by Terry Shames
Waco is a whole different story. Since the Branch Davidians had their disastrous run-in with the federal government near Waco back in the nineties, the area around Waco has become a magnet for fanatic religious sects. The groups are run by men who thrive on fear and suspicion and who assert their power by treating their wives and children like property. I remember Curtis’s coldness when he talked about his wife. How does a man get to where he doesn’t feel safe or powerful unless he has a gun and an iron grip on his family’s every move?
Brother Kittredge gets out of the cart and says something to Sarah. She nods and he goes around and helps her out. He takes her arm, as if she’s unable to trust her own feet, or he wants to make sure she doesn’t bolt. Her pale blue dress is a little long, and it’s an old style, like something from the fifties, but it’s not as old-fashioned as the cop at the station described. Her sleeves come only to her elbows, and the neck of her dress is open at the top button in deference to the heat. Her hair, dark like Taylor’s, is long, but worn simply, held back by barrettes. Her face is flushed, and she keeps her eyes on the road in front of her until they get to the gate. Brother Dan fiddles with the elaborate lock and opens the gate enough for them to step through. Only then does Sarah lift her eyes to the police car. Her eyes are as watchful as a dog used to being hit at random.
When she’s a few feet away, Taylor gets out of the car. “Sarah!”
Both Brother Dan and Brother Kittredge react as if Taylor has rushed at them. They quickly move in close on either side of Sarah, and Brother Dan puts his arm up as if to ward off a blow. “She doesn’t want physical contact,” he says.
“Sarah is that true?” Taylor says defiantly.
Sarah nods. Although her clothes are strange, she looks healthy, and her dress is clean and pressed.
“But . . .” Taylor starts to protest, but stops when Brother Kittredge seizes Sarah’s arm.
“If you can’t abide by Sister Sarah’s wishes, we’ll have to ask you to leave,” Brother Dan says.
“I understand. I’ll do what you say.” Taylor’s voice shakes.
Brother Dan nods, and they lead Sarah a little closer.
Sarah’s expression is calm. “It’s good to see you, Taylor. Thank you for coming. As you can see, I’m fine. I’m very happy. Tell Mother I’m fine.” Is it my imagination, or does her voice wobble a little at these words? “Are you well?”
“Yes, but I’ve been worried about you. I thought I’d get to see you at the funeral when your father-in-law died, but Curtis said one of the kids is sick. What’s wrong?”
“She’s better. It was just a cold. Are your children well? Who did you leave them with today?”
“They’re great. I wish you could see them. My middle one reminds me so much of you. I couldn’t bring them because they’re in school. I have a wonderful woman staying with them.”
“At Marcus Ministry we don’t let strangers take care of our children.” Sarah speaks as if she’s reading from a script. But then she adds, “Send me a picture.” She shoots a furtive sidelong glance at Brother Kittredge, as if she’s said something out of line.
“I wish I could see your children, Sarah. I’m their aunt, and I would like to see them.”
“Maybe sometime that can happen. Marcus Ministry doesn’t keep us captive. We just want to do what’s best for our families.” She swallows and speaks louder. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Taylor gasps.
Sarah turns to Brother Kittredge and whispers something to him. He says, “Sister Sarah wants to go now. Thank you for your visit. We always want to assure our members’ families that they are happy with their spiritual choice.”
“Sarah!” Taylor calls out. But they keep up a steady pace away from us and Sarah doesn’t look back. They climb into the golf cart and scoot away. Taylor stares after them until they disappear into the thicket. Brother Dan locks the gate and goes back inside his little hut without acknowledging us further.
Redmond takes Taylor’s arm and says, “We’d better go now. That’s all you’re going to get.”
He turns the car around and we drive away. By the time we reach the main road, Taylor is sobbing.
“Ma’am, she looked okay to me,” Redmond says. “You should see some of them. They look like they’ve been drugged.”
“She’s not okay,” Taylor says.
“Your sister looked well-cared-for, and she seemed content enough,” Redmond says. “There’s a lot of people who would be satisfied with that.”
Taylor clutches my hand so hard that it hurts. Her lips are set in a thin line.
When we are back in the parking lot of the police station, and Redmond has left us, Taylor explodes. “What a horrible farce!”
“Now calm down. It’s not as bad as all that.”
“Yes it is! You don’t know. Something she said—I know she’s not okay.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘I wouldn’t lie to you.’”
My heart begins to thud. “That means something to you?”
She nods. Tears are slipping down her cheeks. “When we were children, we played a game with my cousins, a lying game, where we had to guess who was telling the truth. Sarah and I cheated.” Her voice is high with tension. “Those are the words we used to signal each other if we weren’t telling the truth.”
She puts a hand to her forehead and her shoulders heave.
“Let’s get out of here. We need some food.”
We find a cafe, and over lunch Taylor tells me it’s the phrase “well-cared-for” that made her want to hit Redmond. “Like a prize heifer!”
She’s all for storming the place. She talks wildly about hiring men to use heavy equipment to ram the gate and race to her sister’s rescue.
“You’ve been watching too many movies. We’re going to have to think of something a little more subtle than that.”
“Oh, subtle. As if those people understand anything but force.”
“Nevertheless, I’d like to give it some thought. Let’s think of force as a last resort, not the first choice.”
Eventually I talk her down. She tells me she is driving down to Jarrett Creek today. “I’m going to stay until Jack’s funeral is over.”
“I wouldn’t rush down. The funeral may not be for a few days. They haven’t even released the body yet.”
“I’m too wound up to go home. I’ve made arrangements for somebody to stay with the girls. I hate to do that, but I’m no good to anybody.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“My husband will come down for the funeral. He might have some ideas about what to do about Sarah’s situation. Although his ideas usually involve throwing money at a problem.” She clamps her mouth into an angry line.
“Maybe that’s not a bad solution, if it gets the job done.”
Her eyes soften and I feel like she’s really looking at me for the first time since we sat down. “You’re right. I should look at the goal, and not fuss about the way it gets done.”
“Exactly. I mean what you were proposing may be exciting, but it breaks the law and puts everybody at risk. Throwing money at a problem sidesteps the drama.”
I haven’t been home five minutes when Loretta shows up at my door. “You’ve been making yourself mighty scarce.”
“Come on in, and I’ll tell you about it.”
“It may be me telling you.” She’s all puffed up with news. “All heck broke loose around here this afternoon.” Strong language for Loretta.
I brew us some coffee and we sit out on my porch. The air is fresh after yesterday’s rain, and it’s not so humid. “You go first,” I say, and she doesn’t hesitate.
“Marybeth came into town this afternoon, and they say she was at the house when Curtis got there. From what I hear, he tried to throw her out, but that big man, Jack’s friend, was there, and he intervened. He and Curtis got into a fistfight.”
I set my coffee down and stare at her. “You’re kidding!”
/>
“No, sir! A neighbor called Rodell, but apparently he was not available.” She gives me raised eyebrows.
“I’m not surprised. He was coming off a binge when I saw him yesterday. Something has got to be done about that.”
“Something has been done.” She lowers her voice. “It’s supposed to be a secret, but he’s been hauled off to a facility near Austin to dry out.”
“Oh, my Lord. How did that happen?”
“What I heard was that he got home yesterday morning and he’d been on a bender and his wife, Patty, had had all she could take. She called her kids and they came over and decided he had to go off to get some help.”
“Who’s in charge with him gone?”
“City council was meeting this afternoon to decide that. I expect they’ll appoint James Harley. He’s been with the department the longest.” She waits, and when I don’t say anything, she says, “Samuel, you know we might as well have a billy goat in charge as James Harley Krueger.”
“What about that youngster they hired last year? I’ve talked to him once or twice and he seems smart enough.”
Loretta sniffs. “You know as well as I do that smart has got nothing to do with it. It’s all politics, and with James Harley’s father being so well thought of, that’s who they’re going to choose. Unless . . .”
I don’t like the sound of that. “Unless what?”
“A couple of people suggested maybe asking you to step in.” She throws up her hands as she sees I’m going to protest. “Don’t get all riled up. It would just be temporary, while Rodell is gone.”
“I don’t know that I’m ready to take on that responsibility. And you never know, James Harley might be one of those people who rise to the occasion.”
Loretta snorts. “I’m surprised at you. I figured you’d want to help find out who killed that boy. If it hadn’t been for you poking your nose and figuring out who killed Dora Lee Parjeter, they’d have the wrong person in jail right now.”
I’m wondering if there’s any way the city council can ask Bobtail’s police chief to get involved, or if we can ask for assistance from the highway patrol, not that it’s any of my business.
“Let’s wait and see what happens,” I say. I need to tell Loretta about the surgery, and how it will put a damper on my activities for a time, but I can’t go into it right now. If I tell her, it will take on a life of its own. Before she can harass me anymore, I ask how things were left with Marybeth, Curtis, and Walter Dunn.
“Last I heard they were at a standoff. Who would have thought Marybeth had any spine? I guess when it comes down to money people find a way to get brave. Somebody said she called your little lawyer friend next door to sort out the inheritance.”
“I’m not so sure it’s Marybeth wanting money so much as wanting to keep it from Curtis.” There’s something odd rattling around in my brain from what Loretta said earlier, but I can’t think what it was.
“She’s a different kind of a person,” Loretta says.
“I’ll give you that.”
My phone is ringing and I haul myself to my feet, wincing at the damned knee. It’s Taylor, telling me she’s at her mamma’s house and wondering if I’ve had a chance to think further about how to approach Curtis. I tell her to come on over and we’ll talk about it.
“You sure you aren’t too tired? It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll live. Get on over here.”
“Good, because there’s something else I need to tell you.”
After I hang up, I go out and tell Loretta I have to check on the cows before it’s full dark.
She gets up and sighs dramatically. “Well, okay, I’ll be on my way. I guess you don’t want to hear the rest that happened today.”
“There’s more?”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.”
“Well, tell me.”
“Boone Eldridge got beaten up.”
“He what?” I groan. “What in the world has gotten into everybody?”
“He showed up at the café about noon with a black eye and his arm in a sling. He said he was walking up to his house last night and a couple of men jumped him and said they were paying him back for being stupid.”
“It’s about that goddamn football game.”
“Samuel, there’s no need to curse.”
“Well, I mean it! I like football as much as the next person. But some people just get carried away. Now was this before or after Rodell got hauled off? And did Boone file a report?”
“I’m not privy to all the details. I’m just telling you what I heard.”
For some reason, I think of the two strangers who were in the stands at Friday night’s football game, and I feel uneasy. If they’d been scouts, they most likely would have checked in with the coach. I’ll have to ask Boone about that.
“You’re right. That’s a lot going on.” I shake my head. “Hard to believe it was just yesterday that Jack Harbin was killed. You said you were just getting started. What else happened?”
“You know Lurleen down at the café?”
I nod.
“She never showed up for work yesterday and when she came in this morning she told everybody that she and Jack Harbin had been engaged to get married!”
“That one I knew about.”
“You what?” She flinches like a scalded cat. “How did you know?” Loretta hates for anyone to get a jump on her with regard to news, especially a man.
“Just settle down. I found out by accident. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think about it with all that was going on.”
“Which was what exactly? Where have you been all day?”
I give her the short version and swear her to secrecy. I don’t often do that because I know she likes to be the source of information, but when she pledges not to tell, I can trust her word.
“By now most likely somebody from Marcus Ministry has called Curtis and told him we showed up in Waco, so I think we can expect some aggravation from him pretty soon.” I figure this is no surprise to Taylor, but I feel like I need to say something just to be sure she’s prepared.
She and I are sitting in my kitchen with half-empty beers in front of us. It’s dark outside, and we’re both glum. I’m so tired I can hardly see straight, but I can tell there’s something bothering Taylor that she hasn’t come out with, so I’m letting her get to it in her own way.
“He doesn’t scare me,” Taylor says. ”Not when he’s here, and doesn’t have somebody like that creepy Brother Dan to back him up.”
“That may be, but you ought to be prepared. He’s not going to be happy with either of us.”
“Too bad it was Jack that was killed, and not Curtis.”
She has been picking at the beer label, but suddenly pushes the bottle away. “There was a message from Laurel when I got to mamma’s. I called her. She said she’s never seen Woody so upset. Apparently he did talk to Jack about having Jack come and live with him and Laurel.”
“Poor Woody. He was probably pretty surprised when Jack told him was getting married. He probably told Woody to go to hell.”
“No, Woody told Laurel they had a civil conversation.”
“I’m glad to hear that. If Jack had died with the two of them still not speaking, it would have been on Woody’s mind forever.”
“But that’s what Woody’s so upset about. He thought they would be on friendly terms again. Laurel said Woody came home all pumped up, saying everything was going to be okay. And then Jack . . .” She trails off with a sigh.
“So Woody’s taking it hard.”
“Yes, he is.” Taylor picks up her beer and stares down into the mouth of it. She puts it back down. “I have something to tell you.”
“Thought maybe you did.”
“You know I told you that Jack called me after Bob’s funeral and I went to see him?” Her voice is wobbly with emotion.
I nod.
“When I got there he was in a terrible state. He said his life was pure hell
and he didn’t want to live anymore.”
“Taylor, he was probably drunk. And his dad had just died. It’s no wonder he was in a bad state.”
She lets her head drop forward. “You don’t understand.”
“Tell me.”
“That night.” She raises her head and wipes the back of her hand across her eyes. “Jack asked me to help him commit suicide.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” I get a terrible mental picture of Jack in his wheelchair, begging for relief from his life.
“I told him I couldn’t do that, and that things would get better. But suppose he asked someone else and they took him up on it?”
The question hangs there in my quiet kitchen. All I can hear is the two of us breathing. Finally I pull together some thoughts. “I don’t see it. Who would say yes to that?”
“One of those vets. I heard one of them say they’d do anything for each other.”
“I haven’t told you the details of how he died. Believe me, if somebody was going to do that—put him out of his misery—they would have chosen an easier way. They would have used an overdose of drugs, or shot him—some quick way. The way Jack went wasn’t quick or easy.”
She gets up and goes into the bathroom and I hear her blowing her nose. When she comes back she says, “Well, either way, he’s gone now.”
I feel a surge of unexpected anger toward Jack. How could he ask Taylor to do such a thing? “Maybe Jack was messing with you a little bit.”
She sits back down. “What do you mean?”
“That afternoon when Woody was at the reception after Bob’s funeral and Jack had him thrown out? You said to Jack that his condition was as much your fault as Woody’s. Remember?”
She nods. Her expression is suddenly odd, almost scared.
“Maybe he believed that, too, and he asked you to help him commit suicide as a way of getting back at you. He didn’t need anyone to help him, if he was serious. The boy wasn’t a coward.”
