Maud's Line (23 page)

Maud wiped the tears from her cheeks. Mr. Singer drew a handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “I recall you like novels best. You're welcome to borrow some of those. But I find history sort of gives me the long view.”

Maud turned and blew her nose. She clutched the handkerchief tightly as she turned back. “Sorry. I'll wash it and return it.” She took a deep breath. “No, I haven't read much history except in school.”

“Now, this one”—he pulled a thick book from the shelf—“is about Henry VIII of England. Lots of stories about beheadings. Mighty fine reading to take your mind off to another world.” He held the book out toward Maud.

She was about the same height as Mr. Singer. She thought he must have shrunk with age, and she felt bad looking him square in the eye. She dropped her eyes to the book and took it in her hand. “That will be fine.”

Mr. Singer took a step to his side. He reached for another book. “Now, you could be more interested in Cherokee history.” He held out a bright green volume.

“Cherokee history is written down?”

“Some of it is. This fellow Mooney went and lived among the ones left behind. Their elders talked to him. He wrote down what they said.”

Maud took the book. She opened it to a page headed “Formula for Love Charms.” She quickly closed the volume. “This looks interesting. Thank you.”

Mr. Singer smiled. “Be particularly careful with it, if you don't mind. My grandfather is mentioned in there. My great-great-grandfather, too. And a couple of my uncles.”

“Were they named Singer?”

“No. My father was a white man. They were named Morgan, Sevier, and Lowrey.”

“No Rattlinggourds or Tenkillers?”

“Well, there's a Ghi-go-ne-li and an Oo-loo-tsa, I believe. But we got white as fast as possible.” He smiled.

Maud smiled, too. And when she did, she thought for the first time in a day that she might live. Perked by that idea, she asked, “Do you think I could take a fiction book, too?”

“Yes, of course. If I have one you haven't read. They're over there, you know.” He nodded toward the west wall.

Maud added
The Complete Sherlock Holmes
to her collection and felt lifted by Mr. Singer's kindness. She told herself that he wouldn't have been friendly if Booker had said anything terrible about her. She clutched at that notion even though she didn't think Booker was the kind of man to gossip with his employer. Or the kind of man to gossip much at all. White men held their business closer than Cherokee men did. Maud felt thankful for that.

By the time she got to Nan's, she felt well enough to go in and visit. And by the time she got home, she felt well enough to do her chores, even going out to the barn and incurring the wrath of the cat to take a peek at the kittens. By evening, she'd settled into the belief that Booker was just laying out and would return when his feathers were slicked. She didn't think he was suited to oil-field work, knew he wasn't suited to farming. He was probably up in the Outlet, selling soap and pots to riggers' wives, raking in coins and bills.

She started reading the books that Mr. Singer had lent her. She only wished she hadn't borrowed all three so she could return them quicker and see their lender sooner. Within a week, other than her morning sickness, her major concern was lack of money. She returned to the sandbar to fish as a way of conserving their salted meat for cooler weather. And it was during one of those walks that she remembered the meat Hector Hempel was holding for them. She decided she would organize Lovely and Mr. Singer's mule to visit the icehouse on Saturday.

On Friday morning, she told Lovely to bring the mule home, and the next morning, after she was sick again, they rode her together up the line, over the highway, and on toward Ft. Gibson. They found the usual combination of automobiles, wagons, and horses in front of the icehouse, and while they were waiting their turn, she caught up with folks she hadn't seen. She was talking to Sissy Sisson, who she'd gone to school with, when she glanced up and saw Billy Walkingstick. He was on the icehouse platform, talking to a cousin of his. They both were wearing fancy shirts and cowboy hats. Maud turned quickly to face the other way. She got still and kept her head down. She was barely listening to what Sissy was saying for plotting an escape when she heard Billy call out to Lovely. She didn't look up. She asked Sissy a question to keep her talking.

While Sissy chattered away, Maud whirled in thought. It was no mystery why Billy called to Lovely; they'd been friends since they were kids. She didn't mind, in theory, them talking; but she was worried about what Lovely might say. A lot of days, his sense was scattered in the wind. A few days before, he had proposed moving out to the cellar. Another day, she'd had to convince him to take his boots off to go to bed. But he was back sparking Gilda, going to see her that evening, and he'd been in his right mind riding in. Maud asked Sissy another question. She hoped Lovely wouldn't bring Billy over to see her. Surely he had more sense than that.

She was still listening to Sissy when Hector Hempel called “Nail.” Maud turned. He was holding the ends of a burlap sack in both fists. The sack was almost as big as he was, and its bottom was dark with melting ice. Lovely took the sack from Hector, then turned toward Billy. Maud hugged Sissy and mumbled about needing to get the meat home before their ice disappeared. She headed toward the mule, went to the far side of it, away from the platform, and looked off into a field. She was swatting at a horse fly and wondering if Lovely was ever going to get his butt over there when she heard him say, “Look who I lassoed!”

Billy put his fingers to the brim of his hat. He smiled real big. “Lovely's asked me to take yer meat to the farm. You, too, if yer of a mind. He wants to stay in town.” He pointed. “I've got a buckboard over there.” He rolled his tongue around the inside of his lower lip. He smiled again. His teeth were even and white.

Maud pulled her leg back to kick Lovely's shin. But she stopped. Billy would see that. She said between her clenched teeth, “Gilda's not expecting you until this evening.”

“How do you know? Did she tell you?”

“No, you told me coming in.”

“Well, I'm here now. No use going back to the bottoms, turning around, and coming back.”

Maud was so irritated with Lovely that she was barely civil to Billy. She told him that once they deposited the meat and ice in their chest at home, she had to go to her grandpa's to invite her folks to Sunday dinner. She said she'd need to stay and visit, as old people expected that. But Billy got to talking about his own old people in such an endearing way that Maud forgot she'd just made the invitation up, and she began to look forward to cooking for her family the next day. She and Billy were coming upon the ruins of the school when she recognized in the road ahead her uncle Ame's car full of people. The car slowed to a creep. When they stopped to talk, she spit her invitation out with real pleasure.

But that left her with no excuse to escape Billy. And she was figuring out how to stretch the meat enough to invite Nan and Ryde and their whole brood and use the need to visit them as a new excuse when she saw her uncle Ryde's wagon. Billy said, “Looks like yer whole family's on the road today.”

Maud said, “Seems so,” and felt irritated with the entire bunch.

After that invitation, she settled back against the wagon seat, asked Billy a question about rope tricks, and got him to talking so that she could think. Her thoughts went to feeding all those people. She would need to cut the meat into chunks for stew. She had potatoes, okra, tomatoes, corn, onions, carrots, and asparagus. Lucy and Viola would bring pies. So would Nan. She would have to use the cooking kettle in the yard to hold all that food, and dishes would be a problem. She could raid Gourd's for extra bowls. She hoped he had more than two and thought surely he did because a woman had lived with him in the past. She hoped that the woman hadn't taken her dishes with her. She was thinking about having enough spoons when Billy said, “Word is you've taken up with the peddler who burnt the school.”

Maud flushed so suddenly that she felt like a fever had overtaken her. “He didn't burn the school. That's ridiculous!”

Billy leaned sideways away from Maud. “Don't get yer back up. I'm jist trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Well, spreading vicious gossip isn't the way to do it!”

“Seems like it's worked pretty well.” He pulled on the brim of his hat.

After that, they rode past the swale in silence. And Maud's mind was still working on what to say about Booker when Billy hopped off the wagon to open the guard. When he got back in, she said, “I was seeing him. But he's off right now.”

“Where's he gone?”

“Peddling. He has to make a living like everybody else.”

Billy got off the wagon to close the guard, and Maud said, “I'll do the next one.”

She walked the rest of the way to the house, and Billy threw the sack of meat and ice over his shoulder and took it in for her. He set it on the kitchen table and squatted to open the ice chest. He looked inside, stood back up, picked the dipper out of the pan, and took a long drink. He offered the dipper to Maud, and she did the same. He said, “I'm not sure it'll all fit in there.”

“We have another one down in the cellar. I better cut the meat into hunks and divide it up.”

“Want me to help?”

“You do kitchen work?”

“I cut meat. Do you have a sharp knife?”

Maud turned to the counter and opened a drawer. She pulled out a butcher knife and tested it with her thumb. She pulled a whetstone out of the same drawer. “It could use some sharpening.” She held them out.

Billy stroked the knife against the stone so quickly it sounded like fiddle tuning. He pressed his thumb to the blade. “You got an ice pick?”

Maud drew one of those out and held it up.

They set to cutting meat and chipping ice, and because they were working against the heat, they got the meat packed in ice and stored in both of the chests fairly quickly. After that, they rewarded themselves with biscuits, butter, and honey.

During the course of all of that activity, Maud began to enjoy Billy's company. He could be charming. He was easygoing and lived for the minute he was in. In those particular minutes, he entertained her more than she'd been entertained since Booker had left. They talked about people they knew, talked about Billy's new job driving a tractor for Marty Benge, talked about the oil fields, and about everybody getting rich but them. They laughed and carried on in such a way that Maud forgot her predicament.

When the sun finally dipped so that it caught the tops of the trees, Billy helped her do her chores, and then she opened up some canned beans, seasoned them with grease, tomatoes, and onions, and made some more biscuits. They ate out on the porch. After they finished, Billy said, “I might have a little wine under my wagon seat.”

“Wine?”

“Yep. Want some?”

Maud wanted any new experience. “I'll take just a tad. I may not be able to stand the taste.”

“I'm betting you'll like it.” Billy got up from his rocker and went to his wagon. He returned with a bottle of purple liquid.

Maud brought out a couple of glasses. Billy stood on the ground at the edge of the porch and filled the glasses up. Maud sat down on the planks. “Who'd think there'd ever be wine in the bottoms? I don't know anybody who drinks it.”

“Nobody around here is high-toned enough. They drink it all the time over in Tulsa.”

“How do you know?” Maud took a sip. It didn't taste like anything she'd ever tasted.

“I went to Tulsa with Marty to pick the new tractor up. There're eating places there, Maud, that sell wine by the bottle, just like it's legal.”

“Maybe it is there. I can't keep all the liquor laws straight.”

“I don't think it is. We had to keep the bottles under the table.”

She took another sip. The liquid didn't taste like she'd thought it would. It was warm and smooth and a little like juice. And drinking it made her feel like she was somewhere nice, maybe a place in a book.

They didn't have enough wine between them to make them anything but tipsy. But the wine made Maud feel like she was connected to the larger world. She wanted to go to a dance in a skirt at her knees, wear long strings of beads, bob her hair. As she listened to Billy describe the glories of Tulsa, it sounded like East Egg to her. Maud sat on the edge of the porch with her legs dangling off, thinking about riding in fast cars, drinking gin from a slipper, dancing on tables, and singing snappy tunes.

While her head spun with dreams, Billy's eyes scanned her lips, her hair, her eyes, her hips. He got in a way that would be hard to hide if anyone looked below his belt. He got up from sitting beside her, adjusted himself with a hand on his pants, and then walked down the steps. He turned to face Maud, looked down, and said, “I think I may need to do something about this.”

Maud saw what Billy meant. The bulge beneath the buttons on his pants was rather attractive and so was Billy's smile. In a move that was more natural than intentional, Maud spread her legs just a little.

Billy put a hand to his lump. He rubbed it. Maud licked her lower lip. Billy said, “Maud, if you could just . . .” He put his other hand on her waist. “I want you so bad I'm busting.”

“Billy . . .”

But then he moved his hand to her neck and brought her face down to his. He kissed her with his tongue in her mouth and she, after going stiff, went weak and returned his kiss. He pulled her off of the porch, moved his chest against hers, and wiggled his body between her legs. “Open my pants, please, Maud. I'm in pain, I want you so bad.” He started panting and moved her hand to his buttons.

Their fingers fought. But then Billy unbuttoned his pants himself and brought his penis out. He put Maud's hand on it, and she felt a shudder go all through her body down to her toes and up to the crown of her head. His skin was warm, his member hard, and she felt wet between her legs. She was panting, too. And her mind sort of left her. Her back was against a porch post, and Billy was against her and inside her, grunting and moving up and down, and she was being carried far, far away into a land that was beautiful and peaceful and totally removed from her present existence. Maud had, with Booker, grown to like sex. She felt comfortable with her body taking its pleasure and giving it back. And she discovered right there next to the porch that her pleasure was in her own control and not entirely linked to a man who had up and left her with no warning.