The Promise of Jesse Woods (35 page)

I told her what had happened, jumping to the life insurance policy her dad found.

She shook her head. “I looked all over for that
strongbox. Mama had the deed to the house in there and some savings bonds. Where was it?”

She cursed when I told her. “I never looked in the crawl space. He’ll take that deed to the land and sell it. I know he will.”

“Not if it has your name on it.”

“He’ll find a way. The only reason he ever came back was when he needed something. Money or . . .” She looked away. “You asked me about those scars on my stomach once. He’s the one who give them to me. Cigarette burns. I’m glad you got away from there.”

“Maybe that would be the best thing that could happen. If he sells the place, he’ll leave.”

“I promised Mama I’d care for Daisy and take care of the farm. And I aim to do that. I’m not going to let that old drunk steal our future.”

I wasn’t sure what kind of future Jesse was trying to hang on to. The land seemed worthless and the house was so ramshackle a strong wind could topple it. But people get attached to the familiar and I wasn’t about to argue.

“Did he ask about me?”

I nodded. “And Daisy, too.”

She sat up straighter. “What did he say?”

“He wanted to know where she was. I told him he ought to go to the sheriff if he really wanted to find you two.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You said that to him?”

“Yeah.”

“I never in a million years thought he’d come back.” Her eyes darted like she was considering all her options.

“What are you going to do?”

“He wants whatever valuables he can find. So I got to wait him out. But I can’t let him take that deed.”

“Come to our place. You can sleep on the couch and in the morning—”

“No, your mama and daddy will go straight to the law. That’s what got Daisy took from me in the first place.”

I hung my head. “I didn’t tell them anything about—”

“I ain’t mad at you. I’m just . . . It was working, Matt. I could see it working out. I had it figured. I was keeping my promise to Mama. Daisy wasn’t no trouble. And now she’s gone. I keep hearing her crying in my head. Just squallin’ and yellin’. She’s got to be scared out of her mind.”

“Any idea where she is?”

“I’m glad she’s not with the Branches anymore, but she might be in some foster family. That could be worse.”

“I talked with Elden’s sister and she didn’t know where she was.”

She tapped her forehead. “I got to think. I got to get her back before something happens.”

“It’s going to get cold tonight.”

“I got the fire. I’ll be fine.”

“Then I’m staying here with you.”

“No, you go home. You’re in enough trouble.”

She was right. And if I stayed out, my dad would find us.

“I’m going to pray,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, you do that. Pray hard, PB.”

I felt guilty walking away. The light from the fire faded and I turned one more time when she called after me.

“Don’t tell nobody you saw my daddy.”

“I won’t.”

When I hit the path leading into the woods, I flicked the light on. There was a little juice in the batteries, but not much. I turned it on and off, making sure I didn’t trip over a rock. When it rained, the trail turned to mud and the only way to navigate it was to step from boulder to boulder. The path had been cut into the hillside by a grader and one side led up while the other fell.

Something skittered in the brush near the path and I flicked on the light. I told myself it was just an opossum or a raccoon. Then I heard a whoop-whoop of wings and the creaking of a limb above. I stopped, my heart thumping.

“Hello?” I whispered.

I wanted to run but there was no light, no moon in the sky and my flashlight was useless. If only I had brought a burning stick from the fire.

Another thought encroached. What if Jesse’s father had followed me? What if I had led him to his daughter? I couldn’t shake the stale smell of his breath.

I took a few steps and flicked on the flashlight again. Nothing. I banged it against my hand. Still nothing. The wind whispered through the limbs and leaves. It was either that or someone above was talking, and I shivered.

I unscrewed the bottom of the flashlight, the C batteries loosened, and I screwed the bottom on again tightly. I could use it as a weapon if I had to.

A flapping above me, like a giant flag unfurled. I pointed the flashlight toward the sound and stared at the
inky blackness. It was like looking into Satan’s basement. I flicked the button and a quick burst of light shone into the trees. I’ll never forget that image—a wingspread wider than the light could view and claws that grasped the limb like human hands. I raised the fading beam to see two red eyes. It stared, its head cocked to one side.

I dropped the light and ran.

Flapping again, above the treetops. I stumbled and tripped on a tree root, scrambling with hands and feet to find flat ground.

When I made it to the barn, the flapping stopped and I rushed down the hill and into the yard, running for the light in the house. I looked back once. The light from the lamp at the end of the walk showed enough of the barn for me to see the figure perched on top, looking into my soul.

I ran inside, kicked off my muddy shoes, and jumped in bed with my clothes on, covering my head with a pillow.

I knew this had been a warning. I knew something bad was going to happen. Someone was going to die. When I fell into bed, I didn’t pray. It was up to me to do something. And I decided I wouldn’t rest until Jesse and Daisy Grace were safe.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1984

Lights bounced up the hill and I wondered how any vehicle could make it up the narrow, rocky path. Jesse moved toward me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I mean it, you need to run. Get to the woods back that way.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That’s not what they’re going to think. About both of us.”

“If you’re marrying someone who doesn’t trust you, what’s going to happen after you say, ‘I do’?”

“My guess is, this isn’t Earl. You can’t judge a person by their family. You ought to know that better than anybody.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t answer.

The engine gunned and the vehicle moved past the tree line and over the limestone. The truck sat high and had huge tires and yellow running lights. The driver headed straight for the fire and Jesse pulled on my arm. “Matt, go. I’ll fix this.”

The lights shone in our eyes and I held up a hand to shield it. “A scared dog runs with his tail between his legs.”

“A smart dog knows when he’s licked.”

“Maybe I’m not as smart as you think.”

“It’s your funeral.”

The truck stopped a few feet from us and both doors opened. Verle Turley got out from behind the wheel and scowled at Jesse.

“Earl’s been calling you.” He slammed the door.

“I’m not his property.”

I looked at her in shock. I thought she would defuse the situation but her words threw gas on the fire. I didn’t recognize the other guy who crawled out of the passenger side, but he had that Turley look to him.

“Look,” I said to Verle, my voice conciliatory, “I’m leaving in the morning, and I asked Jesse—”

“Shut up,” Verle said. If I were his director in a play, I would have applauded his menace. He had the perfect inflection and venom. His voice gravelly, he told Jesse, “Go home and call Earl.”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

I put up both hands. “I can explain this. Why don’t you turn your truck off so we don’t have to scream?”

Verle waved at the other guy. “Turn it off.”

When the rumble died, I took a step forward, palms up, a puppy-dog look. It might have looked like fear.

“Verle, I asked Jesse to come here and answer some questions.”

“You been hanging around all week. You was warned.”

“And I’m leaving. There’s an emergency in Chicago and I’m headed back.”

“So tonight you were going to take what was Earl’s, is that it?”

“He didn’t take nothing,” Jesse said.

“Would you shut up and get back to your house?” Verle said.

“Don’t you never talk to me that way.”

“Somebody needs to,” the other man said. Something metal glinted when he shifted.

“Tommy, put that gun away before you shoot yourself in the foot,” Jesse said. She glanced at me and frowned. “I told you to leave.”

Now I had a good reason to raise my hands. “I told Jesse, if she wants to marry Earl, I won’t stand in the way.”

“You couldn’t leave her alone, could you? I told Earl, I said, ‘Plumley is going to try something.’ And here you are with a fire and a bedroll.”

“We was just talking,” Jesse said.

“Yeah, right.”

Tommy spoke to me. “Your daddy put you up to this?”

“My father agrees with you. He wanted me to leave Jesse alone.”

“Sure he did.”

“A friend told me Jesse was getting married. He knew how I felt about her.”

“Who?” she said.

“Dickie.”

Jesse stared into the night.

“Get in the truck,” Verle said.

“I told you not to talk to me that way,” Jesse said.

“Not you,” Verle said. “Him.” He took the gun from Tommy and lifted it toward me.

When I’d gone hunting growing up, there’d been one rule—you never pointed a gun at anything you didn’t intend to shoot. That flashed through my mind as I stared at Verle.

Jesse stepped in front of me. “He just told you he’s leaving in the morning.”

“I’ll leave tonight,” I said. “I’ll get in my car and get out of here now.”

Verle lowered the gun and I relaxed but only a little. He looked at Tommy and nodded. Tommy lunged at Jesse, grabbing her arm, and jerked her to the ground. She yelped in pain or surprise, I couldn’t tell which, and I grabbed at his untucked shirt. I heard a rip and Tommy cursed.

Something hit me in the back of the head and I saw stars. Disoriented, I put my hand back and someone grabbed me and dragged me toward the truck.

“Leave him alone!” Jesse yelled.

“Let her go, Tommy,” Verle said. “Help me get him in.”

They pulled me up and shoved me into the backseat.
Jesse was at the running board as soon as Verle closed the door. Tommy started the engine and the rumble was just as deafening inside as out.

She banged on the window. “Where are you taking him?”

“Get off the truck and go home,” Verle yelled.

“Matt, are you okay?”

I put up a hand to the window. As soon as Jesse stepped off the running board, Tommy gunned the engine and drove through the fire, sparks flying. He raced down the hill and I had the same feeling I had on the roller coaster at Camden Park—a stomach-in-your-throat kind of tingly-leg weightlessness.

“Might want to buckle up,” Tommy said, grinning.

I looked out the back window and saw Jesse silhouetted against the firelight. I thought that was the last I would ever see her.

The ride down the hill was as fast as the roller coaster and ten times as bumpy. My head hit the ceiling of the cab several times and instead of stars I saw galaxies. The earth beneath us smoothed out by the barn and soon we were in the driveway, rumbling to a stop.

“Where’s the keys to your car?” Verle said.

“In my pocket.”

He held out his hand. When I didn’t respond, he said, “You want me to poke you in the head again?”

I dug into my pocket and gave him the keys. He handed them to Tommy. “Follow me.”

Like a fisherman dropping his net, Tommy got out of
the truck. My headlights came on and the engine fired. Verle got behind the wheel and tapped the accelerator, spinning gravel into the yard.

“Where are you taking me?”

He pulled onto the road and gunned the engine. My headlights followed at a distance and then closed the gap.

“I have to get back to Chicago,” I said.

“Shut up and relax.” He turned on the radio to a country station. I didn’t know which hurt my head more, the bang to my skull or the jumpy fiddle.

The winding road straightened and soon we were on the interstate. We drove an hour, then two, and finally crossed into Ohio and pulled into a gas station on a lonely stretch of road. Tommy pulled in behind us.

“Give me your wallet,” Verle said.

I handed it to him and he gave it to Tommy, who pulled my car up to a pump and went inside the station.

Verle told me to get gas and I squinted at the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, moths and bugs swarming. The pump came to life and the noise made me wince. Everything made me wince. I filled the tank, then replaced the nozzle and screwed on the cap. Tommy returned with my wallet and handed me a full bottle of Mountain Dew. He opened a packet of capsules he’d bought with my money.

“Those will help the headache,” Verle said.

I took them and threw away the package and drank some of the soda. They watched me as if they were EMTs trying to determine if I was capable of driving.

“So you came back looking for answers. Is that your story, Plumley?”

“That’s the truth.”

“And are you satisfied?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use, but it’ll do.”