Foxy Statehood Hens and Murder Most Fowl (The Foxy Hens)
Page 23
Eula Mae knew Bart and Cord might object to the project she had in mind so she would just do as she thought best, and then let them handle the “man stuff,” but somehow, she felt as if she had to delve into the heart of Tulsey Town’s mystery on her own and in her own way.
Chapter 18
Ringling bowed and pawed at the ground in welcome.
“Will you help me, boy?” Eula Mae whispered in his ear. “I’m hoping you’ll give the right response when I try to learn something from this old man.” She tapped him on the jaw. “One nod if I tap your right side and two nods if I tap your left?” She tapped Ringling’s right jaw. He nodded once. She tapped his left jaw and he nodded twice. “Oh, you are so smart, Mr. Horsie.”
Ringling reassured her with another bow and a gentle nicker.
She watched the storeowner leave the party platform to climb upward toward the line of horses. The Deputy Marshall was a dark silhouette following from the edge of the lighted area.
“Yeah,” she spoke again to the animal. “Here he comes.”
“You needed to talk to me, girlie?” Boudreau’s nasty smile caused bile to rise in Eula Mae’s throat.
“Yeah, Mr. Boudreau. I thought you might not have noticed. I had my trunk taken out of your store.” She peered from under her lashes to see what the man was thinking. “I have it in my tipi.” She looked directly at the man. “I’ll be working from there, now.”
“Oh, I noticed, girlie. I don’t miss much where pretty young women are concerned.”
“I’m sorry about your wife, sir. She was nice to me.”
“She was a thief.” He said. He flapped his hands as if to say he wasn’t very interested in her sympathy. “Was that all you wanted to talk about, missie?” He stepped closer to Eula Mae.
Ringling stomped his right hoof as if he were giving a warning.
The grocer glanced at the horse. “How come you’re standing out here with these horses, girl?” he asked.
“Sometimes Ringling…” She patted the white horse on the neck. “This is Ringling, Mr. Boudreau. Sometimes Ringling can answer questions or riddles. He’s a really smart horse.”
“The doctor’s horse, ain’t he?”
“Yeah, the doctor’s horse. Would you like to see him perform a bit?” Again she patted the horse, “Answering riddles, I mean. He’s pretty good at answering.”
The man nodded. “Some people say the horse has some kind of powers. But me,” the grocer motioned to himself, “I say a horse is just a animal, no matter what he looks like.”
“First I have to tell you something my Granny taught me.” Eula Mae stepped back from the man.
“Go ahead.”
“She told me that any man who beats his wife is capable of even more terrible crimes, right up to rape or murder.”
She watched shock cross the mercantile owner’s face.
“I saw signs that Jesse was living with a wife beater, Mr. Boudreau.” Eula slid to stand on the other side of Ringling. She looked directly at the horse. “I think Ringling agrees with my Grandmother. Do you think Mr. Boudreau was a wife beater, Ringling?”
Ringling nodded twice.
“Two nods means ‘yes,’ Mr. Boudreau,” she said.
The man made a sound deep in his throat, a sound like an animal growl.
“Ringling, do you think Mr. Boudreau knows where our friend Willadene might be, right now?”
Ringling nodded twice.
Boudreau stared at the horse in disbelief. “Damned ignorant horse. That there horse always nods twice. It don’t mean nothing.”
“He doesn’t always nod twice, sir. When Ringling wants to say ‘no,’ he nods once.” She tapped the left side of Ringling’s muzzle as Bart had shown her.
“Ringling, do you like Mr. Boudreau?””
Ringling nodded once.
“That single nod meant ‘no,’ Mr. Boudreau.” She glared at the man. “I think old Ringling here has some kind of special powers, don’t you?”
The grocer swallowed convulsively. “Special powers?”
“Yeah. Like Bart says. Ringling knows things.”
“Naw.” The man’s face blanched.
“Ringling, is our Willadene in a secret room in Boudreau’s Mercantile?”
Two nods.
“How…? What’s he saying that for?”
“Because it’s true, Mr. Boudreau. You and I and, now, Ringling, know that you have Willadene locked in that little room.”
“How does a damn horse…?”
“Now I remember that when Jesse asked you if I could use the room that Willadene and Sweet Jud sometimes used, you were quick to say, ‘no.’ ” She smoothed Ringling’s coat. “Bart says old Ringling here can read minds, sir.”
“Ain’t no such thing.”
“Ringling, did Mr. Boudreau hurt Sweet Jud then toss him into the river?”
Two nods.
Behind Boudreau’s stunned face and over his shoulder, Eula Mae noted that Cord and Bart were slipping ever closer to the line of horses.
“Ringling, did Boudreau want to take over Willadene and Sweet Jud’s business?”
Two nods.
She saw Bartlett step to the left while Cord circled to the right.
“Ringling, has Boudreau been raping and blackmailing Willadene for a very long time?”
Two nods.
Boudreau’s hand slid toward his suit pocket. “I’m gonna kill me a horse.”
“Ringling, is this man a coward, as well as a killer?”
Two nods.
The grocer’s lunge, knife in hand, was stopped by the Marshall on his right, the doctor on his left.
“Ringling, is this man, Boudreau, going to become a prisoner of Judge Parker’s court in Ft. Smith?”
Two nods.
Boudreau’s scream tore the night. “Devil horse. Witch woman. I ain’t going to no jail.”
“Ringling, is Mr. Boudreau going to be hung by Judge Parker?”
Two nods.
Tulsey Town’s entire population swept into the yard to witness the mercantile owner being trussed up to be taken by the Deputy Marshall.
Cord put the mercantile owner into the back of his own grocery wagon. Boudreau blackened the air with his curses. A tow sack lay in the bed of the wagon. Bart stuffed a corner of the sack into the opened mouth of the grocer.
“Ladies present, Mr. Boudreau. None of us want to hear your vileness.”
Silence fell for a moment.
“Never did care for that old bastard,” one citizen said.
“Naw, me neither. He was the reason Jesse set herself on fire, I bet.”
“Uh huh,” a third man agreed. “Let’s go back and see if the Presbyterians’ll let us dance.”
Bart moved to put his arm about Eula Mae’s shoulders. “What do you have in mind Cord?”
“Well, can’t say I want to take him to Arkansas tonight. Might be dancing later, I figure.” Cord delved into the grocer’s trouser pocket. “He might have the keys we need right here.”
“Yeah,” Eula Mae leaned into the doctor’s embrace. “Let’s go rescue Willadene.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Bartlett nodded when Cord moved to free the grocer’s horse from the line. “This old boy can take the woman’s place for awhile. Might do him some good.” He and Eula Mae followed the wagon to the grocery store. Boudreau glared at the moonlit Territorial sky as the wagon jounced across the rough ground.
“Let me go to talk to her, first,” Eula Mae murmured. “She has to be scared out of her mind.”
Bart and Cord nodded.
Inside the store, she and Bartlett searched out and found the tiny room hidden in the corner of a large storeroom piled high with bags and boxes of merchandise.
The Deputy Marshall stayed with his prisoner in the wagon. He too, stared at the Territorial sky, his mind upon a redhead who might dance with him later on.
Chapter 19
“Willadene?” Eula Mae held the coal oil lamp high. “It’s me, Eu
la Mae Kent. The doctor and I came to take you out of here.”
“Eula Mae?” The plump woman’s voice quavered from the narrow bed where she lay, one wrist tied to the iron headboard.
“Yeah, Doctor Bartlett and I have come to get you out of this hole.”
“Boudreau…?”
“He’s out in the wagon. The Deputy Marshall from Ft. Smith has him all wrapped up in a rope to place him in this horrid little room until the Marshall is ready to take him on to Judge Parker.”
Bartlett used the knife he’d taken from the grocer to sever the rope wound around Willadene’s wrist.
“I’m the doctor, Willadene. Remember me? Are you all right?” He chafed the plump woman’s wrist. “Has he wounded you? Do you need medical attention?”
Sweet Jud’s wife sat up and rubbed the back of her hand across her swollen eyes.
“Where is he?” she whispered.
“Boudreau?” Eula Mae asked.
Willadene nodded.
“He can’t hurt you anymore. Bart and the Marshall are going to bring him into this room after we get you out of here.” She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Do you understand?”
“I’m afraid.”
“And you have had plenty of reason for fear, ma’am,” the Doctor answered. “But old Boudreau won’t be bothering you anymore. I promise.”
“Sweet Jud?” Willadene whispered the question.
“Oh, he’s gone to Heaven, Willadene. I know you realize that, and I’m so sorry.”
“We’ll go with you when they bury him.” Bart kept his voice low, also, “We know you loved your husband.” He took hold of Willadene’s right arm. “If you’ll help on the other side, Eula Mae, we can get her out of this place.”
Willadene looked down at the filthy chemise she wore. “My dress is gone, I can’t go out where people will see me.”
“The tipi,” Eula mouthed the words across the confused woman’s shoulders. Bart nodded. “Let’s take a minute to tell Cord to wait to take his prisoner in.”
At the tipi, Eula Mae helped clean Willadene’s face and hands. She took a well worn blue striped dress from her trunk. “This used to belong to my Granny, Willadene. She was really short and I know she’d like you to have her dress.”
“The little woman slid the faded dress over her body, smoothed the full skirt to the top of her high topped shoes. Eula Mae felt pleased to see the light that flickered in Willadene’s eyes.
“I’ll go back to help Cord,” Bartlett murmured. “He’s going to need me.” He raised one eyebrow. “You ladies will be coming along?”
Eula Mae nodded. “Ringling’s still at the party.” She leaned toward Willadene. “Are you up to telling me how old Boudreau got his claws into you?”
“My fault.” Tears rose again in Willadene’s eyes. “I believed him when he told me he’d help us, get our ferry started.” She lowered her head. “He promised that if I’d let him… you know… he’d take care of us, so I let him. Then he threatened to tell everyone, even Jud, so I had to… you know….” Willadene fell silent
“Let’s go.” Eula Mae took Willadene’s arm and steered her toward the Boudreau Mercantile. “Wait up, Bart. We want to be there when you toss that bad guy into his own hidden room.”
After the storekeeper was laid out on the floor of his prison room, Willadene accepted Eula Mae’s invitation to go back and rest in comfort on Eula’s sweet grass mattress in the tipi.
* * *
Outside the party the clear violin and guitar music floated from the Presbyterian Church floor to lend wings to Eula Mae’s feet. She danced toward the line of horses, Bart just behind her.
Eula Mae took the silvery horse’s reins in hand to free him from the tether line, then the three of them twirled together under the Indian Territory moon, choreographing their own private cotillion.
“Me and my missus and our great big horse,” Bart sang the words aloud on the rising melody of the waltz that the Tulsey Town musicians played. Eula Mae laughed and Ringling nodded twice before he went to his knees in a grande finale bow.
Epilogue
8:30 AM. November 16, 1907
“Come on boys.” Eula Mae smoothed her hand across the thick dark hair of her youngest, “I just can’t get John’s hair flattened so he’ll look decent.” She turned the boy to face his Father. “See what you can do, Bartlett. I’ll try to make sure the other two are ready.”
She could hear her husband soothing their restless five year old.
“Mama wants you to look nice for the celebration, son. Let’s try a little water on that cowlick.”
“Barty, Cord, are you boys ready? Come on downstairs. We want to be standing by the train station at 9 o’clock sharp. Please hurry.”
Two more dark haired boys slid down the banister and jumped to stand in front of their Mother. “What’re we going to do at the station, Mama?” The nine year old was always the one asking the questions.
“Well, we’ll be celebrating Statehood, darling. Remember we talked about this. Indian Territory will be known forever, after today, as the State of Oklahoma.”
“I’d rather wear my overalls,” the second tallest boy, Cord, tugged at the tie his Father had arranged so carefully.
“All three of you handsome lads will not only be Tulsans. After today you’ll also be Oklahomans. Won’t you be proud? We’ll be having lots of festivities for this 46th state.” Their Mother felt a stitch of pride in her brood of boys and their Father. All so handsome.
She handed each black haired, brown-eyed boy a small U.S. flag containing 46 stars. Each flag was attached to a smooth stick. “I made a flag for each of you. Now when the guns go off…”
“Guns?” Bart shouted and grinned, then looked at his Dad, who winked.
“And the bells and whistles, and I don’t know what all else…”
“I’ll get my whistle.” Cord started toward the stairway.
“Cord. Come back here this instant. The grown men will be ringing the bells and making the noises. The Presbyterian Church bell will be sounded 46 times. You three are simply to wave your flags madly for each sound of the bell. You may shout if you wish.”
“Will I cry, Mama?” the smallest boy asked.
“I hope not, John, but possibly you will.” His Mother smiled down into his eyes. “I may cry tears of joy, also, but that will be because I’m a girl and girls cry more easily than brave boys,” She looked across at her husband. “I believe we’re ready, Dr. Starr. Shall we go?”
“I like your new Statehood hat, darling.” Her husband grinned and winked at Eula Mae.
She leaned across the row of children to allow her lips to meet the lips of her husband, being careful not to disturb her wide brimmed, rose bedecked hat. All the boys groaned at such a horrid, parental display.
“Now, I’m ready,” her husband said, “Let’s march, men. In a few minutes it’ll be me and my boys and my lovely little missus, standing at the Tulsey Town train station becoming Oklahomans one and all. Hurrah!”