Farnham's Freehold (18 page)

During the long day in which three of them battled to save the baby, Duke and Joe dug a grave, high up the hill in a sunny spot. They dug deep and stocked a pile of boulders; both held concealed horror that a bear or coyotes might dig up the grave.

Grave dug, boulders waiting, Joe said in a strained voice, “How are we going to build a casket?”

Duke sighed and wiped sweat from his eyes. “Joe, we can’t.”

“We’ve
got
to.”

“Oh, we could cut trees and split them and adz out some lumber—we’ve done that when we had to. That kitchen counter. But how long would it take? Joe, this is hot weather—
Karen can’t wait!
”

“We’ve got to tear down something and build out of it. A bed, maybe. Bookcases.”

“Taking the wardrobe apart would be easiest.”

“Let’s start.”

“Joe. The only things we could use to build a coffin are in the house. Do you think Hugh will let us go in there
now
and start ripping and tearing and banging? If anybody woke that baby or startled it when they were trying to get it to feed, Dad would kill him. If Barbara or Mother didn’t kill him first. No, Joe. No coffin.”

They settled for a vault, using all their stock of bricks; these they used to build a box in the bottom of the grave, then cut down their dining canopy to line it, and cut timbers to cover it. Poor as it was, they felt comforted by it.

Next morning the grave received mother and daughter.

Joe and Duke placed them in it, Duke having insisted that his father stay behind and take care of Grace and Barbara. Duke had visualized how awkward it would be, getting the bodies into the grave and arranging them; he would not have had Joe along had not an assistant been necessary. He suggested that his mother not come to the grave at all.

Hugh shook his head. “I thought of that. You try to convince her. I can’t budge her.”

Nor could Duke. But when he sent Joe down for the others, his sister and her daughter were decently at rest with their winding sheet neatly arranged, and no trace remained of the struggle it had been to place them there, the rebuilding of part of the brick box that had been necessary, or—worst—the moment when the tiny corpse had fallen out of the sheet when they tried to get them both down as one. Karen’s face looked peaceful and her daughter was cuddled in her arm as if sleeping.

Duke balanced with a foot on each brick wall, knelt over her. “Good-bye, Sis,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He covered her face and got carefully out of the grave. A little procession was coming up the hill, Hugh assisting his wife, Joe helping Barbara. Beyond the shelter their flag flew at half-mast.

They arranged themselves at the grave, Hugh at the head, his wife on his right, his son on his left, Barbara and Joe at the foot. To Duke’s relief no one asked that faces be uncovered nor did his mother seem disturbed at the arrangements.

Hugh took a small black book from his pocket, opened it to a marked page:

“
‘I am the Resurrection and the Life…

“
‘We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we can take nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken—’
”

Grace sobbed and her knees started to fail. Hugh shoved the book into Duke’s hands, moved to support his wife. “Take over, Son!”

“Take her back down, Dad!”

Grace said brokenly, “No, no! I must stay.”

“Read it, Duke. I’ve marked the passages.”

“
‘…he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them.

“
‘For I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were
.

“
‘O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength.

“
‘Man, that is born of woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery.

“
‘Unto Almighty God we commend the soul of our sister—of our sisters—and we commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust—’
”

Duke paused, dropped the tiniest of clods into the grave. He looked back at the book, closed it and said suddenly, “Let us pray.”

They took Grace back and put her to bed; Joe and Duke returned to close the grave. Hugh, seeing that his wife appeared to be resting, started to snuff candles in the rear bay. She opened her eyes. “Hubert—”

“Yes, Grace?”

“I told you. I warned you. You wouldn’t listen to me.”

“About what, Grace?”

“I told you she had to have a doctor! You wouldn’t call one. You were too proud. You sacrificed my daughter on the altar of your pride. My baby. You killed her.”

“Grace, there are no doctors here. You know that.”

“If you were even half a man, you wouldn’t make excuses!”

“Grace, please. May I get you something? A Miltown? Or would you like a hypo?”

“No, no!” she said shrilly. “That’s how you tricked me when I was going to get a doctor anyway. In spite of you. You’ll never again trick me with your drugs. And you’ll never touch me again, either. Murderer.”

“Yes, Grace.” He turned and left.

Barbara was on the stoop, sitting with her head in her hands. Hugh said, “Barbara, the flag must be two-blocked. Do you want me to do it?”

“So soon, Hugh?”

“Yes. We go on.”

They went on. Duke hunted, Duke and Joe farmed, Hugh worked harder than ever. Grace worked too, and her cooking improved—and her eating; she got fatter. She never mentioned her conviction that her husband had been responsible for the death of their daughter.

She did not speak to him at all. When a problem had to be discussed she spoke to Duke. She quit attending church services.

In the last month of Barbara’s pregnancy, Duke sought out his father privately. “Dad, you told me that any time I wanted to leave—or any of us—we could.”

Hugh was startled. “Yes.”

“A pro-rata share, you said. Ammo, tools, and so forth.”

“Better than that; we’re a going concern. Duke, you are leaving?”

“Yes—but not just myself. Mother wants to. She’s the one who’s dead set on it. I’ve got reasons, but Mother’s wishes are the deciding factor.”

“Mmm—Let’s talk about your reasons. Are you dissatisfied with the way I’m running things? I will gladly step aside. I feel sure that I can get Joe and Barbara to go along, so that you will have unanimous support.” He sighed. “I am anxious to turn over the burden.”

Duke shook his head. “That’s not it, Dad. I don’t want to be boss and you’ve done a good job. Oh, I won’t say I liked the high-handed way you started in. But results count and you got results. I’d rather not discuss my reasons except to say that they don’t have to do with you—and wouldn’t be enough to make me leave if Mother weren’t hipped on it. She wants to leave. She’s going to leave. I can’t let her leave alone.”

“Can you tell me why Grace wants to leave?”

Duke hesitated. “Dad, I don’t see that it matters; she’s made up her mind. I pointed out that I couldn’t make things as safe for her—nor as comfortable—as it is here. But she’s adamant.”

Hugh pondered it. “Duke, if that’s how your mother feels, I won’t try to persuade her; I’ve long since lost my influence over her. But I have two ideas. You may find one of them practical.”

“I doubt it.”

“Hear me. You know we have copper tubing; we used some in the kitchen. We have everything for a still; I stocked the items to build one if a war came along—not just for us but because liquor is money in any primitive society.

“I haven’t built it for reasons we both know. But I could and I know how to make liquor.” He smiled slightly. “Not book knowledge. While I was in the South Pacific, I bossed a still, with the shut-eye connivance of my C.O. I learned how to turn corn or potatoes or most anything into vodka, or fruit into brandy. Duke, your mother might be happy if she had liquor.”

“She would drink herself to death!”

“Duke, Duke! If she is happy doing it, who are we to stop her? What does she have to live for? She loved television, she enjoyed parties, she could spend a happy day at the hairdresser’s, followed by a movie, then drinks with one of her friends. That was her life, Duke. Now where is it? Gone, gone! There is just this we can give her to make up for what she has lost. Who are
you
to decide that you mother must not drink herself to death?”

“Dad, that’s not the situation!”

“So?”

“You know I don’t—didn’t—approve of Mother’s excessive drinking. But I might go along with letting her drink all she wants now. If you build that still, we might be customers. But we would still leave. Because that won’t solve Mother’s problem.”

“Well, Duke, that leaves only my other idea. I’ll get out instead. Only—” Hugh frowned. “Duke, tell her that I will leave as soon as Barbara has her baby. I can’t walk out on my patient. You can give Grace my assur—”

“Dad, that won’t solve a thing!”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, Christ, I might as well spill it. It’s Barbara. She’s—Well, hell, Mother is nuts on the subject. Can’t stand her. Ever since Karen died. She said to me, ‘Duke, that woman is
not
going to have her child in my home! Her bastard. I won’t have it. You tell your father that he has got to get her out of here.’ That’s what she said, Dad.”

“Good Lord!”

“Yeah. I tried to reason with her. I told her that Barbara couldn’t leave. I gave her both barrels, Dad; I said there wasn’t a chance that you would ever force Barbara to leave. But as for making her leave now, or even letting her, you would no more do it than you would have driven Karen out. I told her that
I
wouldn’t, either, and that Joe and I would fight you to stop it, stipulating that you were crazy enough to try. Which you aren’t, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“That did it. She believes me when I lay it on the line. So
she
decided to leave. I can’t stall her any longer. She’s leaving. I’m going with her, to take care of her.”

His father rubbed his temples. “I guess there is no situation so bad but what it can get worse. Duke, even with you, she hasn’t anywhere to go.”

“Not quite, Dad.”

“Eh?”

“I can swing it, with your help. Do you remember that cave up Collins Canyon, the one they tried to make a tourist attraction? It’s still there. Or its twin, I mean. I was hunting up that way that first week. The canyon looked so familiar that I climbed up and looked for the cave. Found it. And Dad, it’s habitable and defensible.”

“The door? The mouth?”

“No problem. If you can spare that steel plate that blocked off the tunnel.”

“Certainly.”

“The cave has a vent, higher up. No smoke problem. It has a spring that hasn’t failed all this dry weather. Dad, it’s as comfortable as the shelter; all it needs is outfitting.”

“I capitulate. You can take almost anything now. Beds, of course. Utensils. Your pick of the canned goods. Matches, ammunition, guns. Make a list, I’ll help you move.”

Duke colored under his tan. “Dad, a few things are up there already.”

“So? Did you think I would be pinchpenny?”

“Uh… I don’t mean the past few days. I moved some things up the first days we were here. You see…well, you and I had that row—and then you made me rationing officer. That gave me the idea, and for a week or more I always left here loaded, leaving when no one was watching.”

“Stealing.”

“I didn’t figure it so. I never took as much as one-sixth of anything…and just stuff I would have to have in a pinch. Matches. Ammo. That rifle you couldn’t find. One blanket. A knife. A little food. Some candles. You see…well, look at it from my side. There was always the chance that I would get you sore and either have to fight—one of us killed is the way you put it—or run and not be able to stop for
anything.
I decided not to fight. So I made preparations. But I didn’t steal it; you
said
I could have it. Say the word and I’ll fetch it all back.”

Hugh Farnham peeled a callus, then looked up. “One man’s stealing is another man’s survival, I suppose. Just one thing—Duke, in that food you took:
Were there any cans of milk?
”

“Not one. Dad, don’t you think, if there had been, I would have beaten all records getting up there and back when Karen died?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I asked.”

“I was sorry I hadn’t snitched a few cans; then they wouldn’t have been used up.”

“The baby didn’t last out the milk we had, Duke. All right, it calls for quick surgery—but don’t forget that you can come back, any time. Duke, women sometimes get unreasonable at about your mother’s age…then get over it and are nice old ladies. Maybe we’ll have the family together again. I hope we’ll see you occasionally. You’re welcome to all the vegetables you can eat, of course.”

“I was going to mention that. I can’t farm up there. Suppose I still hunt for all of us…and when I bring in a load of meat I take away a load of green stuff?”

His father smiled. “We have reinstituted commerce. And we can supply you with pottery and there’s no need to do your own tanning. Duke, I suggest you sort out what you want, and tomorrow you and I and Joe will start packing it to your cave. Be lavish. Just one thing—”

“What?”

“The books are mine! Anything you want to look up, you’ll have to come here. This is not a circulating library.”

“Fair enough.”

“I mean it. You can have my razor, you can have my best knife. But snitch one book and I’ll skin you alive and bind that book in human skin. There are limits. All right, I’ll tell Joe, and get Barbara out of the house and we’ll stay away until dark. Good luck, and tell Grace no hard feelings. There are, but tell her that. But I’m not too groused. It takes two to create a heaven…but hell can be accomplished by one. I can’t say that I’ve been happy lately and Grace may be smarter than we think.”

“That’s a polite way of telling us to go to hell, Dad.”

“Possibly.”

“Whatever you mean, the same to you. It was no accident that I moved away from home as soon as I could.”

“
Touché!
Well, get on with it.” His father turned and walked away.

Joe made no comment. He simply said that he had better get on with the irrigating. Barbara said nothing until they were alone.