Cottonwood Whispers (15 page)

I walked up his front steps and peered into the window. “If you’re doin’ spring cleanin’,” I said loudly enough to be heard over his noise, “you’re runnin’ late.”

Luke jumped a little when my voice startled him, and he tossed aside an old field-working boot with ferocity. The boot knocked over a cup full of water, and I quickly backed
away from the window so none of the scattering droplets landed on me. I was so surprised by his angry display that my eyes must have been wide as saucers, but Luke didn’t seem to notice.

He just pointed at me and said, “Don’t you go sneakin’ up on me, Jessilyn. Ain’t I told you that before?”

I’d had enough of people trouble, and I bristled at his tone. “I ain’t sneakin’. If you hadn’t been makin’ all that ruckus, you’d have heard me comin’.”

Luke glared at me a few seconds and then turned away, shaking his head so hard that his short blond hair fluffed up into a peak.

I pulled away from the window and warily made my way inside, peeking around the doorway first. “You lookin’ for somethin’?”

He didn’t answer me at first. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, a sign of stress I’d seen in him just the day before.

I didn’t much like being ignored and particularly not after the day I’d had. “Ain’t you gonna answer me?” I asked him determinedly. “I said, are you lookin’ for somethin’?”

“I’m just missin’ a tool I need. It ain’t nothin’ to concern you,” he muttered, kicking a dirty sock across the wooden floor.

“Maybe I can help,” I managed to squeak out. Since when had anything to do with Luke not concerned me? “That’s all I was thinkin’.”

Luke rubbed the space between his eyes and sighed,
letting his shoulders drop into a defeated pose. “Jessilyn, I ain’t in need of your help.” He stopped himself short, hearing the sharpness in his own words. “It just ain’t somethin’ you need to be worryin’ about, is all.”

His words were said with restraint and laced with enough honey that they should have made me feel a bit better. But they meant little to me. His whole body told me that what he really wanted to say to me would have cut me like a knife.

More than anything, I felt like crying, and that made me even madder because I hated crying. All in the space of one afternoon, two of the most important people in my life had taken to despising me. At least with Gemma I knew why, but I had no way of knowing why Luke seemed to want me out of his sight as much as he did right then.

I could see that asking him was of no use, and after a minute or so of watching him avoid looking at me, I just turned around and walked away from a man for the second time that day.

There was a storm in the air on Tuesday morning just as much as there was a storm in my heart, and with my chores behind me, I wearily put my walking shoes on to the tune of Momma humming while she sewed.

“I’m headin’ into town to get some things for Miss Cleta. You need anythin’?” I asked, peeking into her tiny sewing space.

She stuck her needle into a cushion and looked at me with consoling eyes. “You all right, baby?”

I shrugged and fingered a piece of green muslin that lay spread out on a wooden chair. “Just feelin’ cooped up, is all.”

“Feels like rain today. Worries me you’ll get caught in a cloudburst.”

“Ain’t like I’ve never been caught in one before.”

She put down her half-sewn dress and stood to pull me close. “Gemma won’t stay mad long, Jessie. Whatever it is you two are dustin’ up about, it’ll work out.”

My shoulders sagged with worry but not only from remembering my troubles with Gemma. I was still stinging from Luke’s rebuke the night before too. I just melted into her arms for a minute and let her comfort me as only a momma could. Then I smiled wanly and said, “I’ll be all right, Momma. Sure you don’t need nothin’?”

“No, baby, I was just in town last night. You have a nice walk and be careful. Duck into a store if it starts to come down on you.”

“Yes’m.” I made my way downstairs and packed up a few things for Mr. Poe, grabbed one of Daddy’s fine ripe tomatoes from the pantry, sprinkled some salt on it, and set out on my way. Tasting the cool juice from the tomato did nothing to ease the intense heat of the still-early morning, but I kept on the road into town, determined to check up on Mr. Poe.

The sheriff was standing on the front steps when I reached the jail. He was smoking a cigar, and he tipped his hat at me when he saw me coming.

“Got a hot day for such a long walk, Miss Jessilyn. But then, we ain’t got nothin’ but hot days no more.” He cast a glance up into the sky, squinting against the sun as it popped out from its cover of clouds. “Those storm clouds are teasin’ us today. Sure could use some rain.”

“It’ll rain,” I told him confidently. “I can smell it in the
air.” I climbed the steps and stood in front of him, well off to the side to avoid the suffocating stench of his smoke. “I’m here to see Mr. Poe. Seems to me there ain’t no law against me seein’ a prisoner in your jail.”

“Well, I suppose I could work somethin’ out there,” he said with a slow drawl. “Providin’ you behave yourself, that is.”

I bristled at his response and stood up straight, my five feet seven inches matching up to his short frame. “What kind of trouble are you talkin’ about, Sheriff? I ain’t never been in no trouble with the law.”

“You ain’t never been so determined to see a man go free, neither. I don’t want you goin’ and takin’ liberties with my prisoner. I know you and Gemma have been sneakin’ him things. I already done took away a box of one of his crazy collections.” He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Doggonit, you know I can’t have you interferin’ in police business.”

“Maybe if the police wasn’t so bound to make a poor innocent man miserable, I wouldn’t go interferin’. And anyway, all we did was bring him some treats. Seems a man unjustly accused can’t hurt so much from gettin’ treats.”

He replaced his hat, took two puffs on his cigar, and looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Ain’t no reason you girls had to do it in secret. I’ll let the man have some treats. Just depends on what the treats are.”

“You wouldn’t even let us see him.”

“That was when there was trouble stirred up. The boys around here have eased off a bit. Seems they’re willin’ to
wait for trial and let the law take care of things. Wish you’d do the same. I got rules in my jail, Jessilyn.”

I reached into one of my dress pockets and held out a handful of stones. “Brought these for Mr. Poe’s collection. And I brought him some of Momma’s dried figs.” I pulled a bag out of my other pocket and revealed it to him. “You got rules about these things, too?”

“Can’t let him have the stones. Could be a weapon.”

I rolled my eyes to the heavens and sighed. I never enjoyed dealing with people that didn’t use the sense God gave them. “When’s the last time you saw Elmer Poe hurt a body with a rock? He ain’t no David with a sling. He just wants ’em to look at when he’s sittin’ all cooped up in that dingy old cell.”

The sheriff puffed another circle of smoke in my direction, and I waved it off angrily, sick of the smoke and senseless words that kept coming from that man’s mouth.

“Listen here,” he said, his patience waning. “You can let him have those figs, but that’s it. Now, if you want to come in here, fine. But I’m tellin’ you, those rocks stay outside. You hear?”

I looked at the thick, stubby finger he pointed at me and bit back the sharp words that sat on the tip of my tongue. Finally, after taking a minute to compose myself, I dropped the stones onto the jailhouse steps, letting their clatter interrupt the silence between us. I held up the bag of figs to show it was all I had with me. “Now can I go in?”

He finally stubbed the ugly old cigar out on the metal railing and flung out a hand in an exaggerated gesture to
usher me inside. I was disliking him more and more by the minute.

“My daddy says ain’t no way Mr. Poe done this,” I told the sheriff as I followed him back to where they were holding Mr. Poe. “Ain’t just me and Gemma that thinks it. Ain’t just Daddy, neither. There’s plenty of folks that know he ain’t capable.”

“Ain’t what folks think that I run my town on,” he said sharply.

“Sure about that?” I asked, opening my mouth that one step too far like I usually did. “It’s an election year, ain’t it?”

He whirled around on me with a quickness I didn’t know a bulky man like him could possess and glared at me with a look I’d never seen in his eyes before. “Talk like that’ll get you in trouble, little lady. You best bite your tongue before I send you out of here good and quick.”

He startled me enough that I took a long step back, but my gaze never left his. “I done known you a long time, Sheriff. For the life of me I can’t figure why you’re treatin’ Mr. Poe so bad. He ain’t never been nothin’ but good to you.”

“I’m done talkin’ with you, Jessilyn,” he told me. “You want to see Elmer Poe, then you go on back and do it. I ain’t gonna argue with you no more.”

I stared at him for a few seconds longer, then stormed past him into the short, stuffy hall that led to Mr. Poe’s cell.

“You got ten minutes,” Sheriff Clancy called before he slammed the door behind me.

I reached Mr. Poe’s cell and tapped on one of the bars to get his attention without startling him. He was all curled up in the corner of his cot, staring at the narrow patch of cloudy sky that was visible through his window.

“Hey there, Mr. Poe,” I said softly as he turned to look at me.

He sat up to greet me, but his movements were slow and labored, his face creased far more than I remembered it. “Hey there, Miss Jessilyn. Didn’ hear ya comin’.”

“I thought you’d like some company.”

“Sure ’nough.” A dim smile crossed his face but never reached his eyes. “A body needs comp’ny tuh get by.”

A knot formed in my throat as I looked at his face that was so saddened by betrayal and confusion. He shuffled over to me, wrapping his hands around the bars for support, and just stood there with his head dipped down, his eyes focused on the tips of his worn shoes. I’d never seen Mr. Poe with shoes that didn’t shine like the moon, and it struck me that all I’d known this man to be seemed to be slipping away from him.

I pulled the small sack from my pocket and held it between the bars. “Brought you some of my momma’s dried figs. I know you like them.”

“That’s right kind of ya,” he said, taking them with a shaky hand. “Right kind. Tell yer momma Ah said so.”

“Yes’r. I’ll do that.”

I watched him as he made about the business of getting into the bag of figs, but his motions were slow and
uncoordinated. The paper sack crinkled loudly as he tried to unfold the top and reach inside. It must have taken him a solid minute before he even managed to open the top, but once inside, his hand wouldn’t grasp one.

“Cain’t find ’em,” he muttered.

“Here, I’ll help you, Mr. Poe.” I gently took the bag from him and reached in to pull out two sugary figs. “They get stuck together sometimes, is all. Maybe we can rip the sack some so you can see them.” I tore the bag halfway down the side and rolled the top down to form a paper bowl. “There you go. Now you can get at them good and easy.”

I leaned against the bars and watched as Mr. Poe shuffled back to his cot, slumped over his knees, and fumbled with the figs. Even eating seemed a chore to him, but at length he managed to swallow one.

“Mighty good,” he murmured, his head continuing to nod slightly as though he had no ability to control it. “You tell yer momma ain’t nuthin’ tasted better tuh me than these here figs.”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Poe.” For another minute I watched him without saying a word. He was just sitting there, staring at the other fig in his shaky fingers. Finally I leaned in closer, sticking my head as far through the bars as I could manage, and quietly said, “Mr. Poe. They bein’ good to you in here?”

He didn’t seem to hear and I raised my voice a little. “You hear, Mr. Poe? I was askin’ if they’s treatin’ you good in this here jail.”

He lifted his nodding head. “They’s just doin’ what they has to. S’what the sheriff says.”

“But they ain’t bein’ rough with you or nothin’?”

For the first time he perked up a bit. “Oh no, Miss Jessilyn. They ain’t hurt me. No, ma’am. They’s just gotta keep me here, is all.”

“You sure you’re feelin’ all right? Maybe they should have the doc come take a look at you.”

“Ain’t nuthin’ wrong with me. Old Mr. Poe, he ain’t never sick.” He gave me a wobbly smile. “Ah take after muh daddy, s’what muh momma always said.”

“And your daddy weren’t never sick, is that it, Mr. Poe?”

“Nope. He weren’t never sick. Me neither.”

“So you’re doin’ all right in here, then?”

He nodded and slowly took a bite out of the fig in his hand. “Just wish ah could have muh things to look at. Ain’t got much to do with muh days.” He reached under his pillow and pulled out a worn, leather-bound book. “Got me a Bible here, though, and I figure that’s ’bout all a man needs tuh get by. I got the Lord by muh side. Ain’t nuthin’ better’n that.”

“That’s fine,” I said, though I was still fuming at Sheriff Clancy for leaving this poor old man in a dirty cell, alone and with nothing to occupy his time. “S’pose it’s nice to have somethin’ to read, then.”

“I got me the Lord’s words,” he said, tapping a finger on the cover of the Bible. “Got me all ah need when ah got me the Lord’s words.”

“Yes’r,” I murmured, even though I didn’t think a worn
Bible was enough to keep Mr. Poe from losing his health and happiness.

Sheriff Clancy opened the hall door, sending an echoing squeak bouncing off the cinder block walls. “Time’s up, Jessilyn. You need to be on your way.”

I gave him a venomous glare and then I turned my attention back to Mr. Poe. “I got to go now, Mr. Poe. But I’ll be back to visit as much as I can, you hear?”

“Yes’m, ah hear ya. Tell yer momma a kind thank-you for the figs. They’s mighty good.”

I smiled at him and nodded, but he seemed to be looking through me rather than at me, and I backed away sadly.

“That man ain’t fit,” I told the sheriff before I even got through the door.

“Ain’t nothin’ done wrong to that man,” he said, and I could tell how annoyed he was with me by the sigh built into his words. “We’ve got him three square meals a day, plenty of water, and he’s got a Bible to read. I even let him see the paper every mornin’.”

“Well, that’s right kind of you, Sheriff. Seein’ as how he’s been a loyal citizen of this here county for his whole life, it’s good to know you don’t let him starve or go without knowin’ the important news of the day.”

The sarcasm in my voice was evident in a way that would have made my momma blush in three different shades, but I didn’t care just then. I was good and mad for seeing what was being done to my old friend for no good reason.

“Seems you could do better by him by findin’ out who
really killed Callie Colby so Mr. Poe don’t have to sit and rot back there in that old cell while the real killer goes free.”

“See here, Jessilyn Lassiter,” he warned. “You ain’t got no call to tell me how to do my job. Your daddy were here, he’d give you a tongue-lashin’ for your wild talk.”

“If I gotta be the only one who’ll stand up for Mr. Poe, then I’ll do it, even if my daddy gives me a tongue-lashin’. That man’s near about dyin’ slow back there, and you ain’t givin’ no respect to what kind of good man he is. He’s used to takin’ long walks in the sunshine and talkin’ to people in town, and here you’ve got him all cooped up in that dim light, starin’ at nothin’ and talkin’ to no one.”

“What d’you expect me to do for him? Bring in entertainment? I got enough work to do here, tryin’ to find out all I can about this case.”

“Then if you’re workin’ so hard, why ain’t you found out who’s really guilty? Seems you shouldn’t have so much trouble figurin’ it out since he lives in your own town.”