Fallout (Joshua Stokes Mysteries Book 2) (15 page)

The Indian man behind the counter had a smile on his face when they opened the door, but as soon as they stepped inside and he saw that they were outsiders his entire persona went solemn. He acted as if it would pain him to smile at someone. He looked as sad as the day is long. As they looked around the store, Joshua saw the man lean over so that he could look outside at their vehicle. They both used the bathroom. Joshua then purchased himself and James a co-cola each and a pack of cheese crackers. Hook bought a pack of cigarettes. After they paid for their purchases, the man asked if they were headed to Holman to transfer an inmate.

“Not this time” Joshua replied. “We just come to show our respect to Carlos Pack’s mother; we hear she is in bad shape. Of course we want to visit with Carlos while we’re here too.”

“Um,” the man said with a motion of his head, “Good people.”

“Yeah, they are.” Joshua replied. The man appeared to have a case of the ‘sad sack’ again; he had gone to straightening the area around him. They left the building.

When they got into his car, Joshua said, “He’s got them bad, don’t he.”

“Yep,” Hook replied. “One of the worse cases of the Reservation Blues I have ever
seen
! You wonder what makes them want to act like that,” he said. “Every time I have ever come up here for something they act like that, especially if they know you’re an outsider. I reckon they are afraid that if they appear happy, folks will have something bad to say about them or think they have it made.”

“No, I think they actually hate white folks and blame all of us for their being on reservations to begin with. ‘White mans Government’ did take their land but hell that was over a hundred years ago. You and me didn’t have a damn thing to do with it; the same as we didn’t have anything to do with black folks being slaves a hundred some odd years ago, but many of them blame
all
white people for their ancestor’s misfortunes.”

“You’re right, Hoss, but from what you said about your mama being from up here, you’re not an outsider. You have as much right to be here as they do; you’re half Creek.”

“Maybe, if both of Annaleigh’s parents were Creek.”

“At least you know one of 'em was.”

Although surrounded by tribal land as soon as they left the interstate, there was just one road that led into the Reservation proper. Signs led the way to the main entrance. Most of the roads on the reservation were rough, bumpy, dirt roads.

The county maintained Poarch Road; it was the only paved road on the reservation. Once they made it to the tee at Mack Springs Road, various roads crisscrossed the Rez and led to different communities, much like any state or county. The reservation was more like an island surrounded by land, instead of land surrounded by water. Joshua pulled the piece of paper where Carlene had written the directions out of his shirt pocket and glanced at them.

He was expecting there to be guarded gates like those on either side of the highway that ran in front of Holman Prison, to keep the Indians in or the general public out, but there were none; however, the Tribal Police Department was right there.

Once they made a right turn onto Mack Springs Road, they were to look for Jepson Cemetery on the left. According to Carlene’s directions, his mother’s house was just past the cemetery. She said that he should see Carlos’ car parked in his mother’s yard. Sure enough, it was. There was no mistaking Carlos’ 1962 Lincoln Continental. That hearse-like monstrosity of a road hog was as wide as a dump truck and near about as long.

Joshua drove up to the little unpainted house and parked behind Carlos’ rig. He no sooner come to a complete stop, than a Tribal Police vehicle pulled in behind him. As he opened the door and stepped out, Carlos came to the door. The Poarch Creek Deputy got out of his car.

“Sheriff, you do not have
any
authority here on the Rez,” the deputy informed him.

“No need for any today, Deputy,” Joshua replied. “I’ve just come for a visit with Carlos.” Carlos stepped out onto the porch and said, “That’s right, Tom-Tom; I’ve been expecting him.” Joshua cut a sideways glance toward Carlos.

“Oh,
alright
-
tee
then.” the deputy spoke in a condescending tone.

Joshua wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He hated conceit in all its forms. With a name like Tom-Tom, the deputy had nothing to be stuck up over. Tom-Tom meant he was
little tom
, a small drum to be slapped, which was exactly what Joshua wanted to do; Hook saw it too. He knew Joshua’s fuse was short these days. That was the reason he rode to the reservation with him, to try to keep him out of trouble.

“Howdy, Carlos, how ya been,” Hook said as he walked toward the porch.

Joshua gave Tom-Tom a go-to-hell look and turned to follow James.

The deputy cleared his throat and said, “Make your business quick, Sheriff. We don’t like nonresidents to hang around too long;
they
tend to cause trouble.”

Joshua’s shoulders stiffened. It was all he could do to not turn around and fly into the scrawny deputy. He did not look back for he knew if he did, and the deputy had a smirk on his face, he would probably shoot him!

“Come on in Sheriff, Hook, it’s good to see y’all.” Carlos’s tone was pleasant.

The little house was dimly lit and when they first walked in, neither of them could see very well. Carlos apologized for the dimness of the room and the messiness. He said that he was not much when it came to cleaning and that his mother was not able to. Carlos said his mother preferred it dark because the bright light hurt her eyes.

Mrs. Pack turned on a lamp that set on an end table by the couch and sat down. She told Joshua and James that they were not going to grow any taller; they may as well take a seat. Her voice crackled with age; however, her tone and accent was soothing to Joshua’s ears. She smoothed her worn, faded skirt and said:

“Carlos, put a pot of coffee on for these gentlemen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carlos replied turning toward a small stove that sat next to a sink cabinet in the corner of the room.

Joshua’s eyes had adjusted to the lighting by then and he got his first good look at the inside of the house. There was not much to it; practically everything was in one room. A bed, a nightstand, a slop jar, and a large trunk sat in the furthest corner. A quilting rack hung from the ceiling. The kitchen area was in the opposite corner; an area used for dining and food preparation. The area where she sat held a couch, a small portable television, several small tables and a rocking chair. The final corner held a small cot and a wooden crate covered with a woven blanket that was being used as a bedside table. Joshua took a seat in the rocker, which left James to sit on the couch beside Mrs. Pack.

Undoubtedly, while he was looking around, Mrs. Pack was watching him. She said, “I know it’s not much, Sheriff, but it is my home. I raised four offspring in this little house. Back then, I had to cook outside on a fire pit, now I have a stove and running water. If I had room, I would have them put me one of those store bought toilets in here. Now lean in a little bit and let me get a good look at you.” Joshua did as told.

“Ma, the sheriff is Joshua Stokes,” Carlos told her. “We’ve known one another for a few years now.”

His mother nodded her head and then turned to look at Hook.

“That there is Hook. I know him too,” Carlos assured her. “Y’all this is my mother, Margie Redfeather Pack.” both Joshua and James told her it was nice to meet her. Carlos said that he needed to break in before she began telling them about when she was growing up and how her parents and seven children lived in a teepee.

Carlos did not appear ill at ease; Joshua did not know why he was lying to Carlene about his mother being on her deathbed. Mrs. Pack seemed spry to him and did not appear to be dying. It was none of his business why, but he reckoned that Carlos had his reasons for telling her so and staying at the Rez with his mother.

“Why would they brand you with a name like, ‘Hook’ young man,” Margie Redfeather asked James as he sat down. James grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.

“They’ve called me that since grade school, ma’am; it just kind a stuck.” Joshua could not help but smile at James awkwardness.

“What are you grinning about, Sheriff? Do you want to share it with the rest of us?”

“No ma’am, I just like seeing him squirm, that’s all.” Margie Redfeather did not seem to grasp Joshua’s humor. His mood turned serious.

“Miss Margie, I know it has been awhile, but do you remember a young girl from back in the twenties, named Annaleigh Touart? She and her younger brother and sister ended up in the orphanage in Mobile. The younger children were quickly adopted, but not Annaleigh. She was raised there, schooled there, and then took a job at the courthouse; that was where she met and married my father. Annaleigh was my mother.” Before Margie could answer him, Joshua pulled the photograph of his mother and her siblings out of his pocket and handed it to her. He could not gage from her expression whether she recognized his mother’s name or not, and he was not sure if she could see the photo.

“Carlos, can you come over here and raise this curtain behind me, so I can look upon their faces.” Without a word, Carlos did as told. Joshua could tell that he was also curious about the photograph. As Margie drew it closer to her eyes, Carlos stood behind his mother, pulled his reading glasses from his pocket, and gazed down at the photograph. When she looked over the picture at Joshua, he felt a shiver run down his spine. ‘
Oops, someone just walked over your grave.
’ he heard a voice whisper in his ear.

“Go on, get out of here!” said Margie harshly, pointing her finger toward him. A surprised Joshua began to apologize for having angered her. “Not you, Sheriff. I was talking to him, Jericho,” she pointed over Joshua’s shoulder.

He turned to see a faint apparition standing behind him.

Flustered, Carlos said, “Mama, don’t start all of that ghost stuff again.” James looked at all of them as if they were crazy. When Joshua looked again, the apparition was gone.

“Who is or was this Jericho?” Joshua asked, aiming his query at Margie.

“He was my father,” Carlos replied, his embarrassment apparent on his face. “Ma thinks he is here for her and that she will die soon.” Margie ignored Carlos’ explanation.

“He likes to sneak up on people and jump them if he can,” Margie said matter-of-factly. “He probably ran his finger up your spine to test you first-didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“I knew it!” she yelped, “When I looked up, I saw him whisper in your ear. You have the gift, the same as I have; the same as your grandfather had. That was what drove him insane though. You are bound by blood, stay strong.” her words shocked Joshua.

“My grandfather, you, what do you mean… did you know my grandfather?”

“Of course I knew him; he was my brother; he was Annaleigh’s father.”

A shirtless Joshua stopped chopping wood and turned toward Emma. He propped the axe against his leg and then waited to see what she wanted. He did not immediately look her in the eye. Instead, he pulled his smokes from his back pocket and lit one.

He took a long draw and inhaled it deeply. He exhaled slowly, trying to let the tension ease out of his body with the smoke. Her bothering him when he wanted to be alone annoyed him and tried his patience.

She had stood behind him for several minutes before he finally stopped. He hoped she would take the hint and leave him alone. If she had just gone on, it would have pleased him; he was not in any mood to chat. However, it did not appear that she intended to leave before he stopped and talked to her.

Chopping wood was helping to rid some of his anxiety and helping him process all that Margie had told him about his mother’s family. He had gotten more information than he had ever hoped to and he had been mulling over all that Margie had told him of Annaleigh’s parents - his grandparents. He now knew who his mother was, who her parents and grandparents were, and that his grandfather had some sort of mental illness. It ran in the family according to Margie.

His grandfather, Annaleigh’s father, had gone nuts, killed his wife and buried her body behind their house. Then he took the children, left the reservation, and holed up somewhere near the Mississippi State Line. She said that from what Annaleigh told her, while she and the other children slept, he committed suicide.

When she told him this, Joshua wondered why his mother had told Vivian and others at the orphanage a different story than the one Margie was telling… maybe his mother did not want people to know about her father’s mental illness.

Margie said that his grandfather did not physically harm the children; however, they did see him dead. Annaleigh was the one that found him; apparently, he had slit his own throat with his hunting knife. What a hell of a way to die, thought Joshua. Margie said that folks on the Rez thought the entire family had gone somewhere together. According to her, the family did that from time to time. They would go over into Georgia, Florida, or Mississippi on hunting and fishing expeditions and be gone for several weeks at a time.

It was not until after they had been gone for several weeks that their kinfolk on the reservation began to worry for the safety of the children and their mother. From what Margie said, their kinfolks on the Rez knew that the father was dealing with some bad spirits, but did not know he had killed his wife, kidnapped his children, or that he had killed himself until after the children had been in the orphanage for several months. That was when Annaleigh gave them her name, her parent’s names, and grandparent’s names and told that they had lived on the reservation.

“Even then, those of us on the reservation did not take the children to rear as our own. It was extremely hard times for us here on the reservation, Sheriff, or should I call you nephew?” Margie asked. When he did not respond, she continued. “We could barely take care of our own children… we thought my brother’s children would be better off living with white families that could better care for them. We were bonded by blood; it was not an easy decision, Joshua,” Margie said solemnly.

He could tell by her tone that she did feel
something
for not taking in his mother and her siblings - he did not know if it was regret, sorrow, or if it was just plain sadness that Margie felt over her past decisions.

He pulled his thoughts from what Margie told him of his mother, and then tried to confront whatever it was that Emma wanted to talk to him about; however, she did not look him in the eye. Probably, because she could tell that he was annoyed and she expected him to snap at her. When she still did not look at him or speak, he asked what it was she wanted to ask or tell him. She looked into his eyes and then stumbled before she finally spoke. He could see that she was wrestling with her emotions; his ire abated.

Just looking into Joshua’s eyes caused Emma to lose what courage she had worked up as she watched him chop wood. His dark hair hung damp and limp, his green eyes pierced through to her soul, searching it from within.
Why does he have to be so damn sexy and good-looking
, thought Emma? She wanted him so badly that she could hardly stand still. Then, she saw his eyes soften.

Lifting her chin, she said, “What I said this morning was a lie. It was more than just a thing. At least for me it was. I know that I am young and you look upon me as a child; I am not a child. I am not looking for a father figure either. Last night, I needed you; I wanted
you
to make love to me. I want you to keep making love to me until I have had my fill, or until you have, whichever comes first.” When Joshua did not respond, she said “You don’t have to commit to me, I know that is not who you are. If you wanted that, you would not be living here alone… What we shared last night was beautiful; I don’t want to lose that.”

Joshua did not know how to respond. He could hear Terry Reid’s soulful ballad, ‘Seed of Memory’ playing on the radio that Emma kept on all the time; it soothed him. What she told him was not what he was expecting; he took a long draw of his cigarette before he answered.

“Last night was unexpected. I think I needed you as much as you needed me, and it
was
beautiful, Emma, but I am old enough to be your father. There could be no expectations of a life together. You’re young; you need a younger man to build your life around, not an old has been like me. I know you feel safe here, and that is much of it, but I don’t want you to waste your time-to wrap yourself in a safe cocoon out here and let life pass you by. You know I’m right.”

“It won’t be like that, I promise… And if you don’t want to make love to me again, which I hope is not the case, I will understand.”

“
Want
doesn’t have anything to do with it, Emma. Men always want sex… just like last night. Sex wasn’t even on my mind,
that
was the last thing I expected when I went to bed-actually, I don’t even remember going to bed-but I did not turn it down.”

“I heard you come in and go into your room. As I lay there thinking of you in that bed, I was overcome with a need to be close to you. I wanted you to hold me in your arms the way you did when you hugged me; it made me feel so safe. As I lay there and felt your body against mine, I not only felt safe, you made me want to bury you deep inside me… and me inside you. I wanted us to meld together. That is the only way I can explain it.”

Joshua could not deny that they had great sex the night before; they had become one, in more ways than one, but he did not want their relationship to go any further than that. He had not even wanted
that
, it just happened. He could not undo it, and if it
just
happened again, that would be great; if not, he could live without it. He was not so sure about Emma. He thought she was looking for someone to love her unconditionally, and that she was confusing sex with love or that having sex with someone meant they loved you and you loved them.

“If I get to feeling like that again, Sheriff, can I come to you… will you…” Emma reached out, placed her hand on his chest, and then stepped closer.

Joshua could not deny that she aroused a desire in him, even now, simply standing there in the yard. Maybe it was because of the night before, her young naked body wrapping itself around his…

“Will you make love to me again?” Emma asked.

Joshua, did not answer her, he simply nodded his head. She tiptoed, kissed his cheek, and then turned and walked back toward the porch. ‘New Orleans Ladies,’ by Louisiana’s LeRoux was playing on the radio and her body seemed to sway to the music as she walked. Joshua took a deep breath and returned to the woodpile. He wanted to follow her swaying body right on into the bedroom, but he could not do that; he would not do that!

As soon as he began chopping wood again, the urge left him; it was replaced by thoughts of the streets of New Orleans, ‘The Big Easy’ was the nickname given it by its slow-paced denizens. Others that enjoyed its slow pace also called it that or similar names. It had been a long time since he had visited ‘N’Awlins.’ The voice and accent of Addison Hayes, the old Monroeville lawyer he admired so much in his youth, said the name in his mind; it flowed smoothly through his brain.

Addison was wise with age and very knowledgeable. He had given Joshua sage advice in his youth; advice he fell back on from time to time when dealing with people. He wished he had given him instructions on how to deal with a horny young woman.

He had so much he
needed
to tend to; having sex with Emma was not high on the list. He needed to check in with his deputies. He needed to get copies made of the photographs in Vivian’s album. He needed to check on Roy and Royce McGregor. He needed to check in with the federal boys and see what was going on with the Train Track Killer case.
He just needed to get his priorities in order
. He definitely wanted to find his mother’s journal and if possible, find out what happened to her. He also wanted to explore the unsolved case files more in depth, for he knew in his gut that many of those had to do with the senior Dixon’s killing spree. After that was out of the way, he wanted to look into his kinfolk, those bound not only by blood, but also by heritage.

He gathered what wood he had chopped and stacked it neatly by the porch. Emma was definitely a homebody and the only means of cooking was the woodstove. He wanted to shower but something held him back. He did not know if it was for fear of Emma joining him or catching him naked while changing clothes and coming on to him.

With that thought, he thought of Margie and the spirit of Jericho trying to jump in his skin. He had never heard of such in his life, but he’d felt it, as surely as he felt his arm and back muscles stiffening from the strain of wielding the axe. He walked into the kitchen got a bottle of whiskey, a glass, and a pack of cigarettes, and then walked back out onto the porch. Emma was lying in the swing listening to the radio. It was late in the afternoon by then. He had just poured himself a half a glass of whiskey when he heard a car coming down his driveway. He did not get up; instead he propped his feet on the railing and lit a smoke. He knew that whoever it was would come to the back if they were looking for him.