Authors: Virginia Brown
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Sagas
Heat rose from the sidewalk out front, hymns penetrated the stained glass windows, and finally, he heard Reverend Hale begin his sermon. It was a wonder the windows didn’t rattle. It was a bigger wonder that the roof didn’t fall in on a man spouting the perils of sin when he was probably still banging the choir director every chance he got. Just not at the Albertson’s old house. It had stayed empty since the day he’d told the good reverend about his “dream.”
Sweat dampened his tee shirt and wet the sides of his face while he waited outside, trying not to think about too much, but wondering just how God could justify leaving the reverend alive but taking his mama. Maybe Mama had her own sins, but she’d done penance long enough. He didn’t see that the reverend suffered anything but the adulation of his flock and the ministrations of Mrs. Tilly. Maybe sin paid better than virtue. It sure seemed to have better benefits.
He dragged his arm across his face to wipe away sweat dripping into his eyes and making his hair wet. This was stupid. He should have gone over to the drug store to wait in the cool air conditioning for church to let out instead of stand out here in the heat. Even if he saw Cinda, it wouldn’t make any difference. He didn’t know why he’d thought it would. Why he thought it’d help anything. It wouldn’t. It’d only make things worse if her parents thought he was trying to see her. He should leave, go on over to Tyler’s and sneak looks at the magazines with pictures of naked women in them. Eldridge Tyler tried to keep them up high and covered with brown paper, but everyone in Cane Creek knew where they were and that all they had to do was stand on the bottom shelf and grab a few. Yeah, that’s what he should do.
But when church let out he still stood there waiting for Mikey to come out the side where the steps weren’t steep, and he saw Cinda at last. She was with Mariah as usual, who grabbed her arm and said something. Cinda turned to look at him. He lifted his arm so the hot light gleamed on the bracelet. Just so she’d know.
Cinda smiled and lifted her chin to acknowledge him, then bent her head back to Mariah as if not seeing him at all. But he knew. She’d seen him and she knew how he felt. That’d have to be enough for now. He leaned back against the wooden post and stuck his hands in his pockets to wait on Mikey.
“Do you really think that act’s going to fool anybody?” a voice said beside him, and he turned to see Chris Quinton.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I have a feeling you do. But don’t worry. Like I told you before, I can keep secrets. I’ve had enough practice.”
Chantry’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust Chris, not for one minute. He wouldn’t say or do anything unless there was something in it for him.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and Chris smiled.
“Sure you do.”
“So where’s your back-up? I don’t see them hanging around you much anymore.”
It was best to change the subject, get it away from treacherous ground. It didn’t make him feel any better to see that Chris recognized what he was doing, though.
He shrugged. “They got boring. All they ever had on their minds was drinking beer and smoking a little weed. I got tired of that.”
“Just how tired? That’s the reason you were at the Hideaway that night, wasn’t it? For something less boring than a little weed?”
Pale gray eyes didn’t flicker. “You know why I was there. Same as you. So—I don’t guess you’ve—heard anything from her?”
He didn’t intend to answer that. Let Chris go get information from someone else. It wasn’t his place to say anything even if he’d known anything to say.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Chris said after a moment, “the silent man. The lone wolf. Nothing to say and no one to say it to. That’s you, isn’t it. Sometimes I don’t know whether to envy you or pity you, Callahan. You’ve got nothing. I’ve got everything. Or so I’m told.” He stuck his hands into his pockets, rattled his change, and looked into the distance like he was seeing someplace far beyond Cane Creek. “I just keep forgetting how superior I am. Maybe one day I’ll hear it enough and it’ll stick.”
“You’re a Quinton. It’ll stick.”
Chris looked back at him. “Right. I’m a Quinton. So’s Cinda. Just be careful. We tend to get ruthless when we want something.”
“That’s not a trait reserved just for Quintons,” Chantry said softly, and saw that Chris got his meaning. For a long moment he just looked at him, like he was trying to figure out how far Chantry would go. Then he nodded.
“The devil always recognizes his own, I’m told.”
Maybe that was true. It made more sense than anything else Chantry had heard.
July heat swooped in with a vengeance, sulked into August, then limped into September. Days weren’t so hot now, nights cooler, with the promise of winter couched in changing leaves and the vee of geese winging across the sky. It’d been four months since Mama died. A lifetime.
Chantry went back to school but didn’t participate. He never saw Cinda since her parents had put her in private school now, over at the Quinton Academy where Chris attended classes. It hadn’t seemed to hurt Sheridan in the elections. He won by a landslide, but since his opponent was new to politics and Cane Creek, it wasn’t exactly unexpected.
Mariah seemed lost without Cinda this year, and came up to Chantry one day after class and stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked down at her, frowning a little because she had a set to her jaw like a pit bull.
“If you’d just left her alone, nothing would have happened.” Mariah said with unfamiliar ferocity. “Why didn’t you stay away from her?”
For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Then he just shook his head. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t, I guess.”
“Well, I hope you’re happy. She was my best friend.” Mariah had tears in her eyes, and her lower lip quivered so that she looked like she was about to bawl.
“I’m sorry. I know what it feels like to lose your best friend.” He meant it. Maybe Mariah knew he did, because after a minute, she turned on her heel and walked away.
It looked like he wasn’t the only one who missed Cinda.
Dark fell earlier now, so that sometimes when Doc dropped him and Shadow off at Mrs. Rowan’s to pick up Mikey, they crossed the field between her trailer and Liberty Road to save time and steps. He’d carry Mikey to keep him from struggling through deep ruts and furrows left by the harvesting machines, despite protests that he could walk. Perched atop his shoulders, legs dangling on each side and the braces cold beneath his hands, he’d listen to Mikey rattle like an old car, his mouth going a mile a minute. Tonight it was the same.
“I’m gettin’ bigger every day, Chantry. Mrs. Rowan says that soon I’ll be near as big as you. Not as strong, though. She says I’m sweet and gentle, but you’re wolf-wild. What does that mean?”
“She said that to you?”
“No. She said it to Mrs. Pritchett. Or maybe it was Mrs. Pritchett said it to her. Yeah. I think that was it. Mrs. Rowan just said I was a sweet boy and Mrs. Pritchett should leave us alone instead of try to interfere. That’s when Mrs. Pritchett said I wouldn’t stay sweet the longer I was with a boy who’s wolf-wild. I think she meant you.”
Chantry didn’t say anything, just kept trudging through the dirt, feet sinking into soft earth and stubble. Past sins kept cropping up, seeds sown the year before still bearing poisoned fruit. He should have thought about that. Consequences. Inevitable, even if late. Mama had been right about that, too.
“You think she meant you, Chantry? Are you wolf-wild?”
“Yeah, she meant me. Maybe I used to be wild, but not anymore. Now I’m just tired.”
That was true. Some days he didn’t think he could keep up. It took all his energy just to get him and Mikey to school, Shadow at the clinic for the day so Rainey didn’t get any ideas, and then work after school before coming home to fix dinner and try to clean up some before doing his homework. He wondered how Mama had managed so well all that time, how she’d made it look so easy. She’d had the same amount of hours in the day he had, just used them better.
“Papa’s home,” Mikey said when they got close to the house. Lights were on, shining in the kitchen window and from the open back door. “And looks like we got company, too.”
“Have company,” Chantry murmured even while he was staring at the truck parked in the driveway. It looked new, not Rainey’s older truck that he’d bought with the money Chantry had saved for Shadow. This truck was chrome and new paint, big tires in front and dual rear tires.
When they reached the yard he set Mikey on the ground underneath the mimosa tree and put Shadow in the pen. Then he looked at the truck. It had a drive-out tag on it made out to Rainey Lassiter. Mikey had gone inside, clambering up the three steps in his clumsy gait. Chantry stood there a minute, staring at that truck, knowing whose money had bought it.
A wave of weariness washed over him, mixed with something that felt too close to defeat. He went to lean against the garage and stare at the truck, putting off going into the house. There wasn’t much he could do. He’d put himself into this trap just the way Rainey had put himself in one, and neither one of them could move any farther than the boundaries of their bargain. A devil’s bargain. Both lost souls in a way, bartering for a little more freedom when the ultimate ending was already written.
Rainey was waiting on him when he went inside, a look on his face like a mule, stubborn and ornery. Chantry went past him to the refrigerator and opened it. Half a package of hot dogs, a package of sliced cheese, some milk and beer.
“We need to go to the grocery store,” he said without looking at Rainey. “There’s nothing much to feed Mikey.”
“Yeah. All right. Maybe tomorrow. I got somewhere to go tonight.”
Chantry slammed the refrigerator door shut. He turned to look at him, mouth tight. “Is it too damn much trouble to buy food? You can buy trucks but not bread?”
“Shit, you sound just like your mama, boy. Always bitchin’ about somethin’.” Rainey gave him a narrow look. “Don’t think I’m gonna listen to a bunch of crap about that truck, neither. It’s about time I got somethin’ decent to drive.”
“Drive where? Two blocks to the Tap Room? The cops’ll impound it the first time they catch you out on the road with a gut full of beer.”
“There’s other places I go. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Where’d you get the money for the truck, Rainey?”
As if he’d been waiting on that question, Rainey brought the flat of his hand down hard on the kitchen table. “Don’t start no shit with me.”
Frustration simmered, but he kept a tight rein on his temper. “Did the life insurance money finally come in? Is that Mama’s money you’re spending? ‘Cause if it is, it’s not your money. It’s for Mikey. His operation, remember? To get his legs fixed.”
“I’m workin’ on that, don’t you worry about it.”
“We have a bargain.”
“
We
got nothin’.
You
got just what you asked for—Mikey.
I
got the insurance money. I more’n kept my end of the bargain. I left him alone and I left you alone. I even left that damn mutt alone. I never said nothin’ about leavin’ the money alone.”
“Yes, you did. You said Mama’s money would go to Mikey’s operation.”
Rainey snorted. “Ain’t no damn op’ration gonna fix what’s the matter with that kid. He’s got a head full of sawdust. You, now, you was always smart even if you’s meaner than a snake. I never thought that kid’d live this long.”
Anger sparked, hot and hopeless. Getting Rainey to part with money would be next to impossible, especially if he had ole man Quinton egging him on.
“So what are you gonna do with Mama’s money? Besides buy trucks and whiskey. Or is that as good as it’s gonna get?”
Sitting back in the kitchen chair, Rainey lit a cigarette and looked at him for a full minute. Smoke curled around his head. Mama would never let him smoke in the house, always made him go outside. He did what he wanted now that she was gone.
Rainey said, “I know you’ve always wanted to leave this town. So have I. Soon as we get the rest of the money, we’re goin’ to Missouri. I got kin up there.”
Chantry just stared at him. Missouri. As bad as he wanted to leave Cane Creek, he knew it’d be no better there. Not for him, not for Mikey, not with a yard full of Lassiters like Rainey. And like Beau and Rafe. Shit, Rainey’s kinfolks would kill him, just to get even for the five to ten years at Parchman that Beau and Rafe drew for that drug deal.
As if he knew what Chantry was thinking, Rainey laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for ya.”
Right
. He’d watch while Lassiter kin beat him to a pulp. Chantry shook his head. “No. We aren’t going. Not to Missouri, not with you.”
“Boy, you ain’t got much choice. I’m takin’ my kid with me. You now, you can stay here if you want, but you’n that dog’ll be in state custody before I hit the river once I’m gone. Ole man Quinton, he’s done said he’d see you’s taken care of if I leave ya here. State’ll see to it you got a nice place to go.”
“How much?” Chantry asked, and saw from Rainey’s quickly narrowed eyes that he knew what he meant. “How much money are you getting for killing Mama? That truck out there has to cost at least five, maybe ten thousand, even used. It’s still pretty new. You wouldn’t spend all the money on a truck and not leave any for whiskey.”
“Smart ass little bastard. Don’t be sayin’ shit like that. I didn’t kill her. She fell, slipped on the floor you got all wet and hit her head. Anyone’s to blame, it’s you.”
“Just because you want to twist the truth doesn’t make it true.” Chantry leaned over the table, put both his hands palms down on the surface and his face close to Rainey’s. “You even try to take us to Missouri and I’ll go straight to the cops. I’ll tell them what I saw, and I’ll tell them what you said.”