Authors: High on a Hill
The woman was no more than fifty feet away from him when she tripped and went sprawling face down amid the twigs and leaves in the path. The bucket flew from her hand, spilling the wild raspberries she had been gathering. She lay in a tangled heap, exposing white legs and heavy black shoes.
Boone dismounted and hurried to her.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you hurt? I’m sorry I scared ya.”
She turned over, hastily covered her legs with her skirt and cowered from him. Twigs were caught in her hair. Her face was scratched; her lips trembled. She looked at him with large, frightened eyes.
“Can I help you pick up the berries?” Boone took the two steps necessary to reach the bucket and began picking the berries up off the ground. He glanced at her when she got to her knees and then to her feet.
Boone was surprised to see that she was not a young girl in spite of her small stature. She had the rounded figure of a woman whom he judged to be somewhat older than Annabel. Her amber eyes blended with her face and hair. Her mouth was soft and open as she gulped in air.
“I’m afraid we won’t find all the berries that spilled,” he said, not looking up.
Out of the corner of his eye Boone could see the ragged hem of her dress and the heavy-soled shoes that laced up over her ankles. As he stood to hand her the bucket, it occurred to him that she hadn’t uttered a sound, not even when she fell.
“I’m from over at the next place.” He raised his hand to point in that direction.
She lifted her eyes. They were large, fringed by lashes golden and thick. Boone looked into their depths for what seemed to be only an instant, but it was much longer than that. She turned her head suddenly. Boone’s eyes followed hers and saw a man on a mule hurrying toward them. He recognized the old black felt hat worn by the neighbor who had been spying on them.
“What’re ya doin’ out here with ’im?” he shouted angrily as he neared. “Get home! Now!”
Boone could almost feel her fear. She tried to dart around him and bumped into him with the bucket. She paused as if to apologize, then jumped when the man shouted at her again.
“Tessie! Get!”
Like a frightened doe, the woman scurried away and disappeared into the brush that grew along the path. Boone stepped into the saddle and looked steadily at the man, who was not much more than a boy. He was skinny, with narrow shoulders and long arms, and glared at him like a cornered wildcat. His furious eyes were set close together and his brows met across his hawklike nose.
“What ya doin’ on our land?”
“Just passin’ through.”
“Ya got no right bein’ here.”
“I’m from the place north of yours.”
“I know where yo’re from.”
“Sure you do. You’ve been watchin’ us.” Boone was losing his patience. “Why didn’t ya come on in … like a decent neighbor would?”
“Bullshit!” the boy snorted. “Ya try and get next to Tessie an’ ya’ll get yore head blowed off!” He moved the mule nearer to the mare and she danced away.
“What the hell ya talkin’ about? I never saw the woman until now. I scared her and—”
“She knew ya was comin’ through here, didn’t she?” He jutted his head toward Boone and let his hand rest on the rifle in the holster on his saddle.
“How would she know that? I’ve never seen her before. Now get the hell out of my way.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll jerk ya off that mule and mop the ground with ya!”
“Mouthy, ain’t ya?”
“I can take care of myself, if that’s what ya mean. We want no trouble with ya. We already know ya got a still in the hills. It’s no business of ours unless you make it our business.”
The boy’s face froze. “How ya be knowin’ that? Tessie tell ya?”
“Yo’re about the dumbest shit-head I’ve come across in a long time. That woman didn’t utter a word, but you’ll believe what you want to. I’ll tell you this—you tend to yore business, we’ll tend to ours.” Boone could see that he had taken some of the wind out of the boy’s sails.
“Bud and Marvin ain’t goin’ to take it kindly that ya was spyin’ on us and chasin’ Tessie. I saw her runnin’ from ya.”
“She was runnin’ ’cause I scared her. I don’t give a horse turd what you think.” Boone rode around the boy, wondering if he would put a bullet in his back. He turned in the saddle to look back at him and saw him going on down the path, then turning up toward the hills. “Stupid son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered. “How did a woman like that get tangled up with a shit-for-brains ignoramus like him?”
Annabel was out of the house and into the yard the minute Boone rode in leading the cow. She was delighted with the animal and petted and cooed to her. She pulled fresh green grass and fed her.
“You are beautiful, just beautiful.” Annabel patted the sides of the cow’s face. “Look at her eyes, Boone. She knows she’s found a good home.”
“Confound it! She ort to. I paid out seven good dollars for her. She’s lucky she ain’t hangin’ head down in the butcher shop.”
Annabel wrinkled her nose at him, then spoke to the cow.
“And you’re worth every penny, aren’t you, Mildred?”
“Mildred? How’d you come up with that?” Boone rocked back on his heels and tried not to grin.
“She reminds me of a girl in school named Mildred. She had big brown eyes and big—” She glanced down at the cow’s full udder. “Well, never mind. Are you going to milk Mildred?”
“Hell, no. Spinner will do it. Where’s he at?”
“In the house with Jack.”
“How is he?”
“Asleep. When he wakes up, I’ll give him a dish of oatmeal with brown sugar on it and good fresh milk. Spinner doesn’t think much of oatmeal. He said Jack needs meat to build his strength. It was good of you to get the cow, but I wish I’d remembered to tell you to go to the butcher shop while you were in town.”
“I ain’t goin’ back to town no matter how much ya butter me up.”
“I’m not buttering you up, for heaven’s sake!”
“Yeah, ya are, and ya know it. It’s my turn to go up to the … to go someplace. Ya can try and sweet-talk Spinner, but he can’t leave here unless he takes ya with him.”
“I know that. I can’t go and leave Jack. So, how are we going to get fresh meat?”
“I’ll kill a chicken.”
“Boone! You wouldn’t! You’re teasing, aren’t you?”
“Ya goin’ to let them hens die of old age?”
“They’re so sweet and trusting. I couldn’t possibly cook one, much less eat it. Couldn’t you take the truck and go to town before you go to spend the night guarding Papa’s stash of illegal booze?”
Boone frowned. “Don’t be sayin’ anythin’ like that in front of the kid.”
“I won’t. I know better than that. I’ve learned something during the years you and Papa have been … outlaws.” Her grin told him that she was teasing.
“How long have you known about it?”
“Almost from the first. Mama didn’t know.”
“I’m glad a that.”
“Well? Will you go to the butcher shop?”
“Now, lass—”
“It won’t take long in the truck. Please, Boone. I could go with you. Spinner can stay with Jack.”
“Oh, all right, but ya ain’t goin’. I ain’t waitin’ around while ya go get yoreself all duded up to go to town, then waitin’ while ya go lollygaggin’ in and out of the stores. Whata ya want from the butcher?”
Annabel stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re sweet and … almost as pretty as Mildred.”
“Yo’re a headstrong, schemin’ little twit,” he grumbled and, trying hard to keep the frown on his face, headed for the truck in the shed.
Boone drove slowly as he passed the neighbors to the south and scanned the area for a glimpse of the woman he’d met in the woods. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He wanted to know if she had suffered because of their accidental meeting. He considered turning the truck up the rutted lane to the house but discarded the idea for fear he’d again bring down on her the wrath of the bully who had sent her home.
For the first time in many years Boone felt concern for a woman other than Annabel. He couldn’t help wondering if the ill-mannered lout was her husband. If she was the wife of one of his brothers, he wouldn’t have spoken to her like that—or would he? Tessie. Her name was Tessie and it fit her. The mouthy brute was just the type to knock around a little thing like her.
Boone felt anger boil up. He’d like nothing better than to whip the hillbilly’s ass; and if he got half a chance, he’d do it.
Murphy had been told after he bought the place that the nearest neighbors, the Carter clan, had lived in these hills for generations. They were a close-knit group who had little to do with anyone other than family. The Carters had operated a still since the war. If the Feds knew about it, they chose to ignore it because it was so piddling an enterprise.
Boone went on down the road and into town. He stopped at the butcher shop and bought a ten-pound chunk of beef and another ten pounds of meat and bones to make soup, then went to the icehouse and got a fifty-pound block of ice. On the way back he slowed again when he passed the Carters’, but not a soul was in sight.
When Jack awoke, the sun was hanging low in the western sky. It was pure luxury to lie in the warm soft bed. At first he thought that he was home. Then he opened his eyes. He was in a strange room, a strange house. Memory came rushing back, and he remembered his struggle to get up the hill to the house and how he hated having to ask for food.
He didn’t recall taking off his wet clothes or putting on this union suit. Surely the woman … no, now he remembered that a man with a dark stubble on his face had helped him and that the woman had spooned something hot and tangy in his mouth. They had been kind and he had felt safe.
He heard his stomach rumble. Lord, he was hungry.
The woman came quietly into the room and smiled at seeing him awake. She placed her palm against his forehead.
“Your fever is down. I bet you’re hungry.” She had a pretty face and a soft, lilting voice. She reminded him of his sister Julie, except that she had short dark hair. Julie’s was lighter and long.
“Yes, ma’am.” The long sleep had cleared his head. The only thing that really ached now was his hand and his empty stomach.
“I’ll bring you a bowl of oatmeal. Spinner has gone to milk our cow; and as soon as he comes in, you’ll have a glass of fresh milk.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll repay you with work as soon as I can get my legs under me.”
“We won’t worry about that now, Jack.” She saw the puzzled look come over his face. “I took a letter addressed to Jack out of your shirt pocket and spread it out to dry. You are Jack, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Jack Jones. My family lives in Fertile, Missouri.”
“Is that near here?”
“No, ma’am. It’s in the northwest corner of the state over near St. Joseph.”
“I’m not very good at geography. I’ve no idea where St. Joseph is.”
“I’m sorry to be so much trouble. I thank you for taking me in.”
“You’re very welcome, Jack.”
“Ma’am, I can’t pay right now. I didn’t have much money to start, but while I was sick and sleepin’ someone took it.”
“You shouldn’t be worrying about paying. You should eat something like oatmeal if you haven’t eaten a hearty meal for a while. Your stomach will be more able to handle it.”
“Oatmeal sounds like a feast, ma’am.”
“I’m cooking some beef. Later I’ll give you broth.” She smiled and Jack was sure that he’d never seen a sweeter smile.
“If I had my clothes—”
“I hung them on the line to dry. I’ll get them after I bring your oatmeal.”
“Ma’am, I can’t let you wait on me. If I had my clothes I could come to the table or … eat on the porch.”
“I won’t hear of it. You’ll stay right there until morning.”
“But … this is somebody’s bed—”
“It’s my father’s and he’s away right now.”
“The man that … helped me?”
“No, that was Boone. He’s gone now too, but Spinner is here. Spinner and Boone work for my father.” Annabel laughed teasingly. “Don’t worry about it. There is always someone here in case you decide to get up and rob the place.”
“I feel that I’m a … bother.”
“Well, you’re not. I’ll go get your oatmeal.” She turned to leave.
“Ma’am,” Jack called. “Who was playing the violin last night?”
Annabel turned. “You heard that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was down by the road. It seemed to be coming from heaven. It was the most beautiful music I ever heard.”
Annabel beamed. “Thank you, Jack. I love the violin and play for a while most evenings. I’ll play for you tonight if you like.”
She disappeared from the doorway and Jack thanked God for bringing him to this place.
C
ORBIN EXPECTED THE BRUTAL IMPACT of another bullet at any second now. He waited. But it did not come.
A burning rod was thrusting through his leg between his knee and his hip, and another in his shoulder. He staggered forward to find protection behind his car, slipped on some loose shale and fell. He struck the ground hard and felt his life crushed out of him. After that, he slid into kindly darkness.
When life came back, he lifted his hand to his head and tried to raise himself to his elbow. Pain knifed through him and he sank back down. He could see that he was in a room with plank walls, an iron cookstove and a square table. Seated at the table was a man whose face was covered with stubby whiskers as black as night, and the eyes staring at him were still blacker. The scene faded and he wasn’t sure if it was real until the man spoke.
“Take it easy.” The man unfolded himself from the chair and stretched out a hand to press him down on the deep soft bed of evergreen tips. He sank back and closed his eyes. Although a blanket covered the boughs he lay on, he could still mell the fragrance of the pines and vaguely recognized the sound of tree limbs swishing against the roof.
“Ya’ve come to. Guess I won’t have to dig a hole and bury ya after all.”
Corbin Appleby opened his eyes again and tried to sort out his vague thoughts. He waited until his eyes could focus before he spoke.
“Who are you?”
The man chuckled. “If you ain’t knowin’, I ain’t tellin’ ya.”
“Was it you who shot me?”