This Rock (36 page)

“Don't you go get in trouble,” I said and pointed to the pistol in his pocket.

“There is already trouble,” Moody said.

What had happened on Christmas Eve had scared Moody. I could see that. Muir's anger had scared him, and Muir's accusations. There was more going on than I could understand. Whatever had happened to Muir's church foundation had something to do with Moody, even if Moody hadn't done it hisself.

I asked Moody what he knowed that he wasn't telling. But he just said he was going to find out. He had some suspicions. I told him I was sure Muir hadn't hurt nobody.

“Nobody but me,” Moody said.

“Watching you all fight is the saddest thing I've ever seen,” I said.

“It's sad for me too,” Moody said.

My heart jumped up in my throat, to see the change in Moody. There was something really different about the way he acted.

“Everybody is against him, and his big plans,” I said.

“He thinks I'm against him,” Moody said.

I was so pleased and hopeful about the change in Moody I didn't know what to say. I had been right about the signs of a growing and a sobering in him. The great black weight on my heart lifted a little.

“Nobody else in this whole valley wants to do nothing,” Moody said. “Muir is crazy, but he is the only one here with an idea in his head. His schemes may be foolish, but at least he tries.”

I didn't know what to say.

“There is some business that has to be attended to,” Moody said. He took some biscuits from the top of the stove and put them in his coat pocket. He patted the handle of the pistol. “A gun talks even when it don't say nothing,” Moody said.

But no good could come of seeking revenge. Everything I'd ever seen told me that. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. Only the spirit of forgiveness could win in the end.

E
VERYTHING WAS SO
quiet in the house with both Muir and Moody gone. I was thinking about how I planned to help Muir with his church when somebody knocked on the back door. It was Hank Richards.

Hank was a neighbor I never seen much of, except at church, because he was always off building houses at the cotton mill and around the lake, or down in South Carolina. He was a deacon of the church and a close neighbor, but I seen little of him.

I was took by surprise and asked Hank to come in and set by the fire.

“Ain't got but a minute,” he said. He had broad shoulders and a handsome face and forehead.

“How are you doing?” I said.

“Same old sixes and sevens,” he said and laughed. “Feel too old to work and too young to retire.” Hank looked into the fire and he looked at me. He held his hat on his knee and fingered the brim with his big strong hands. He said what he had come for was to talk about Muir.

I hoped he hadn't come to complain about Muir paying attention to Annie. I told him Muir was somewhere off in the mountains.

Hank said he was awful sorry to hear what had happened to Muir's church.

“I wanted to ask if it was all right for me to help him on the church,” Hank said. That took me by surprise too, for I didn't think anybody was interested in building the new church except Muir and me. I told him he didn't need to ask me.

“Preacher Liner said you disapproved,” Hank said.

I told him I didn't disapprove. I was just worried about Muir taking on such a big project, and him so young and flat broke. Hank spit tobacco juice into the fire and said he thought Muir had a good idea, and that he wanted to help him.

“You don't need my permission,” I said. It made me mad that the preacher would tell others I disapproved of the new church. “I mean to help Muir myself,” I said. Hank's words thrilled me. It meant a lot that somebody else seen the worth of what Muir was trying to do. I didn't know Hank all that well, but I seen there was more to him than I had recognized before.

“When I was young I had big plans,” Hank said. “But nothing come of them. It's a wonderful thing when somebody can see beyond the bare needs to what might be.”

I told him that Muir had always been a dreamer and a builder. He had always lived through his imaginings.

“This valley could stand a new church,” Hank said. “I've always wanted to build a church, and I've never had a chance before. I've worked on cotton mills and even built a schoolhouse or two.”

Especially after others had destroyed his work, it made all the difference in the world if just one other person shared Muir's vision of what could be built. And if one person could understand what he was doing, then others could too and would in time.

I could have kissed Hank I was so grateful and pleased. I could have took his hand and kissed it. But that would have just embarrassed him. I was older than Hank, with gray in my hair. I knowed better than to make a show of my gratitude.

“I won't be able to help for a few days,” Hank said. “Building is
slow in the middle of winter, but I have a little job in Saluda still to finish up.”

I
T WAS THREE
days later and almost dark when I heard somebody on the porch. I thought it must be Muir come back from his hike into the mountains. I figured he would be cold and hungry, and I was frying up some shoulder meat and had grits boiling in the saucepan. Nothing will warm you up like hog meat and hot grits.

But when the door opened I seen it was Moody. He looked pale and gaunt, like he had been tired and scared for a long time.

“Where have you been?” I said.

“Been around,” Moody said.

“That don't tell me much,” I said.

Moody stepped to the fire and held out his hands. He looked like he had been shrunk by the cold and by walking a long way. He looked thinner than ever.

“What did you find out?” I said.

Moody turned to me, and his eyes burned with a black soberness I hadn't seen before. “I'm going to have to leave home for a while,” he said.

“What have you done?” I said. An icicle of dread drove down my spine.

“Found out who busted up Muir's foundation,” Moody said.

“Who?” I said.

“They done it to get back at me,” Moody said.

“Why would they get back at you?” I said with dread in my voice.

“Long story,” Moody said.

“Supper's almost ready,” I said. “You can tell me while we eat.” I thought if we could just go ahead and eat, things might turn out all right.

“I've got to run,” Moody said.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I think I may have killed one of them,” Moody said.

“One of who?” I said.

“One of the Willards that done the busting up,” Moody said.

“You didn't kill nobody?” I said.

“I didn't mean to,” Moody said. But he wouldn't say any more. He asked me and Fay to fix him some biscuits and side meat, some corn bread. He filled a sack with pans and cups and stuff.

“Boil some eggs,” I said to Fay. I fried some sausage to go with the eggs.

“The law will be after me,” Moody said. “They will ask you where I went.”

“Just tell them the truth,” I said.

“They will put me in jail,” Moody said.

“Not if you was in the right,” I said.

“I ain't waiting around to find out,” Moody said.

L
ORD, DON'T LET
it be a fact, I said under my breath after Moody left. Let it all be a mistake.

It was a cold clear night, and when I stepped out on the back porch I seen how bright the stars was. The moon hadn't come up yet, and the stars was so fired up they sparkled in the river and on the branch. Because the air was so still the cold didn't sink in at first. Cicero Mountain loomed black as a sleeping bear across the river.

Just then I seen lights shoot onto the sides of the hemlocks out by the springhouse, and I heard the rattle of a car.
Tut-tut-tut-tut
, a motor went, and a jolt of chill shocked through me. Nobody ever drove to the house after dark.

The car stopped at the gate and then come on down the hill. When the lights flooded against the shed I seen the car had a siren on top. The man that got out carried a flashlight. I went back in the house and put the dishpan on the table, then met him at the front door with a lamp.

“Sorry to bother you, ma'am,” the man said. He was wearing a uniform and a trooper's hat. I did not invite him in.

“We are looking for Moody Powell,” he said.

“He ain't here,” I said.

“But this is where he resides?” the officer said.

“Sometimes,” I said. “But he ain't here now.”

“Moody has finally got hisself in real trouble,” the trooper said.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Can I come in, ma'am?” the officer said.

I stood back and let him step through the door, and then I led him to the fireplace.

“I'm Deputy Sheriff Otto Jenkins,” the man said and took off his hat.

“What kind of trouble is Moody in?” I said.

“Moody has killed Zack Willard,” the deputy said.

“How do you know it was Moody?” I said.

“Because Zack's three brothers seen him,” Deputy Jenkins said.

What could I say that would help Moody? I figured the longer I talked to the officer the more time Moody would have to get away. It was so quiet in the house I could hear a creak and pop in the attic as the house shrunk with cold. The clock on the mantel tapped like time was dripping out of it.

“Moody wouldn't go to kill nobody,” I said.

“Ma'am, a man is dead and Moody pulled the trigger. It won't do him any good to run.”

Just then there was another knock at the door, and another deputy that must have been waiting in the car come in. He was a young man, but he was so fat his uniform looked stretched on him.

“This is Deputy Henry Thomas,” the first man said.

“Why would Moody kill one of the Willards?” I said. “It don't make sense.”

“Might have something to do with liquor,” Deputy Thomas said.

“Why would the Willards bust up Muir's new church?” I said.

“Don't know about that,” Deputy Jenkins said.

“Moody said he knowed who broke up Muir's rockwork,” I said.

“All I know is, the Willards didn't want nobody horning in on their bootlegging,” Deputy Jenkins said.

“Moody wasn't trying to hurt nobody,” I said.

“Ma'am, is Moody here?” Deputy Thomas said. The fat deputy had scars on his face, so his cheeks looked bumpy as oatmeal. I tried not to look at him. His shoulders was too thick for his uniform, but he looked me hard in the eyes like he was an important man.

“He ain't here,” I said.

“I hate to ask you this, but could we search the house?” Deputy Jenkins said.

I was going to say, Why don't you take my word for it? or Do you have a search warrant? I felt myself get stiff, and anger washed through me. But getting mad wouldn't do Moody any good.

“Go ahead, if you want to,” I said. “But you won't find him here. Neither of my boys is here.”

“Much obliged to you, ma'am,” Deputy Jenkins said.

They took their flashlights and looked in the kitchen and on the back porch. They poked in the closets and in the bedrooms.

“They ain't got no right,” Fay said to me.

I felt naked with them looking into our things. They found the ladder to the attic and Deputy Jenkins climbed up. I hated for him to see the books and magazines and old furniture scattered up there. The place was nothing but dust and cobwebs, and Pa's old books and Muir's drawings laying everywhere.

When Deputy Jenkins come back down there was cobwebs stuck to his hat. He took the hat off and brushed the spiderwebs away. “How many outbuildings do you have?” he said.

“Smokehouse and springhouse, corncrib and shed and chicken house,” I said. “And an old log barn.”

Fay and me stood at the window and watched their flashlights circle and lift as they opened the smokehouse and springhouse. After they searched the barn they come back to the house and asked where the cellar was.

“You won't find nothing hiding in the cellar but taters,” I said. Taking a lamp from the mantel, I led them out the back door and down the steps to the basement. It was warm in the cellar, compared to the outside. Their flashlights played over the shelves of jars. Sprouts from the taters run like white snakes to the door. I half expected Moody to be hiding there. It was a relief to see nothing but buckets and old sacks and a toolbox against the moldy wall.

When we come back into the house the fire felt mighty good. I wished they would leave. I wished I could think clear about what had happened. Everything was going wrong and moving so fast I couldn't think what to do.

Deputy Thomas asked me if I knowed where Moody went and I told him I had no idea. I reckon he didn't believe me. His cheeks looked like they had raisins in the skin.

“It will go easier if he turns hisself in,” Deputy Jenkins said.

“What if he is innocent?” I said. I wanted them to leave. I wanted to find out what had really happened. I wanted to tell Muir what had happened.

“Ma'am, you will feel a whole lot better if you tell us where Moody is hiding,” Deputy Thomas said.

“You could be charged as an accessory if you're hiding him,” Deputy Jenkins said.

“Are you accusing me of hiding him?” I said.

Deputy Thomas stepped closer and motioned for Deputy Jenkins to back away. “We're not accusing you of nothing, ma'am,” he said. “All we saying is that it would go a lot easier on Moody if he turns hisself in.”

Muir

I
HAD WATCHED
the ranger get killed without even trying to warn him, which was bad enough. But when Mama told me Moody had gone after the Willards and killed Zack by accident, I was dazed. I had been wrong about everything, blinded by my anger and surprise and vanity. And now Moody was wanted by the law.