Diamond Duo (36 page)

She looked over her shoulder at Henry’s grinning face. “What’s going on here?”

He took her arm and led her toward the table. “Thomas brought ’em by first thing this morning. They heard in town what happened, so they come to help. The boys are outside now, feeding the chickens and tending the mule.”

The fog swirled away in a whoosh, and the thing she’d shoved aside slipped out of the darkness and faced her down. She shuddered in its presence then peered at Henry’s face. Still so much she didn’t understand.

He winked down at her. “Ain’t it shore enough nice of them to come? They good people, Sarah.”

She nodded and shared another smile with Thomas’s wife.

“You hungry, ma’am?”

She nodded. “I believe I am.”

Arabella took a wrapped plate from the counter and set it on the table. Then she plopped the baby on one hip and took her to the sink to wipe her mouth. “It’s still warm,” she said, nodding back at the plate.

Sarah sat down in front of the breakfast. She couldn’t remember the last food she ate that she didn’t cook. “Thank you kindly, Arabella. It looks real good.” Digging into the plate of pan sausage, cream gravy, moist scrambled eggs, and biscuits, she found it
was
good. Better than hers, though she hated to admit it.

“Where’s Thomas?” she asked with her mouth full.

Henry cleared his throat and took too long to answer. “He’ll be back directly. He left to haul Jennie Simpson over to the Biddie house.”

Sarah took another bite of her biscuit. “What for?”

Surprise lifted Henry’s brows. “Well, you know.” He pointed out back. “The body. In the woods.”

She knew. Why would he go on about it in front of the children? She raised her brows back at him then tilted her head at the baby. “We ain’t gon’ discuss it right now. Besides, what does any of it have to do with Jennie Simpson?”

He shot her a worried frown. “She jus’ wanted to be the one to tell Miss Bertha on account of she knew how worried little Bertha’s been.”

Sarah felt as vacant as a plowed field, yet every person in the room stood staring at her. “Tell Miss Bertha what? Stop talking in circles, Henry.”

Henry cast a desperate glance at Arabella. She lowered her gaze, so he turned and met Sarah’s eyes. “Are you saying you don’t know?”

Her middle did a flip. “Know what?” She stood up so fast her chair tipped, scaring the baby and making her cry. “Stop it, Henry. I don’t know nothing.”

He came over and gripped her shoulders. “Sarah, that poor woman you found. . .” He stopped and swallowed hard. “The body in the woods. . . it’s Miss Annie.”

Thomas’s boys hit the porch like twin bulls, their thundering feet shattering the hush that fell alongside Henry’s news. “Mr. King!” one of them cried. “A lawman’s pulling into your yard.”

Wiping her fingers on a towel, Bertha hurried to peer out the window.

Thomas Jolly sat in the driver’s seat of a wagon parked out back. Jennie Simpson sat beside him with her face clutched in her hands. The unearthly sound came from her.

Papa stood waving his arms at Jennie to shush her while his panic-stricken eyes stared toward the house.

Bertha took off her apron and willed her feet to move. She opened the door and stepped out with Mama right behind.

As they approached, Jennie dabbed at her eyes with her palms as if blotting out a scene she couldn’t stand to see, her mouth twisted in grief. “Oh, Mista’ Francis, it’s jus’ so awful.” She moved her hands, and when her eyes opened, she jumped. “Why, hello, Miz Biddie.” She jerked her gaze to Bertha. “And there you is, you pitiful little thing.” The sight of Bertha set her off again. She
clutched her face and wailed.

“What’s going on out here, Francis?”

Papa raised his brows at Mama and licked his lips. A bad sign. He walked straight to Bertha and picked up her hands. “There’s dire news, me girl.”

Bertha’s trembling knees tried to buckle. She steeled herself and searched for truth in his eyes. “Thad?”

He looked startled. “Heavens, no, darlin’. Nothing about your Thad.”

Behind them Jennie cried louder. Thomas reached to pat her shoulder, but she wouldn’t be comforted. “Po’ Miss Bessie,” she cried, rocking back and forth. “Po’ dear, sweet chile.”

Bertha shifted her gaze from Jennie’s outburst back to Papa. “Something happened to Annie?”

He squeezed her hands until her fingers ached. “They found her, Bertha. She’s been murdered.”

Mama moved behind Bertha and held on to her shoulders. “Where?”

“In the woods. Somewhere off the Marshall Road.”

Bertha fought to understand. “They found her here? In Jefferson? That’s impossible. She’s been gone for weeks.”

Jennie’s full lips trembled. “It’s the Lawd’s honest truth, Miss Bertha. You know Sarah King? Live in the woods down off Polk? She found her body while she out fetching firewood.”

“How do they know it’s Annie? It could be anyone.”

Papa shook his head. “It’s her, darlin’.”

She pulled free of his hands and backed away. “It’s not true. It can’t be.”

“It’s her, Miss Bertha,” Jennie sobbed. “It’s really her. I done seen with my own two eyes. She’s laying over at the coroner’s office. Looked jus’ natural, like she’s sleeping. It’s Miss Bessie, all right. Your Annie, I mean. Still pretty as a picture, but jus’ as dead as she can be.”

Bertha turned to run for the house. She made it three steps before the blackness that chased her brought her down.

S
arah let go of Henry and clung to the edge of the table while he stepped out onto the porch. After talking to the lawman in a low, respectful voice, he opened the screen and motioned for her. Sarah’s broken heart lurched. Now what?

She picked up the half-eaten biscuit from the table and put it back on her plate, lifted the overturned chair and pushed it in, then crossed the room and ducked out the screen door to stand beside her husband.

Constable Stambaugh sat tall and self-important on a buck-board. “Sarah King?”

She started to tremble, and it showed up in her voice. “Yes, sir?”

“Judge Bickford sent me to fetch you. You need to come with me into town.”

“What for?”

“Girl, you know what for. He told you last night his inquest would commence again today.” His face lit up in a broad smile. “And you’re our star witness.”

Sarah couldn’t decide if he meant to be nice or make fun. “Do I have to?”

He gave her a piercing look. “Oh yes. You have to.”

She felt Henry step close to her back. “Can I bring her?”

The constable grunted. “I’m taking her with me when I leave.” His eyes shifted to Sarah. “Hurry and get dressed.”

She looked down at herself, amazed that she’d walked outside in her robe. She hurried past Henry and the boys on the porch, past Arabella and the girls in the kitchen, and into her room. She barely got the door closed before Henry opened it again.

“I’m going with you.”

“Will he let you?”

His jaw tightened. “He ain’t stopping me.” He caught her whizzing past in her rush to dress and whirled her around to face him. “You all right?”

She peered into his worried brown eyes. “I’m not sure I can do this, now that I know who–”

“You can do it. I’ll be there with you. Arabella said she and the girls can stay all day if need be.”

Sarah pulled her best frock down from a hook. “You think it’ll take all day?”

He shrugged. “Never been to nothing like it before. I guess we’ll find out.”

She touched gentle fingertips to his side. “Don’t you need to stay here and rest?”

He placed his hand over hers and squeezed. “Knowing you’re all right is the only rest I need. Hurry up, now. Let’s get this over and done.”

When he released her hand and started for the door, she caught his fingers again. “Why didn’t you come for me?” She blinked back tears. “Yesterday, I mean?”

Henry looked startled at first then tilted his head and closed his eyes.

Her bottom lip trembled, but she managed to finish her question. “I stewed on it all night, when I wasn’t wrestling with my memory, but I never did come to a sensible excuse for you.” He lowered his face, and she met his gaze. “Henry, even if I was mad, even if I didn’t love you no more, I’d still search for you if you went missing.” Her eyes brimmed until tears slipped over the edges
and streamed down her face. “Don’t you know if you’d been there, I wouldn’t have been so scared?”

He closed the distance between them and gathered her into his arms. “You silly woman. You ain’t got the sense God give a goose.”

Sarah’s temper flared. She pushed on his chest, but he held her fast and stroked her hair.

“When you left the house after making my dinner to go out and do my work, I watched you head for the barn looking like the whole world rested across your back. I got so mad at my sorry self, I felt sick. The only way I could stand myself was to go to sleep. So I did.”

She relaxed against him, his words a salve to her pain. She thought he hadn’t noticed how hard she’d worked.

“I woke up and saw it was dark outside, and still laid up like a big old pouting boy. I waited for you to call me to supper, only you never did. When I went in that kitchen and saw no lights and no fire in the stove, I got so scared. I thought Dandy kicked you and left you laying out there hurt. . .or worse. I hauled tail to the barn, but you weren’t there. Or anywhere.”

His intense gaze bored into her heart. “I figured you got your fill of me and left. I didn’t know if Miss Jennie took you in or maybe you found a way to book passage to St. Louis. I jus’ knew I had to find you before I lost you for good. So I saddled Dandy and led him out, and that’s when I seen lights flickerin’ in the woods. Right out in the middle, where they don’t belong.” He drew a shaky breath. “Sarah, I thought. . .” He clenched his eyes shut and turned away.

Sarah pressed her face to his back. “What, Henry? What did you think?”

He shuddered. “I thought those hateful men got out of jail and come for me. I figured they seen you outside and took you instead, jus’ for spite. I jus’ knew they had you out there in those woods and. . .”

Sarah spun him around and pulled him close. “Hush, now.
Hush. I’m all right, Henry. None of that happened.”

“I ran back to the house to fetch my shotgun, and that’s when I heard you on the porch. The whole time I tended you, until you fell asleep in my arms, Dandy stood outside in the yard, saddled and ready to go. After I saw you were down for the night, I went out and put him up. Out there in the barn, I dropped to my knees and thanked the good Lord for taking care of you again, when I couldn’t.”

He gave her a wobbly smile. “Good thing He’s there to watch over you, since I keep making such a mess of it.”

She pressed his face between her palms. “Stop that. Nobody could’ve known what waited for me in that grove. Somebody had to find poor Miss Annie, and I guess that somebody was me.”

“Henry? Miss Sarah?”

Arabella’s voice behind the door gave Sarah a start. Henry pulled it open, and she stood looking ready to run away again. “That man out there’s getting mighty edgy. Says you best put a move on.”

Henry nodded. “We coming.” He glanced at Sarah over his shoulder. “Hurry, now. I’ll go stall him as long as I can.”

When he closed the door behind him, Sarah shimmied out of her robe and into her best blouse and a skirt, smiling despite everything that swirled around her when the skirt’s button barely fastened.

A curious notion crept into her head, and in an instant Sarah made up her mind. Kneeling, she took the unfinished white dress, full of pins and basting stitches, from the middle drawer of the chest and wrapped it in her good shawl. Then she tucked the bundle inside her coat, slid on her shoes, and joined Henry in the kitchen.

“Ready, now?” Henry grinned and jerked his thumb toward the porch. “Those boys doing they best to distract that lawman, but they running short on tricks.”

Sarah gave a shaky smile and tried to still her trembling legs. “We best rescue him, then.” She glanced toward the open door. “Let’s go, while I still have the courage.”

Henry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close. “Long as I’m by your side, that’s all the courage you need.”

Thanking God to have her husband back, she gazed up at him. “Then whatever you do, Henry King, stay close by my side.”

Bertha steeled herself as the hinges of the bedroom door squealed behind her. Why couldn’t they do like she asked and just leave her be? She understood good intentions, even their need to comfort, but she had no use for empty words of solace or promises the pain would pass. These were poor substitutes for absolution.

“I brought you some tea, dear. Chamomile. Your favorite. And look who’s come to see you.”

When she didn’t turn, Mama plowed ahead. “Look, Bertha. Magda’s here.”

A tray slid onto the table beside her. Liquid trickled into a cup, and a spoon clinked on china. “Sit up, dear. I have your tea.”

She squeezed her eyes tighter and willed them away. After a long pause, the cup and saucer settled onto the tray with a rattle, and Mama sighed.

“She’s been like this since this morning,” Mama said, as if Bertha weren’t right there in the room. “Hasn’t said a word to anyone.”