

  “Esther. We married six months ago. Otherwise I’d be setting my sights on a girl as pretty as you.” He winked at Fern.

  “You don’t have to say that,” said Angel.

  “It’s true. Fern, I sure wish you’d wait until morning. But I guess you’ll be safe here with young Annie Oakley.”

  “She wasn’t afraid of Bonnie and Clyde. I guess if we meet up with Dillinger, she’ll stand up to him too,” said Fern.

  The Coulters all stared at one another.

  “She’s not lying,” said Florence. “About Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “They seemed decent enough people, I thought,” said Angel.

  “Don’t tell me anything else,” said Mrs. Coulter. “Fern, you stay away from gangsters. My heart can’t take much more.”

  Fern said her good-byes and ushered Angel and Florence off to her idling car. “Look at that streak of pink sunset breaking through. It’ll be a pretty night for driving.”

  “That Nigra girl’s sleeping in Angel’s bed?” asked Willie.

  “I could give her yours if your conscience is bothering you.” Jeb was tired from hauling wood. The families with enough cash for wood had almost bargained him out of business. “Ida May, go wash up the dishes. Don’t leave Lucky to do all the work.”

  “You already got people griping about a little one; now you got a big girl from Tempest’s Bog living here too,” said Willie.

  “She’s not from Tempest’s Bog.”

  “Not that I care.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “Her family care that she’s here?”

  “I thought you didn’t care.”

  “I don’t. But where’s her family anyway?”

  “Hope. Her minister brought her here. You got any more questions?”

  “When’s Angel and Miss Coulter coming home?”

  “Not that you care.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I miss them too. Women shouldn’t be on the road without an escort in this day and age.”

  “Who’d want to mess with Angel? She ain’t the best-looking girl and she’s not bright or nothing.”

  “Willie, you got anything nice to say about anyone?”

  “I got a B on my spelling test today.”

  “Jeb, Lucky is the same color as Myrtle.” Ida May stood at the door wearing an apron that touched the floor.

  “Thank you, Ida May. You finished with the dishes?” Jeb asked.

  “I’m drying. Lucky is a good dishwasher.” She turned and joined Lucky at the sink.

  “When I grow up, I’m only going to have one child and give him all the attention he wants,” said Willie.

  “Sharing space makes you humble, Willie.”

  “It’s dark out. Mind if I go and check my coon traps?”

  “It’s cold. Get on your coat.” He watched through the window, watched Willie’s waving lantern swinging back and forth through the woods. Willie was good on his own. He never worried over him like he did Angel.

  It was black outside, and with the cloud cover, it was as though the sky had been erased.

  Jeb pictured Fern and Angel seated around the Coulter piano singing silly songs that rich people liked to sing off-key. The thought of that kind of scene comforted him.

  “I know it’s a long road, but it just seems this car’s been behind us for a long time,” said Angel. “After we stopped at that store for Cokes, I noticed it.”

  “Florence, can you read your watch?” asked Fern.

  Florence held up her watch until the lights from behind them illuminated it. “It’s quarter past eight. We still got several hours to go until we find that inn.”

  “They’re speeding up. I’m getting the pistol, just in case.” Angel pulled out the revolver.

  “Put it away. It makes me nervous,” said Florence. “How are we doing on fuel?”

  “We’re fine for now,” said Fern. “Angel, I would feel better too if you’d put away the gun. It doesn’t do us any good to get excited about nothing.”

  “Let’s talk about what we’ve done so far,” said Florence. “I like the fact that we’ve taken a trip on our own, no men telling us what to do. No one asking us to darn something or sew on a button.”

  “Not like that would do any good. I can’t sew a stitch,” said Fern. It made Florence laugh.

  “If I have sons, they’re going to sew on their own buttons,” said Angel.

  “Jeb does seem a little dependent on the mercy of women,” said Fern.

  “He’s all right, I guess. Not a lot going on when he gets in the kitchen.” Angel slipped her feet out of her shoes. Her toes had turned white at the tops like they did when she was outgrowing another pair of shoes.

  “Angel, this car does seem to be shining its lights through our back glass.”

  “Speed up, Miss Coulter. See if they do anything.”

  Fern slowly pressed the gas pedal and increased the speed. “Don’t look back,” she said. “Stay forward. I can see them in the mirror.”

  “When my husband was home, it seemed to me that he was always needing me to fix this or that or clean a mess of squirrels. After he left me, I wondered if I had complained once too often.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Florence. Bad times can cause a man to do things he never thought he’d do. Ladies, we do have a car on our tail.”

  The automobile sped around Fern’s car and then, after driving back in front of them, slowed.

  Angel reached for the pistol again and slipped back into her shoes.

  “She still here?” Belinda asked it as though she expected Lucky to be gone.

  “Lucky is living with us for now to help out with Myrtle,” said Jeb. He handed Belinda her Friday pay.

  “Why you come so late? This baby’s apt to starve before you get here.”

  “Hand me the baby, girl, and go tend to your other chores.”

  “Myrtle is my chore.”

  “When I’m here, you best make yourself useful elsewhere. I won’t abide a girl like you giving me grief every time I walk through this door. I was looking for a job when I found this one.”

  “Lucky, how about putting beans on to soak?” asked Jeb. When Lucky met him in the kitchen, he said, “Lucky, I can’t have you running Belinda off. You keep causing problems and I’ll have to ask Reverend Williamson to take you back to your folks.”

  “Don’t, Reverend. They would put me out. It’s too cold to be put out nights.”

  Jeb could not tell if she was lying or not. “I’m not threatening you, Lucky. But I’m stuck with Belinda.”

  “I won’t say another word. But she don’t care nothing for that baby. You ought to see her, the way she act when you leave. Once you’re gone, she do whatever she please, smoke in your place, eat from your icebox without asking.”

  “I’ll talk to her. But please leave the room when she walks in.”

  “You mean, stay in my place.”

  “That’s not what I mean at all. I mean, do like boxers do. Go to your corner and she’ll go to hers and we’ll all have some peace.”

  Myrtle let out a cry. Lucky came to her feet.

  “I’ll check on Myrtle. Will you kindly put on the beans to soak?”

  Jeb found Belinda holding the baby out, arm’s length.

  “Tell that girl to come and change this baby. She’s soiled herself and I ain’t in the mood.”

  “Lucky, would you come and tend to Myrtle?”

  Lucky took the baby and left the room without saying a word.

  “How long you going to be able to tolerate her, Reverend? She’s got a mouth on her. I’d s
lap her, if I was you.”

  Jeb took his Bible out onto the porch and called for Willie. He saw the lantern moving slowly up the path. Willie had trapped one raccoon.

  “I heard a bobcat caterwauling, Jeb. I’m not going out at night again without my rifle.”

  “Well, you’d best get it before going inside. It’s worse in there than it is out here.”

  Fern hit the brakes. The car had screeched to a stop, sliding sideways and blocking the road.

  Angel felt like all the air had been squeezed from her gut. She removed the safety from the pistol.

  “This can’t be good,” said Florence. Her voice was tinny, like she couldn’t get a breath.

  One man emerged from the driver’s side of the vehicle and then the other door opened. Another man stepped out of the passenger side of the car. They were barely visible in Fern’s automobile lights, wearing coveralls and old coats.

  Fern hit the gas pedal. The car lurched. She hit the man from the driver’s side and then slammed the brakes down. “Oh, sweet mother, I’ve killed him!”

  “Run over him, Miss Coulter!” The pistol quivered in Angel’s hand.

  Fern’s forehead slumped against the steering wheel. She kept muttering how she had killed a man.

  The passenger threw open Angel’s door. “Give me your handbags, ladies!”

  “Back off, or I’ll blow your head off and your friend’s too!” Angel’s arms stiffened and she took aim.

  The man dropped a knife onto the ground. A third man leaped from their rear seat.

  “Mercy, a third one!” Florence shrieked.

  Angel cocked the pistol.

  The second man ran and dragged his friend back to the car. They all jumped in and drove off.

  Fern had not let go of the steering wheel for one second.

  “Angel, you ran them off!” Florence said.

  “You think I killed him?” Fern squeaked.

  “Drive, Miss Coulter. You did the right thing. You did what anyone would do. Besides, they’ll have to take their buddy and get him help. Maybe they’ll leave us alone now.”

  “This has been a humdinger of a road trip, ladies!” said Florence.

  11

  WHILE SOME PEOPLE MIGHT BE FRIGHTENED to stand in front of a large group, Jeb hated nothing worse than a sparsely attended church service. It wasn’t the first time members had punished him for disagreeing with them.

  Ida May sat near Lucky in the rear of the church. Both girls were good about tending to Myrtle whenever she let out a whimper. She had slept through most of Jeb’s message. The tension in the air kept everyone else awake.

  Lucky had asked to stay home. Jeb would not hear of it.

  Willie sat with a group of his buddies on the far side of the church, away from Lucky and the kind of trouble that had followed her into the church.

  Freda Honeysack left the building with Josie while Will hung behind. Jeb could see the anguish in his face as he walked up the aisle. “I know what you’re going to say,” said Jeb.

  “The church is split over the issue of their minister taking in coloreds,” said Will.

  “I know you’re standing by me, Will,” said Jeb.

  “You’re problem has doubled,” said Will.

  “Lucky’s good with Myrtle. I can’t take care of an infant and make my rounds. Plus the offerings are low and I’ve started cutting lumber to sell to make extra. I can’t do that with arms full of baby girl.” Jeb shook the Whittingtons’ hands. Floyd and Evelene were at least polite. Sam and Greta Patton left the building without a glance his way.

  “I agree with everything you’re saying. We just have to find a home for those children, though, before this blows up all over us.”

  “You see the way Sam looked at me this morning? Like he wanted to have me hanged.”

  “This is not a light matter to some, Jeb.”

  Jeb saw a group of girls gathered around Lucky and Ida May as they showed off Myrtle. Several of the women came and pulled their daughters from Lucky’s circle of admirers until the two of them stood alone again. “Will, I should go.”

  “Have you tried families outside of Nazareth? If you were anyone besides the minister, it wouldn’t be so bad. But some of the families feel you’re trying to make a statement of some sort.”

  “They think I planned this?”

  “I’m doing the best I can to try and smooth things over.” Will took a seat on the front pew. “I’m getting old, Jeb. My ticker’s not so good these days. I been thinking that maybe you ought to get someone else to lead the deacon board.”

  “Will, you can’t quit on me. I need you.”

  “You’re the only minister I ever knew I considered my best friend, besides Freda, of course.”

  “I turn down your resignation.”

  “I thought you might. It was worth a shot.”

  “It doesn’t look like I’m going to get any invitations to Sunday dinner, so it’s best I get these kids home to start a meal.”

  “When are the ladies coming back from Oklahoma?”

  “Fern couldn’t say. I told her to take all the time she needed.” He still regretted telling her that.

  “You’re a special man, aren’t you?” Freda had come up behind Will. She laid her hands on her husband’s shoulders and massaged his neck. “Will and I were just saying we never met no one like you, Reverend Nubey.”

  “Freda, you’re a peach,” said Jeb.

  “I’ll make you all dinner,” she said. “Nothing fancy, but we got lots of corn and hash put up.” Before Will could say anything, she said, “Don’t look at me like that. I can fix Sunday dinner for my minister if I want.”

  “I’ll hang behind for a bit so no one knows,” said Jeb.

  “I’ll not have my pastor sneaking in the back door like he’s done something wrong,” said Freda. “You gather up your brood and bring them on.”

  “The woman’s said her piece,” said Will. “May as well do what she says.”

  “I see the Arkansas border straight ahead, ladies,” said Fern.

  Florence expressed her elation by breaking out a sack of sandwiches. “I liked to have never got to sleep last night. Even with that nice innkeeper and her husband in the house, I kept hearing noises and imagining those no-good men hiding out under the windows.”

  Angel had lain awake, thinking of Mrs. Coulter’s house. It had a sense of order and her thoughts liked swimming through that order and classiness. Jeb would call her vain. But Mrs. Coulter was a Christian woman who had kept up with many things and arranged these things so beautifully that all Angel could think about was sitting inside that house and enjoying the orderliness and good tastes of its matron. She thought of arranging those things so much that they became a part of the parsonage, replacing the church castoffs of knitted doilies and other serviceable items. Mrs. Coulter had a way of arranging the possessions passed down to her in a manner that made them seem new. She was a regular whiz at placement.

  Fern had grown up in that house and it had not affected her in the same way it touched Angel, who wondered why fate had not dropped her into that house instead of Fern, who did not appreciate elegance.

  “Do we have to tell Jeb I ran over a man?” asked Fern. “It seems like a minor part of the trip, considering all we’ve done.”

  Florence let out a laugh.

  “You’re going to tell him, aren’t you, Florence?”

  “What do you take me for, Miss Coulter? A regular snitch?”

  Angel inspected the pistol again for ammunition and slid it under the seat. “I won’t tell him if you won’t,” she said.

  “The last thing I need is Jeb holding it over my head.”

  “The next time you go home to Oklahoma, you can ask me to be your companion, if you want,” said Angel.

  “That’s real benevolence, Angel. I know how bored you must have been poking around in my family’s big old home. I always felt like I was growing up in a museum.”

  “Ladies, it’s Sunday,�
� said Florence.

  “With all that’s happened, it slipped right past me, Florence. You want to read something from the Psalms?” asked Fern.

  Florence read as they traveled across the border and down toward Texarkana. They said a prayer for Jeb and the children. The sun came out. They were glad for the passing of night.

  Jeb and Will walked down a path toward the Honeysacks’ pond. Lucky and Myrtle had both fallen asleep on the sofa after dinner. Freda ran the men off to allow the children to rest.

  “I’m wondering if I’ve missed out on something, Will.”

  “Missed out on hearing from the Almighty?”

  “Last time I checked, I’m supposed to serve and love others. Just when did love get outlawed?”

  “You got me on that count.”

  “Maybe I’m not doing what God wants. You think this is his way of getting rid of me?”

  “Now who’s quitting?”

  “I mean it. You think God wants me to quit?”

  “If Reverend Gracie were still here, what would he do?”

  “He’d tell me that I shouldn’t lay down the plow. How long do I stay, though, when so many want me gone?”

  “I hate that change comes too slowly.”

  “What if nothing ever changes, Will? What if sixty years from now, love is still being rejected? Or what if eighty years from now, people still can’t sit by others in church who don’t look like them or talk like them?”

  “God wouldn’t let it go that long, would he?” Will asked.

  “Surely not,” said Jeb.

  “We all sat with our feet under the same table today.”

  “Let it start with us, Will.”

  “So be it, my friend.”

  “I’m ready for coffee. I wonder what those women are doing right now? Probably talking about us.”

  “Flat tire. I can’t believe it.” Fern examined the blown tire.

  Angel was kind of glad. It would slow them down. She wasn’t in the mood to hear Willie and Ida May’s fighting and Myrtle’s midnight tantrums. The trip to Oklahoma was making her feel like a regular person, not what some had made her out to be.

  “Law, girl, I couldn’t change a tire if you held a gun on me,” said Florence.