Hell With the Lid Blown Off (21 page)

I went directly to the jail to report to Scott, but his son Butch, who sometimes watched the office, told me that he hadn't shown up yet. So I went around to his house.

“As far as I know, Trent, he's still out to Shaw and Alafair's,” Hattie said.

Well, there wasn't much I could do until he got back, so I dropped in on Miz Beckie to pay my respects and ask how she was doing since Streeter McCoy and me had rescued her. Of course the real reason was to see Ruth. I didn't want to dally, so after a tip of the hat and a solicitous inquiry I took my leave of Miz Beckie, but Ruth followed me out and asked me if I'd accompany her home now that the roads were cleared up enough for horses. She said she hadn't left town since before the storm, and she was missing her family and feeling homesick.

I felt like I had won the jackpot. And to boot, if Scott was still there and jumped to the conclusion when he saw me that I had gone all the way to Tuckers' to tell him what I found, I figured he'd give me credit for zealous application of duty. So Ruth and me rode out of town together, me on old Brownie and her on Miz MacKenzie's mare Teacup. The day had advanced considerably. The cold aftermath of the tornado had moved on, and it had gotten hot and humid and windy. But the sun was shining, for once. We talked a lot on the way out there.

She said that as much as she loved Miz Beckie, the atmosphere in that house was mighty gloomy, especially since Wallace had come back, and she didn't know what to do to make it better. She told me that the two of them had fallen out over his friend Randal Wakefield, which I thought peculiar. Of course, I liked Wakefield a lot better than Wallace. I told Ruth that I expected that Miz Beckie, for all her going on about what a good soldier Wallace would make, was not happy that he had joined up. And now that she was faced with the idea of him going to war and getting killed, she blamed Randal for either talking him into it or going along with it.

Ruth said that sounded reasonable. She kindly thought Miz Beckie was a mite jealous of Randal.

I told her that Scott was determined to look into Jubal Beldon's demise in case the death was not an accident. “Scott said that Jubal was such a nasty creature, always digging up dirt and making up evil stories about folks, that he'd be surprised if it turned out somebody
didn't
kill him.”

Her expression changed in a blink. She was wearing a blue-green scarf around her neck, which caused her eyes to turn the color of the turquoise stone in the bracelet my sister had brought my mother from her trip to New Mexico. The color amazed me so that I had to concentrate real hard in order to understand what she was saying. “Does Scott think Jubal slandered the wrong person and got killed for it?” she asked me.

“It wouldn't surprise me if that's just what he thinks, Ruthie. All these years I've known Jubal and his brothers, they're always looking for a dog to kick. Makes them feel like big men, I reckon. Do you know of somebody in particular who Jubal might have had something bad on?”

“Who doesn't have secrets they'd rather keep hid, Trent, whether it's their own or a loved one's? He threatened to spread a calumny about me, for one.”

The idea that a disgusting piece of work like Jubal Beldon could have something to threaten Ruth Tucker with was so ludicrous that my first reaction was to laugh. My second reaction was a red-hazed rage. “What did he say to you?”

A corner of her mouth twitched, which usually meant that she was amused. Not this time. “He implied that if I didn't give him my favors, he'd just tell everyone I had anyway.” Then she did smile. “No surprise, I guess.”

That's when I knew in my bones that Scott was right. Somebody murdered Jubal Beldon. If I'd of had him there at that moment I'd have killed him myself. A man would do anything to protect the ones he loves.

My cheeks were hot. It galled me to know that I had flushed red and that she could see my feelings written plain on my face. I realized that I hadn't breathed in a while, and I let my breath out in a gush. I came within a gnat's eyebrow of saying something unfit for her ears, but I caught myself in time and said, “That's low.”

“But how on earth could Scott possibly tell for sure if Jubal was murdered, Trent? After what the wind did to Jubal's body, there's no way he could be certain it wasn't just an accident.”

“Well, you know Scott. He'll want to make sure if he can,” I said. “He don't countenance murder under any circumstance.”

She guided Teacup over toward me till she was close enough to put her hand on my arm. It was soft and warm and nearly burned a hole in my skin. “Trent, maybe someone did kill Jubal, and that's a bad thing. It's a sin. But I wish y'all could just leave it to God, and not go to digging up the sad secrets of all them that Jubal tormented.”

Now, I knew Ruth Tucker for one of the kindest girls on earth, and it didn't surprise me one bit that she wouldn't want innocent folks' family secrets exposed to public ridicule. But, dang me, I suddenly got it in my head that she was keeping something from me. “Miss Tucker, do you know something about the death of Jubal Beldon that you're not telling me?”

If my tone disturbed her, she didn't show it. “Certainly not. I'm just thinking aloud, Trent. If he tried to get something from me by making up stories, I'm sure he must have done the same to others.”

“If you know who might have had cause to kill him, Ruth, you need to tell me. We can't be making judgments about whether he deserved it or not. The law has to judge without prejudice. That's why they say that justice is blind. If you know who all Beldon threatened, whether for a good reason or not, you've got to trust the law to do the right thing. We won't be spreading tales.”

She may have been younger than me, but she recognized a pompous ass when she saw one. Fortunately, she forgave me for it. “Oh, I trust you and Scott. I'm just asking you to be careful, and to consider the consequences.”

I opened my mouth to spout more arrogant claptrap, but she glanced up at me with her turquoise eyes, full of perfect confidence in my honesty and good will, and I suddenly realized that I was going to do whatever she wanted.

“Well, I'm pretty sure Scott aims to do a little poking around on the quiet before bringing the county sheriff in on it,” I said. “Maybe we can discover who Beldon had dirt on without making a fuss. Nobody needs to know right yet.”

She didn't take notice of my collapse. She never doubted that I'd see the rightness of her position. “Well, I can only guess, but I'm sure there's quite a list.” She pondered what she had just said. “I suppose it's too much to hope for that there actually is a list written down somewhere.”

I snorted at the idea. “I doubt if Jubal ever held a pencil in his fist more than to write his name. And even if there was, it's been blown clean to the Atlantic Ocean by now.”

“Who might he have taken into his confidence?”

“Those knucklehead brothers of his, if anybody.”

She shook her head. “They're not likely to tell us anything. More likely they'd use any information Jubal gave them to their own advantage. What about their mother?”

“Heavens! Him and his ma barely spoke two words to one another. Jubal wouldn't have told Miz Beldon if he was up to no good.”

“She might know more than you think. In my experience, your mother knows a lot more about you than you wish she did.”

We both laughed at that, an uncomfortable laugh, since it was so true.

“Yes, well, in my experience, Ruth, your ma may know all your dark and evil thoughts but she's the one person you can count on not to betray you with them.”

Alafair Tucker

Mr. Eichelberger was in his usual place on the porch, but he had undergone an amazing transformation since Trent had seen him last. No longer catatonic with shock and grief, he greeted the young people and solemnly accepted their condolences before directing them into the house. Ruth found her mother in the parlor with her sewing basket and a pile of children's clothing that the youngsters had retrieved from the woods. Alafair had washed the clothes by hand in a tub on the back porch and was now mending rips and patching tears in the pieces that weren't so badly damaged that they couldn't be salvaged. Grace was at her feet, playing with the puppy, which had also been washed in a tub before being allowed into the scrubbed and disinfected house.

Alafair and Grace both hugged Ruth until she feared she'd pass out from lack of air, even though it wasn't as though they hadn't seen one another for days. Alafair had already been to town several times to monitor the well being of all her town-dwelling children. After hearing that Scott had gone on to the Lukenbach farm, Trent took his leave and continued on his errand. Ruth was directed to the settee and given several ripped shirts to match with patch-sized scraps from the rag basket.

Alafair told Ruth that Chase Kemp had gone back to Mary's, intrigued by all the action there. Mary was glad to have him, believe it or not. Mary had her hands full with the injured John Lee, very expectant Phoebe, and the foundling baby, so Chase had become Zeltha's enthusiastic and surprisingly competent babysitter. Grace, though, was still traumatized enough that she was unwilling to leave her mother's side unless she was forced.

“The bedrooms are still too tore up to use,” Alafair said, “so the boys have been sleeping in the old farmhand's room off the toolshed and the rest of us have been finding whatever spots we can. We're all still spooked after the twister. Every time the wind picks up, the young'uns all get distrait. It's been hot, so the girls have been bunking on the porch along with Mr. Eichelberger. All but Grace. She's been sleeping with me and Daddy.” She nodded toward the big double bed that Ruth had last seen in her parents' room, now dominating the parlor. “I had your daddy move the bed under the front window so that if the wind shifts, I'll know it right quick.” She smiled. “I'm a mite distrait myself.”

Ruth caught her mother up on news from town, including the fact that Wallace had come back to help repair his grandmother's house. And that, wonder of wonders, he and his friend had joined the Army.

“I'm glad Wallace is able to say good-bye to his grandmother before he has to go off to Fort Riley,” Alafair said.

“I'd have thought that Miz Beckie would be so glad to see him one more time, Ma. But she's hardly spoken two words to him since he came back. She doesn't want to tell me what is wrong, but Wallace believes that she's taken a dislike to Mr. Wakefield.”

“Did he tell you why he thinks so?”

Ruth shrugged. “He told me that she doesn't like Randal's politics, but I wonder if that's not a stretch. It's true that Miz Beckie is mighty conservative. Randal may have said he admires Mr. Wilson or some such. But she's such a lady that I can't imagine her being so ungracious about it.”

“Unless it's Mr. Wakefield who is being ungracious,” Alafair offered.

Ruth looked skeptical. “You've met Mr. Wakefield. He's the furthest thing from ungracious. More than likely it's Wallace who is at fault somehow. Whatever it is, I know it hurts her deeply. I hope they make up soon, because she's going to be heartbroken when he finally has to go for good. I wonder if it might not have been better if he hadn't come.”

“Oh, I don't doubt she'll forgive him. She dotes on that boy even if he is an imp. Is his friend Mr. Wakefield helping fix the house?”

“No, he's lying low at the American Hotel until him and Wallace have to leave. They aim to travel together on the train up to Kansas and report for duty at Fort Riley in a couple of weeks. I haven't seen him at all. I imagine he doesn't want to inflict himself on Wallace's grandma and make things worse between them.”

Alafair rocked in silence for a time, intent on her sewing. She bit off her stitch, reached for a spool of thread, and held it next to the material, critically comparing the colors. Satisfied, she threaded her needle and resumed sewing. “I wonder if Wallace has taken his friend's side in a manner that his grandmother thought was insolent and disrespectful?”

Ruth didn't take her eyes off the rag basket. “Now, that wouldn't surprise me at all. Wallace loves his friend.”

The memory of Wallace and Randal sitting together in quiet harmony on the stump behind the Masonic Hall leaped into Alafair's mind. She looked up from her stitching. “What did you say, sugar?”

“I said that Wallace loves his friend Mr. Wakefield.”

Alafair lowered the frock into her lap. “Loves him? What do you mean, ‘loves him'?”

“I can feel it in the air between them, Mama, the way they look at each other, like one knows what the other is thinking. Wallace is different with Randal than he is with anybody else. I know love when I see it.”

“Are you saying you think that they are sodomites, honey?” Alafair blurted out the sentence before she had quite thought about it.

“What's that?”

Alafair felt the heat of her furious embarrassment spread right up to the roots of her hair. She could hardly believe that she had actually uttered the word aloud, and to her daughter, of all people. “Well…well, people who love each other improperly.”

Ruth lifted her eyebrows and smiled. Alafair realized that Ruth had no idea what she was talking about. “How can two people love each other improperly? There are all kinds of love. I love my friends and family very much. Don't you have friends you love, Ma?”

Now it was Alafair's turn to smile, desperately relieved that her daughter had lived such a sheltered life. “Yes, puddin', I do. I guess Wallace is lucky to have such a good friend.”

“Yes, it'll be much easier on him to go into the Army with a friend to support him.”

Ruth fell silent again, engrossed in matching patches to holes, but Alafair didn't lift the sewing from her lap. Ruth's innocent remark had given her too much to think about.