Hell With the Lid Blown Off (4 page)

Yes, if anyone deserved an excellent husband it was Ruth. If the previous experience of four daughters' romances hadn't taught her to keep her opinion to herself, Alafair would have been quite the matchmaker in this instance as well. “And did you invite Trent to supper?” she asked.

“I might, if I see him beforehand.” She sipped at her coffee. “Mama, would you come to supper at Miz Beckie's tomorrow?”

“I wasn't asked.”

“I'm asking you. I'm the cook, so I figure it's all right.”

“Oh, no, honey, I just can't. Since all you older girls have left the house, I've got too many helpless mouths to feed.” The idea that the men might feed themselves, much less feed the children, didn't cross her mind. “But if you want, I'll take you back to town in the buggy tomorrow after breakfast, and we can go to Khouri's together and pick up whatever you need to cook for supper. I can even help you fix it up, if you need.”

“I don't need help cooking, Ma, but I'd appreciate it if you'd come with me to Khouri's. He likes you, I can tell. He always gives you the best cuts.”

Alafair smiled and shook her head. “He's just a good, decent fellow. I don't buy enough meat or produce off him to keep him in collar buttons.”

Ruth Tucker

After breakfast the next morning, Alafair drove Ruth back to town in the buggy. Chase had gone home with Mary, and Zeltha with her parents, but Alafair's three-year-old, Grace, came along, since she was particularly energetic that morning and had been distracting her older siblings from their chores. Instead of delivering Ruth straight to Beckie MacKenzie's, Alafair accompanied her daughter to Khouri's Market in order to lend her expertise to the choosing of pork chops. Khouri's Market carried meat, dairy, and produce all in one location. The quality of his merchandise was top-notch. He was so obsessed with freshness that he would never allow a wilted carrot top or a day-old egg in his store. Besides, Khouri's was located right next to cousin Hattie Tucker's Mercantile and so was convenient for all grocery-shopping needs.

“What can I do for you, Miz Tucker?” Mr. Khouri asked.

“Not for me today, Mr. Khouri. Today Ruth is buying, and I'm just along for the outing.”

Mr. Khouri's black eyes locked on Ruth with a knowing expression. “I'm going to guess that Miz Beckie is still celebrating her grandson's homecoming, and you're here on her behalf to buy something special for dinner.”

Ruth laughed. There were no secrets in Boynton. “That's the long and short of it, Mr. Khouri, and I'm impressed at your skill in putting one and two together and coming out with three every time. Marva is leaving Miz Beckie's early today so I volunteered to do pork chops and dressing for supper, depending on if you've got some nice fat ones you can let me have.”

“Well, now, I believe you're in luck, young lady. Just this morning I acquired a couple of dressed shoats from your brother-in-law, Kurt Lukenbach. I was just about to trim them up. I expect I could find you some chops that would fit your requirements, nice and fat.”

After much examination and discussion, Khouri wrapped six thick, marbled chops in brown butcher's paper for them. Ruth and her mother walked out onto the boardwalk and stood for several minutes reviewing the proper way to cook pork chops and dressing while Grace ran in circles around them.

It was some moments before they parted—Alafair and Grace to visit Alice, and Ruth to deliver the pork chops to Beckie's icebox before walking the five blocks to the Masonic Hall to practice on the ancient piano awhile.

Ruth waved good-bye to her mother and Grace as they headed toward Second Street, then turned just in time to see Wallace MacKenzie and Randal Wakefield emerging from the Williams Drug Store directly across the street. She stopped in her tracks and considered going back inside Khouri's Market, but it was too late. Wallace called her name and crossed the road to meet her with his friend trailing behind him.

The two men fell in on either side of her. Wallace put one arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “What delights have you purchased in yonder establishment, my darling Ruth? Something delectable for our supper, I'll warrant. Will you be preparing it with your own fair hand? I hope so, because that would enhance its flavor ten-fold.”

Ruth shook his arm off. “You are quite the bag of wind, Wallace. Yes, I've bought some cuts of meat for supper, and you can thank your grandmother for the thought, like you can thank her for so many things.”

Randal chuckled his approval. “
Touché
, Wally, you old bag of wind.”

Wallace staggered and clutched his chest. “Oh, you wound me! Come Randal. Let us repair to the local alehouse where I can ease the pain with demon rum.”

Randal looked surprised. “I was under the impression that a man can't purchase liquor in Oklahoma, Wall.”

“Never believe everything you hear, Randal. Farewell, cruel maiden. Tell Gran we'll see her tonight at your much-anticipated supper. Come on, Ran.”

Ruth rolled her eyes at Randal, who shook his head and smiled. What folly.

Trenton Calder

A few days before the church supper, I was heading to the Newport Cafe for a bite of dinner when I heard the music coming from the Masonic Hall. I knew it had to be Ruth practicing on the upright piano, just like the day before, when I fell in love with her. After that day I would have recognized her playing anywhere. I wafted into the hall like a cloud on a breeze, toward that music. She had finished playing a piece that I didn't recognize, something real high-class, and was turning the pages of her sheet music. I came to stand beside her piano bench and she looked up at me with the sweetest smile. She was wearing green that day. Her eyes were the color of the leafy woods on a summer day.

“Well, I'll swan,” she said. “I suppose that if ever I want to see you, I should just come here and play the piano like it was a duck call and you'll come flying in. Did you know that Wallace MacKenzie is back in town? Miz Beckie asked me to cook up some pork chops tonight for him and his friend from college who came with him to visit.”

I had known Wallace MacKenzie for years. Me and him had gone to school together for a while, after he got sent to live with his grandma and before I had to quit school and go to work. I didn't think much of him, but he thought so much of himself that my low opinion didn't trouble him none. Life was easy as rolling off a log for him. Him and his dad butted heads, but the old man never cut him off. Seemed to me like Wallace always landed on his feet whether he deserved to or not. He was even going to college, which I would have given my right arm to do.

I'm ashamed to think about the stab of jealously that went through me when Ruth said she was going to cook for him. If he'd have been there I'd have punched him right in the eye and thought of a reason later. It must have showed on my face because Ruth's eyes got big and she laughed before she added, “Miz Beckie wondered to me if you might like to join us?”

I could have kicked myself around the building. “Well, I'd be pleased, if you'd like me to.” I tried not to sound too eager.

She began to play “If I Were the Only Boy in the World.” “I'd be pleased to have you,” she said, “if you think you can behave yourself.”

The Bedlam Boys

On her way back to Beckie's house just north of town and nearly to the brick works, Ruth was thinking about the menu for tonight's supper. She had been aware of the four men on horseback coming south on the road for some minutes, but as the daughter and granddaughter of horse-breeders, she had been paying more attention to the fine, healthy horseflesh than she was to the men on their backs—until they grew close enough for her to recognize them.

It was some of the Beldon boys. Jubal was in the lead, as usual, mounted on his big roan gelding with the cream-colored mane and the white blaze on its face. He gave her a wicked grin when he saw her expression change. She stopped in her tracks and looked around for an escape. The big, two-story, turreted and multi-windowed MacKenzie house was only yards away. So near and yet so far.

Shoot.

She was going to have to brazen it out.

Ruth didn't have much good to say about any of the fellows in that gang. They were called the Beldon boys because six of them were brothers, but there was also that Gibson lad from down by Council Hill; Dave Walker, son of old Mr. Walker that farmed east of town; Marshall Dix; and one of the Leonard boys. They liked to travel in a pack, of which Jubal Beldon was the top dog. All the boys in the Beldon gang were low characters—impulsive, cruel, spoiling for a fight. And stupid, in her opinion, all but Jubal. He was sly, like a weasel, or maybe more like a rat, with his quivery pointed snout sniffing the air for something rotten he could get into. Jubal Beldon reminded Ruth of one of her mother's clothespins, with legs entirely too long for his body. He was all out of proportion in a lot of ways. Nothing seemed to go together. One of his eyes was the color of thunderclouds and the other was milky white. He had a bitter little pursed mouth with a snaggle of teeth. His forehead bulged out, but he had a manly square jaw. All in all, Jubal was a startling sight, and a startling kind of fellow, to boot.

The others followed him around with their ears pricked up, and Jubal was just looking for some reason to say “sic 'em”. Her father's cousin Scott Tucker, the town sheriff, called them the Bedlam Boys, always looking to cause trouble. People were scared of them, and that was all right by them.

Determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her anxiety, Ruth lowered her head and quickened her pace, hoping against hope the oncoming rowdies were in a hurry to get somewhere that had nothing to do with her.

She wasn't surprised that they weren't.

One of the brothers—Hosea, the second-oldest, she thought—turned his horse and fell in beside her as she walked. Two of the others followed suit, but Ruth was aware that the leader, Jubal, fell back to follow from a distance. “Where you off to, Ruth?” Hosea said.

Ruth didn't answer.

“Why, you're not very friendly today, are you?”

“This gal is never very friendly,” Dave Walker observed.

“Well, that's because she's a Tucker,” Hosea said. “They're too good for the likes of us, boys.”

Ruth plunged on through the laughter and unsavory comments, trying to lengthen her stride but finding herself squeezed in.

“How 'bout it, Ruth? You think you're too good for us?” Hosea dismounted and moved up beside her. “How about a little kiss to let me know there ain't no hard feelings?”

The men snorted with laughter, and one of the others dismounted as well.

Ruth began to feel alarmed, but she kept her eyes on the wide, dusty road. She was somewhat comforted by the thought that if they tried to offer her bodily insult, they'd all most likely disappear mysteriously one day. If her father and brothers had anything to say about it, anyway.

Hosea stepped in front of her, forcing her to a halt. No one had put his hands on her yet, but one or another of them kept bumping her shoulder, her hip, her leg. She finally looked up, straight into his eyes.

“Let me pass.”

Hoots and catcalls. It was as though the very fact of acknowledging their existence had emboldened them. They were touching her now, her hair, arms, shoulders.
What was going on?
She had always been the little tomboy running with her brothers and no fellow had ever given her a second look. Something had happened recently. She had noticed people eyeing her differently, behaving differently toward her. But not like this. Nobody had ever bothered her like this before and she had no idea what to do.

Beckie had come out onto her front porch to see what the hoo-hah was all about. Ruth's eyes clamped on the woman as though she were a lifeboat in a storm. She was about to call out, but Beckie figured out the problem pretty quickly and ducked back inside. Not five seconds later she reappeared with a broom in hand and strode down the porch steps. “You boys leave that child be!” she called, brandishing the broom like a club.

Miz Beckie may have been an old woman, Ruth admitted to herself, but she knew how to handle a bunch of unruly yahoos and she wasn't afraid to do it, either.

The Bedlam Boys turned as a group to see who was intent on spoiling their fun. The sight of a small elderly lady bearing down on them with a broom didn't seem to daunt them.

Not that Beckie was deterred by their laughter. She took a swing and caught young Dave Walker on his right shoulder. He staggered and his hat went flying. The mood turned ugly in an instant. Ruth forgot her fear and balled up a fist. She'd go down fighting to defend her protector.

Jubal prodded his horse forward a few steps and spoke for the first time. “Forget it, boys.” He extended his arms to hold off the pending anarchy. The Walker boy and the third Beldon deflated quickly, but Hosea shot his brother a look that would freeze fire. He ignored the order.

“I ain't in the mood to forget it. I said I'd have a kiss and a kiss I'll have.” He took a step toward Ruth.

“You'd
best
forget it, you hooligan.” Beckie inserted herself between them. “I'll sic the sheriff on you. Not to mention my grandson is in town, and he won't tolerate disrespect to a lady.”

“Is that so?” Hosea's tone was sarcastic. “Well, if we happen to come across any ladies, we'll keep that in mind. Come on, you lot.”

The boys remounted grudgingly as Ruth took Beckie's arm and the two of them headed for the house as quickly as was seemly. Marva was standing on the porch, now, watching with an expression of alarm. Ruth wondered why Jubal, the head troublemaker, had backed off when his henchmen became unruly. It wasn't like he disapproved of their actions. More like he wanted to get a good view of the proceedings. So why had he stepped in as soon as Beckie showed up and it looked like things might get ugly? Against her better judgment Ruth cast a look back over her shoulder as she mounted the steps to the house. The gang had spurred their mounts and were galloping headlong toward town. All but Jubal. He was still sitting on his horse in the middle of the road, watching them. His expression was calculating, and maybe a little disappointed.