by Diane Munier
I looked at her, but I was in the red place, and I needed her to leave off. I was headed to my barn and that bottle, and I didn’t need my second ma to tell me what to do.
“What?” I said.
“What?” she repeated. “What is the matter with you? You stared at Gaylin’s wife like…like you fancy her!” Then she charged at me and soon as I turned, struck me in the chest with both hands.
I rubbed where she’d struck me. I could not find words. I could not speak to this.
“Say something!” she said, demanding.
My head was shaking on its own. I had to turn away from her. Well, if she wouldn’t leave off she could just watch me dive for my bottle. I was in there searching frantic when I remembered I already took it home. “Damn it,” I did say.
“Have you betrayed me?” she said, charging to me and when I turned this time she hit me on the shoulders.
I grabbed her hands. “No,” I said. “I did not.”
“Then why did you stare at her as if…as if you were struck speechless by her beauty?”
“I was not!”
“You were! I just saw you! Before the whole family! We all saw you!”
I was finally able to suck a breath. I blew it out, and pulled her to me, but she wanted no part. She struggled against me and I fell back on my old bed.
“Addie,” I said, but she was turning one way and another.
“I’m so ashamed. I shall not do this…I shall not…I will kill you. I will kill you Tom Tanner! Surely there’s a weapon in here…a knife….”
I stood and lifted my pant leg and took my knife from my boot. I slapped the hilt against her palm. “There it is. Do your worst now.”
I stood before her, arms out, fingers spread.
She stared at me, then the knife, which she dropped onto the floor where the point of the blade stuck.
“I do not want her,” I said retrieving my knife and putting it back in my boot. “She’s the whore of Babylon.”
She gasped and covered her mouth. Her hands came down slow and dramatic. “I cannot let you speak of her like that!”
“I mean it! She is the whore of…Springfield then!”
She slapped my face. About took my head off. I shook myself. “That hurt,” I said, teeth clenched against the pain.
She had her hands over her mouth again, eyes big, tears coming.
I pulled her to me and she did not fight so much. I hugged her, but her arms were pinned between us. “Listen to me. When I got to Springfield he had already married her. First time I saw her…she was…she was working in her aunt’s hotel. I asked her where Gaylin was…she had a joke on me…said she didn’t know. She’s a devil that one. I found him later…and he said he’d married her.”
“Then why…why did you stare like that? Why do you call her…that name?”
“She’s cast doubt on herself. I don’t want to tell it now. I…when I came home, they were with me far as Hillsboro. We parted there so they could go into hiding with Michael. Michael was in trouble…money debt in Springfield. Rosie…she didn’t want her aunt…there might be some trouble so they had to hide. I didn’t want to put it on you. I will tell you later. Just don’t say anything. I figured he could tell Ma and Pa his way. It was quick. I…hope he made the right…choice. Now….” I shook my head.
Her hands were on my cheeks. “You don’t…fancy her?”
“No,” I said strongly. “Do you still not understand….”
“I’m…so sorry,” she whispered. “I…I’m so sorry. But there was something in your face…you went red. You were blushing.”
I pulled her in and patted her back. It was no blush. “I was…disappointed,” madder than shit.
“She’s so beautiful,” she cried. “I couldn’t blame you. She’s young…and fresh…starting from the same place as you…and you got me…and I’m pretty used up…and I hit you…I hit you…I just thought…I thought you fancied her.”
“Lord, God,” I said patting her back. “When you get a hold of something, girl….”
“You’re so beautiful…of course she’d want you…and the two of you…I never seen the like…and why you would want me….”
“Addie,” I said stern, “enough. You’re hurting yourself. No more.”
I couldn’t believe her ravaged face. She really had believed this.
“You are so far from the truth,” I said. “Truth is what we shared last night and this morning. You’re my one. There is no other for me. I have no eyes for another. What you saw on me was surprise. That’s all.”
She nodded, but she didn’t believe me. And why should she? I was lying through my teeth. The thing she’d seen and couldn’t name was my red rage. Plain and not so simple. I’d been robbed of my due. I was Cain once more. And her…well she could read my mind.
I walked her through the barn and I introduced her to the horses. She kept crying and apologizing for hitting me, though her little hand reached out to pet one then another, unless he was a biter, then I grabbed her hand for she was not thinking clear yet. She swore she would never hit me again. And I tried to let it all go to Hades where it belonged.
I forgave her. If ever I did commit adultery, I gave her permission not only to hit me, or stab me, but to shoot me.
That made her cry more. Saints and glory I knew nothing about women in general and this woman especially.
“I am fiercely jealous over you,” she whispered. “Almost without reason.”
“You’ve every right to be. I am your husband. God himself is jealous over what’s his.”
She liked this. It gave her hope. For I understood how powerful it was and well-nigh impossible to rein in. I felt the same over her. Then I understood it more. It was not me needed their cheers. It was for her. I didn’t want that dove put up with her. There was no one could touch her, Allie mayhap for sure. If it had been Allie, I wouldn’t have minded at all. But a dove given the same due as my Addie? Now that was the source of the red for I was a just man. Unforgiving mayhap, but partial to justice.
So it was we walked that barn and I told her some of what I hoped to do to her farm to improve it. I knew Quinton had indoor plumbing, and…so much. I said some of this. “Was it hard to come back to such rude circumstance?”
Now she did look at me with pity. “Where you are and my children…is where I must be. The finery…comes down to it…I don’t need much, I never have. Here…I am home.”
“When we made the vows, I took you,” I said.
“And I took you,” she said.
I lifted her hand and kissed Granma’s ring.
She lifted mine and kissed the band.
So we chose one another all over again.
When we felt settled we went back to the house. I had to encourage her that they wouldn’t notice her swollen eyes and red nose. “They will not judge you,” I said.
But Quinton, he looked from her to me. Reckoned we’d never be pards.
Well, finally the food was put out and we all sat to dinner. Pa came in with Seth. It was ever so jovial save for me. The dove did much of the talking. She told them she had been on the stage and I nearly choked on my cornbread. Said she worked the trapeze. Ma asked her how she could stand to be so high up. But the dove said she liked it high, looking down at all the folks, watching them hold their breaths afraid she would fall.
Fall out more likely, I thought.
Also, they were living here. With Ma and Pa until Gaylin’s money came in. Then they would see. Rosie liked it here. She was a farm girl at heart. She was smiling like a cherubim while she said it, the family held in her hand, and her fixing to clap anytime now and smash them flat.
“Well we best be going,” I said soon as the meal was through. You’d of thought I had said I wanted to do a blood sacrifice on the table the way they were staring at me.
But Gaylin was fixing to drive Quinton and Lavinia to town so they could catch the train. Those two were so in sympathy with each other, wouldn’t surprise me they pul
led the cord once they got there. Allie had planned to accompany them to Springfield, they said, but in lieu of the tensions, Jimmy had asked her to stay in Greenup. This left the lovebirds, though they did not call themselves such, in a lurch, so they were pressing on. That meant one thing to me. He was going to marry her soon as they got there. He would not let her reputation tarnish. My guess was Allie was going to stand for her. Well, Miss Lavinia did bloom around Cousin. He was the saucer to her cup, I reckon. All in the eyes of the beholder. As for her reputation. Doubt anyone but him was looking.
“Addie,” I said, and I don’t know what I looked like, but she didn’t argue for once. We packed up quick and Addie apologized for not helping with dishes. We thanked them again for all the fine wedding gifts. Addie said her farewell to the cousins, and I nodded polite, and I said, “We’ll be seeing you all, thank you for the meal,” and we were in that carriage and Gaylin came out with newspapers tucked beneath his arm.
“Tom,” he said, “I never got a chance to thank you proper. The stories have been in the paper. Jimmy has seen to it. Ma and Pa have gathered them. I thought Addie might like to read them. They pretty well tell our adventures. At least a version the family can handle. But Addie…you do not know what a hero you have married. My brother,” he said, “is the bravest man I know.” He looked at me then. “When I heard about the things in the war…Garrett…I judged you harsh again. I don’t know why…seems easy to be hard on you. But I was wrong. Rosie has helped me be a better man,” he said, and Lord I did not want to hear this. “She has told me I need to step to it. I am proud you are my brother.” He reached over Addie and took my hand. We shook then, and he used both of his hands and gripped me strong. “I wouldn’t have got through without you to keep me going,” he said. “Without you, I wouldn’t have lived to marry my Rosie.”
I tried not to groan.
Well, I held him that way. Tears came to him. I saw it all quick, the way they’d tied him, his face that day and after. “I’ve been hard on you, too,” I said. “Too much like me, I reckon.” We laughed a bit then.
“I’m proud to be like you,” he said. We let go then, like it was settled. He stood there, his face open. He sniffed. “Jimmy is growing strong. He’s back to full duty. Michael pulled through. He’s all healed up, but he’s staying out of town. Jimmy ain’t seen nothing suspect.”
“That’s good. We don’t want to bring trouble here,” I said, meaning the home place. His wife had that boss didn’t favor her leaving. I didn’t know what kind of a situation she had with him. Some of these type of men were possessive. More than me, really figuring they owned another.
He wanted to come over soon to help me peg corn. I didn’t really pick it up. We said our good-byes then. But fact was, two of them knew now, Allie and Gaylin. And they’d forgiven me. They’d understood. And I felt blessed.
Soon as we were down the road a ways Addie said, “I’m so proud of you, Tom. Everyone is. You imagine you’re overlooked…but you’re impossible to overlook. When are you going to see yourself for the fine, brave man you are?”
“Best mirror I ever had…the one I can’t deny…is your face looking at me like I’m something,” I said. I have no idea where it came from, but there it was. “Next is the children. Long as I see smiles from you all…I reckon I got some worth. I reckon…someone else’s happiness doesn’t threaten a scrap of my own.”
“You can rest then,” she said sitting close as she and the baby could. “I think we both can. We can rest.”
Tom Tanner
Chapter Sixteen
We pulled up to our farm. I brought the horses in slow. Something wasn’t right. I had felt it closer we came to the house, nothing moving like it should. Before we left, I looked it over. There was a way. Now…different.
Addie said nothing, but her hand moved to me. “Johnny,” she whispered.
“Not time,” I said, but that didn’t mean much for he had the means to get on that horse and come home any time.
But this…barn door ajar. No. Bucket on the porch on its side. Just that. Just those two, and the dust in the air, not that you could see it, just the sparkle of it, and just once. Just a knowing. I stopped the carriage. “Anything happens, you ride for Gaylin.”
“No,” she said.
I ignored her. I got down. She stood in the carriage, the top thrown back, Janey in the basket, her holding the quirt looking like fury. Well, she was conflicted, but I did not look at her for I had spoken. She was ready to help me, but she was not helping by making herself a bigger target. We would talk after, too late now.
My attention held onto her like a desperate thing in my mind. Still I was fixed on the yard, and the tracks, and the something not right.
I went up the porch, opened the door, carrying my Enfield. Nothing. I went to her. “Get Janey,” I said, but she was already reaching. I pulled her out by the arm, shielded them from the barn and led them in. “Take this,” I said handing her the rifle. I reached in my boot and pulled the knife and stuck it in the table. She started to speak and I got my revolvers, checked they were loaded. “Bar the door,” I said and closed it firm, a slammed lid again my own heart. Damn girl. Just do as I say.
Then I made my way to the barn and did the same. No one here now. Hard to say who came through. Johnny, mayhap, cutting across field to Granma’s, but this did not have the mark of him. This was someone…this had a feel.
I walked it then, looking for what stood out. They come by the road, cut the yard. Saw no one, is what I imagined, kicked the bucket over, one of them while the other checked in the barn. “No one here,” is what I imagined he said to his pard.
There were two. Soldiers would have helped themselves in the henhouse. But that was not disturbed. If it was Jimmy and that Black, they’d of never left the barn open that way. They’d of never kicked that bucket. If it was an animal with the bucket, it wouldn’t have opened the barn door. So that’s how I figured. I went back then. I unhitched the horses and led one in. The other I mounted without saddle. I stopped at the house, “Addie.”
She came, holding that weapon of mine. “Keep that rifle in your hands. I am going for Johnny.”
She started to talk again. “Bar the door,” I said, and I took off. I looked as I rode, my revolver in hand, in my jacket, in my pocket, ripped through, the other in back my belt. I met Johnny on the road. He was clipping along, face dirty, lip fat, dirt on his shirt where his jacket did not cover. He looked surprised to see me, but jovial. “Pa,” he cried out. “I got ‘em today. Sent that big one to the woods…and his sister…they did run just like you told me not to.”
“Tell me when we get home,” I said. “Hand signs now.”
He did not question. But fell in beside.
We moved fast enough to get home where I could protect him. But not so fast we would ride into a trap. When the one sat his horse middle of the road, we had plenty time to stop. He cradled a rifle. Army issue.
I knew the other was near. Johnny looked from him to me. I saw this. But he stayed quiet. Stayed small.
“Tell the other to show,” I said. “I will not talk held in his sites.”
The other showed side of the road at the tree-line. Twenty feet or so. He was the leader. He sat on his horse and held a revolver on me. On my boy. It was that one. Buster they’d said that night in Springfield.
“You come about that money,” I said.
They looked at each other. Buster rode onto the road then. “It’s always the money,” he said, his face smug and seeming amused.
“Go to Greenup and stake your claim with the sheriff. He’ll see you get paid.”
“Now here’s the truth,” Buster said, “those agents bring that money in the morning. You will go in to town and get us Michael’s and yours. We got us a letter signed by Michael. You do it right and your family stays fit and we ride out of here.”
“It’s not my debt,” I said, a silence in me so deep, a calmness so pure.
“You are the reason
we have lost our surety,” Buster said. “You stuck your nose in, got right ‘atween us. Not too wise. You will pay now.”
“Take it to the sheriff you got cause,” I meant about Michael’s debt, not the one he imagined I owed. I was beseeching them to live. I did not want to kill in front of Johnny, and this was not going to the house.
“We don’t do business with the law,” Buster said. “Think we don’t know how it goes here?”
“You’ll be treated fair,” I said. When they died, it would be fair.
“There are three,” he said to me. Then he smiled.
There were three. They had only shown me two. One was with her now.
“If one hair on her head…,” I said, not as calm, but still clear.
“You will get us that money,” he said. “You have that reward, same as him. You bring us the money…we leave you in peace. You double cross us and it will end different.”
“It’s that sum you sell your lives for,” I said.
He stared at me. I stared at him. He was the one.
A shot rang out, and Buster pitched back. Quick, I lifted my weapon and shot the one in the road. His horse moved forward, off the road into the field. The rider fell off and the horse kept going at a clip.
“Johnny,” I said, “go for Gaylin.”
He was shaking, looking at me.
“Go now,” said I.
“Yes, Pa,” he said, and off he went.
William came crashing out of the woods, his gun in hand. I nearly drew a bead on him. It was him shot Buster. Buster struggled to breathe, heels digging dirt. William dismounted and got close. He shot him again in the chest and he fell still.
I was already riding. At the house they would have heard our shots. She would have been pushed then. I hoped…I hoped. And I heard a shot, and then her answering blast. She fought.
And here is what it was, hooves beating the ground and my breathing her name in my mind again and over. In the yard nothing. The house…door shot through. She stood by the shreds of it. “Where is my son?” she said like the voice of doom.
