Catching Moondrops (8 page)

Bobby Ray reached up to rub his jaw and smiled. Blood ran down from his mouth and he spit it on the post office steps. “You even know how to use that thing?”

I reckon he wouldn't have egged me on if he'd known the hours I'd spent with Luke teaching me how to shoot proper, but it didn't matter to me what he knew and didn't know. Without a single thought to what I was about to do, I squinted one eye, tipped the barrel of the gun to the right, and pulled the trigger. The blast knocked the head off the stone eagle that sat at the entrance to the post office and sent those boys flying for cover. They all swore and looked at me like I'd lost my mind.

“You could have blown my knee off!” Bobby Ray was at the bottom of the steps now, crouched down so he looked half his already-small size.

I tipped the gun back toward him. “Reckon I missed, but I can try again if you want.”

He swore at me, but there wasn't much he could do with that gun pointed at him. He spit into the dirt and then glared at Malachi. “We'll be seein' you again. You bet on that.”

Like something out of a James Cagney picture, Malachi remarked, “Anytime.”

Luke gave him a shove to shut him up, and I kept the pistol on Bobby Ray until they all scattered off down the street.

Once they were out of sight, Luke looked at me and shook his head. “Jessilyn, I swear . . .”

“Don't go gettin' sore at me.” I lowered the gun and handed it to Luke. “What'd you want me to do, stand there and watch you two die in front of me?”

He stuck the gun in his waistband without taking his eyes off me. “What was your plan if you really
had
hit Bobby Ray?”

I shrugged. “Didn't have time to think about it.” A smile slowly spread its way across my face. “Got lucky hittin' that eagle, though, didn't I? It was a nice touch.”

“You got lucky? What were you aimin' at?”

“Anythin' but flesh, I reckon.”

Luke shook his head at me with a smile starting to turn up the corner of his mouth. “Do me a favor next time and don't shoot till you know what you're shootin' at.”

“Don't get all worked up. It ain't every day I have need for shootin' a gun, anyhow.”

Sheriff Clancy came walking up the street so slow, you would've thought he was taking his morning constitutional. “Jessilyn!” he called. “I got other things to do with my day besides keepin' up after you.” He stopped at the foot of the steps and surveyed the situation. “You got any ideas about that gunshot I just heard?”

Luke and I looked at each other and shrugged in unison.

“I got me a call somethin' was goin' on down here.”

“Nothin' that ain't been handled,” Luke said.

In my mind the man was useless, and I made no bones about it in the way I looked at him. “Reckon if you weren't available to take care of what started the trouble in the first place, you ain't got need to take care of what finished it.”

“You tellin' me you don't know nothin' about that gunshot?”

“Mostly I'm sayin' there weren't no harm done.”

Sheriff Clancy flicked cigarette ash into the breeze and squinted at me. “Well,
mostly
I'm sayin' I don't like people goin' around shootin' up my town.” The sheriff leveled his gaze at Luke. “You got anythin' you want to tell me?”

Dolly came out of the door just then with her hands crossed over her heart like it was about to fail on her. “Land's sake, it took you long enough to get here, Sheriff. I thought we'd have a bloodbath on our hands.”

“I came soon as you called.”

“Then you're the slowest man I ever seen. You know, my daddy ain't goin' to be happy to hear I was in any danger. I reckon he'd expect you to come around good and quick if there's any trouble around here.”

“Your daddy ought to know I do my best.”

She positioned her hands on her hips and put on her best spoiled-baby face. “Your best! Your best would have been to get here quick. Instead, we were all left here to face them hooligans alone, and if it weren't for Jessie, we'd have all been dead.”

Sheriff Clancy looked like he was struggling to keep his composure. “I highly doubt you'd have died.”

“How would you know? You weren't here, were you?” She waved a hand at him in dismissal. “Anyways, you may as well leave now since you ain't no use to us. All's well, thanks to Jessilyn.” Then she caught sight of the blood on her steps and nearly fainted over dead. “Will you look at that? That might never come off, and I'll be blamed for it. They might take it out of my pay.” She pointed angry eyes at Sheriff Clancy. “See what happens when you don't take care of things quick?” She ran inside.

Sheriff Clancy shook his head and sighed. “Y'all quit playin' with guns, you hear?” He walked off as slowly as he'd come, surrounded by a cloud of smoke.

Luke nodded toward the post office and whispered, “What d'you think she'll do when she notices that headless eagle?”

I smiled at him, but our lighthearted moment was interrupted by Noah walking up to stand at the bottom of the steps and glare at his brother. “How long's this goin' to go on?” he asked. “You goin' to keep this up till Momma's got to bury you? Is that what you want? You tryin' to get yourself killed?”

“Noah, I ain't doin' nothin' but standin' up for what's right.”

“This ain't standin' up for what's right. It's pickin' fights.”

Malachi took the three steps in one leap to land in front of his brother. “I ain't got to be scolded by my little brother. It's my life, and I got the right to do with it as I please.”

Noah's whole body shook as he stood there in front of his brother. “Fine, then. You go ahead and ruin all our lives, because that's what'll happen when you end up hangin' from the end of a rope one day.”

Disgust ran across Malachi's face, and he turned away to walk off alone. “You tell Momma I won't be home for supper.”

“What's new?” Noah called after him. “You just make sure there don't come a day when I have to tell her you won't be home
ever
.”

Luke slipped his arm through mine and led me down the steps to where Noah stood. He dropped his other arm around Noah's shoulders. “Don't feel bad. Ain't nobody can get through to him right now.”

“I don't feel bad for nothin' except Momma. It'll kill her if somethin' happens to him.”

Dolly came back out muttering about “stupid men bleedin' all over her steps,” so we wished her the best in cleaning it up and said we'd get on our way.

“Oh,” I called to Dolly as Luke darted past her into the post office, “tell Mr. Bates I'll pay for the eagle's head to be fixed.”

Dolly narrowed her eyes quizzically until she caught sight of the beheaded bird. “What in tarnation?”

Luke came back down those stairs as fast as he could without dropping Miss Cleta's bags. “Let's get on out of here before she starts screechin' again.” He gave Noah's shoulder a nudge. “Come on, I'll ride you home. You need to let things cool off around here.”

We found Mr. Stokes where I left him and sent him on his way, then piled into Luke's truck for the trip home. It had all been fine and good to make jokes about my shooting, but as we sat there next to Noah, his worries spilled out onto us, and it was uncomfortable the whole way. We let him off in front of his house and watched him walk up the steps with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And there was nothing we could do to help.

Chapter 6

Luke's furniture business had come about all by accident, as he liked to say. It was born of him doing bits and pieces for local folks who told people about his good work, and it just so happened that one of them told the richest man in town. After Luke made him a set of chairs and such for his big house, all his rich friends wanted some too. That was when I found out how rich people often liked to have what the other one had, only bigger. And by the time Luke was done filling orders for the local fancy folk, he had a business going whether he'd wanted one or not. Orders came from all over Virginia until eventually people were asking him to go miles away to craft something special for them.

I was as proud of him as any woman could be, but I envied those blocks of wood because they got to spend more time with him than I did. He still had most suppers with us, and if he hadn't, I doubted I'd get to see his face most weekdays. As it was, he worked some Saturdays, too, but those were the days I'd head over to his place, determined if he wouldn't come to me, I'd go to him.

When I rounded the corner to his house, he was bent over a dressing table with his sandpaper, and I walked quietly so as to keep from distracting him from his work. But when I saw the open book beside him, I stopped in my tracks.

His eyes darted back and forth from the worn Bible my daddy had given him a few years back, his lips moving as he whispered to himself what he read there. My cheeks flushed at the sight of it, and I looked away, feeling I'd interrupted something sacred.

It had been some time since the day we'd lost our friend Mr. Poe, and though I still missed him dearly, the effects of that day had been lessened by time. Mr. Poe had lived a life full of confidence in a God I didn't know or understand, and it ate away at my insides. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find my way to the faith that had possessed his very soul.

It wasn't that way for Luke. The sight of Mr. Poe giving up his life so willingly was stamped on his consciousness like he'd been branded, and it changed him for good. It was like a switch had been flicked, and that light I'd seen in my family and in Miss Cleta suddenly started to glow inside of him. It was a change that brought him closer to the God that had always been a dividing line between me and those dearest to me, and it didn't settle well in my heart.

“It's the best thing possible for Luke,” my momma had told me a short time after. “And any woman who loves her man wants what's best for him no matter how it makes her feel.”

But I was a selfish girl, I knew well, and I didn't want there to be any kind of separation between the two of us for any reason. It only served to rough up my heart like that sandpaper Luke had in his hands. I said as much to Momma once, and she told me sandpaper eventually smooths things out, so my heart should be good and ready soon. But I wasn't keen on being roughed up, and when Luke stood and stretched, I pushed all thoughts of God and Bibles aside and called out a hello.

“Hey there, Jessie.” He turned his body toward me, but I saw him reach out quickly to close the Bible that had once graced the table beside my daddy's favorite chair. He knew as well as I did that it was a sore spot between us. “I was plannin' to come over after I'm done here.”

“Looks like you've got some solid work goin' on there, and I know you well enough to know you won't put those tools down until you've got it finished. Reckon we wouldn't be seein' you till church tomorrow at this rate.”

He used the back of his hand to brush the sweat from his forehead. “Lady who wants this dressin' table wants it all decorated up with curlicues and whatnot. I swear, you should see her house. There's fancy knickknacks all over the place, like you're afraid to take a step so's you don't knock somethin' over. I ain't never seen nothin' like it.”

“She dress fancy too?”

“Taffeta and hats. You'd think she was the queen of England.”

I ran my finger along the wood and traced one of the curlicues. “Wonder what it'd be like to wear taffeta.”

He set narrowed eyes to the tabletop and grabbed the sandpaper again to smooth a piece of it out. Then he shook his head. “Taffeta don't suit you.”

“You sayin' I can't pull off a fancy dress?”

He set the sandpaper down and leaned against the table, arms crossed. “No, I'm sayin' you don't need fancy things to make you pretty.”

I looked down to hide my nerves and pulled my skirt sides out on display. “Can't say it would hurt me to have somethin' finer than this old thing.”

“You never worried before about what you wore.”

“A woman changes her mind a lot, you know.”

“Well, a man don't.” He reached out to finger my sleeve. “And I still say you're as pretty in this dress as you'd ever be in a mountain of taffeta.” His hand slid from the fabric to trace a lazy river down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind, and I caught a breath. But before I could even think about running out of air, he pulled his hand away and shoved them both into his trouser pockets like a boy ordered to the woodshed.

I didn't know whether to cry or holler at him, but I'd had enough of his going back and forth to last me two lifetimes. What he'd said about men not changing their minds was nothing but drivel. “You think you can fool me, Luke Talley, but you can't. You know you can't keep your mind off me no matter how hard you try.”

He looked over my head, his jaw tensing, but I stood on my toes to look into his eyes.

“You just stay here workin' all day 'cause you're afraid of my daddy's rifle, but I can see it all over your face: you think about me all the time.”

I reached out to tug playfully at his shirt, but he caught my wrist in his strong grasp and pushed me backward a few steps until I ended up against the trunk of a willow tree. I gasped and looked up at him, wide-eyed. Our faces were inches apart, my arm pinned between the two of us.

“It ain't funny no more, Jessilyn,” he said through clenched teeth. And then as suddenly as he'd taken hold of me, he let me go, turned on his heel, and walked away, leaving me to stare after him in awe.

I couldn't help but be wobbly in the knees as I backed away, watching his house like it would tell me all that went on inside that head of his. I took twelve paces backward before finally spinning around to make my way through the fields toward home, but even then I took the long way.