Diamond Duo (3 page)

Thad picked up the bucket of worms, hoisted the rest of the
gear to his shoulder, and edged along the grassy bank, pushing aside streams of Spanish moss and a potbellied spider on a dew-beaded web. He lined up even with a dilapidated boat shack, just down shore from where he’d spotted the water rings. He leaned his cane pole against a tree then propped the net and his daddy’s pole, which he’d taken without permission, against the side of the old building and sat down to wait.

The crunch of a broken twig behind him gave Thad a start, more so than it would have if his mind weren’t crawling with monsters and bugaboos. He turned and gave a low whistle as he watched Charles Gouldy step into the clearing with a fishing pole in his hand. Charles picked his way over the ruts and cypress knees and joined Thad on the bank.

“Hey, Charlie. You came.”

“Said I would.”

“That don’t always hold salt.”

Charles sidled up beside him and baited his hook. Thad set to work threading a worm on his, hurrying despite himself. For some reason, they had an unspoken challenge to see who would be first to get a line in the water. Charlie bested him this time and started to whistle as soon as his cork settled onto the muddy surface. In no time his whistling became a quiet song.

“ ‘Had a fine reputation until he sold it. Liked corn liquor, but he couldn’t hold it.’ ”

Thad laughed, his eyes still trained on his cork. “What’s that you’re singing?”

“ ‘Old Dan Tucker.’ Don’t tell me you never heard it?”

Thad looked at him. “Those ain’t the words to ‘Old Dan Tucker.’ ”

“Are, too.”

“I’m telling you they ain’t.”

Charlie glanced up. “My papaw sings it thata way.”

“He made it up, then.”

Charlie shrugged and nodded. “Probably did.”

“Well, try not to sing anymore, how ’bout it. You’re here to catch
fish, not torture them. And I know I can do without it.”

“You wouldn’t know a good singer if he sat on you.”

“I know I’d rather you sat on me than sing.”

Charlie grinned and gave him a light shove.

A quick flash of movement across the water caught Thad’s attention. He studied the tree-lined bank until he caught another glimpse between the cypress trunks, just enough to identify two windblown shocks of red hair. The Taylor boys, sitting tall in their old beat-up skiff, skimmed along effortlessly, pulled by the flow, using only the occasional furtive dip of a paddle to steer.

When the faded blue boat pulled past a clearing, Thad nudged Charlie. “Looky there.”

“Where?”

“That dinghy slipping up on us.”

Charlie tensed. “Who is it?”

“T-Bone Taylor and that rogue little brother of his.”

Beau and T-Bone, each barely out of knee britches, lived upstream a short row from town. They were known around Jefferson as the biggest thieves this side of the Red River. T-Bone had been asked, and not so politely, to forgo any further notions of an education at Samuel Ward’s Paradise Academy due to unruly and downright naughty behavior. Beau, two years his junior, seemed destined to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

Charlie craned his neck to see better. “What’re they up to this far downriver?”

“No good, I’d wager. Look how much pain they’re taking to be quiet.”

Charlie leaned forward, ready to shout, but Thad stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Wait, let’s watch what they do.”

Thad pulled his line to shore, and Charlie followed suit. They ducked for cover under a yaupon bush and spied between its branches. The Taylor boys skimmed past and pulled stealthily beneath the shack, Beau lifting one hand overhead to drag the skiff well under. Thad watched them scurry around in the boat, both scrawny bodies bent under the suspended floor.

“What them rascals doing?”

“Hush, Charlie! Wait and see.”

Before long, a skinny, freckled arm appeared from under the pilings to where the net was propped. Grimy fingers lifted it and disappeared. The arm was soon followed by a hand reaching for the bait.

When a smaller, more freckled version snaked out to grab Papa’s pole, Thad sprang to life. “Hey, hold up there! That’s right, Beau Taylor, I’m talking to you. Don’t think I don’t see you two scoundrels.”

Thad hurried to the shack and ducked to look under, just in time to see Beau lower his hand, Papa’s cane pole and all, beneath the water. “Nice try, Beau. Pull up my daddy’s fishing pole and place it where you found it.” He moved closer, trying to look fierce. “T-Bone, that there’s my net and bait. Put them back or suffer the consequences.”

“Didn’t see you there,” T-Bone mumbled. “Just reckoned some-body left it.”

“If they had, it wouldn’t make it yours, now would it? Save your excuses. Ain’t no right reason to do a wrong thing.”

Beau raised his ill-gotten bounty from under the water and eased it back onto the bank. Reluctantly, his older brother followed suit, propping the net against the piling then tossing the bait on the bank.

Charlie stormed up behind Thad, puffed like an adder, and chimed in: “What’s the matter? You boys ain’t familiar with the eighth commandment?” He clenched his fists and took one more menacing step. “What are we waiting for, Thad? Let’s drag ’em out and teach ’em ‘thou shalt not steal.’ ”

Thad grabbed Charlie’s arm. “Didn’t you just hear what I said about doing a wrong thing? They put the stuff back. It’s over now.” He turned to the boys. “You two get on home. You keep looking for trouble, it’s bound to find you.”

The brothers danced past each other, holding on to keep from falling in the drink. They found their seats and paddles then
backpedaled from under the shack. When they cleared it, they turned the nose of the boat in the same direction they’d been traveling and left without another word.

Charlie shot an arm in their direction. “You see that, Thad? You just wasted your breath. Those two ain’t headed for home. Their minds are well set on some thieving raid.” He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head. “We should’ve beat them and sent them running home to Mama. Now they’ll get their hides filled with buckshot.”

Thad watched the boys catch the current, maneuver around a curve, and disappear. “I hope not, Charlie.” He sighed. “I truly hope not.”

“Why? Lord knows them two deserve it.”

Thad gave him a long look. “Now you’re an authority on what the Lord knows?”

Charlie glared and then feigned an elaborate bow. “I beg your pardon, sir. I get ahead of myself sometimes.” He flashed a devilish grin. “We all know Saint Thaddeus is the authority on God. Too bad the Sisters of Charity sold Saint Mary’s to them Jew boys and let ’em turn it into a synagogue. You could’ve joined the convent.” He pulled his shirt up and fashioned a makeshift habit then pranced in a pious circle. “Sister Thad. Has a nice ring to it, don’t it?” He stopped pacing and fell to the ground, howling and slapping his knee. “
Lord knows
you’d make a fine nun.”

Thad felt rage boil up inside. “I’ll excuse your ignorance concerning the good brothers of Sinai Hebrew and chalk up your lack of decorum to the one who raised you.”

The last comment lifted Charlie’s hackles, as Thad expected it might.

Charlie pushed off the ground. “What do you mean by that, Bloom?”

“Come on, Charlie, you know your sister’s morals are questionable at best and her profession the talk of the town.”

Charlie balled his fist. “Take it back! Isabella don’t do those things no more. Not since Mama died. And who are you to talk?
Some folks think skinning every sucker dumb enough to sit across a hand of poker from you ain’t exactly the Lord’s work.”

Thad shrugged and slung the two poles over one shoulder, picked up the bucket of bait, and turned to go.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s not a good day for fishing, after all. I’ve got too much on my mind to wrangle with all this besides.”

Thad started up the incline, careful to dodge the jutting roots on his way to the top. He heard rustling behind him and then running, stumbling feet.

“I take back what I said about you and the rabbis,” Charlie panted, falling into step behind him. “I didn’t mean no harm.”

Thad stopped and turned to face him. “I had no right to bring up your sister’s past. It ain’t no concern of mine. And you’re right. My life ain’t been perfect.” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

Charlie grinned and clasped his outstretched palm. “Truce. And here. You left your net.”

Thad put his hand on the net, but Charlie held it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why
did
you quit playing cards just when you got so good at it?”

Thad thought a minute then decided to tell the truth. “You ever have a coonhound latch onto the back of your shirt and go to tugging?”

Charlie chuckled. “A time or two, I reckon.”

He nodded. “That’s how gambling started to feel. Figured I’d better quit before it brought me down.” He grinned. “Besides that, Mama found out. Needless to say, she wasn’t very happy about it.”

On the water behind Charlie’s head, the blue dinghy shot from behind a stand of trees with Beau and T-Bone leaning into their paddles. Loud laughter and excited chatter sounded up the hill to where Thad and Charlie stood. Charlie whirled and watched with Thad as the boys skimmed past. Twin streams of smoke trailed behind them from the rolled-up tobacco that dangled from each boy’s mouth. A large, misshapen bundle rested between them in
the bottom of the boat, covered in stolen hides.

“There they go,” Thad said. “Looks like some poor fool lost his tobacco tin.”

Charlie chuckled. “Lord knows what they have stashed beneath those pilfered skins.”

“And therein lies their fate,” muttered Thad, flashing Charlie a somber smile. “The Lord knows.”

S
arah dipped two dark fingers in the murky bayou and sighed. Cold. Like the wind that whipped the bare tops of the sweet gum trees on the far bank before it skipped across the water and found its way up her dress. One thing for sure, it was too miserable cold to kneel in the mud pounding the stink out of Henry’s britches. But no matter. Hands be numb, bones be chilled, her man needed clean drawers, and she’d see he got them.

Not that he appreciated it any. She could freeze stock-still and he’d just shrug and hang his hat on her, bothered not a whit until suppertime. He’d moan then but wouldn’t lift a finger to change it. Henry King would sit down and starve plumb to death while waiting for her to thaw. Sarah was of the opinion that her husband set far too much stock in his family name.

She held the heavy denim overalls up to the sun to inspect her progress. The grass stains were still there. She could beat until the stones in her hands wore smooth, but the dirt ground into those old britches was there to stay. She dare not scrub the worn-out legs for too long. Already the only thing standing between Henry’s knees and the world were a few crisscrossed patches of white thread. And the world wasn’t ready for Henry’s knees.

She lifted the soggy mess of cloth, heavily weighted by water,
into her pail with a grunt. She’d draw a bucket of water to pour over them and let them sit till later. A good soaking could do them no harm.

“Woman! Where you be?”

Sarah gritted her teeth, wondering when in life’s unfolding she’d find herself in a place where men didn’t holler and order her about. She turned, shading her eyes from the sun. A shadowy outline of Henry stood atop the grassy knoll above the creek, his hands on his hips. Even with irritation crowding her throat, she couldn’t help but mark the fact that her man cut a fine figure in silhouette.

She stood up and assumed his same stance. “What you doing bellowing at me like that? You ain’t my daddy. ’Sides that, you know where I am. I’m down here washing your drawers, just like I washed his.”

“Well, leave all that. I need you to ride into town with me.”

Sarah bent and hoisted the heavy pail onto her hip then took her time walking up the hill. “What you be needing from town? We hauled in staples and dry goods on Wednesday, and this ain’t but Friday. We still got potatoes and onions in the larder, and I made plenty of soap.”

She stopped in front of him and tilted her head to study his face. He shifted his eyes at first but then gave her a bug-eyed stare. “Why you got to understand everything? Maybe I’d like the pleasure of your company. That’s all you need to know.” He reached around to swat her hard on the behind and then took the pail, laughing and dodging when she tried to hit him back.

“Go on, now. Quit acting up. And no more questions. Jus’ get yourself inside and dress for town.” He flashed a toothy grin with his audacious white teeth. “And hurry up, you hear? Don’t hole up in that house and leave me here till my hair turns gray.”

“I need water poured over them raggedy britches, Henry King. Make sure you see to that.” She continued up the rise, tossing the last word over her shoulder like a pinch of salt. At the top she paused and turned her head. Not enough to see his face, but she knew she
had his attention. “And I’ll be ready when I’m ready. You look for me then.”

Deep laughter rumbled behind her, causing warmth to spread through her core. Even being the exasperating man that he was, her husband could stoke a fire in her heart with very little effort.