Billy Bob Walker Got Married (40 page)

"And you've been keeping him that way?" "Well, it's sort of a mutual thing," Shiloh said mischievously.

Laura made a snorting noise in her throat. "I just hope there's more to him than what he can do in bed. Because that doesn't matter as much as other things do in the long run."

"Whatever he is, he's what I want."

"You're happy here?"

"They've made me welcome, Laura."

"I guess that's good. Because we're not doing too well at home, Shiloh. Sam's in a pretty bad way. He sits and broods and broods, then sometimes he curses you. But most of the time, it's the Walker boy." "Billy, Laura."

"Sam's in pure misery, and he doesn't know how to climb out."

"Yes, he does. He just has to accept Billy as my husband."

"He might," Laura said sardonically, "the day they do a brain transplant on him and make him a new man."

Shiloh's hands traced the edge of the swing. "He disowned me. Right there, in front of everybody."

"That's all over town, too."

"Laura . . ." Shiloh had tried to keep from thinking about that day, and she'd tried to hide her emotions from Billy, but one fact kept repeating itself over and over. "Sam said that Caroline came back one last time. Is that true?"

Laura's face held a trace of shock. "I didn't know he'd ever breathed a word of it to you." "But is it true?"

"It was when you were fifteen. She came to the house while you were away at school. White as a ghost and thin—Lord, she was so thin. She was already dying of cancer—I just didn't know it."

"Did she ask about me?"

"It doesn't matter what she asked for, Shiloh. Just because she wasn't a good mother doesn't mean you're not a good daughter. You were. You are now, if Sam would just admit it. I've never told you, but I guess I love you as much as—as a real mother could." Laura looked away out at the orchard beyond the rose-laden fence. "I always pretended you were mine."

Shiloh nodded, then swallowed. "She never wanted me."

"She was sick. In a different way, she was sick from the beginning. She couldn't leave men alone. I heard diat her own father beat her, that he didn't want her. They say that has strange effects on some women. But the funniest thing was, she loved Sam. She needed him. Always coming back to him, lying and deceiving, desperate for him to say it was all right. I think he was old enough for her to see her father in him. But that wasn't what Sam wanted. He wanted a wife. And finally, he got sick, too, sick at heart. He couldn't keep letting her come back."

"She barely noticed me. I remember that."

"Caroline was a child. What child has room—or time—for another?"

"Not even when she was dying?"

Laura didn't answer; her eyes avoided Shiloh's.

"Tell me, Laura, why she came back," she asked insistently.

"She told Sam she'd found which school you were in. If he didn't give her more money—he was already paying her so much ever)' month—she would approach you. She put the fear of God in Sam. Don't you think we knew how much a girl wants a mother, Shiloh? Even when you tried to hide it, it was there, in your face. That look didn't leave until you were a teenager, but I think I see it there today."

Laura stood, smoothing her skirt. "To end the story, he took her away. Gave her more money. Kept her up completely until she died a year later. She never asked about you again. That's hard—but it's truth. Sam was the one who wanted you. And me."

"Are you here ... for Papa?" Shiloh asked painfully.

"No. He thinks he hates you. He's in the wrong. Whether or not he likes Billy Walker as a son-in-law, you're the one who has to make this decision. And Sam's not bearable sometimes. I came to make my own peace, and to bring you some things. They're in the car. Come on. I need some help."

Her heart gave a warm jump at the familiarity of what was in Laura's trunk. Her jewelry case; her makeup bag; her portable combination CD player and radio and television—and clothes. A huge armload of them.

"I didn't bring anything elaborate. But I thought you might need these," Laura offered.

Shiloh buried her nose in them, in the rich sandalwood scent that floated from the sachets and potpourri in her closets and dresser drawers.

She hadn't gone to Sam for them; they were hers. She would keep them.

They dumped her belongings on the bed; she stood the jewelry box on the dresser.

Laura looked around curiously. The room still had an almost sterile look to it.

"Are you sure you live here? That you like it here, Shiloh?"

"I promise, Laura."

"When I think of what you've been used to, I don't understand it. But I tell you what, we could really fix the room up. Call me someday, Shiloh, and we'll paint and paper everything in sight."

Shiloh looked around, too. "I'd like that. But it's different here, Laura. It's not just a house that matters. It's a farm. I'm outside as much as I am inside. I live out there a lot of the time." She gestured toward the windows.

"Hmph. That explains why you're brown as a biscuit. But it won't hurt to domesticate that husband of yours a little. Winter comes. You'll be glad for my help then. And Shiloh—" Laura hesitated, "be careful."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Sam. I think—I think he means to take Billy Walker down any way he can."

Shiloh, startled, stopped all motion. "What has he done?"

"It's not for me to say. I don't know it all, and besides, I owe Sam too much to tell you if I did. Ask your husband."

Billy knew as soon as he walked into the bedroom.

Shiloh's clothes told him; she was wearing a cool yellow buttercup of a dress. In her ears were matching tiny yellow earrings. On one finger of her left hand was a beaten gold twist of a ring.

In his pocket, another ring that he'd ordered in Martinsville and just picked up felt hard against his skin for a minute.

And her face told him: it was tremulous, hopeful, fresh from crying.

"Pennington came, didn't he?"

She was watching his face, waiting for his words.

"No. Laura did."

Laura. His breathing loosened a little, but not his anger. In fact, Laura might be worse. Shiloh would listen to her without any of the friction between her and her father.

"But he sent her."

"She came on her own."

"Don't think I'm that big a fool, Shiloh."

"What's the matter with you, Billy Bob? You used to be so much fun, and now you're—"

"What? Boring? Worried? All of it? Well, I can't help it. Sometimes you've got to live real life, Shiloh, and it's no fun."

"It's because of Papa, isn't it? What has he done, Billy?"

He went still, watching her warily. "I don't know what—"

"Don't try to protect me like I'm some kind of baby, the way Sam did. Laura said he was going to break you."

Anger washed over his face. "She was wrong. He'll never break me. I may be fighting right now just to keep body and soul together, but I'll hang on. We'll make it. He won't quit pushing, and I won't quit fighting back. Not ever. I swear it."

"Tell me what he's done."

"No."

"If you don't, I'll go to him. Now. I'll drag it out of him."

Billy stared at her face, rigid with determination, but he never said a word.

With a quick, purposeful movement, Shiloh twisted toward the door before he reached out a hand to catch her.

"Shiloh—no."

"Tell me, then. I mean to know, one way or the other."

Billy took a deep breath, then let it out in defeat. "Dammit—have it your way, then. He—he blocked the sale of the trees, for one thing. Everything I'd worked for, and I had to peddle the stock off to roadside dealers because he'd got to the warehouse owners. Why do you think I was gone three days? I was trying to get rid of the stock. I didn't want you to know, but there you are. Are you happy now?"

Her face went white; regret eased through him, under the anger as he released his hold on her. "I shouldn't have told you. It's got nothing to do with you, none of it."

"And how much more has he done?" Shiloh could hear T-Tommy's words even now, in her head. Sam really would destroy Billy.

"Nothing much," he answered evasively.

"I want to see him," she said at last.

"No—no, Shiloh."

"I'm going to."

"I said no. Doesn't it matter to you that I want you to stay away from Pennington until we get this marriage together a little more?" he demanded angrily.

"You're my husband, Billy, not my keeper. I love you, and I love my father. Can't you stop being afraid? I'm not going anywhere. I saw your face when you walked in. Even these clothes scare you. I don't have to wear them if you hate them—"

His face was flushed and tight.

"Wear them.
Sleep in 'em. Do what you like. I'm not scared, and they're not the problem, anyway. They're the symptom. And talking to Pennington won't work. I tried the other day."

"You—you did? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it did no good."

"It will when I talk to him. I can make him quit."

"I don't want you begging for me." His face was as white as hers.

"Nobody's going to beg. But I've got to see him."

He stared at her, shocked. "You're going back, really. To 'Papa.' " "Just for a little while, Billy. You could take me."

"No."

"Then I'll call Laura. She'll pick me up. I'll be back before bedtime."

"And when he's through, I'll be the man you bought and paid for from the jail with thirty-five hundred dollars, and you'll wonder why you're living with me. I remember what happened once before when you tried to talk to Sam about me."

"If I go to see him, maybe everything will be better. He can't undo the marriage. I'll be back. Then when I come home—"

"You don't mean here, do you? This run-down old farm? Because I'm telling you, honey, don't come back for me tonight; I won't be around. If you can go back to your old friends and your old life, I can go back to mine." He grabbed up his cap off the bed and headed for the door, striding with monster steps off the porch, his long legs swallowing ground.

She ran after him, furious herself—and scared. "You can't threaten me, Billy. I've got a right—"

He slammed the truck door behind him. "You've got all the rights in the world. So do I."

"Where are you going? To the Legion Hall?"

"I don't feel much like dancing, but you don't have to dance at the Palace."

"If you think I'm going to turn you loose to go to the Palace—"

"You're my wife, not my keeper. I'm free—you're free. I'll do what I want. And you have a good time with Pennington."

♦ ♦ ♦

Shiloh admitted it to herself: she had handled the situation wrong. But they'd been living under a strain ever since he'd come back from Arkansas. And he hadn't done more than hold her in bed at night for nearly a week. All of her frustration had gone into the argument tonight. That, and her anger over the way he'd treated like a child by not telling her about Sam.

Why had he mentioned the money again, after all these weeks? She wondered uneasily if her father knew the answer to that question.

No matter what, she wasn't going to let Billy get away with his challenge, because he'd made it more out of fear than anything else. She hadn't been wrong about that. Whether he admitted it or not, he was afraid of Sam's power. Well, he had a right to be.

But Billy needn't think he could just waltz off to the Palace after they'd had an argument, no matter what his reasons.

Sam could wait. Her husband couldn't.

So she changed her clothes and called Laura. "Could I borrow your car for a little while?"

The housekeeper asked ruefully, "If I bring it to you, will I get it back in one piece?"

The Country Palace was in the south end of the county, off the highway in a low, flat spot of land. Pine trees almost obscured it from sight in the daytime, but at night a lurid pink-and-blue neon sign flashed on top of it, turning everything in sight alternating hues of the same colors.

The parking lot was graveled; Shiloh's feet crunched over the little rocks as she slid out of Laura's car. Laura would die if she ever discovered that the vehicle had been parked in front of a joint like this.

Even in the darkness, Shiloh could see that the white exterior needed painting; the place had a hard, desperate look to it that scared her and made her wonder why so many people came here; trucks jammed the lot.

Billy Bob's was here.

Her heart sank like lead when she saw it. Why hadn't he cooled off and come home? What did he get out of coming to a place like this? Even out here, she could hear the jukebox; the music was so loud the walls were vibrating.

Well, she was about to find out. Taking a long, steadying deep breath, she pushed open the door.

Dim lights, cigarette smoke, and even louder music— that was her first impression. And under all of that, laughter and stray, rowdy yells.

The door shut behind her, and she stood pressed against the wall beside it, her hands flat against her stomach, as if to protect herself, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the murkiness of the room.

Men hovered around a pool table in the back; two women stood watching, one of them smoking the longest cigarette Shiloh had ever seen.

Women were here: that was both a relief and an annoyance.

This place was a dive, and Shiloh began to simmer; Billy had no business coming here, not when he had a wife and a home.

Where was he?

It didn't take long to search him out: the woman he was with was by far the prettiest thing the Country Palace had to offer. Delicate, petite, sparklingly blond, she was bent over him at a corner table, right under a blue neon sign that screamed BUD. Angie Blake.