Fallen Angels (11 page)

“The deputy's walking this way,” said Jeb. “You take the reins. I'm going to slip out the back of this wagon and run up through those woods. That's a big old heavy-set fellow. Can't be too fast on foot.”

“How am I going to drive tins wagon? Do I look like I can make this mule go? Not me.” She stood up and waved at the deputy, who was halfway up the lane by now.

“I said take the reins.”

She called out to the deputy, waving her arm in an invitation.

“Take them now.”

“Quit telling me what to do.”

“Fine. Just stand here looking like a fool then.” Jeb leaped over the seat and landed on both feet in the back of the wagon.

“Reverend Gracie, you having mule problems?” The deputy called to him.

Jeb stopped when he heard the deputy call him Gracie. He bent over and picked up a board. “You think I ought to hit her up side the head, Deputy?”

“Poor old beast. Ever since automobiles came around, these poor animals don't know up from down. When I saw that Model-T pass you I wondered if it would spook your animal.”

“That's what it is, all right. It's spooked.” Jeb jumped out of the wagon. After meeting the sheriff on the dirt road and shaking his hand, he took the mule by the harness and tugged. The animal moved forward.

“I'm glad you didn't have to give it a whack. Shame to punish it when machinery's to blame,” said the deputy. “I understand you and your family is victims of a robbery. I hated to hear it, what with your just getting into town. Nazareth is a quiet place. Seldom do you hear of crooks in this part of the state. But what with this Depression on, they's outlaws comin’ out of every nook and cranny. If you can give me a description of the boys that did it, I'll bet I can run them down for you.”

“One had a skinny look about him, but they both had already climbed up inside my truck so I couldn't see all of them. I don't know how tall, but that boy by the Window, he had a tall look, like the top of his head nearly touched the roof of the truck. He had light-colored hair, straw colored, I guess you'd say.” Jeb tried to remember. It had been dark.

“I'll check with the sheriff back in Camden and the one up around Hope. If mere's been a slew of crimes, maybe we got some real outlaws. But if nothing else is going down, well, it could be a couple of locals out for a joyride. Maybe from Hope or somewheres else. Now give me an idea of what kind of truck and the rest of your belongings and then I'll be on my way.”

Jeb described the truck, the food supplies, the tarp that covered the goods.

“You got anything that says it was your truck?”

Jeb did not know how to answer.

“Truck in your name, Reverend Gracie? Free and clear.”

Jeb knew that his brother had bought the truck off the Hamptons, but how it was transacted, he couldn't remember. “It's mine.” He felt the hope of finding the truck sucked from his grasp like a nickel down the well.

“That's Philemon Gracie,” said Mr. Honeysack. “Good Bible name. Did your momma know you was going to be a preacher?”

Angel cackled and ran up the road toward the house. Ida May followed her, skirt flying like a paper parasol.

“How you spell Fi-le-mon?” the deputy asked.

“It's just like in the Bible,” said Honeysack. “Right, Reverend?”

Jeb nodded.

When the deputy finally pulled away followed by Honeysack, Jeb marched up the steps to the parsonage and yelled, “Angel, out here front and center.”

She failed to appear. He went inside and found her sprawled across her bed while the radio blared from the parlor.

“I don't need you running off like that. How in the world you expect me to spell a name like ‘Fi-le-mon.’ You pull another stunt like that and maybe you can just explain yourself without me.”

Angel pressed the back of her head into the pillow. “Of all the names to give you. I mean, you can't read but you got to spell Philemon. That's funnier than the look on your face when Mr. Honeysack said it. I guess you're lucky you know your whole name now. Maybe you ought to practice saying it in front of the mirror. ‘Greetings, I'm Reverend Philemon Gracie, at your service.’ “

Jeb left her to her own devices—to laugh, wallow around in her own folly, anything she pleased as long as he didn't have to listen to her foolishness. He had an hour to himself before that Josie would show up with supper. He would spend it quietly drinking.

6

J
eb found Willie stretched out across the stream, one hand steadying his weight. The rivulet meandered an acre behind the house, clear water full of sun perch and a few trout. “Don't touch my trot line. I put it there for a reason. So no one would disturb it. I want to land a fish, not a boy.”

“My daddy taught me how to do it.” Willie, on all fours, looked blue in the morning light. Blue denims, blue eyes all beneath the blue morning sky.

“It's mine. I said don't touch it and I mean it.”

“You'd make a terrible daddy,” said Willie.

“Thank you kindly.” Jeb saw Willie purse his mouth, his eyes dimming and disappointment coloring his face. “You know how to clean and cut up trout?”

“I do. You got three already, about yay long.” Wilhe sat back on his heels and held out his hands, creating a measure of ten inches.

“Give it another couple of hours. Sun's just coming up. We might land another one if we wait.” Jeb heard a faint rustle behind him, like soft fabric swishing against itself.

“Good morning,” said a young woman. “Reverend Grade, I assume.”

Jeb and Willie froze like raccoons at the water's edge.

Jeb wondered how long she had listened to him and Wilde. He turned and saw the woman, maybe nineteen, who smiled at him. Yet, her voice made her sound older. Twenty-two, maybe. The first rays of sunlight framed her in a yellow-white oudine. She dressed simply, but the folds of the fabric settled on her round curves as well as any expensive fabric might do. Her dress was White cotton. A pink scarf tied softly at the neck blew across her chest. The scarf, pale like her cheeks, made the rest of her skin look white as linen.

“I realize it's early. If I'm coming at a bad time, I can make an appointment.” Her posture was vividly erect, defining her shoulders while everything from the waist down disappeared into white fabric until her knees appeared beneath the hem. She possessed slender calves not lacking the same roundness as the rest of her. Her hands moved about often as though she searched for something to hold. She brushed her mouth with her fingertips and before she spoke her lips came together, an “o” shape that gave her a thoughtful look. The breeze caused her hair to flutter like petals. A strand of blond hair stuck to her lips, but she either didn't notice or didn't care.

“I don't believe we've met,” Jeb finally said as he righted himself. He had clambered outside to scold the boy, still holding a cup of coffee and a newspaper, so he could not tuck in his shirttail or even straighten his slovenly tousled hair. “I'm—” He stopped, having forgotten that awful name but looking straight at her startled him. The sunlight behind her obscured her face. Jeb made a slight move left, found shade, and then started to speak again. By that time, he'd forgotten what he was about to say.

“Fi-lee-mon,” Willie whispered. His prompting made the woman laugh. She laughed like a boy—easy, with high notes descending into low notes.

All Jeb could do was nod and mouth silently, “I reckon so.”

“I'm Fern Coulter. I teach school here in town.”

“She don't look like no schoolteacher.” Willie said it to Jeb. When he felt bashful, he only addressed the person most familiar to him.

Jeb came to himself. “I'm the Reverend Gracie and this is my boy. Willie.” He stuck the newspaper under one arm, rubbed Willie's head for the first time, and noticed the strawness of the Welby boy's hair.

“I met your daughters already. They cook for themselves in the morning. Never too young to learn,” said Fern.

“You met Biggest and Littlest. I hope they used their manners,” said Jeb, meaning what he said in the worst way.

“Quite mannerly. The oldest, Angel, said I'd find you out back. If it's all right with you, I thought I'd help you get the children in school when we start up again. Just a few weeks away, you know, and they'll need school paper, pencils and such. What grade are the children in?” Fern asked.

“Grade?”

“Sure, grade. You know, they matriculate up from one grade to the next. What grade will you be in, Willie?”

“Snow Hill had us all in the same class. I'm nine, though.”

Fern kept addressing Willie, having found him the fastest source of information. “I can give you a test, if that's all right with your father,” she said. “Figure out your placement. We've been using grades since I've been here. Keeps you up with the other students your age. You say you came from Snow Hill? I understood you all came down from Ft. Smith. We don't stand on ceremony too much here in Nazareth. But I can send a letter and see if your teacher would send us some of your grades.”

“Ft. Smith is right. We did a little preaching, what-have-you around Snow Hill. Camden, you name it. We go all over.” Jeb placed himself between Willie and the teacher. “Maybe you ought to go inside and help your sisters with breakfast.”

Willie stared up at him as though he had not a thought in his head.

“Go on, now. Do as your daddy says. Son.” Jeb pressed his palms against Willie's shoulder blades to move him forward.

“Now, about the youngest girl, Ida May, is it?” Fern continued with the interview.

“Yes, she's the littlest.” Jeb kept nudging Willie until he broke free and ran inside.

“She's not school age yet, I gather?”

“That would be right.”

“I noticed she doesn't know her ABC's. You know it is a good idea to allow her to learn that early. She's five now but she is awfully bright.”

“Her mother was bright, I reckon. Don't get much of that from me.”

“I'm sure that isn't true. Your letters make you sound scholarly.”

Jeb took a sudden interest in a fishhook.

“Regarding Ida May, though, we can Work on all of that later. The school is not far from here. We don't have a new building or big schools like Camden or Ft. Smith. But it's a decent structure and we've managed to buy school books for most every student.” She hesitated as though she wasn't sure how her presence was being received, “It's called Stanton School.” Her lashes lowered, and then her whole face turned sympathetic, like Evelene had given her a boatload of benevolent facts. “I understand you got your truck stolen. But Willie and Angel, they can walk. They can join students from two families along the way. They probably make friends easily if you all have moved: around a lot. Most students walk to school, what with no money for gas. When you and the children have the time, I can take you to the school building. My father gave me his old car when I came to work here, so I can drive you out for a look.”

Jeb had never met a woman who drove herself. “We can do that later, as you say. I do thank you for coming by, Mrs. Coulter.”

Fern's hand brushed over her empty ring finger, but She did not correct him.

“Very neighborly of you.” Jeb took a few measured steps in the direction of the house.

Fern crossed her arms, one toe pointed at the house. “Your oldest daughter invited me in for coffee. But I don't have to stay if that's a bother.”

Jeb raised his empty cup. “Time for a fill up myself.”

Willie rushed ahead of them and sat down at the table. “Can't remember the last time I had bacon.” He gripped his fork upright and stared over at his sister.

Fern stood over Angel, who stirred the bacon campfire style. “If you.-and your little sister want to go and get dressed for the day, I'll finish up.”

“I usually do the cooking. I know how my little sister likes her eggs and stuff like that,” Angel said, a flutter of irritation in her voice. She stretched her upper lip over her bottom lip and shook the pan by the handle.

“Angel, if our guest wants a turn at the skillet, you step aside and let her have a go at it,” said Jeb.

Angel dropped the spatula onto the stovetop. She lifted Ida May out of her chair and led her into the bedroom. When she slammed the door, Jeb shifted uncomfortably and said, “She's tried to fill in for her momma for so long, it makes her a mite peevish.”

“Don't apologize. For a man without a Wife, you've done a good job with the girls.” Fern shook flour into a bowl, added water, baking powder, and a pinch of salt. She bent down and checked the oven to see if it had preheated. “Mr. Honeysack put you a good stove in here, plenty of kerosene. I guess you're happy about that. I'm going to slow this bacon down a bit. We need time to bake the biscuits,” She adjusted the burner knob.

“You know, Miss Coulter, on this school issue, there's no need to involve you with letter writing and what-not. I'll take care of the schooling when the time comes.” Jeb had to prevent her from delving into their past and finding Gracies of a different kind. They'd be gone long before the first day of school anyway.

“No bother. My family doesn't live here so helping others settle in is something Hike to do.” She rolled out the batter and cut out circles of dough with a snuff glass.

“Where are you from?” Jeb asked.

“I came here from Hot Springs, but that's not where I grew up. Good schools over there but I wanted to go where I felt needed. Nazareth is behind a lot of other towns so they don't always attract the experienced teachers.”

“How experienced could you be? You can't be a day over nineteen.”

“I'm twenty-five. I started working as a tutor when I was fifteen. I was in college by seventeen, graduated before age twenty. I guess I'll grow gray hairs at twenty-nine.”

Jeb doubted that.

“I can make gravy with these drippings. You have milk?” she asked.

“I'II get it.”

“No need to bother.”

They both made it to the icebox at the same time.

Jeb reached for the icebox but touched her hand instead. He drew back as though scalded.

Fern clasped the handle and opened the appliance door. “You have milk from Lucy and Bill Dolittle's farm, I see. I can make real gravy with their milk.”