Heaven Sent (39 page)
H
annah, her arm entwined with her husband's, made her way through the streets of
Muskogee
toward their personal haven, the
They had made a quick stop by the jeweler's, and the third finger of Hannah's left hand now sported the gleaming evidence of her marriage.
Henry Lee was on his most charming behavior, telling her an amusing story of a haberdasher who tried to sell his ribbons and ladies' hats by modeling them himself.
Hannah found herself paying more attention to the teller than the tale, as she gazed warmly at Henry Lee's sparkling eyes and flashing smile. Both were consciously trying not to think about the evening ahead. They were trying to be satisfied with the happiness they felt together at the moment, not wishing themselves into the future.
Hannah saw the men step out from the doorway of the hotel, but until they laid hands on Henry Lee, she hadn't known to be afraid.
Tom Quick's authoritative voice rang out: "Henry Lee Watson, by order of the U.S. Government and the Department of Justice for the Indian Territory, you're under arrest for trafficking in intoxicating beverages!"
Quick allowed the two younger deputies to grab Henry Lee and cuff him. He wanted to watch the young whiskey peddler's face as his future took a drastic turn for the worse.
"What are you doing?" Hannah cried out as Henry Lee was pushed up against a wall spread-eagle, and frisked for weapons. Finding nothing the deputies jerked his hands behind him and placed him in handcuffs.
"You are making a terrible mistake!" Hannah told the marshall. "My husband and I are from out of town, we are here on our honeymoon. He's not involved in anything illegal."
Tom Quick glared at the young woman, sneering. Hannah could see that he didn't believe her and turned to her husband to substantiate her assertion.
"Tell him, Henry Lee! This is some terrible mistake."
Henry Lee was facing away from her and did not look her way or say a word. He was numb with emotional pain.
Don't look at me!
his brain was screaming, but he held his peace. He had not protected her after all; she was going to see him arrested, maybe even be arrested herself. A woman like his Hannah should never know anything about jails or the people in them. He turned to look at the
marshall
. He knew the old man was Tom Quick. They had both been in the territory for a long time. Quick knew all about him, all about his business, and if he had decided to arrest him tonight, he obviously had enough evidence to send him to jail. He felt an ominous sense of doom.
"Let the woman go, Quick!" He tried to make it sound like an order, but he couldn't hide the plea in his voice. "She knows nothing about it."
Hannah heard his words and felt as if the ground she stood upon had been jerked away, but she fought it. Henry Lee needed her and she would not—could not—allow herself to succumb to fear or panic, and she certainly would not be jumping to conclusions.
"Henry Lee could not be involved in anything unsavory,
Marshall
," she insisted. "He's a fine, upstanding man. You must have him mistaken for somebody else."
Tom Quick was amused. The girl was still fool enough to insist that she knew nothing and Watson was practically begging to confess if he could buy the girl's freedom with it.
"Get 'em both in the wagon," Quick ordered, and the two deputies escorted their prisoners to a police wagon that was parked in the alley.
The wagon was totally enclosed with built-in benches on each side. Henry Lee, with his hands still constrained behind him, was helped in and seated on the left. Hannah scampered in unassisted, deliberately avoiding the hand offered by the other deputy.
The door closed behind them and was barred from the outside. The husband and wife found themselves alone at last, but not where they had both hoped to be.
The only light in the wagon came from several tiny square windows cut in the sides of the walls near the ceiling. They were barely big enough to allow a man's hand through and the light they let in arrived in stripes of blue-gray, painting them both with unreality.
"Henry Lee? Are you all right?" she asked. Her husband still hadn't looked at her.
"That's the question I should be asking you," he mumbled almost unintelligibly.
"I'm okay," she answered, running her hands up and down her arms as if to warm herself in the stifling heat of the wagon. "A little scared, I guess. What is this about? Surely that jar of liquor you bought me last night couldn't get us in this much trouble."
In some strange way, Hannah hoped that it was her fault. She wanted to help, she wanted Henry Lee to look at her again and to smile.
"No." Henry Lee shook his head with a rueful laugh. "It has nothing to do with that. Or maybe it does. That was my whiskey we bought last night." He looked at her then. His eyes were hard and cold, not daring to hope for compassion or understanding, afraid to expect too much from the woman he loved.
"I'm a moonshiner, Hannah. That's how I make my living. I always have. I've never been caught before, but now I am."
"Moonshiner." Hannah said the word as if she had never heard of such a thing before. Then she repeated it as
if
getting used to the sound on her tongue. She knew a good deal about moonshiners, selling whiskey to the Indians, leading them into drink and sloth and crime with their wicked, evil brew. There were dozens of them in the border country and she had heard more than one person in the church complain about the danger they posed to everyone. She'd heard much about moonshiners, but none of what she knew related to the man who sat across from her. The man that she loved.
"I realize that you didn't know about this before you married me. I would have told you, had you asked. But you really made your choice without me in on it. I'm sorry, Hannah, but sometimes when you set out to trap a man, you get more than you've bargained for."
Hannah was still struggling with reality. "Does my father know?"
"Yep." He replied shortly, looking straight at her now. She may have seen him bowed, but he wasn't broken and he wasn't about to wallow in shame. "He's always known. Why he didn't tell you, I couldn't say." Henry Lee gave a half-amused shake of his head. "I guess you'll have to ask him. I suspect most everyone at
Henry Lee looked away, studying the ceiling of the wagon. Hannah sat stunned, trying to make order out of her mind in chaos. Everything in their marriage was a lie. She had believed in him, trusted him, and he was an imposter. He had shown her a fine, hardworking man and made her fall in love with him. Now she discovered that the man she had loved was not that man at all.
Her rage and hurt began to pile up on her, stinging and burning in her eyes. She had been fooled and made a fool in front of her family and friends. It was almost too much to be borne.
"You lied to me! Everything you said was a lie!"
"Not everything, Hannah." He understood her anger. He was angry himself How stupid he had been to bring whiskey right down to the doorstep of the Federal
marshalls
. When a man got that greedy, he deserved to be caught. But, he added to himself remorsefully, his wife certainly didn't.
"When we were running last night, it was because they were after
you.
They were trying to arrest
you
last night."
He didn't answer; he didn't need to. She already knew the truth.
"All those trips you make in the evenings to trade, you were out selling whiskey! Harjo and the people of
"They are my friends, too, Hannah. It's possible to be both."
"Is it?" Her face was red with anger. "I suppose it's also possible to care about a woman and lie to her at every turn!"
The wagon stopped abruptly and a minute later the door was opened. She didn't refuse help in getting down. She needed someone to steady her now. She was completely off balance.
Henry Lee watched her, concerned. Surely, even old Tom Quick could see she was not the kind of woman that you throw in jail. He would have to do something to get her out even if it meant confessing to everything and more.
They were ushered into a back door of the courthouse, near the area that served as a jail. Henry Lee was led down a long hallway in front of her and Hannah started to follow.
"This way, ma'am." The deputy beside her took her arm and started up a flight of stairs.
"My husband?"
"He's off to the lock-up. Marshall Quick wants to talk to you first, ma'am."
"I need to see my husband!" she said, realizing that it was true, but not knowing exactly why.
The young
marshall
recognized a woman of quality when he saw one. Ill at ease and embarrassed, he wanted to be rid of her as soon as possible.
"You can take that up with the
marshall
, ma'am."
Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, she was directed to Marshall Quick's office. It smelled of stale tobacco and old boots, and even the open door leading to the upstairs porch didn't relieve the musty, closed atmosphere of the place.
The
marshall
came in and gave Hannah a slow, deliberate appraisal, and smiled, revealing his personal approval. He admired Watson's taste. This big, buxom gal, all covered up like a schoolmarm, surely was enough to make a man worry himself about getting those clothes off her.
"Ah, Mrs. Watson," Quick said, putting on his best behavior, "set yourself down. You
are
Mrs. Watson, not just calling yourself that?" He smiled smugly at her. "We can find out for sure, of course."
Hannah felt her anger swiftly being redirected at this man. He sat there ogling her, smelling badly, and judging her and Henry Lee, like he was God's archangel.
"I am Hannah May Bunch Watson. I was duly married to Henry Lee Watson in
Plainview Church
,
Tom Quick did not allow one tiny portion of the surprise he felt show in his face. Hattie had told him that she was a preacher's daughter, but he hadn't truly believed that. There were plenty of so-called preachers in the territory, drunks or con men most of them, and he had assumed that she was one of their gets. However, if she was a real preacher's daughter, a good Christian woman mixed up with a criminal, then he should be trying another tack entirely.
Quick rose from his desk. "Let me see if I can get you some coffee, Mrs. Watson. You've been through a terrible ordeal this evening. It seems like I'm making it worse. Just rest here a spell and I'll see what I can find."
Hannah was puzzled by his sudden shift, but assumed that he had finally realized she was telling the truth.
Left alone, she tried to gather her thoughts. Henry Lee had denied nothing. She was the wife of a moonshiner and whiskey peddler. It was unexpected and unfortunate, but as he had pointed out, he hadn't begged her to marry him. She had forced him into it and she had decided at the time that she deserved her fate. She hadn't known what her fate was to be. But now she did.
There was no way that she could become unmarried. Divorce was as distasteful as crime. They had made this marriage in good faith and they would have to make the best of it, no matter the circumstances.
She would be the wife of a man that had committed crimes. He would have spent time in jail but he would pay his debt to society and be a better man for it. The Bible was a compendium of repentant sinners, there was no reason why Henry Lee couldn't follow in their footsteps.
And he had a wife now, to help him see the error of his ways, and change himself for the better.
To Hannah it was the same as ruining a batch of preserves. You just throw them out and start over from scratch, trying to do it better the next time. If something got broke, you fixed it.
She chastised herself for her earlier anger at Henry Lee. She had only been thinking of herself, when she should have been thinking about him. From what little he'd told her about his life, she was convinced that he had never had any proper guidance, certainly no Christian teaching. She had all those advantages and hadn't she so easily fallen into sinful ways herself?
The fact that he wasn't a worse criminal than this was just evidence that he was an exceptional man, with a shining soul. And right now, that shining soul was suffering. He was somewhere here in this building locked in a cold, dark cell thinking that she hated him. She had to speak to him, and right away.
