Maud's Line (15 page)

But Maud couldn't fall off. She felt fairly certain that the Mounts had been taken care of, but Booker arose in her mind like a ghost at the foot of her cot. She was worried about him being mad and unhappy that he hadn't returned on his own. But she was also thankful for not having to lie to him, and she thought that she wouldn't have come back had she been him. Her feelings were running at crosscurrents. She rolled from shoulder to shoulder. She was awake when Lovely got up from his cot and went out the front door. She assumed he was taking a leak. And she lay there in the dark, listening to the rain on the tin roof, waiting for him to return, and determined to turn her face to the wall and go to sleep when he did. But the time grew longer. She listened for sounds over the rain, but it had grown harder and its beating was all she could hear. She sat up on the side of her cot. There was more light outside than in. She used the light from the windows to steer by and went to the porch. Lovely wasn't standing at the east edge, as she'd pictured. The chair was empty. He was nowhere to be seen.

She went back in. Viola was on Mustard's bed rolled in a ball that made her look smaller than she seemed when she was awake. Maud sat down next to her. She thought about touching her foot, but she had a dread of waking old people too quickly, so she was sitting there, not moving, when Viola said, “Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Not on the porch?”

“No.”

Maud shifted sideways. Viola swung her feet to the floor, grabbed the iron of the headboard, and stood. She pressed her hands down the front of her slip and then rubbed her mouth. She sat back down next to Maud. “He's tetched,” she said.

“Bad tetched?”

“He walked out in a gully washer.”

They listened to the rain hit the roof until Viola said, “Well, we can't go out looking in this. We better go back to sleep. It's the loony time of night. Even when it ain't raining sheets.”

Maud got up. “I'll try. Not having much luck.”

Viola rose and walked to the window. She took a pouch on a leather strap off over her head. Lightning struck; she dug her fingers in. She held up her thumb and forefinger and said loudly, “Come here.” Maud did. “Open.” Viola stuck her fingers in Maud's mouth, drew them out, and said, “Swallow.”

Maud felt a hard little kernel between her tongue and gums. She swallowed it. “What was that?”

“Sompthing to put you to sleep. But jist as a matter of practice, if anybody else asks you to do that, ask what it is first.” Viola turned and crept back to Mustard's bed.

When Maud woke, the sun was slanting through the windows but the room was cool. The smell and sizzle of fatback floated in the air. Her grandfather and Viola were talking in the kitchen. She ducked behind the sheet, dressed, and slipped out the door to the outhouse. When she came back in, she found they'd eaten, but more food was warming in the oven.

Maud said, “How'd it go?”

Grandpa said, “They had five pigs they hadn't fed at all. Found their still.”

“I still got a little buzzing in my ears,” Ame added.

“Coffee's jist about done,” Viola said.

Even if she could have pried them out, Maud didn't want more details. She used a feed sack as a potholder and opened the oven door. Nobody spoke until she slid onto the bench against the wall with her plate. Then Viola said, “Lovely ain't showed. We waz talking 'bout tracking him down.”

“The rain'll make that hard,” Maud said.

“How far off in his mind is he?” Grandpa looked at Maud.

She looked at Viola.

Viola lifted the pot from the stove and poured coffee into Bert's and Ame's saucers. She turned to the cabinet, got a cup, poured coffee into it, and handed it to Maud. She poured coffee into another saucer on the table, deposited the pot on the stove, sat down, and drew the saucer to her. She took a long sip and wiped her mouth. “Sometimes tetched is a good thing. Pappy saw things other people couldn't see. Helped him all his life. Could be that Lovely's gonna turn out like Pappy. Do a lot of good fer folks.”

There was a pause for more sipping. Then Maud said, “What if he doesn't turn out like your father?”

Viola pursed her lips and wiped them with an old flour sack. “Well, he might have the rabies. Or he might start living in a different world. It's too early to tell. Watch him, though. Ifin you can find him. He needs more shots, don't he?”

Maud recalled then that Dr. Ragsdale would be coming. Booker was also due with a horse for Lovely. She looked up from her plate and shook her hair. “Yes. What time of day is it?”

Her grandfather looked out the screen. “'Bout eight o'clock.”

“I slept late.” Maud looked to Viola.

Ame said, “I gotta see a man 'bout a dog.”

After he came back in, the old folks left in the buckboard.

Maud went about her chores, eyeing the section line every few minutes. Midday, she turned her father's chair east so she could watch the road but not be glued to it while she ate and read. She was having a hard time retaining what she was reading when she heard the beat of hooves in the distance. She got up quickly and went inside. She checked her looks in the mirror and brushed her hair and bit her lips to make them fuller until the sound of the hooves was close to the house. She went out on the porch.

Booker was wearing a cowboy hat. He pushed it back on his head and put both hands on his saddle horn. He didn't say anything. Maud said, “Look who turned up.”

“I keep my word.” He swung his leg over his horse. He tied the reins of both horses to the hitching rail and then stood facing Maud with his fists on his hips.

Maud figured he was waiting for an apology. She felt he deserved one, but she also felt justified in doing what she had to do. “Was the rain a problem for you last night?” she said.

He walked toward her. “No. I pulled my wagon into the potato barn.” He licked his lips.

Maud didn't know what to say or do. “I'm almost done with
Arrowsmith
.” She pointed to the book beside the chair.

“Maud.” Booker took another step toward her. He licked his lips again.

“I'm worried sick. Lovely's gone.”

Booker took his hat off. “Where to?”

“I don't know. He's taken to laying out. That's not all that strange for the men around here, but he's still not right.” She tapped her temple.

Booker ran the edge of his hand down the crease in his hat. Maud shook her hair. She sucked the insides of both cheeks. Booker said, “We could go looking for him.” He nodded toward the horses.

Maud smiled. “Let's sit a while. Doc Ragsdale is due. I need to be here when he comes. I like your hat.”

Booker climbed the steps and looked Maud so deeply in the eyes that a blush came to her cheeks. She felt like a covey of quail had fluttered up in her heart. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Is anybody else here?” She shook her head. He said, “It's cool enough today to go inside.” He kissed her.

They were on Mustard's bed when they heard a motorcar. Their clothes were partly on, partly unbuttoned, partly off. Booker jumped up. Maud said, “Did you leave the guards down?”

“No.” His fingers worked his bottom shirt button.

“It takes a while to get through them.” Maud straightened her slip, got up, and went to the mirror.

Booker said, “I got a problem that needs to get resolved before the doc gets here.” He flipped up his shirttail and smiled.

Maud turned from the mirror and took a good look. She raised both eyebrows and smiled. “Keep your shirttail out, then.”

“He'll know what we were doing.”

“He's gonna know anyway. He's not a fool.”

“Maybe I could go out the kitchen door and walk around the side of the house?”

“Don't be taking care of yourself in the pots and pans.”

Booker turned red. “I can't believe you said that.”

“I've been around men all my life. I don't see how you all live with those things. They take more time and energy than a woman puts into her hair.”

Booker looked down at the front of his pants. Maud looked there, too. She said, “Looks like your friend is dwindling away.”

“I'll get you.”

“You'll have to catch me first.”

Maud went out the door. She was at the edge of the porch smiling when Dr. Ragsdale stepped out of his car. But her lips tightened when she saw the doctor's face. His eyes were wild. His cheeks were pale. He was breathing hard. He stopped at the steps as Booker came out of the house. The doctor looked away toward the river and back up at Maud and Booker. “I've been to the Mounts'. They're dead. Or somebody is. There're pieces of bone in the mud in the hog lot.”

Booker said, “Human bones?”

The doctor nodded. “I need a drink of water.” He gripped the edge of the porch with both hands and lowered his head.

Maud went to the kitchen. She took the dipper off its hook and lowered it into the pan. She took it out carefully. Her hand was trembling. It would give her away. She set the dipper down in the pan and grasped its edges with both hands. Water splashed out of the pan onto her dress as she stepped to the door. She put a shoulder to the screen without splashing any more. “I thought you might need a lot.” Maud looked to Booker. He took the pan and lowered it to the floor of the porch, close to the doctor. Dr. Ragsdale looked up at him, tried to speak, but couldn't.

Booker winced and bit his lower lip. He held up a dipper of water. “Take some.”

Maud sat down in the chair. The doctor was as pale as his shirt. His sleeves were shaking. He said, “I haven't seen anything like it since the war. In Belgium, we came on a mass killing. The wild boars, or wolves, or something, had been at the bodies. Their bones were gnawed to splinters. But they'd been that way for some time. These bones are still wet.”

Maud said, “It rained.”

The doctor nodded. “Maybe that's it. But John Mount couldn't be dead long. I saw him day before yesterday.”

“How do you know it's him?” Maud said.

The doctor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don't. There's nothing but parts of skulls. I'm not even certain how many bodies.”

“They ran a still, you know,” Maud said. “We hear shots from down there nearly every day. There's no telling what kind of meanness goes on.”

Booker said, “Have you heard shots lately?”

Maud furrowed her brow and stuck out her tongue at the corner of her lips. “Hard to say. They're as common as wolf howls. We don't pay them much mind.”

Booker blinked several times and then turned to the doctor. “What do we need to do?”

“Get the sheriff,” Ragsdale replied.

Booker looked off toward the river. “Let me do that. I need to look law-abiding. You stay here.”

“Take my car,” Ragsdale said. “If you know how to drive.”

“I do. Traded my car for horses when I started peddling.”

Maud told the doctor to take the rocker. She went inside, pulled the last biscuits from the oven, buttered and jellied them, and returned to the porch with a plate. She held it over the doctor's arm. He took it and set it on his lap. She sat down, her feet on a step, and watched the doctor out of the sides of her eyes. She was afraid she'd say something that would give her away. Ragsdale didn't say anything, either. He finished both biscuits and dipped up some water. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I need to give Lovely his shot.”

“He's not here. He's taken to wandering.”

“Is this a recent development?”

“Yes. Daddy lays out all the time, but Lovely's a homebody.”

The doctor took another sip from the dipper. “Do you happen to have a light?”

Maud went inside. She'd deposited her father's lighter in a gourd bowl on the chest where he emptied his pockets. She picked it up. Anybody who knew him well would know he wouldn't go anywhere without his Banjo. She tucked the lighter in his drawer, went to the kitchen, and retrieved a box of wooden matches. She gave the box to the doctor.

He went through two cigarettes, one lit from the other, and had smoked down to the butt of the second one when he said, “Do you think your brother went visiting family?”

“Could be,” Maud replied. “But he left in the middle of the night. Aunt Viola was visiting. We watched for him for a while, but he didn't return.” Maud spoke while looking toward the river.

“That'd be Viola Vann?”

“Yes.”

“I'd heard she was around. Her daddy, Fox, was a famous medicine man. Was he kin to you?”

“Her mama was, I think. But they're mostly Creek.”

The doctor lit a third cigarette and drew long. “Her father had a concoction that everybody swore would heal an abscessed tooth without extracting it. Burnt the dickens out of the mouth but drained the puss and cleared the infection.” He shook his head. “I wish I'd paid more attention when I was a little boy. Mr. Singer's mother was sort of a doctor, too. You don't pay any mind to old folks. When they're gone, you realize how much they took with them.”

Maud fell into a conversation with the doctor about old-time remedies that worked or didn't. She didn't often talk to anyone with a college education, so talking was a treat, and she noticed, too, that the doctor spoke to her like he would to a man and without appearing to have ulterior motives. Once again, she let her fears go and almost forgot the situation she was in. That reprieve lasted until she heard a rumble on the section line. They both looked toward the road. The doctor's car appeared first. The sheriff's car was following close.

The sheriff and the doctor had a short conversation. They went off in the sheriff's car and left Maud and Booker on the porch. They sat down on the steps and swapped information. Maud was concentrating on not giving herself away and was facing the pump, so Booker noticed Lovely first. He came from the direction of the chicken house. Maud and Booker stopped talking. Lovely was smiling and had a glassy look to his eyes.