“Cora came by to see you.”
“Cora! What did she want to see me for?”
Leah had managed to calm her voice down. She said, “The same thing she always wanted to see you for, Stuart.”
Stuart met her gaze and shook his head. “I haven’t had a thing to do with her since I got out.”
“She’s after you. Why would she come here wanting to see you if you hadn’t seen her?”
“You know Cora.”
“No. You know Cora.”
Stuart suddenly experienced a quick anger. “Look, Leah, I’m not going to argue about this. That woman cost me seven years of my life. Of course, she didn’t do it alone. It was my fault, but if you don’t want me here, just say so.”
Leah hesitated. “She upset me, Stuart. She’s no good.”
“No. She’s not. Never was, but she might be someday. Nobody’s past hope, I guess.”
Leah studied Stuart’s face and then said abruptly, “Sit down.” She went to the stove, poured two cups of coffee, and seated herself opposite him. “If you want to see Cora, that’s your business. I can’t stop you, but I’ve been thinking about your suggestion of raising pigs.”
Stuart studied her and saw that there was a determination in her features. “You want to try it?” he said.
“Yes. You can fix up that old room in the barn. You’re not staying in this house.”
Stuart did not hesitate. “If that’s what you want, Leah.”
“One more thing. You won’t . . . bother me. I may be your wife legally, but don’t ever touch me, Stuart.”
“All right, Leah. Are there any other rules?”
“No. I’m doing this for Merry and Raimey.”
“So am I,” Stuart said. “And for you, too, Leah, though you don’t believe that. I’ll start tomorrow drawing up the plans. Anything else?”
“No,” Leah said. “That’s all.”
“Good night, then.”
“Good night,” Leah said. She sat there after he left and forgot about the coffee until it grew cold. She was not happy about the situation with the farm, but she had come to a point in her life where she knew something had to be done. She thought of Mott and knew he would be upset about her new arrangements. She also thought of how Stuart had cared for her unselfishly and suddenly regretted that she had torn into him as she had. With a sigh she rose and went back to spend the evening with the children.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Will You Have Him Back As Your Husband?”
The new year had brought beautiful weather to the Ozarks. Even though it was cold and dry, the sun shone every day, flooding the hills and the valleys with warmth. Although it was still weeks away from spring planting, the farmers were oiling their harnesses and walking over their lands imagining the fields as they would be when they were thick with the growing harvest.
Leah had built a protective shell around herself, and now she was less certain in her mind than ever about Mott Castleton. She had a genuine affection for Mott, for he had changed much in recent years. She thought often of the early days when he had wanted to marry her and wondered what sort of a life she would have had. But such thinking was futile, so she forced herself to put it out of her mind. Her attitude toward Stuart was curt, and she spoke to him only out of necessity.
Ellie Devainy had proved to be quite a trial to her, for although Ellie loved Leah, she had a short way about her and a very direct one. For over a month she had only given hints of the curiosity that seemed to boil within her, but one day it spilled over.
“Leah, where’s Stuart?”
“He’s gone, Ellie.”
“For good?” Ellie demanded.
“No, just to Tucker Farm.” Knowing that Ellie would never be satisfied with anything less than full details, she added, “He went to visit one of the prisoners, a man named Pete Jennings. He’s the one who led him to the Lord.”
“Oh, I see.” Ellie hesitated, then said abruptly, “Leah, I’ve been quiet about it as long as I can, but everybody wants to know about you and Stuart.”
“We’ve got a business arrangement. That’s all.”
“Oh, I know all about that pig-raising thing!” Ellie waved her hand impatiently. She had come rather early in the morning, and now the two women were sitting in the kitchen together drinking strong hot coffee. Ellie leaned forward and her eyes gleamed. “I hear he doesn’t stay in the house with you at all.”
“The gossip system is working well, as usual,” Leah said shortly.
“Well, after all, Leah, you can’t blame people for wondering.”
“I do blame them. They could mind their own business.” Taking a sip of the coffee, she tried to change the subject. “Stuart’s working night and day, I’ll tell you that much. I never saw a man work any harder. He’s building fences, selling off stock, and buying pigs for this new business.”
Ellie could retain her question no longer. She asked what everyone in the community was wondering. “Will you have him back as your husband?”
Although Leah well knew this was what was in the mind of nearly everyone, she could not help being angry. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Ellie?”
Ellie was not offended, however. She had a genuine affection for Leah, and now she leaned forward and said, “It ain’t right the way things are between you and Stuart, Leah, and you know it.”
Leah’s eyes flew open with anger, and she rose up, saying, “I’ve got to get to work, Ellie. You go ahead and finish your coffee, but keep your questions to yourself.”
****
Annie looked up as Leah entered the kitchen and said, “You want me to fry up that ham for supper tonight?”
“I guess so. Have you seen Stuart?”
“Why, yes, ma’am. He come back a little while ago.”
Merle, who had entered with an armload of wood and dumped it into the basket with a thunderous racket, nodded and said, “He’s down at the south pasture finishin’ up a pen.”
Without another word Leah turned and left, and they heard the door slam. Merle went over and slumped into a chair and said, “I got to have some fixin’s. That man’s about to work me to death.”
Annie went over to the stove and pulled out a plateful of bacon and put it on the table. “Here, have some bacon, and I’ll fix you some eggs. That ought to do until suppertime.”
“That’ll go down mighty fine. What do you think about this business of Mistah Stuart and Miss Leah?”
Annie pulled a pail full of eggs off the shelf and cracked three of them swiftly and efficiently. “I seen the time when he wouldn’t put in a day’s work.”
“Well, he’s done changed from that.” He would have said more, but at that moment Stuart walked in the door. “Mistah Stuart, I’m havin’ up some eggs. You want some?”
“No. I’ll just wait til suppertime. Would like some coffee, though.”
Stuart sat down and drank two cups of strong coffee as Merle fell on the bacon and eggs and the warmed-over biscuits like a starved wolf. The two men talked for a while about the work, and finally Annie came and sat down across from the two.
“Mistah Stuart?”
“Yes, Annie?”
“Why you don’t go to church? You ought to do that. If you done decided to follow Jesus, that’s the only right thing to do.”
Stuart stared at his cup, turning it around in a circle. He had spilled some coffee, and he set the cup down in the pool, then proceeded to make three little rings by lifting his cup and putting it down again. He finally shrugged and said, “It would embarrass Leah for me to be there.”
“How you know that?” Merle said.
Stuart did not answer, and it was Annie who spoke up. She had been thinking about all this for some time, and it bothered her greatly. “Why don’t you come to our church, Mistah Stuart? We got a fine preacher.”
Stuart suddenly smiled. “Well, you know I’ve been thinking about that, Annie. You don’t reckon the folks would mind having a white visitor?”
“No, sir, not at all,” Merle said quickly.
“That’s right. You come on tomorrow mornin’ with us.”
“And bring your fiddle,” Merle said. “We likes good music!”
****
Raimey and Merry walked through the woods, the dry leaves crackling under their feet. Overhead a gray squirrel suddenly sped across a limb, made a long dive, and landed on the branch of an adjoining tree. Raimey lifted an imaginary gun and yelled, “Bang!” He grinned and said, “I got you that time.” He turned to Merry, saying, “I got to get me a squirrel gun. I’m gonna ask Ma to get me one.”
“We don’t have the money for that,” Merry said.
“Well, I could put meat on the table. I could get enough squirrels to feed us for a year, I bet.”
Merry was more thoughtful than usual and somewhat quieter. So much so that after a while Raimey said, “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about Mama and Daddy.”
“What about them?” Raimey said shortly, glancing at her face.
“Why don’t he live in the house with us? All the daddies of my friends live in the house with their wives.”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. He doesn’t have to live with Merle and Annie.”
“Yes, he does. After what he did to Mama, he doesn’t deserve to live in the same house with us. I wish he’d go on away and Mama would marry Mott.”
Quickly Merry looked up at Raimey. “I don’t want Mott for a daddy.”
“What’s wrong with him? Mott gives us presents every time he comes.”
Merry had insight far beyond her years. “He just does that to get on the good side of Mama,” she said.
Even though he knew she was right, Raimey still would not give in. “That’s not so,” he said. “He really likes us. He’s got lots of money. We could get away from this place and go live in that big house in Fort Smith.” He kicked at a bunch of leaves that had piled up and watched them scatter wildly, then he muttered, “People wouldn’t make fun of us because our daddy’s a jailbird.”
It was an old argument between the two, and Raimey did not want to continue it. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s cut through the pasture.” They had arrived at a fence with a path around the edge, but there was a stile to cross over.
Merry stopped and shook her head. “You know what Mama said. We’re not supposed to get in that pasture where Brutus is.”
“Ah, Brutus isn’t there. Merle put him down in the south pasture. The grass was thicker there.” Brutus was a fine bull used for breeding purposes. He was a monstrous animal with sweeping horns that should have been cut but had been neglected. He was also vicious, and the only person who could handle him was Merle.
“We’d better not,” Merry said. “Come on. Let’s go around.”
“No. I’m going through.”
“Well, I’m not going to, and I’m gonna tell Mama if you do.”
“Go ahead and tell her! See if I care! I’ll get home long before you do, so I’ll tell her you wouldn’t mind me.”
Merry watched as Raimey leaped up, clearing the stile, and started walking across the field. There were nine head of beef cattle trying to find pasture among the dry winter grass but no sign of Brutus.
****
“I’m gonna go huntin’. There’s been deer tracks all around that spring, Annie.”
“We got plenty of meat in the smokehouse.”
“Well, I’m kinda hungry for some venison. The way you cook it, woman, is outstandin’!” Merle went over and grabbed Annie from behind and picked her up.
She tried to hit him, saying, “Put me down, you crazy ox!”
Merle set her down, turned her around, and gave her a loud, resounding kiss, then said, “I’ll bring you back a nice fat deer. You can fix it the way you always do. That way you get on the good side of me, and I’ll give you a reward.”
“I ain’t studyin’ no reward,” Annie said but could not help but laugh. “You go on and get out of here now.”
Merle picked up the deer rifle, shoved a handful of shells in his pocket, and then left the house. Leaving the yard, he looked up, took a deep breath, and said, “Lord, it’s always a good day, and I’d appreciate it if you would bring a big fat deer right up to me where I can’t miss him.”
Soon he reached the pasture and turned left toward the big thickets just north of the place where the deer often came to water at a spring. He had taken many there and was sure now that he would get another one. When he was no more than two hundred yards on his way, he heard a loud cry that startled him. Whirling around he saw a sight that seemed to freeze his blood.
There, running for all his might, was Raimey headed for the fence. Behind him the huge bull Brutus was kicking up turf as he made his charge.
With a hoarse cry Merle broke into a run, at the same time groping in his pocket for a shell. His fingers closed on one, but he knew he would never get the gun loaded, nor could he get to the boy in time to help him at all.
He struggled, trying to put the shell in, but could not do it. He came to a stop, threw the bolt, and shoved the shell in. But when he looked up, he saw that Stuart had suddenly appeared, and he yelled, “Mistah Stuart!” He ran forward, but even before he had taken six steps, he saw Stuart waving his arms as he got to Raimey. Stuart shoved Raimey to one side, and Merle saw the huge bull swerve, his attention taken by the man. Stuart tried to dodge but the bull was fast. To his horror, Merle saw the bull lower his head, then raise his horns, and Stuart was thrown high into the air. He hit the ground rolling, and the bull went after him, sweeping those wicked horns.
Suddenly Merle lifted the rifle to his shoulder. He knew the power of those horns, for he had seen another bull gored to death by them just two years earlier. It was too late for him to reach Stuart, and even if he could, he would be gored terribly by the time he got there. Even if he could reach him, what could he do with his bare hands against an animal like Brutus?
“Lord, make this shot true,” he said. He was now a hundred yards away from the animal, and he saw Stuart’s body being tossed like a bundle of rags and dragged along the ground by the sweep of the horns. He waited until the bull raised his head and then with a desperate prayer pulled the trigger. The recoil of the rifle knocked him back, but when he looked he saw the bull beginning to collapse. “Caught him dead on!” Merle yelled and broke into a run. By the time he got to Stuart, Raimey was already there beside the bloodstained figure.
He lay there crumpled and crying. “Dad—Dad!”
****
Leah paused beside Annie and said, “Did you ask Stuart to come to your church?”
“I shore did.” Annie looked up from the shirt she was ironing and nodded vigorously. “And it was a good thing, too.”
Leah felt uncomfortable. “He could have come to our church.”
Annie was a very direct woman. “He said it might make you feel bad. Kind of uncomfortable.”
“I don’t know why he’d say that.”
“Well, I do. You make him feel bad enough around here.”
It was a blunt statement, and Leah looked up for a moment, then dropped her eyes, unable to meet Annie’s. “I can’t see how he would fit in a Negro church.”
“He fits in just fine. People was glad to see him, and he plays his fiddle every service and sings, too. You ought to hear him. Ain’t ever heard nothin’ like the way he play that fiddle. And he sings songs from the heart. Not like them old dancin’ songs he used to sing. He really loves the Lord.”
Leah picked up the ironing and began folding it. She was troubled about what Annie had said and, indeed, felt guilty about it.
Annie studied Leah’s face for a moment and saw the troubled look in her eyes. In a more gentle voice, she said, “He’s the only white man who ever come to our church and sang with us and cared about us.”
She picked up the iron and was about to move the shirt when her eyes caught something through the window,
and she screamed, “Good Lord, help us!”
Leah looked up startled at the scream and saw Annie slam the iron down and head for the porch. “What is it?” she said.
“Somebody hurt bad.”
Leah’s heart seemed to freeze. Her first thought was Raimey and Merry, for they were on their way home from school. She ran out on the porch right behind Annie and stopped dead still as she saw Merle bearing in his huge arms Stuart’s limp body. She could not breathe for a moment, for Stuart’s face was covered with blood, and the front of his shirt was ripped and torn and scarlet with blood.
“Oh, God, please help him!” she whispered.
“What is it? What done happened to him?” Annie asked.
“He done been hurt bad. Brutus done throwed him and gored him.”
“Bring him in the house and put him on the bed,” Leah gasped. She watched as Merle carried him by and could barely see his features for all the blood. Dirt was ground into his face, and she saw the gaping trench that had been gouged across his chest.
“It . . . it was my fault, Mama. My fault.”
Leah looked down and said, “What happened, Raimey?”
“I went into the pasture. I thought Brutus was somewhere else, and the bull got after me. I don’t know where he was. Dad came and got him away from me, but Brutus got him. Is he going to die, Mama?”
“I’ll call Doc Morton,” she said. She ran to the phone, and when the voice answered, “Number please,” she said, “Quick, Stella, get me Doc Morton.”
“Is there trouble, Miss Winslow?”
“Just get me Doc Morton, Stella. Quick, there’s been an accident.”
She waited impatiently while the phone rang—a long and two shorts—and then a voice said, “Dr. Morton’s residence.”
“Mrs. Morton, this is Leah Winslow. Stuart’s been hurt in an accident. Dr. Morton’s got to come at once.”
“Oh my, Miss Winslow, he’s gone over to the Grubmeyerses’. They don’t have a phone. I can’t call him.”
“I’ll send someone after him. Thank you.”
Slamming the phone down, Leah ran into the bedroom. Stuart was lying on his back, his bloody visage still, and she said, “Is he . . . dead?”
The Glorious Prodigal Page 25
