Deep in the Heart of Me (28 page)

Otto's lodge is big. It's dark wood, and it's high up on legs. To the side, there is a big building, a barn with a low roof and a wide door.

When I stole the mule, it was at the cabin where they do the gambling. But this is where folks bring the furs he buys. The smell is dead on the wind. Skinned and scraped, cured and stacked, bundled and shipped.

Since Prohibition ended, that's what Smith is—a furrier. He doesn't farm. Cuts hay, a little tobacco. Otto Smith is a businessman, but his family lives poorly. I don't know what he does with his money. It's not in Tillo or Utz. He doesn't put his treasure there is what I mean, not like Dad does with us.

There are skins stretched on the walls of the lodge and even though it's cold two of his men sit on the porch, both younger than Otto, older than me. One smokes a pipe. One a cigar.

My dad was a soldier. My dad was a fighter, he could box. My dad is a thousand men, the one I compare all other men too, even myself.

I came from him, and he came from the land. Our land. And he conquered the world pretty much, and I was with him. I just wasn't formed. And knowing that pushes out of me now and holds its place in my mind when I'm scared. Because my dad has told me, he's afraid of no man living.

Otto Smith did not go to war. But he didn't have to prove himself that way. He is feared.

My father looks at me. "Hold yourself," he says.

"I'm not afraid," I say, my stomach making a noise like my shit is churning to water.

Dad probably means I shouldn't piss myself.

Not a chance, unless they shoot me.

The two are standing now. One goes in. The other stands at the top of the long steps a person would have to climb to get up there.

The door opens and more men. Three this time. One of those turns and goes in and three more come out. Otto is in the middle, shorter than the rest, no coat, and pulling his suspenders in place.

He comes to the railing, and he's looking down on us. He spits, but not at us, just nearby. Feels about the same.

"Well now," Otto says.

Dad and I move closer in. We are looking up at them lining the railing. They all wear hats. Fedora's mostly, some billed caps. Big Belly is the last to join their line.

I look at him. I'm angry at myself that I want to look away. Dad told me to stand up. I'm standing.

"I'm here about the trouble that went on," Dad says.

"The sheriff?" Otto says. "No skin off mine. I didn't bring him in."

News like that travels far. He looks at me, they all do. In their eyes, I killed a lawman, and it's a question on me.

"I'm here about all of it," Dad says.

"Must be a hole in the Clannan pocket. First Tolson, now this. Must of brought you down."

Dad doesn't say. Tolson in his pocket?

Otto goes on, "That one fancies the daughter I hear," he's pointing at me. "Guess he's got her now. Goes after what he wants."

I keep my hands out of my pockets. Like, Dad. The Smiths are a long dark line. And Otto just accused me of murder.

"How's the mule?" I ask.

I'm surprised I ask it. My voice doesn't seem to be mine.

Otto has a lump of chaw in his cheek that he shifts around. I don't think he's going to answer. But I'm not taunting him or rubbing his nose in it either. I want to know.

"Mended," he says.

"Sugar and iodine," I say.

I look at Dad, and I see he's surprised. I'm smiling, but Dad isn't. I think I'm close to foolish right now. My hands go in my pockets after all. But the mule comes around the side of the house like he recognizes my voice. I know he doesn't, but there's near happiness at seeing him. He comes over to me and sniffs my shirt. I can't help but check his leg. Then I pet him.

"He knows me," I say low. I don't know to whom.

"Need to speak," Dad says to Otto. "You and me."

"It's confusing. You said never again," Otto says hands over his heart like it's broken.

"Not here for myself," Dad says like Otto is a nitwit.

But maybe I'm the nitwit. Does Dad know Otto that well?

I don't know why I do it. It's hard to stand still. I get on Jack's back. He steps around and gives out his braying sound. It ends in a perfect hee-haw. It's like he's gearing up for a show.

Someone says, "He's doing it again," meaning I'm taking off on Jack, but that ain't so.

"He don't like people," Otto says.

"That kid must be something else," someone says. They laugh at that.

"Come to steal him again," Otto calls.

I hope to get fancy, but J.B. has that stubborn mind. He kicks his hinders, and they roar and clap, and he takes off then, stops short, nearly throws me then circles back. It's a hell of a ride with this one. I wish he were mine.

I get off then, and I look sheepish at Dad.

"Through?" he says. And I nod, and Jack pushes against the back of my shoulder determined to find an apple. He decides I'm barren as a winter tree and takes off trotting the way he came.

Damn, he's fine.

Otto says something to the one next to him. That one comes down first. Tall and skinny, hat pulled over his brow. He's holding a rifle, barrel down. He walks toward me.

Rifle grabs me and makes to frisk me. I'm surprised to see Dad holding the Luger on him. My Luger. Belly's Luger. That I said was Shaun's. That Ned had. That Luger.

I am ready to grab this rifle. But I watch Dad.

"Take your hand off of him," Dad says to Rifle. "Take your hand off."

Rifle looks up and Otto nods.

"Is he armed?" Otto says. Meaning me. He can see Dad already is.

"No," Dad says to Otto. Then to Rifle, "Take your hand off."

I pull free.

"Get over here," Dad says to me, and I walk to him. He pushes me behind him like that will keep me alive.

I can feel how alive he is now. I feel it.

Dad holds the Luger on Rifle, then he slowly sweeps it up and puts it on, Otto.

I can't believe it. I'm proud and terrified.

"Boss?" Rifle says.

Others show weapons. All are pointed at us.

We stand that way. My hand is on Dad. I don't want us to go this way. Shot down and bodies hidden on Smith land. I want to see Sobe. I want to be with her. And Maman. The children will be orphans. Aunt Christah…nine children coming her way. And Sobe will marry another. My Sobe.

I step from around him. I can't speak to Otto Smith looking over my daddy's shoulder, now can I?

"Boyo," Dad hisses.

"You came on our land," I say to Otto.

I clear my throat, and I say it again. "You came on our land, so I came on yours."

"Janky little bastard," Otto says, and the others laugh. "Even fuller of himself now he's tasted blood."

I don't want to give them the satisfaction of saying Shaun's name. But I'm close. I'm close to tearing one of these posts in two that hold up the porch they stand on. With my teeth.

Now Belly starts down the porch stairs. Dad told me to stand up. My anger holds me straight.

Rifle steps aside so Belly won't have to move around him even though there's nothing more than sour frozen grass peppered with chaw.

"That's my gun," Belly says. He's chewing a toothpick, and he holds a rifle. He has his hand out like Dad should surrender the Luger just on his say-so.

My dad shoots Belly.

He falls back, and I look down.

He's shot between the eyes.

He's dead.

My chin is wobbling, and my ears ring with a sound like Dad shot into a pipe. But it was Belly's head. Forehead more exact.

I look up, and Rifle is as I'll-be-damned as me. He remembers to lift his gun and train it on Dad. There are all kinds of yammering from the porch.

Otto Smith is cursing. He tears down the stairs with the others on his heels.

His hands are out toward Dad. "God sakes man put it away," he says.

But Dad doesn't put it away. He has the Luger trained on Otto.

"Get behind me boyo," he says without looking at me. He's staring at Smith.

My legs are shaking, but I nearly do what he says. I get beside him.

"He was my brother-in-law!" Otto yells. "Once he was."

"Shaun was blood! And this one is my son!" Day yells back, thundering. It scares me like nothing else.

Time passes like a drip of molasses, but not long enough to even swipe your hand under your nose.

"You want a war," Dad says, "you think you'll win? I'm here for the law."

"Like the day you had Tillo and Utz in your truck!" Otto yells. "Were you deputy then?"

"It was a kindness! They painted the schoolhouse together! It was the new day you stupid ass. Like we promised when we shook hands over him. On his fookin' death bed," Dad says.

I am looking one to another. I've widened the space a little between my father and me.

"I don't want any trouble," Otto says.

"You've begged for it," Dad accuses.

"That Shaun was a big mouth. Big words. He was in us for two hundred," Otto says. He gestures toward Belly, "This one sent him a message. He was ambitious. That's all."

"You sent your message to me," Dad says.

"Your kid rode through here…a damn thief!" Otto says. "He took my mule!"

"This one," Dad gestures with the pistol at Belly, "took Shaun's Luger, the one I gave him, the one I took off a German officer…after I had killed him, the one Shaun kept under his bed, like I told him to, the day he brought it to me, the day I said he could take it, so my boys…so my sons would never find it, never feel it in their hands…. Then this piece of garbage,” gestures toward Belly, “tried to use it to kill my son. Ambitious again."

Otto closes his eyes and turns in a half-circle then turns back quick. "And he shot out my damn windows," he says.

"Fook your windows!" Dad yells.

"Well, he died for it didn't he?" Otto kicks at Belly.

"Here's what I'm passing to Ned…," Dad says, "here is what you'll say, 'They ran through, a Halloween prank. You defended your place. If one of your boys shot Shaun, you didn't know. There's no harm in defending what's yours.'"

Otto doesn't look at Dad. "There always has been. You've seen to that. You're seeing to it now."

"The idiot in you must come from your mother," Dad says.

"Leave my mother out of this. She paid enough for what he did."

"He did nothing she didn't open her legs for," Dad says.

Otto makes a fist and growls at Dad. Then he slaps the fist into his palm.

Dad takes in a breath and looks at the Luger. He disarms the gun, puts the ammunition in his pocket. The gun goes back in his belt. "Some things you can't get rid of. Thorn in the flesh."

Otto waves at Dad without looking at him. He's done with us.

Dad says, "C'mon boyo."

I follow in Dad's steps then.

"Make sure they all know," Otto calls. "John and Frank. And Pat. Mike. Tell Bill."

"We've kept our end," Dad says without turning around. "We've always kept our end."

But I can't help looking over my shoulder. We get in the truck, and I'm looking out my window as they gather round Belly and pick up his corpse. Anyone hid on this land today…it won't be us.

Dad starts the truck, and it's then he looks at me, first time since he's killed Belly. "You did fine."

My mouth is open, my chin pumps a couple of times.

"Just don't tell your mother. Not a word."

"Tell her what? That you killed him? And Otto Smith he's…what is he? What are you?"

His hand comes around the back of my neck, like at the jail, but not anything like that. I am holding myself stiff and away, but I need to see his eyes. I need…I don't know what.

He feels me resist, and his face goes from the cold stranger, and there's emotion. He's looking at me like he does. Once or twice. It feels like a long time.

"I'm your dad. Don't you ever forget it. I'm your dad."

He's looking at me with love, and his eyes have shine. The truck is rumbling, and it's not safe here.

But I reach for his wrist and hold on.

My story starts in the middle of someone else's. My dad's.

It doesn't do any good to be mad. I am mad. But not just that.

The fight in me has pulled inside.

For a while, it's quiet like we both just want to get away and leave Otto Smith behind us.

"Is he the thorn in your flesh?" I finally say.

Dad side-eyes me as he shifts. "The Luger," Dad says.

I blow through my lips and look out my window. I don't believe that.

"You telling the truth? About the Luger?" I say. It's the first time I ever questioned him or entertained the possibility he could lie.

He does laugh now, just once. But he doesn't answer.

"It's the truth then?" I say.

He shifts around a little. I know that gun digs his back.

But I wait.

I feel the balloon inside my chest filling again. It's pressure.

"Why'd you…."

"Kill him?"

"No. I mean yes. But you said that about his mother." He said the four-lettered word he would kill us for saying.

It's hard to remember all of his words. I was trying to get over the dead man.

"I wasn't born yesterday, son. That's all."

"But they all saw it!"

He looks at me, then away. "That was the idea."

"You're a farmer, right? Just a farmer?"

He smiles at me but doesn't answer. Again.

"Well, what are you then?" I say. I'm angry.

He stops along there, near those white mules. "Tonio, you know me. Take a breath, son."

"I'm breathing. Guess I don't need you to tell me." I see those bodies, Shaun first. That's the worst. A body without the man in it, his soul they call it, well it just looks worse than you can imagine. It looks wrong, eyes so empty.

"Will you go to jail for this?"

"No," he says like I'm ridiculous.

"Are you saying Otto Smith is family?" It's the worst notion to ever enter my head.

"Smiths and us go back across the ocean. It was never proven, about Otto. But…my mother, when that family was hurting, she never held it against them," he says grinding the gears forward. "But he's not family. I would never call him that."

"I don't know what that means," I say. This is not something to be foggy on.

"When you're older…."

"Dad. I am older," I say.

He stares a little. "I guess you are," he says almost like he's sad about it.

Well, he shot a man in front of me. I guess he knows I'm not Pee-Wee.

"That's three of them haunting you now," he says. "Father, son and holy ghost."

"Who…?"

"Shaun, the sheriff and now the one I just killed at Smith's."

"Shaun was nothing like those others," I say.

"Shaun," Dad says. "He became the proverb, didn't he?"

I don't know why Dad is so against Shaun. I say that.

"He put all this in motion," Dad says. "Couldn't tell him a thing. Blessed are the meek. You know why?"

I shake my head some though I don't like where this is going. Dad loves to get philosophical right when you want to know something.

"Because the meek will listen. Listening is a good thing to cultivate in yourself, boyo. That's why I make you boys repeat instructions. I want you to listen."

We are nearly out of Smith country when I prove I can listen, "You said a crude thing…about his mother."

"Well…heat of the moment," he says.

"And the thing about the death bed," I say. "You shook hands…." See, it's coming back to me now.

"It's old things that need to be laid to rest."

"You're the one who said them."

He stops the truck again. There in the middle of the road. "Boy. My father was a good man. Mostly. He…maybe he…we was never for sure. She said it…his mother. That Otto was…maybe he was…Dad's."

I am horrified.

"It wasn't true?" I say.

"It…couldn't be proved," he says. "But it hurt us. The notion. It took our pride," he says. He wipes over his mouth. "My brothers…it's been us to stand strong. My dad…he was good mostly. Good. But next to my mother…well, she was a saint."

"How could he…."

"I think you know how. You were almost a married man yourself."

"It's got nothing to do with being married," I say hotly. "Does it?"

"You make that promise boyo, it is for life. You better be sure."

"Were you?"

"With your mother? What are you talking about? She was the one took all the risk on a cocky mutt bastard."

"Would you ever…I mean…have you?"

"Of course not. Your mother… I settled that when I asked her to marry me. She said yes and I ain't over it yet. You just remember a man cheats on his wife, cheats on his family."

It eases me to hear him say it. He loves her like that, loves us like that.

Before we are home, we talk about the gun. He thinks throwing it overboard after the war like he'd nearly done could have saved all of us.

"Without the Luger, Sheriff would have shot me. And I don't know what he had planned for Sobe."

I tell him what Sobe told me about her trials with her father.

He reaches behind and wrestles his coat and gets the Luger in his hand and shoves it under his seat.

"You can't own that gun. You can't own it. But maybe that's why I brought it home then," he says.

It's a big idea that he brought it home so I could save Sobe.

"Look at us," he says. "Deciding who lives…and dies. Your mother would think we're playing God. But we both know we're playing the devil sometimes, and that's the truth Tonio. A man plays the devil sometimes. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I say. "Yes, Sir."

"But he better have good reason," he says like he's given me license to sin, "a damn good one. Understand?"

Then he answers himself, "You do. What you did in the jail, hard put to know a man could have come out of that tussle alive."

This does bring it out of me. I am full of tears, and I didn't know. I can feel it, a big ball in my stomach and chest, what I've been carrying since…since Shaun. I try to swallow it down, but it's got the push to get out.

"Dad," I say, Wrenching the door open and Dad yells, and I get out and take some steps, and I think I'll be sick, and hands on my knees, it starts small and next I know I can barely breathe, and Dad is there patting my back while I sob shameful like a baby and out it comes, sounds and tears and my last meal and all of it…all of it. All of it.

Dad gives me time to get it out, and he doesn't hold it against me.

I'm pretty much limp as a dead fish when it's over. There's no more to say. I'm related to Tillo and Utz, and I pretty much shot Sobe's dad right before her. I guess it's settled in me.

I'm done sniffling when he pulls into Uncle John's lane, though. "What's this?" I say sounding clogged.

"This is your new home until your hearing," Dad says. "They're short here, and you'll work with Mike and see you don't get in more trouble."

"How…what?"

"You were told to stay clear of Miss Sobe and you will. Hear me? You will not disobey on this, or you'll end back in jail. Now I'll see Ned on it and if he comes to check you will be found where I say."

I touch her picture still safe in my pocket. I will have that at least. Unless I sneak home just to look in the window. I don't think I can be this close to Sobe and not end up closer.

"Get out, boy. I've work to do," Dad says.

I grab my knapsack and stumble out then. My legs feel heavy. But Dad leaves me there, and he backs out without so much as a wave. I take in a big breath and blow it out as I eye Aunt Christah's house far up the lane. Smoke winds from the chimney and the black dog up there on the porch is lifting its head. He comes tearing down the stairs making a line for me.

And such a powerful longing for Sobe is in me, it's all I can do to make my feet trudge toward the attacking dog.

I swing my knapsack onto my back. I hope being grown gets better.