The Old Buzzard Had It Coming (14 page)

“I don’t like to lie, Mama,” Phoebe told her, anxious. “I’m not real good at it.”

Alafair chuckled humorlessly. “You’ve been doing pretty well at it for the last few months, to my thinking. But don’t worry, I doubt if you’ll have to. Daddy thinks you have hurt feelings and he won’t be bringing up anything he thinks might cause you pain. Just try not to raise Scott’s suspicions, or he’ll be all over you like a duck on a junebug.” She kicked Missy and was out the barn door, leaving Phoebe watching after her.

Chapter Ten

Mrs. Day came out on the porch to meet Alafair long before Alafair reached the house. Alafair reined at the porch and dismounted in silence, and she and Mrs. Day eyed one another as she tied her horse to the porch rail and walked up the steps. Alafair couldn’t see the woman’s face, since she was wrapped up in a quilt, top to toe, and only her black eyes were visible. Those black eyes gazed at Alafair with a combination of curiosity and dread, and at first Alafair wondered if Mrs. Day already knew about her son. By the time she reached the top of the steps, Alafair had realized that Mrs. Day was simply not a woman who expected anything good to happen to her. It made Alafair feel bad that she was not going to do anything that would change Mrs. Day’s mind about that.

“What can I do for you, Miz Tucker?” Mrs. Day wondered.

Alafair took a breath and came out with it. “Miz Day, I came to tell you that Sheriff Tucker has just arrested John Lee for the murder of your husband.”

Mrs. Day’s eyes widened, and the quilt fell back from her head. “Oh, no, it can’t be,” she said. “I can’t believe he done it.” Her voice was curiously detached at first, then without warning, a wail escaped her that literally made Alafair jump. “Not John Lee,” she moaned. “Oh, mercy. Oh, Lord Jesus. Harley was a bad man. Harley deserved to die. But not John Lee. I can’t believe he done it.”

“I don’t think he did it, either,” Alafair interjected firmly.

Mrs. Day abruptly stopped wailing and stared at Alafair stupidly. “You don’t?” she asked, at length.

Alafair glanced toward the screen door where several little Days were bunched around watching their mother’s hysterics without much alarm. Alafair grabbed the woman’s arm and drew her away, toward the end of the porch. “No,” she assured her. “I’ve thought on it this past week until my head is sore. It just don’t seem possible that John Lee could have so cold-bloodedly walked up to his dad and shot him in his sleep, but I didn’t have any other good explanation. The sheriff is going to come out here in just a few minutes to tell you that John Lee has turned himself in. I think John Lee has told the sheriff that he and his dad got into a fight in the woods on Wednesday evening and that John Lee shot at him, then dropped the gun and ran, while Harley staggered off the other direction. Phoebe and I went to the place in the woods where this thing is supposed to have happened, and we did find a fresh bullet scar in a blackjack. But we didn’t find no gun….”

“Wait now,” Mrs. Day said, halting Alafair’s narrative, “John Lee and Harley did go at each other that morning, but it was here in the front yard. And there weren’t no gun involved. I saw it with my own eyes. Are you saying there was another fight later that day?”

“So John Lee says.”

Mrs. Day blinked. “Miz Tucker, how do you know this? Have you spoken to John Lee? Where has he been?”

Reflexively, Alafair put her hand on Mrs. Day’s arm. “I’d rather not say, right now. Let’s just say that since my girl Phoebe likes John Lee, and I’ve found him to be a fine thoughtful boy, I’d like to help him if I can. What I’ve come to tell you is that I’m thinking that someone found that gun that John Lee threw down in the woods on Saturday night and used it to kill Harley. And I’m wondering if you can think of anybody who was around that night that might have done it.”

A perplexed look crossed Mrs. Day’s features, then relief and—Alafair didn’t know what else to call it—enlightenment flooded into her eyes, and Alafair faltered, startled.

“Something come to you?” she asked.

“The answer, I think,” Mrs. Day acknowledged. “Thank you so much for coming out, Miz Tucker. I think my family is saved, now.”

Alafair’s heart skipped. “What is it?” she wondered excitedly. “Who do you think done it?”

Mrs. Day smiled and shook her head. “I’ll wait and tell the sheriff, Miz Tucker, if you don’t mind. And don’t worry. I won’t tell him you told me anything. Now, where’s my manners, making you stand out here in the cold? Please come in, and Naomi will heat up some coffee.”

***

Alafair went with Mrs. Day into the house, surrounded by a knot of small children, to wait for Scott. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the woman to tell her what she knew, and she was filled with both fear and hope. Well, she had taken a gamble in telling Mrs. Day her suspicions, and now she just had to accept the consequences and pray everything worked out for the best.

Naomi was feeding wood into the Franklin stove when they came in, and she looked back over her shoulder at them with an expression of curiosity on her face.

“Naomi,” Mrs. Day said, after she had installed Alafair at the table, “pour us some hot tea, girl, and see if there’s any of that pie left that Miz Bellows brung over. The sheriff will be here directly. You make yourself to home, Miz Tucker.” She draped her blanket over the back of a chair and sat down on it. Kids stationed themselves around her, and a toddler hoisted himself into her lap.

Naomi stood and wiped her hands on a cloth, then took two cups from the shelf and placed them on the table. “What’s happening, Ma?” she asked, as she poured tea leaves into a tin coffee pot full of water and put it on the stove. “Did the sheriff figure out who killed Daddy?”

“He thinks he did. He thinks it’s John Lee.”

“John Lee,” Naomi repeated.

“I mean to tell him different,” Mrs. Day stated.

“What are you going to tell the sheriff?” Alafair urged.

“Who are you going to say done it, Ma?” Naomi asked, at the same time.

Mrs. Day shook her head. “I figure the sheriff should know first.”

Naomi and Alafair exchanged a puzzled glance.

“Well, I’m mighty curious,” Alafair admitted.

“I think it was one of them men that used to buy Daddy’s home brew,” Naomi offered, and Alafair looked over at her, taken aback. She couldn’t recall ever hearing Naomi speak so many words all strung together at one time. It hadn’t occurred to her that this shadow of a girl might have an opinion.

But Mrs. Day dismissed the speculation out of hand. “Wasn’t them. Sure wasn’t John Lee. Hurry up with that pie, Naomi. The sheriff will be here in a few minutes.” Naomi retreated back into herself and moved toward the pie keep.

***

The two women met Scott in front of the house, and Alafair stood back as he explained to Mrs. Day what had happened, much as she had expected.

“Do you have anything to tell me, now, Mrs. Day?” Scott asked, after he had finished his story.

Mrs. Day drew herself up. “Yes, Sheriff,” she said, soberly. “I must tell you that it wasn’t John Lee shot his daddy at all. It was me. I found this little gun out in the woods behind the barn and I picked it up. I came back up to the house and I found Harley lying there all drunk and disgusting. I had the little gun in my hand and I put it up against his head and I shot him.” She sat down in a wooden chair propped against the rail. “I ain’t sorry he’s dead. He was a evil man. But I done shot him and I’ll take my punishment. It was worth it to me, for now my body may go to prison, or may hang, but my soul is free. The only thing I’m sorry for is that I let folks think it was John Lee did it. Believe me, though, when I tell you that I’d have confessed before I’d have let you jail him.”

Alafair was dumbstruck for a moment. “Miz Day…” she managed, at length.

Scott raised a hand, silencing her. Alafair noticed that he didn’t look surprised. They were still standing in front of the house when Naomi came out onto the porch, just in time to hear her mother condemn herself. Naomi stood next to Alafair with a dish rag in her hand and listened without expression. Was she moved? Alafair couldn’t tell. The big solemn eyes regarded her mother with a blank resignation that made them look a thousand years old. Alafair’s heart ached with pity.

“What did you do with the gun, Miz Day?” Scott was asking.

“I throwed it in Bird Creek,” she told him without hesitation.

Scott glanced at Alafair, let his gaze slide over Naomi, then back to Mrs. Day. “I’m sorry things turned out this way, Miz Day,” he said. “What arrangements do you want me to make for the kids?”

“Are you going to let John Lee out right now?”

“I reckon I’ve got no more reason to hold him,” Scott told her.

Mrs. Day nodded. “Him and Naomi here can take care of the kids for a few days. I’ll have him parcel them out to my kin soon as he can.”

Scott nodded. “I’ll be taking you into town, now,” he explained, as though to a child. “You’ll have to spend the night in jail, Miz Day, ’til we can get you on over to Muskogee in the morning. The judge will explain the charges to you there, and then you can enter a plea.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means that after he tells you what crime you’re charged with, you tell him whether you are guilty or not guilty.”

“I’m guilty.”

“No, Miz Day,” Scott said patiently. “Don’t tell me. Tell the judge. In fact, I think you’d better not do any more talking right now. I talked to Lawyer Meriwether about representing John Lee. I expect he can represent you, now. We’ll get him over to the jail as soon as we get back.”

“What ever you say, Sheriff,” Mrs. Day acquiesced placidly. She turned to Alafair. “Miz Tucker, can we hitch your horse to our buggy? I don’t have no transportation since the mule disappeared.”

“The mule is found as of this morning,” Scott informed her. “John Lee can ride it back this afternoon.”

Mrs. Day looked relieved, even smiled a little. “Oh, good,” she said. “He’ll be needing it.”

“I’ll be glad to let you borrow my horse right now,” Alafair interjected. “But wouldn’t you rather ride her in and let me stay with the kids?”

Mrs. Day shook her head. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather take the buggy and ask if you’d come along with me, you’ve been so kind and all, and I ain’t sure what will be happening. Naomi can get the kids some supper. They’ll be all right ’til John Lee comes home.” She didn’t even glance at Naomi, still standing in silence at Alafair’s elbow.

“Can Missy draw a buggy?” Scott asked Alafair.

“She’s drawn light rigs in her day,” Alafair assured him.

Scott nodded. “All right then, we’ll do as you want, Miz Day. Alafair, if you’ll help Miz Day get some things together, I’ll hitch your horse to the buggy and we’ll get to moving.”

Alafair and Mrs. Day walked up the porch steps with Naomi trailing behind, as Scott disappeared with the horse toward the barn. “Miz Day,” Alafair said to her urgently, “what is this? I didn’t tell you about the little gun so you could condemn yourself. You don’t have to do this. We can find whoever really did it. Your kids need you.”

Mrs. Day paused with her hand on the screen door handle. “No, Miz Tucker, you don’t understand. I really did do it. When you told me what you knew, about somebody finding the gun in the woods, I knew it was just a matter of time ’til the sheriff figured it out. Besides, I thought for a while John Lee had got clean away, which I’d miss him, but then I could have stayed with my children. But when I heard he was caught, well, I couldn’t let him take the blame any more.”

Alafair blinked. Was it true? It made sense, but nothing the woman had done or said until the moment she confessed had led Alafair to suspect her. Though a great barrier to her daughter’s happiness had just crumbled, she took no joy in the woman’s confession. “This is a sad thing, Miz Day,” she finally observed.

Mrs. Day looked up at her, not at all sad. “Yes, ma’am, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m only sorry because I have to be leaving my babies, now. John Lee will be all right, being nigh grown as he is, and I expect my folks will divide the others among them. They’ll probably have better lives now than they would have, so I’m glad of that.”

She went into the house, leaving Alafair and Naomi on the porch, gazing at one another. Alafair didn’t know what to think. Naomi had nothing to say.

“Do you need anything, sugar?” Alafair asked, finally.

“No, thank you,” Naomi said, and followed her mother inside.

***

John Lee had been lounging on his cot in the little jail cell when Scott walked in with Mrs. Day. He stood up when he saw her. “Ma, what are you doing here?” he asked.

Scott unlocked the cell. “Come on out now, son. You’re free to go.”

For a moment, John Lee stood frozen. “What’s going on, Sheriff?” he asked, wary.

“You come on out, John Lee,” Scott urged. “I’ll explain it to you.”

John Lee hesitantly crossed the cell and passed in front of his mother, giving her a wondering glance as he passed by. Alafair took his arm, drawing him out into the outer office before he could see his mother jailed.

By the time the door shut behind him, he had well comprehended the situation. He turned his big dark eyes to Alafair and stood patiently, steeled for the story she would tell him while Scott was locking his mother in a jail cell.

“Son,” Alafair began, “your ma has said that it was her who killed your pa.”

John Lee’s expression did not change. He nodded. “Miz Tucker, you know she’s saying that just to protect me,” he said calmly. “I told you that it was me who shot Daddy, and it was.”

“I’m afraid not, John Lee. That original story you told us don’t fit the facts. You have Phoebe as a witness, so you can’t change your story now, or she’ll come forward and we’ll all be in the soup. Your ma had the opportunity, and the reason, and most important, she says she did it. I know what’s in your mind, but you can’t sacrifice yourself to save your mama.”