Thing With Feathers (9781616634704) (14 page)

“So then, Preacher Bowman does preach for your church?”

Will looked helplessly at Sean, who merely nodded for him to answer. “Yes, sir. I guess I know him as a preacher at my church.”

“What is the relationship between your brother, Sean Marshall, and the preacher, as far as you see it, Mr. Marshall?”

“Do you mean, do they like each other?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I would have to say no, sir, not at all. It’s just this way: Blair didn’t want him around her or the baby, and so Sean saw to it. Seems there was nothing Sean wouldn’t do for Blair.”

“Did you ever see the preacher mistreat his daughter?”

“No, sir. Truth is, I never even noticed Blair until she became family. Then I never saw the preacher around his daughter at all. That’s the way she wanted it.”

“How do you know that was the way she wanted it, Mr. Marshall?”

“Well…uh…Sean told me it was so.”

“Did Mrs. Marshall ever tell you this?”

“That she didn’t want to be near her father?”

“Exactly. Did you ever hear this from her directly?”

“I guess not, like, in words, no. But whenever neighbors would gather”—he stopped to instruct the good judge that theirs was a close-knit community and there were many get-togethers, such as salmon bakes and picnics, barn-raisings, and church socials—“and I would see him trying to…uh…layin’ to make a touch on her, I could see that Blair always looked real uncomfortable. You could jus’ tell she didn’t want him around her.”

“You sort of perceived her contempt toward her father, but you never actually overheard her say she was afraid of him?”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Never mind, Mr. Marshall. You can step down.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked over at Sean miserably. He’d felt impotent up on the stand, talking face to face with the judge, and he feared that he might not have helped his brother.

Sean shook his shoulder and smiled wistfully when his brother took his seat next to him. The judge asked the preacher to take the stand next.

When the oath was administered, Bowman raised his hand higher than his shoulder and answered in his most arrogant, rumble-bass voice, “Of course.”

“Mr. Bowman, some of your neighbors have testified today that your daughter seemed to be frightened of you. Not a single person has been brought forward who could testify to your claims that Mr. Marshall abused his wife. Do you stand by this accusation?”

“I do.”

“Well, Mr. Bowman, how do you account for your own daughter’s fear of you?”

“I was the only soul she could share her shame with, sir. The same reason no one else can testify to Marshall’s assault and battery is the same reason she was afraid of me. You see, I had ordered her to leave him more than once.”

“Well, Mr. Bowman, if that’s so, then why didn’t your daughter leave him or at least file charges of spousal abuse?”

“She was afraid of what he might do. The Marshall family is a wealthy one. And with that wealth comes power. Why, you and I both know how rich folks can pull strings and get away with most anything. I would not be a bit surprised to know that the Marshall money has tampered with this court!”

The judge rapped loudly and glared over the tops of his bifocals. “No impertinence, Mr. Bowman. No impertinence!” while Sean’s attorney muttered loud enough to be heard all over the court room, “This is an outrage!” which it was, since Bowman had just won his case with that one inflammatory remark.

“You are excused, Mr. Bowman. Mr. Sean Marshall, please take the stand.”

“Your Honor,” Sean’s lawyer objected. “I would like a chance to question Mr. Bowman about his motive for slandering this court the way he did.”

“Well, sir, we all want things we can’t have. Now please have your client take the stand.”

Sean’s lawyer blustered and ran an impatient hand through his hair and generally stomped his feet like a misbehaved child, but the judge paid no attention. Sean looked cautiously to his attorney as he remonstrated, but when he received no guidance, he decided to take the opportunity to say his piece.

“I do,” he pledged solemnly in response to the judge’s question of oath.

“Mr. Marshall…Mr. Marshall, are you the natural father of the child, one Victory Marshall?”

“No, sir, but I am his father just the same. I raised him, and I love him. I watched his mother give birth to him. I was there, holding her hand. His mother and I were the ones to rock him gently into the night whenever he took ill. I feed and I clothe him. I…I teach him…things…” Sean’s voice broke. “He’s my son…” Sean nearly sobbed and could not go on.

“Would you like some water, sir?”

Sean just shook his head no.

“Did you ever lay violent hands upon your wife, sir?”

“No! God, no! I would never do that! I felt sorry for her is why I married her, but then…then I fell in love with her, and we were, we were happy together. She’s gone. I don’t know why, and all I have left in the world is my son,
my
son, Your Honor.”

The judge was a gentle man who was firmly opposed to domestic violence. He held that the man on the stand below him was telling the truth. Few justices can rebuff a strong man who is reduced to tears. He took a sip of some water to soothe himself before continuing. “Mr. Marshall, why did your wife leave you then, if not because you raised your hand to her?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Sean’s anguish was palpable. “I swear I never hurt her. I love her. I tried to save her.” He looked up at the judge with eyes which glistened. Then his face changed right before the judge’s eyes. The lines in his face grew deeper, the hollows beneath his eyes and below his cheeks grew darker and his skin turned gray. “I could never harm her. I’ll tell you who abused Blair…” He caught himself. He couldn’t say it, not even then. Could he? What if she chose to return? She could be home right now for all he knew. And if she did return, her reputation would be ruined if he were to tell the court what he knew. He had promised he’d never do that. He’d promised Blair he would keep her secret forever. Forever was a hell all its own. He looked despairingly up at the bench.

“Mr. Marshall, you were going to tell the court you knew of some abuse your wife has sustained.”

“No, sir. I can’t say any more.”

Will bolted upright and shouted at him. “Sean, for Christ’s sake, man, if you know somethin’, now’s the time for sayin’ it!”

Sean just looked at his brother and shook his head. Then he glanced the preacher’s way and was met with a cunning smirk. Sean Marshall knew as sure as there’d be rain in April that he had just lost his son.

He was not cross-examined. In fact, the court room was deathly quiet. The judge rapped twice on the scratched and marred bench and cleared his throat. “I have heard the arguments and must admit that I remain in doubt. The court has heard no convincing evidence that Mr. Marshall has abused his missing wife. However, that is not the focus of this case. I am to decide the custody of a small child, whether that child is to live with the natural grandfather or remain with his now-wifeless stepfather.”

The judge’s good sense was in conflict with Bowman’s allegation that the wealthy automatically emerges the winner. Fortunately, he formed a rule of conduct for just such an emergency: when in doubt, decide in favor of the plaintiff and order the defendant to pay all costs. He would bend his rule of conduct just a bit this one time. “In the case of
Bowman vs. Marshall
, I rule in favor of the plaintiff, Preacher Bowman. I dismiss all charges of spousal abuse against Mr. Sean Marshall. Each party shall pay his own costs. This court is adjourned.” He rapped twice more and quickly exited the court room with a taste in his mouth that was thoroughly sour.

Chapter 33

“C
an we get goin’ a little faster, Will?” Sean’s impatience was tangible.

Will snook a peek over at his brother. Sean was urgently tapping the outside of his door, through his unrolled window, with the fingers on his right hand; the other hand was busy keeping his hair from blowing in his face. The day was a sunny one, but that March air was brisk with the sting of winter still in it. Will had seen his brother that way before—every single day since he’d learned Blair had left, actually.

“There you go again, Sean. Plainly, you’re still clinging to the hope Blair will be waiting for you when we get home.” His declaration was met with breezy silence.

“Well it’s either that or you’re trying to drum the paint off the auto,” Will tried. His attempt at light humor was lost on Sean, but Will was not the sort to be put off so easily.

“Sean, brother, she won’t be there. I hate to see you keep working yourself up for it when it ain’t gonna happen.”

He did not turn his head. Instead, his eyes were focused on some place far ahead in the distance. “She might.”

“No, Sean. She’s gone. We tried everywhere. She was on that train to Indiana, but she never got there. She disappeared, little brother. People don’t disappear by accident neither.” He paused to sigh and to brace himself, too. He didn’t like saying those hurtful things to his brother, but someone had to. He inhaled deeply. “She ain’t comin’ back. I don’t mean to hurt you, Sean. I just can’t stand to see you keep hoping the way you do. I mean, every single day, you’re out in the fields or you’re in the carriage house tearing apart old radios, an’ I see ya go runnin’ for the house ‘cause you thought you heard someone. Sean, it’s killin’ me to see you this way. You gotta accept it or you’re gonna go nutty. She’s gone. Prob’ly forever.”

Finally, his brother turned to him. So he had been listening. Will was never sure those days.

Sean fixed him with a hard stare. “No, Will. I won’t accept it. I can’t. Don’t you see? I just lost my son. And the only way I can get Victor back is if Blair comes home. So she has to. She has to come home, Will. Don’t you understand that?”

“I’m sorry, Sean.” And he truly was.

Chapter 34

S
ean lay in his bed, alone again. The pale pink envelope was clenched in his hand. The house was too quiet. It was absent the sound of a child. It lacked the industrious noise of a young mother getting that child ready for bed. The house was a void, like Sean’s heart. In a room downstairs, Sean could hear his ma coughing.

Where could Blair have gone?
he asked himself for the hundredth time. He knew she was alive, and that was all.
But not really even alive, was she?
He looked at the letter again. It was Blair’s handwriting, but it was signed, “All my love, Cindy.”

Sean grieved over the unknown. He knew the preacher had done something to make Blair leave. Sean had said he would rescue her; he had failed. He should never have left her alone. He punched his pillows. He threw the envelope across the room. But the small defiance did not make him feel any better. It seemed that nothing could take away the pain. He quickly threw his boots on and grabbed a flannel shirt. He slung his camera around his neck and reached for the flash. It was his only means of escape, that and his ham radio, but there would be no receivers on at that time of night. Sean had never felt so alone.

March 1932

Cloverdale, Oregon

Rebecca arrived by horse, and when she came through the front door, stomping her feet and shaking off her hat, she looked as pretty as ever. She was one of the few women Sean thought could look just as natural in pants as in a dress. She was right on time, but Sean had been waiting nonetheless. Rebecca had figured on that being the case.

“Will, Beck-wheat’s here,” Sean shouted up the stairs.

Will was taking the rainy morning to do some accounting work on the farm’s books. He closed the books, grabbed his raincoat and headed down the stairs.

“You be careful, you two. Will, I’m countin’ on you to keep him out’ta trouble, ya hear?” Said Rebecca.

“I’ll do my best, Mrs. Tjaden,” Will joked. Then with a degree of seriousness Will turned to Sean and asked him, “Are you absolutely certain you want to do this, uninvited?”

Sean grabbed his coat and hat off the rack in response.

“Alright, Sean. I’d be glad-hearted to see Victor, too. But you confound me by saying it’s ‘cause you need a witness. I still don’t understand why you should need one. The man has said some hateful things, but he ain’t gonna get physical with you.”

“I told ya, Will. You’re Victor’s uncle and he’ll be glad to see you. And, I need you there as a witness in case preacher decides to try and kill me.”

At that, Rebecca’s eyes widened. “The preacher? Try to kill you? Really, Sean. I know you two have your differences, but aren’t you being a might blasphemous?”

Sean just smiled at her. “We’ll see. Thank you again, Beck-wheat, for sittin’ with Ma while we’re gone.” To his brother, Sean said, “Boy, I’m glad you said you’d come along, Will.”