Maud's Line (19 page)

Maud poked her forefinger into his stomach. “I'm not usually by myself. Besides, nothing's going to happen to me now that the Mounts are dead. Worry about something else. Like where Lovely is.”

“If I worried about every disappeared man in your family, I wouldn't have any space left in my head,” Booker said. But he rolled the canvas down over his wares. They walked to the livestock barn. The mule wasn't there. But she was in the lot beyond it, standing under a tree, flicking her tail. “He's on foot. We know that at least,” Booker said.

“Maybe he's visiting the Starrs. He's getting on with Gilda.”

“Do we need to go over there?”

Maud would normally go back to the farm and hope Lovely showed for supper. But her conversation with Nan worried her. “Aunt Nan thinks he's still a little off in the head.”

“I thought you thought he'd been some better in the last few days.”

They were standing in the shade of the livestock barn, looking toward the lot. The day was burning hot; flies and other insects were buzzing. In the distance, Mr. Singer's house sat under trees that shaded it from the sun. It looked peaceful and solid. Maud said, “I do think that. Don't you?”

“Sort of. I haven't known him a long time, though. Your aunt has.”

“He's always been a little peculiar. But I don't necessarily see that as a sign of anything. We've both always gone off into other lands in books. Maybe he just wants to be to someplace better than here.”

“Ambition's natural in a man. I'd blow my head off if I had to teach school all my life.”

“Lovely doesn't have ambition in the usual sense. He dreams more than he calculates about how to get ahead.”

Booker brushed the dust with the toe of his shoe. “I don't understand that. I've got to get ahead. I want us to have everything we want. There's no reason we shouldn't. I can make money. I know I can.”

Maud placed a palm on Booker's arm. “I don't doubt you for a minute. But today I need to locate Lovely. I'm going to Gilda's.”

“I'll take you.”

“Can you leave your wagon in the middle of the day?”

“I'll park it behind the potato barn.”

They rode into town on separate horses and found Gilda shelling peas in the swing on her parents' front porch. She invited them to sit, went into the house, and brought out lemonade. The three of them fell to talking about the weather and wound slowly enough to the real point of the conversation to be polite in their indirection. Maud said, “We've come into town looking for Lovely.”

“Is he in town, do you think?” was Gilda's reply.

“He didn't come home last night. He may've stayed with some of our folks. But he didn't pick up Mr. Singer's mule this morning and he's not at the swale. I'm sort of worried about him.”

Gilda's tongue ran over her bottom lip. Her eyebrows closed into a V. “I haven't seen him since Saturday night. He came to supper, and we walked over to the fort. There was a banjo-picking contest over there.”

Maud knew Lovely had hitched a ride to town with Early on Saturday. But he'd come home in the middle of the night and had been there Sunday morning. “You didn't see him last night?”

Gilda touched her hair. “No. And I thought he was coming to church on Sunday. He said he would. Daddy held off going until the last minute. But Lovely never showed. Daddy's an usher, so we couldn't wait any longer.”

Maud hadn't heard anything about Lovely going to church. And although it might have cost him a little ribbing, it wouldn't have been enough for him to withhold that he was intending to go. But Maud couldn't feature Lovely saying he'd go to church with Gilda and then not showing. She felt a little spike of fear. “That doesn't sound like Lovely. Has he seemed odd to you lately?”

Gilda wore her hair up. Wisps of it had escaped her barrettes. She undid a clasp and swept up a strand. She rotated her head, undid another, and did the same. “Well, to be honest, Saturday night he was agitated and talking about how the Mounts were going to come back and kill ever' last one of you, down to your uncles and aunts. He was fretting something awful about that. We left the fort and walked into town for a soda, but he couldn't sit in the drugstore. Said there were too many people in there. So we walked the planks, looking in windows. But he was so jumpy that it started getting on my nerves. We were out on a date, you know. It was Saturday night.”

“Do you think he didn't come back on Sunday because he thought you were mad?” Booker asked.

Gilda bit her lower lip. “I don't think so. We had a long talk. And I felt more sympathetic when I saw how bad off he was. It's embarrassing to say, but he started crying. Does he do that very often?” She looked to Maud.

Maud's thoughts scattered like thrown corn. She figured Lovely must have told Gilda that their father was suspected of killing the Mounts. He would know murder wasn't exactly unusual news to the Starrs. But Gilda's parents had pretenses. So maybe not. She hoped Gilda wouldn't say any more about the Mounts. Surely she had enough sense not to do that in front of Booker. Maud was parsing that out when Gilda said, “He does me this way, too. Is that a family trait y'all have?”

“Does you what way?”

“Goes off in his head.”

“I'm sorry. I was just thinking. But, no, you're right. Lovely thinks a lot, too. About the crying, I don't know. We lost our mother when we were little. That marked him, I think.”

“Daddy's a little afraid for me to be going out with him.”

Maud stiffened.

“It's not a big objection, and Daddy's not mean. But it irritated him when Lovely didn't show up for church. And he thinks Lovely's peculiar.”

Maud felt relieved Mr. Starr's objection didn't have anything to do with murder. “Peculiar?”

“I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, Maud. I can handle Daddy. Or at least Mama can. And she likes Lovely a lot. She's been encouraging him to get a better job. He's book smart. He just doesn't seem to want to get ahead. But I think he would if he had a family.”

Maud raised her eyebrows.

“We haven't talked about that much, really. Do you think he's seeing anybody else?”

Maud was relieved by the turn of conversation. “You're the only girl he's ever been stuck on to my recollection. And I would know. He's had little crushes, like all men do.” She looked to Booker to see if color was rising in his cheek. It wasn't, and she turned back to Gilda. “But he's stuck hard on you. And, no, I don't think he's seeing anybody else. He hasn't given any hint of that.”

“Why would he think the Mounts would come back and kill the whole family?” Booker asked Gilda.

Maud raised her hand before she could stop herself. But Gilda only said, “He didn't say.” Maud patted her hair with that hand. She felt thankful Lovely had picked out a Starr. If Gilda knew, she wouldn't say anything. But Maud wanted the subject changed fast. “We think maybe the shots have made Lovely a little touched in the head. But he's seemed better to me lately.” She turned to Booker. “We ought get on with hunting for him.” She turned back to Gilda. “If you see him, could you send him home? And tell him to wait there if we're not back?”

Booker and Maud rode as far as the center of town and stopped at the hitching rail in front of Berd's Drugstore. Booker told Maud to stay on her horse, but he dismounted and tied up his reins. He said, “Maud, it seems you haven't given me the full story on the Mounts. I'm going to go inside and buy us a couple of Coca-Colas. When I get back, I want you to spill the beans.”

“You don't want me to come, too?”

“You'll get distracted and distract me. I want you to think hard on what you want to say. I'm tired of being left in the dark.”

“I can't tell you here.” She looked around. There were people out and about. She knew some of them.

“I'll get the soft drinks, anyway. I'm thirsty again. I'm sweating everything out.” He turned and walked away.

They rode to a tree in a vacant lot next to the First National Bank. The shade was on the side away from the street, and the roots were large and worn with sitting. Booker and Maud settled on them, their backs to the town. She took a long sip through a straw. Then she took another. Booker said, “You planning on draining the bottle before you say anything?”

“I'm hot.”

“Well, then, take your time.” Booker laid his hat on another root and leaned against the tree.

Maud could tell that he was determined and that she was going to have to tip the bucket somewhat. But she hoped she wouldn't have to turn it all the way over. “I didn't see Daddy after we found out John Mount had been bit by a dog. I can't totally testify to his thinking. But it was pretty clear to everyone that the Mounts tried to give us rabies. I'm guessing he killed them because of that. They deserved it.”

“You know for sure he did it?”

Maud sipped again. She sighed. The day was so warm and the air so still even the shade felt hot. Or maybe the hot was inside her, she didn't know. “Well, he's suddenly disappeared.”

“Anything else?”

It was clear Booker was going to dig until he turned something up. Maud put her palm under her bottle, gathered the moisture there, and wiped it onto her forehead. She took a deep breath. “I found his lighter down at the Mounts'.”

Booker leaned away from Maud. His eyebrows met in a V. “You were down there?” His voice was louder than before.

“I went down there. That's where I'd been the day you brought the doctor out to see Lovely.”

“Why on earth did you do that?”

“I was worried Lovely had the rabies. I wanted to see how John Mount was doing.”

Booker brought his bottle to his forehead. He rolled it a little. When he brought it back down, he shook his head and said, “Crap, Maud. You could've been killed.”

“I know how to keep from getting killed, Booker. I'm not a fool. I didn't walk up and knock on the door.”

“What did you do?”

“I laid out on a sand hill and watched the house.”

“How'd you find the lighter?”

Maud didn't want to tell Booker about the buzzards. He was upset enough. She was thinking about how to justify finding the bodies without explaining the birds or looking too daring when he interrupted her thoughts with “Tell me the truth now, Maud. Don't cogitate something up.”

“I'm not cogitating, Booker,” she said, louder than she'd intended. “I'm trying to remember. When you run up on bodies, it's distressing. You get excited and it's hard to recall anything right.”

“You actually saw the bodies then?”

Maud hadn't meant to say that. Booker was pulling more things out than she wanted revealed. She wished he could leave well enough alone. She said, “I think something just bit me.” She stood up and scratched the back of her leg.

Booker turned his face up to her. He had a hard look she'd never seen. And he didn't say anything. She thought she could wait him out, but then he tucked his lower lip between his teeth and squinted one eye. It was clear he wasn't going to speak.

“I didn't kill them, Booker. I just saw them dead.”

“I wasn't implying you killed them. I'm just trying to get the story straight in my mind. It's a lot different from what you've been telling. What happened next?”

“I came on back to the house. You know the rest.”

Booker was sitting with his legs spread, his forearms on his knees, his Coca-Cola bottle in both hands. He lifted the bottle and finished it off. “I have to say, Maud, this doesn't sit well with me. What about the mystery quilt? Do you know anything about that?” He threw the bottle into a patch of weeds.

“The quilt in the still pot?” Maud asked, buying time.

Booker put a hand on the ground and stood up. He looked Maud full in the face. “Yes, that quilt.”

Maud could feel herself blush. She hoped her skin was so dark it didn't show, but to get away from the stare, she turned, walked over to Booker's bottle, and picked it up. “John Berd gives money for these.”

“Fine. Save it. Are you going to answer my question? Or are you going to scour the lot for more bottles?”

Maud wanted to say,
I'm going to do what I please
. But she caught herself by holding her tongue between her teeth. She swallowed hard. “The Mounts lived like pigs, Booker. There was no woman in the house. That they burnt things instead of washing them isn't surprising to me.”

“You're sure?”

“No, I'm not sure. I wasn't there. And I'm getting tired of the third degree. Can't you just let this be?”

Booker picked up his hat and put it on his head. “I'll need to think on this, Maud.”

“We need to find Lovely. That's what's in front of us now.”

“I agree. What do you want to do with your bottles?”

They dropped the bottles by Berd's, but they didn't find Lovely or anybody who'd seen him. They returned to the potato barn, left one of the horses there, and rode on to the bottoms. They put the chickens up, milked the cow, and ate supper, but they didn't make love. They'd settled on the front porch when they saw a wagon filled with Maud's old people and Blue headed their way. Booker took Maud inside the house and kissed her. But when everybody was seated, he said he'd better be going. He turned at the last cattle guard and waved his hat in the air. Maud, sitting on a step, returned his wave. Then Booker galloped away.

The porch conversation quickly turned to Ryde being arrested and Lovely's whereabouts, but the stream of talk meandered. Maud's grandfather told stories of Sanders Cordery's disappearances that Maud had never heard. She thought they were a little outlandish. But they confirmed that the men of the family had laid out for generations. It was in their blood. And after that, the talk moved to Gourd enjoying Mrs. Adams' hospitality in town. The conversation continued as the breeze cooled the air and the stars came out. Visiting broke up later than usual, and Viola stayed behind to give Maud company during the night.