horse and
ride out of here,” I said.
His eyes got
pretty big then. “Can’t I leave her a letter?” he reached into his coat and
pulled out a fat envelope with his name scrawled in poorly writing.
“You can leave
your dust as we watch the back of the silliest suit ever made licking out of
here.” I was through with this fool. I stomped up onto the porch then, into the
house where Ma and Allie looked out the window, Johnny between them.
“Look at them
coming,” Ma said. “What is it they want, Tom?”
“What they want
and what they’re going to get are two different beasts,” I said, going for my Enfield.
So I stood on the
porch all that morning fending off the Philistines. They wanted a look at this
missus who shot the old soldier, that vicious vagabond who threatened the good
folk of our county. Least that’s what the paper said, the story given by none
other than our good sheriff, Jimmy Leidner. Bold faced, it was, with a picture
of the old one in his coffin, a bloody cloth over his face. The sheriff was
quoted as saying it was the finest piece of shooting he had ever seen and if
there was another war he wanted Mrs. Varn to ride his flank.
Ride his flank? I
was going to beat him down to dust next time our paths crossed. The only thing
that kept me halfway civil as I turned these nosey rabble away, and closed down
Mrs. Varn’s two dozen hopeful suitors, was the gleeful thought of how good it
would feel to pound my fist into Jimmy’s bony frame.
I did not see the
missus all that long day. Next day was more of it, but this time we were ready
as I set a perimeter down the road. This was the most sanguine thing to happen
between Gaylin and me since I came home. I must admit, he made an excellent
sentry, stopping folks well before they reached the road that led to our house,
and sending them packing from where they hailed. We had a grand old time
disappointing them from their wayward ambition of harassing the missus. It was
a deeply satisfying ending to the greatest show on earth.
By Thursday
events had died down considerable and we were working until late evening to get
some work done. The missus came from her room and sat with us at dinner. I was
glad I’d washed so thoroughly, even my ears, as I came in to eat.
Missus wore a
blue gown, and her hair was gathered behind her head, like a dark waterfall of
silk. Least that’s how it appeared. She smiled at me, her eyes so richly dark,
like the coffee I drank and often stared into now to help clear the whiskey and
bad dreams each morning.
She was seated in
Garrett’s place. And it felt comforting somehow. That empty chair had bothered
me some, and the plate Ma often put there for Sunday dinners. This missus was
Garrett’s type of woman, the good kind. I’d thought of her breasts, I’ll admit,
and what a man would have to do to be worthy of knowing her flesh that way. Her
husband…she’d said he shamed her. Secretly, I wasn’t sorry he died. I was sorry
it happened like it did, before Johnny, before her, but if he shamed her…even
once…then there was some justice in this world the day he fell.
I knew that was
harsh. But I was harsh, and that was the truth about me that my family didn’t
know or understand. And before they could ever see it, I needed to be gone. They
had suffered enough in losing the favored son, the best one they had next to
Seth. And it’s me that didn’t protect him.
So with this
missus here, and little Johnny, there was something new churning up in Ma and
Pa and the boys, and Allie that I hadn’t seen since before we left for war.
When Pa said the
meal prayer I bowed my head, and I meant it this time. I could forgive God a
lot of things for bringing this family into the fold of my own and bringing
them comfort. I could leave now with a new thing nearly close to happiness.
But during the
prayer I looked up, and the missus was peeking back, her eyes clear and gentle.
I smiled at her, and she smiled at me, the
ride out of here,” I said.
His eyes got
pretty big then. “Can’t I leave her a letter?” he reached into his coat and
pulled out a fat envelope with his name scrawled in poorly writing.
“You can leave
your dust as we watch the back of the silliest suit ever made licking out of
here.” I was through with this fool. I stomped up onto the porch then, into the
house where Ma and Allie looked out the window, Johnny between them.
“Look at them
coming,” Ma said. “What is it they want, Tom?”
“What they want
and what they’re going to get are two different beasts,” I said, going for my Enfield.
So I stood on the
porch all that morning fending off the Philistines. They wanted a look at this
missus who shot the old soldier, that vicious vagabond who threatened the good
folk of our county. Least that’s what the paper said, the story given by none
other than our good sheriff, Jimmy Leidner. Bold faced, it was, with a picture
of the old one in his coffin, a bloody cloth over his face. The sheriff was
quoted as saying it was the finest piece of shooting he had ever seen and if
there was another war he wanted Mrs. Varn to ride his flank.
Ride his flank? I
was going to beat him down to dust next time our paths crossed. The only thing
that kept me halfway civil as I turned these nosey rabble away, and closed down
Mrs. Varn’s two dozen hopeful suitors, was the gleeful thought of how good it
would feel to pound my fist into Jimmy’s bony frame.
I did not see the
missus all that long day. Next day was more of it, but this time we were ready
as I set a perimeter down the road. This was the most sanguine thing to happen
between Gaylin and me since I came home. I must admit, he made an excellent
sentry, stopping folks well before they reached the road that led to our house,
and sending them packing from where they hailed. We had a grand old time
disappointing them from their wayward ambition of harassing the missus. It was
a deeply satisfying ending to the greatest show on earth.
By Thursday
events had died down considerable and we were working until late evening to get
some work done. The missus came from her room and sat with us at dinner. I was
glad I’d washed so thoroughly, even my ears, as I came in to eat.
Missus wore a
blue gown, and her hair was gathered behind her head, like a dark waterfall of
silk. Least that’s how it appeared. She smiled at me, her eyes so richly dark,
like the coffee I drank and often stared into now to help clear the whiskey and
bad dreams each morning.
She was seated in
Garrett’s place. And it felt comforting somehow. That empty chair had bothered
me some, and the plate Ma often put there for Sunday dinners. This missus was
Garrett’s type of woman, the good kind. I’d thought of her breasts, I’ll admit,
and what a man would have to do to be worthy of knowing her flesh that way. Her
husband…she’d said he shamed her. Secretly, I wasn’t sorry he died. I was sorry
it happened like it did, before Johnny, before her, but if he shamed her…even
once…then there was some justice in this world the day he fell.
I knew that was
harsh. But I was harsh, and that was the truth about me that my family didn’t
know or understand. And before they could ever see it, I needed to be gone. They
had suffered enough in losing the favored son, the best one they had next to
Seth. And it’s me that didn’t protect him.
So with this
missus here, and little Johnny, there was something new churning up in Ma and
Pa and the boys, and Allie that I hadn’t seen since before we left for war.
When Pa said the
meal prayer I bowed my head, and I meant it this time. I could forgive God a
lot of things for bringing this family into the fold of my own and bringing
them comfort. I could leave now with a new thing nearly close to happiness.
But during the
prayer I looked up, and the missus was peeking back, her eyes clear and gentle.
I smiled at her, and she smiled at me, the
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