Prayers the Devil Answers (16 page)

I wish Albert could have had a suit as fine as Mr. Johnson's. I guess he wouldn't have had it long, but having it would have made him so happy. I tried to remember if I'd spoken to Mr. Johnson at the swearing-in. I exchanged pleasantries with most of the solemn representatives of the county government during all the glad-handing after the oaths had been administered, but, between my nervousness and having to keep an eye on the boys, I remembered very little of it. After all that had happened since that day, that event seemed like years ago instead of a couple of months. By now Mr. Johnson was as strange to me as an apparition, sitting there expressionless, patiently waiting to be told why I had come. I hoped I could summon up the courage to tell him.

When the silence became uncomfortable, he tried to reassure me of the county's concern, in case that was what I had come about. “If there's anything that the county government can do for you, ma'am, you've only got to ask. I assume that's why you're here.”

“In a way.” I was blushing and still trying not to look afraid.

After more silence, he tried again. “This must be a mighty hard time for you, losing your husband so suddenly. I can certainly understand that. Now, seeing as how he was one of our local elected officials, your loss concerns all of us in the county government. We all thought a lot of Sheriff Robbins, ma'am. He didn't hold the job for long, but we were impressed with what we saw. Now tell me what is it I can help you with?”

He thought I was after money. “I haven't come to ask for charity,” I told him. “Won't take it.”

In spite of the awkwardness and my plain speaking, Vernon Johnson smiled. “Well, I believe I already knew that, Mrs. Robbins. You hail from one of those communities up the mountain, same as your husband, don't you? I remember him saying once that none of the families from up there would ask for anything—not food if they were hungry, not a rope if they were drowning. I've seen enough of them in my years with the railroad to believe that.”

“It's true enough. We don't like to be beholden.”

“Beholden.” He smiled at the word, which probably sounded quaint to him, but I couldn't think of a better one. “Well, I wouldn't think of it that way, if I were you. For a start you have your sons to think of. Their well-being should take precedent over pride, shouldn't it?”

“It's a painful choice, sir.”

“I hope it won't be. You know, since your late husband was a good sheriff—a public servant—you could say that he deserved to have his family taken care of, even if he didn't perish in the line of duty. So why don't you tell yourself that maybe we owe you?”

I nodded. Maybe they did.

chapter nine

S
eeing Vernon Johnson at the graveside made me wonder if Albert's passing meant that the other fellow, that Samuel Snyder that nobody liked much, would call for a special election and get the job after all. If Albert was right about the politics surrounding the job, I didn't think the county officials would want that to happen. At least I hoped they wouldn't, because here was Commissioner Johnson sitting at his big oak desk, still watching me warily, and twiddling his fingers while he waited to hear what I had to say.

I could see that this visit from me—the sheriff's widow—was giving Mr. Vernon Johnson the fidgets. I looked calm enough, but I expect he thought any minute now I would give way to noisy grief, and there he would be, helpless and mortified, while a poor bereaved woman screamed or sobbed or—worst of all—fainted right there in front of his desk. I was sure that the commissioner was equal to most of the situations he might encounter. He'd know which fork to use at a dinner party and how to talk to a lawyer and understand what they said back, and I'll bet he could fire an employee without missing a beat, but it was plain that he had no earthly idea how to handle a crying woman. I'll bet he hoped he wouldn't have to figure it out. Granted that I had every right to be distraught, of course, but
no doubt he'd be praying that I wouldn't give way right there in his office.

He was smiling pleasantly enough, but if he was like most men, he was wishing he could be anywhere but here; however, he was a county official and that made him obligated to hear me out. His wife, the kindly silver-haired woman who had come to the house with the other ladies, told me then that she'd ask her husband to give us whatever help he could. I hoped she had remembered to do that. It would be easier to talk to him if he had some idea that I was coming. He probably supposed that I'd come to ask for money, but it wouldn't be as easy as that.

I tried to push a stray lock of hair out of my face, wishing I had thought to put on rice powder and lip rouge so I wouldn't look so much like a scarecrow, but I didn't care to look in the mirror these days if I could help it. I was never much of a beauty, and I neither wanted nor could afford much in the way of makeup or fancy clothes, but I knew I looked a fright now. In a matter of days grief had made me old. Exhaustion and missing nearly a week of meals hadn't helped my appearance either. I supposed it would pass, though, when I got used to things being the way they were now. Later, when the dark circles under my eyes faded and the pallor and the haggard look left my face, I might be a passably attractive woman again. Now, though, I looked like a whipped hound. I waited until the silence felt like noise, but I still couldn't find a way to begin telling him exactly why I had come.

He smiled. “You needn't be nervous, ma'am. I know that except on social occasions you ladies are not used to having to talk to—well, men of business like me. And it's no wonder. The sheriff gave us to understand that the both of you came from a remote little settlement up the mountain, and that they were more or less shy around strangers. Is that right?”

“Pretty much. Where we come from, people are known for being
as economical with their emotions as if they thought they would be charged for them. Albert always said they acted like real life were a type of telegram costing two cents a word.”

Mr. Johnson sighed. “I wish some of the people in our committee meetings felt that way.”

“It's hard to get used to being any different. At least you needn't worry about me giving way here while I'm talking to you. We don't make a show of our feelings, however strong those feelings might be. Now, I'll grant you that I am still trying to cope with the sorrow of my husband's passing, but now I'm able to put that to one side in order to tend to practical matters.”

He was fidgeting again. “As soon as this, Mrs. Robbins? Perhaps you should wait a few days?”

“I've thought about it, but I have my sons to think of. I'd rather start moving forward. It's no use trying to hang on to the past.”

He nodded. “Perhaps that's best. I've seen many people postponing practical matters until their distress thaws enough to let them think about the future, and then they face a second grief, because that is when they realize that they have financial worries to contend with in addition to their personal loss.”

“Most of the people I know can't afford to wait, Mr. Johnson. Even if they wanted to.”

“So you've decided to face the future now, have you? Then I admire your courage.”

He might have admired it, but he still didn't quite believe it. I knew he would ease as gradually as time allowed into the painful subject of the Robbins family's future without their breadwinner, because local politics had made Vernon Johnson a diplomat.

I was right. He spent a few more minutes asking about Eddie and George and making remarks about the weather, but finally he decided it was time to come to the point. “Well, I hope you'll excuse my plain speaking, ma'am. I don't mean to be overly inquisitive, but
before we discuss some ways that we could address your situation, there are things I need to know on behalf of the county.”

“Yes, sir.” I was going to save him the trouble of a long discussion by telling him my idea, but before I could figure out a way to frame it, he plunged right on ahead.

“The main concerns are did Sheriff Robbins carry any insurance and do you have any family that can take you in?”

“Family? No sir. There's just my brothers and sisters left now, and they are pretty well scattered from here to Michigan. With times being as hard as they are, none of them could afford to take in three more people. And I wouldn't ask them to.” I didn't want to move away and live in some far-off city, anyhow, but I wouldn't say that unless I had to.

Vernon Johnson steepled his fingers and scrunched his forehead so I'd know he was thinking. “But what about your husband's ­people?”

I knew that question would be coming, and I had worked out what to say so that I wouldn't sound too harsh, but still made it clear that we weren't going back there. I didn't want to sound troublesome, just firm. “There's just his brother Albert. He offered to let us go back to the farm, but . . .”

“But other people there feel differently?”

“Yes. It's plain as a pikestaff that his wife wouldn't like it. Neither would he, really. I don't intend to go where we'd be a burden.”

“Is there another alternative, Mrs. Robbins?”

“I could stay put.”

That startled him. “You would prefer to stay here?”

“Here in town? Yes sir, I would.”

“Alone? That might be difficult. May I ask why?”

I wondered if I should tell him any more about the biggest reason I wanted to stay. Unless Elva could persuade Henry not to let us move in, she would make my life a misery in hopes of forcing us to
go elsewhere. It had been hard to put up with Elva even at the best of times, but now I knew I would have no energy to contend with her, and no one to take my side in the inevitable arguments anymore. Not with Albert gone.
The boys didn't need to grow up in a house full of quarreling and bitter silences.

“I'd like to stay in town on account of the boys,” I told him, and it was true enough. “The schools are better here. Besides, there's no one we can count on to take us in. Nobody we'd care to ask.”

“Can you afford to stay on?”

“Not as we are now. You asked about insurance. We didn't have any, because Albert said we couldn't afford it yet.”

“We're too young to need it, Ellie,”
he had told me.
“Let's spend our money on things we need in the here and now. Like new shoes and winter coats for Eddie and George.”

Well, Albert had been wrong about us not needing insurance, but we weren't to know then that he would be dead before he ever saw forty. He had been right about the expense, anyhow. We had so little money to spare that to spend it betting on something that was not likely to happen for decades did seem like an unnecessary waste. Unfortunately, we lost that bet.

Vernon Johnson sighed again. “Yes, I thought it might be like that. It's human nature to take care of the present and hope that the future will see to itself.”

“Seems like the very people who need insurance the most are the ones who can't afford to have it.”

“Indeed. It's a pitiful shame, but there it is. I wish the county had some sort of pension plan for employees, like the railroad does, but alas we can't afford it either.”

“We always thought we were too young to need insurance, but Albert had been thinking about it again, since he got elected sheriff, on account of the dangers of the job. It's just that he never did get around to taking out a policy. It has only been a couple of months
since he won the election, you know. Maybe if he had been in the job longer . . .”

“I understand.” He was looking alarmed. I think my voice must have quavered. “None of us likes to think about dying, so making plans for it feels like asking for trouble, don't you think? It's a natural reaction. People don't like making wills for the same reason. But now the future has arrived and plans have to be made. Have you thought about what you want to do now?”

I was still too numb to feel much of anything, even hope, and I didn't trust anybody, really, but the man seemed sincere in his willingness to help, and, after all, where else did I have to turn? I know I must have looked red-eyed and weary, but I tried to sound confident anyway. “I have given it a lot of thought, sir.”

“And what would you like to do, if you don't mind my asking?”

“I'm glad you asked, sir. You're the very person I had to tell. I want my husband's job.”

Vernon Johnson leaned back in his leather chair, and I think that for once he had been rendered speechless. He kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish. I almost smiled. Finally he stammered, “Your husband's
job
? Well . . . that is a facer, ma'am. Frankly, what I was expecting was a request for a sum of money—I expect the county could manage fifty dollars—to enable you and your children to move somewhere else. I had hoped you would be going back to family, but from what you tell me, that is not in the cards.” He shook his head. “We had not anticipated this. The other commissioners and I, I mean.”

“No, sir. I don't suppose many widows would ask for such a thing.”

He picked up a pencil and started tapping his desk with it. He looked like the discussion had got away from him, and now he was trying to think more than a sentence ahead. “Well, Mrs. Robbins, your husband's job. Oh, my.”

“I'd like to earn a living instead of being handed charity.”

“Your independence does you credit. I admire your courage, but
courage and recklessness often look a lot alike. When you say you want your husband's job, are you sure you know what you're asking for?”

In the corner next to the window there was an American flag on a wooden staff with a gilded eagle carved on top. When Mr. Johnson spoke of independence, I started concentrating on that eagle, because I was afraid that if I kept looking at him, his doubts would cause me to lose my nerve.

“Yes, Mr. Johnson, I know exactly what I am asking. I've been thinking on this ever since I started trying to figure out how to go on without Albert. I've been praying about it too.”

He had formed all his ideas on women from the well-to-do ladies like his wife. She was kindness itself, but I couldn't imagine her working either. I'll bet Mr. Johnson wished he had gone home for lunch so that someone else would have had to deal with this. With me. I said “praying about it” on purpose, to suggest that any objection from him would be arguing with God.

He stopped tapping the pencil. “Well, ma'am, I don't hold with women working, especially not if they have young children, but times are hard, and I can see that you don't have many other choices. If you're bound and determined to work, maybe we can find something more suitable for you to do.”

That made me wary. I couldn't bring myself to smile, but with downcast eyes I did manage to murmur a thank you—no point in being rude to anybody who meant well, even if you took offense at what he said. All the same, if he said he would get me hired to clean the courthouse, I intended to head for the door. That flash of spirit didn't last more than a few seconds, though. I let go of that prideful resolution as soon as I remembered Eddie and Georgie needing town schooling, and shoes, and food on the table. Since I had to be the breadwinner now, if Vernon Johnson offered me honest work, even as a cleaner or a washerwoman, I would have to swallow my pride and
take it. If it came to that, I would accept whatever job I was given, but not before I had done all I could to be allowed to serve out Albert's term. The sheriff's job would pay better than anything the commissioners would consider women's work.

“I have given this a lot of thought, Mr. Johnson. I could do my husband's job.”

I'm sure that all the commissioner saw was a pale, quiet little woman hunched in the chair in front of his desk. He couldn't believe that I would be equal to the task of dealing with lawbreakers. I could tell he was trying—and failing—to picture me as a peace officer, but I didn't think I'd have to get in any fistfights or anything worse than a shouting match. I didn't suppose I'd ever be able to do that, but chances were I wouldn't have to. For one thing, most of the men around here would die of shame if they were to try to fistfight with a woman. And Albert once said that if you could scare people just by looking mean it would save you a lot of time and trouble in dealing with them.

Mr. Johnson gave me a half-hearted smile, but it was plain that he was humoring me rather than agreeing with me. “It's brave of you to be willing to try it, Mrs. Robbins, but perhaps you feel you have no choice. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures. It's a tough job, even for a man. Do you really think you could go out and arrest people? A little lady like you? Be honest now.”