The Best American Mystery Stories 2016 (38 page)

Sally poured the soup into the iron pot. “Would you care to wash up first? We could turn on the pump.”

“So you got your well water, do ya?” Boyd moved directly to the table, rubbing his palms on his barrel chest. His hunting cap still covered tangled strands of long black hair. “We can't 'ford no generator.”

“We tried to get prepared last year when the government looked shaky. We put back a few extra groceries each month. Installed a woodstove downstairs.” Jeff took the kettle from his wife, hung it on the fireplace crane, and swung it over the blaze. “I'll warm up some coffee.”

“I reckon you lost a bundle in the stock market crash.”

“Everyone did.” Jeff retrieved the coffeepot from the hutch, where Sally had misplaced it.

“I didn't.” Again the toothless grin.

“Me neither.” Cooter burst into squeals.

Boyd slapped his thigh and hooted at him. “You was in prison.”

“Oh, yeah.” And they both laughed rabidly until Boyd abruptly stopped. Cooter closed his mouth immediately, eyes on his companion.

Jeff smiled indulgently while he positioned the ceramic pot close to the fire.

Sally stood motionless behind the kitchen island.

“Honey, do we have any bread?” Jeff squeezed her arm as he passed. When he got a serrated knife to place near her cutting board, he secreted a paring knife in his cardigan pocket. He handed Sally her apron.

“Seen any deer?” Boyd scraped a ladder-back chair into position as he sat down. Cooter sat across from him, imitating his friend's table manners.

Sally opened a cabinet door. And a drawer.

“Not recently. I was hoping our little herd would grow.” Jeff studied his guests from his stool at the granite countertop, away from the greasy animal odor trapped in their clothing. “Someone shot the two bucks last month.”

“That was me. Got one, anyway. Big ten-pointer, wadn't it, Cooter?”

“Shoar was, Boyd. A rack this long.” He held his hands three feet away from each other. Cooter bumped Boyd's hand with his over and over. “Too bad we couldn't use his head. Remember that, Boyd? 'Member that?”

“You're my buddy, ain't ya? You helped plant that salt lick and all.”

Cooter sat up straight and nodded. “I followed that trail of blood to finish him off, too. I'd do anythin' for you.” He smiled. His tiny eyes burned brightly. “Buddy.”

While their guests jawed about dressing deer meat, Sally placed a plate of thick-sliced bread on the table. Boyd watched her cleavage rise and fall as she leaned forward to serve soup to her guests. Jeff watched Boyd.

“I ain't never et at a rich man's table. Looks good, don't it, Boyd?” Cooter leaned both forearms on the oak table, bread in one hand, spoon in the other. He hunched close over his bowl and quickly slurped every drop. Belching loudly, he leaned backward, balancing on two legs of his chair. “Yessir. That was extry good.” He swiped his mouth with his sleeve, napkin still in its decorative holder.

Sally poured coffee for the men and then retreated behind the counter.

Boyd pushed away his empty bowl and lit a cigarette. “So you got a big pension comin' in? You must be one of them guys with a sweet retirement package. I heard about it when they was bailin' out all them companies with hard-earned money from us little folks. You one of them?”

“I don't have a pension, but I don't think it should concern you.” Jeff used a checked napkin to dab a coffee drip from his neat gray beard.

“You're wrong about that, mister. Everything you do concerns me. You live in my backyard.” He nodded at Cooter. “Ain't that right?” Boyd flicked an ash into the soup bowl. “Our grandpappy used ta own all this land afore the developers got hold to it. I know every creek and holler.”

“No doubt your grandpappy got paid for it. You should be the rich one,” remarked Jeff.

“Well, I ain't. My folks bought a restaurant, and we all worked at the family bizness. We tried to make a go of it, but neighbors quit eatin' out. Nothin' to be done but shut 'er down.” Boyd pushed back his chair and stood up. He gave Cooter what was left of his cigarette. “What kinda work did you do?”

Jeff got to his feet. “I'm an electrician.”

“You musta owned your own bizness. You got some mighty fine things here.” Boyd winked at Sally. “And a fat diamond ring for the missus.”

She frowned and put her hand in her apron pocket.

“I saved what I could in the good years. And didn't go into debt. We retired on Social Security, but since there's no longer any of that, we just make do.” Jeff hoped to move them toward the door.

“You're making it better than me and my family.”

“We live a quiet life. It was hard to get used to kerosene lamps, but at least we can read at night. One day they'll get the power up and going again in this area.”

“It just ain't right for some people to have so much and others to have nuttin'.” Cooter rhythmically slapped his spoon on the table until Sally snatched it to wash in the sink.

“The guv'ner said we should share. You ready to share with me, neighbor?” Boyd moved closer to Jeff, forcing him to look up or step back.

Jeff looked up.

“Sure. I'll tell you what. You can take half of my woodpile.”

“That's a start.” Boyd slapped Jeff on the back, unsettling him.

“What are you going to trade? Share means helping each other.” Jeff was determined to show some strength.

“I don't have nothin'.”

“Do you have any beer?” Jeff asked.

Cooter sat up straight.

“I ain't givin' up my beer,” said Boyd.

“Maybe you have something stronger in that shed in the woods? The one where I've seen smoke?” He had to show strength or they would run right over him.

Boyd narrowed his eyes at the stooped man in front of him.

“I don't think that concerns you,” Boyd mocked.

“Tell it, Boyd.” Cooter twisted a stalk of baby's breath from the dried centerpiece and crushed it slowly between thumb and forefinger.

“Sounds like you're mad at us because we prepared for hard times. You could have done the same thing,” said Jeff. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“I lost my job when all the furniture companies went to China. That ain't right.”

“Companies moved where they could have lower operating expenses. No union jobs.”

“My girl would do better in a union. She works at a nursing home, and they cut her hours. She can't pay her car note.”

“You're right.” Jeff nodded. “People all over the country are struggling.”

“Yep. Fifteen teachers at the high school were let go.”

“Ain't so many prison guards left, neither.” Cooter giggled. He swiped the crumbs from the table with his sleeve.

“No way I can get work. But a man's gotta take care of his family,” said Boyd, his voice sharp and loud.

Cooter stood, sucked in one last mouthful of smoke, and threw the cigarette butt into the fire as he ambled past.

“I think we agree on that.” Jeff spoke softly. “It's power and greed that'll ruin us. All of us.” He took shallow breaths now. He put one hand into his sweater pocket.

“You don't seem to be worried.” Boyd snorted.

“Worrying won't change things. We're too old to work, and too old to revolt.”

“You're right. You're too old. What use are yunz?” Boyd grabbed his jacket and brushed Sally's knitting to the floor.

“Not for you to say.” Jeff eased the paring knife out but kept it hidden at his side.

Sally started out of the kitchen area, her forehead furrowed. Jeff stopped her with a shake of his head.

“Well, grandpa. Let me tell you how it's gonna happen. First off, I'm takin' all your wood. We're gonna load it on my pickup right now.” Boyd motioned at Cooter. “Then tomorrow I'm takin' all your chickens. And I'm sendin' my young-uns up here to get all your canned goods. Whacha got to say about that, old man?”

“I say you're stealin'.” Jeff raised his voice and stepped closer.

Sally slipped out of the kitchen. Jeff heard her lock the bedroom door. She was safe.

“Hey, Cooter, look at that there recliner. Help me move it to the porch. We'll carry it on top of the wood.”

“I worked hard for my possessions. You have no right to them,” Jeff shouted. He made his decision. “You will not take them.”

“Who's gonna stop me?”

“Me.” Jeff thrust his knife at Boyd's chest.

The men guffawed. A titanic arm brushed him aside. Jeff banged his shin on the footstool.

As he fell toward the hearth, he caught a glimpse of a determined Sally returning to the room. “No! Go back!”

“You will leave,” said Sally. “Now.”

Jeff watched in horror as she charged the visitors.

“Boyd, she got a gun!”

“Honey, give it to me.”

Sally fired.

At daybreak the doves fluttered off in different directions at the sound of knocking on the log cabin door. With every muscle in his body complaining, Jeff limped over to peer through its glass at two teenage boys. One wore a ski mask. “Sally, we have visitors.”

Jeff unlocked the door and opened it.

“Good morning, sir. We're looking for our pa.”

“Well, I haven't seen anyone today. Two men stopped to visit yesterday.”

“Our big brother found Pa's truck down by the creek but no sign of nobody,” said the shorter boy. “He had to go on to work, so me and Danny are out lookin'.”

“That's strange. They said they were going to hunt for turkeys.” Jeff peered past them into the frozen forest. The crows roosted noisily. “Do you boys want to come in? You must be cold.”

“Thanks, we are. The sun don't feel too warm when the wind goes right through ya,” said Danny. They entered, stomping their snowy boots on the clean mat at the door. “Pa's shotgun was missing from over the back window. I think mebbe he and Cousin Cooter have a deer stand close to the creek.” His adult baritone contrasted with the teenage acne erupting on his forehead. “Sweet place you got here, mister.”

“Could you eat some livermush with eggs?”

The teenagers exchanged bright-eyed looks. “We sure could. That sounds great.” They hung their jackets next to Jeff's parka on the pegs by the door and removed their boots.

“We were just about ready to sit down to breakfast.” Jeff went to the kitchen to help Sally. She stood motionless at the sink. She stared at the boys.

“One day I'm gonna have me a log cabin like this.” Danny surveyed the room as he moved in holey socks toward the fieldstone fireplace.

The younger one made a sliding approach to the roaring fire.

“Careful, Brad.”

“This feels good, don't it?” He put his hands toward the heat.

Danny examined the beach photo on the mantel.

Jeff pointed out the basin of water at the antique washstand, and the boys rinsed their hands. Sally set places for them at the table.

“Fine boys like you need plenty of food.” Jeff sat with them, sipping his coffee as Sally served their plates with unsteady hands. Her hair stuck out like eagle feathers.

“Have you guys been out of school long?” Jeff asked.

“I'm tryin' to get on at that military gear factory in Fletcher,” said Danny. “Might hafta join the army to get me a job.”

“You're a smart fella.” Jeff offered a smile.

“Ma says I need to go back to school.” Brad grimaced. “But Pa says I don't.”

“Y'all eat up now,” said Sally. “Tell you what. I'll fix a basket of canned goods for you to carry back. And it just so happens I made a pie yesterday. Chocolate. Your favorite.”

“Yes, ma'am. Thank you.”

Jeff studied the boys as they quietly gobbled down their breakfast. “I'll share a couple chickens with you too.”

“When the chicken farmer down the road went out of business, he gave us some. But we ate them all,” said Danny.

The boys pushed back from the table. Brad followed the lead of his brother, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Have to keep a rooster around, you know,” said Jeff.

“Pa wanted to eat him first, 'cause he woke us up so early.” Little brother grinned.

“C'mon Brad, daylight's burnin'.” Danny went toward the door to put his boots on. “If we don't find Pa and Cousin Cooter, Ma hasta go tell Uncle Walter. He's the new deputy sheriff.”

Jeff wobbled as he stood, holding on to the table for balance.

“Mister, you okay?” Danny shoved one arm into a coat that was too large for him.

“Yeah, thanks. I did some heavy lifting yesterday and threw my back out. Nothing that a few hours of rest won't cure.” He paused. “But I could use a hand in planting my garden this spring. You boys know anyone who would work for me?”

The boys glanced at each other.

“Sure thing. We can do it.” They talked as one, with bobbing heads.

After they zipped their coats under Sally's prodding, she handed one a sack of groceries and the other a pie carrier.

“I believe you've got a load to carry today, but you come back to get those chickens anytime you want.” Jeff shook their hands. “We'll make our plans then.”

“Thanks. And thanks for breakfast.” Brad's grin lit up the room. “Was nice to meetcha.”

“I'm so glad you came to visit your old folks.” Sally kissed their cheeks.

The two boys exchanged blank looks.

The door closed.

“It was nice to see Daniel and Chad. I worry that they're not getting enough to eat.” Sally tracked them from the window.

Jeff pulled her close, tears in his eyes. “It's all right, honey. Come sit here with me.”

Sally watched the gift-laden teenagers until they were out of sight, making their way through the pines in the swirling snow. “I hope those horrible men don't hurt them.”