Pamela Morsi (27 page)

Rans discarded the seven and the jack and added his new cards to his hand.

Six of spades, no help.

King of hearts.

His own leaped in his chest. Four kings would be
very hard to beat. If he played it right, he could get all his money back and more. But Rans couldn’t give any hint of his joy. If the Pusser brothers suspected he had such a hand, they would drop out and not bet. Rans needed to win and he needed to win big.

Delbert drew three cards. Donald one.

The betting recommenced.

The pot grew bigger and bigger as the wagering went higher and higher. In disgust, Donald folded. By the rime Delbert called, everything that Rans had was sitting in the middle of the table.

With repressed excitement and a goodly portion of nerve, Rans laid his cards on the table. The four handsome kings staring up at him proudly.

The crowd made a whistling sound. They were impressed.

Delbert eyed the cards as well.

“That’s a pretty good hand, Rans,” he said.

Rans couldn’t help grinning ear to ear, he was so pleased with himself.

“Unfortunately,” Delbert continued. “Tonight, it’s not quite good enough.”

Pusser laid down his own cards.

“Straight flush,” he said. “Four, five, six, seven, and eight. All diamonds.”

A shout went through the crowd. Rans was looking directly into Delbert Pusser’s cool blue eyes. He could hear the jubilation around him, but it was as if it were very far away.

The man raked his winnings toward his side of the table.

“You want to try to win some of this back?” he asked Rans.

“I don’t have any more money,” Rans answered. He was surprised at the sound of his own words. They were so dispassionate.

“Maybe you could sell your horseshoes,” Delbert said.

The way that he said it, the tone of his voice, and the look on his face said to Rans distinctly that Delbert had known all along that there were no horseshoes. He’d known that the pokesack contained money. And he’d deliberately set out to win it.

“Can I buy you another beer?” he asked.

Rans shook his head. He picked up his pokesack and rose to his feet.

Delbert announced loudly that he was buying a round of drinks.

Without fanfare, Rans quietly slipped through the swinging doors. He walked to the corner of the building and just stood there for a long moment, trying very hard not to think. But the enormity of his loss overwhelmed him and he bent over and vomited in the alley.

He had lost it. He had lost every penny of it. He’d stolen money to help him get away and he’d lost it in a poker game.

He’d have to stay in Jarl. There was no way he could travel farther. And this close to home, Moss Collier would surely find him and demand his money back. Rans would have to take a job. What kind of job he could get, he did not know. The memory of Delbert’s advice about the honey wagon filled him with disgust and dread.

Once more he threw up. The beer did not sit well on his stomach, especially when mixed with the tension and terror of losing so much.

“Are you all right, young fella?”

Rans glanced up to see an old grayed and be-whiskered stranger beside him. He’d been one of the sweaters at the game.

“I’m fine,” Rans choked out. “Just had too much to drink, I guess.”

The man nodded. “A little boy your age shouldn’t be drinking at all. You should be home with your mam and pap.”

“I ain’t no little boy,” Rans told him angrily. With the disgrace he had been through that day, the last thing he was willing to put up with was condescension.

The man raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t intend no insult,” the man said. “I just knew that you had to be really young or really stupid to play poker with a deck of cards as crimped as that one.”

“What?”

The man chuckled lightly but there was no humor in it.

“All the face cards had ragged edges,” he said. “And the aces had the corners shaved. That old deck has cleaned more rubes than a crossroads bathhouse.”

Rans stood there, stunned to silence.

“Let it be a lesson, boy,” he said. “It’s a hard way to learn, but a sure cure for ignorance.”

The man walked on. Rans continued to stand there. The waves of sickness he’d felt were boiling now into anger. He hadn’t just lost the money, he’d been cheated out of it. He’d been cheated. The Pusser brothers had cheated him.

He would get his money back. He would demand
that Delbert Pusser hand over the winnings. They were got unfairly. Rans would make him give them back. How would he make them do that? he asked himself. The Pusser brothers were grown men. Rans was only thirteen. How could he make them do anything?

The answer came to him. Rans squatted down and opened the pokesack. He withdrew the handsome blued nickel side arm. The sight of it would certainly make the Pusser brothers sit up and take notice. He fished through the sack until he came up with the cartridge box. Quickly Rans opened the loading gate and slid six shots into the barrel. He snapped it back in place and rose to his feet.

Fury putting steel in his backbone, Rans marched back into the saloon. Donald was halfway up the stairs with the painted woman, Ida, on his arm. Delbert was standing at the bar, laughing. The laughing fueled the anger inside Rans. Delbert had pretended to be his friend, cheated him out of his money, and now stood happy and laughing as he guzzled another glass of beer.

Rans walked right up to him and raised the gun.

“You cheated me. I want my money back.”

There was a rash of startled movement and nervous expletives as those around quickly moved out of the way. Silence followed.

“You cheated me,” Rans repeated. “I want my money back.”

“Cheated?” Delbert looked as cool as if he were discussing the weather. “You lost fair and square, Rans. Why on earth would you think I cheated?”

“The deck was marked,” Rans said.

“You didn’t make any objection to the deck.”

“I’m making objection now,” he said “That deck was marked.”

Delbert turned to the bartender. “Get us the deck, Sam,” he said “Let’s see if it’s marked.”

The man leaned under the counter and brought out a deck of cards in a fancy case.

“Show us the cards,” Delbert said.

Sam opened the case and spread the deck out on the bar.

“Which ones are marked?” Delbert asked.

Rans glanced down at the cards. They were the same style and the same color, but they were not the same cards. They were perfect and pristine. Not a worn or frayed one among them.

“That’s not the same deck,” Rans said. “It’s the deck you keep in the cashbox.”

“Do you have a deck of cards in your cashbox, Sam?” Delbert asked.

The bartender shook his head. “I keep all the cards under the counter,” he answered as he opened the cashbox and showed it to Rans. There was nothing in it but money and papers.

The marked deck was long gone. But Rans was unwilling to give up.

“You cheated me, Delbert Pusser,” he said “You cheated me and I want my money. I want my money now.”

“Well, you’re not about to get it,” Delbert told him calmly. “Go home, Rans.”

“I’m not going anywhere without what is mine,” he said. Rans drew back the hammer on the gun until it cocked. “Give me my money or I’ll shoot you.”

He stood facing Delbert Pusser. The man’s expression
was cool, but Rans could see beyond it. A line of sweat had formed on his forehead. His lips were pale, almost bloodless as he stared down the .44 Colt that was an arm’s length away. At this distance, Rans couldn’t miss.

Suddenly he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Rans hardly had an instant to glance in that direction before he saw Donald Pusser lunging at him.

He turned.

He shot.

And shot.

And shot.

And shot.

And shot.

And shot.

R
ANS
was a thirteen-year-old boy who wanted to be treated like a man. Eulie couldn’t imagine anyplace in the whole world where that was more likely to happen than the Caulfield County Jail in Jarl, Tennessee.

She sat with her husband, nervous and fidgety, waiting for the sheriff. Waiting to find out what was going to happen. Waiting to learn if she could see her brother.

Moss held her hand in his own. The firm clasp imbued her with much needed strength and comfort. Her eyes were still puffy from last night’s tears. Moss had come to her, carrying her from her bed to the front porch, where he dried her eyes, listened to her outpouring of fear and regret and held her all night long.

They were just leaving the Pierce home when Uncle Jeptha caught up with them. Minnie was wailing pitifully, but that was a vast improvement over the kicking and screaming that accompanied her initial refusal to go with them. The man in the dog-drawn goat cart had come charging down from the ridge like the demons of hell were after him. The look on Jeptha’s face raised such alarm even Minnie hushed immediately.

“What’s happened? What is it?” Moss asked.

“Rans is gone,” he said.

Eulie shrugged it off. “He leaves after every argument,” she told him. “He’ll show up again in a few hours.”

“I don’t think so,” Jeptha answered. He turned to Moss. “The boy’s been in your strongbox. He’s taken the money and your gun.”

Eulie clamped her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

“He didn’t. He couldn’t.”

But he did and he had.

The long night of wait and worry had ended at dawn. Yeoman Browning had ridden up to the ridge to give them the news that had come up river. Rans Toby had been arrested in Jarl for shooting the Pusser brothers.

Eulie was dumbstruck with disbelief.

“Is anybody dead?” Moss had asked.

“Not so far as I know,” he’d answered.

Eulie could hardly remember what occurred in the next few minutes. She recalled the girls’ crying. And Uncle Jeptha’s offering solemn advice to Moss as he saddled the horse.

Then they were off, riding double down the mountain. Eulie couldn’t recall asking to go or even having anyone inquire if she wanted to. Women rarely had any dealings in town. And certainly never with jails or lawmen. But Moss had simply known she needed to see her brother and hadn’t for a moment allowed the conventions of womanhood to stand in the way of what was best for his wife. Her fear of the big red horse had been paltry when measured against her need to get to her brother’s side, to offer him what aid and assistance she could.

Now Moss sat beside her in the jail as she waited to hear her brother’s fate.

“I’m going to let Minnie live with the Pierces,” she said abruptly.

“What?”

She turned to glance up at him, so strong and handsome and steady beside her.

“I’m going to let them adopt her,” Eulie said. “I … I made a deal with God. I’ll let Minnie have what she wants and He’ll see that nothing bad happens to Rans.”

Moss looked at her, his sad eyes worried. “I’m not sure that God is in the business of making deals,” he told her. “If you are going to let Minnie go with the Pierces, you should do it because it is the best thing for Minnie, not because you want to help Rans.”

She nodded, knowing that he spoke the truth. It had been her dream, her ambition, to keep her family together. It was part of her obligation to take care of her youngers and do what was best for them. It had just not entered her mind that her dream might run counter to her obligation. She’d thought that uniting the family was an absolute, something that was always the right thing to do in every situation. Eulie knew now that wasn’t so. Heaven had set out a number of absolutes in life. But most things had to be worked out through trial and error and compromise.

“It
is
the best thing for her, isn’t it?”

Moss didn’t answer.

“They love her and care for her,” Eulie told him. “They can provide for her. They’ve already been more like parents to her than Ma and Daddy ever were.”

“They are good people,” Moss agreed.

Eulie was silent for a long moment and then sighed.

“It’s settled, then,” she said. “Our Little Minnie will become Minnie Pierce. She never wanted to be ‘one of those nasty Toby children.’” She could almost smile at the use of the abhorrent phrase. “Clara will marry Bug. The twins will spend the winter learning weaving from Miz Patch. And Rans …” She turned to Moss, biting down on her lip to hold back tears. “Help me keep this vow,” she said. “If … or when … Rans gets to come back to us. I will give him his freedom. I will allow him to go and do and be whatever he wants. He is Rans Toby, a person himself, not merely my younger brother.”

Moss patted her hand. “I won’t have to help you keep it,” he told her. “I know full well that you will.”

She looked up into her husband-man’s eyes. He believed in her. He trusted her. If he could do so after all that she’d done to him, surely she could believe and trust in herself.

The door opened and the sheriff walked in.

Eulie’s backbone stiffened with apprehension. Moss rose to his feet and offered the man his hand.

“I’m Moss Collier,” he said. “From up in the Sweetwood. This is my wife, who is sister to Ransom Toby.”

The sheriff nodded at her and shook Moss’s hand. The two men sat down.

He was big and sandy-haired with a pompous air about him. Eulie could sense that there was not one stitch of sympathy or understanding in his heart. He was the kind of fellow that never admitted to a mistake and had no tolerance for those who made them.

From inside the desk drawer he retrieved a gun.

“Is this yours?” he asked Moss.

The husband-man answered yes and reached for it. The sheriff shook his head.

“Sorry, the gun is evidence and must be confiscated,” he said The man hesitated for a long moment before adding, “that means we can’t give it back to you.”

The explanation was somewhat snide and very condescending.

“I know what confiscated means,” Moss said evenly.

“Good,” the sheriff commented, pleased. “Some of these folks from up in the mountains are none too bright and ignorant to boot. They don’t understand the first thing about the law or the courts or even the state of Tennessee.”

He snorted with derision and shook his head.

“You take them no-good Pusser brothers,” he said “They’re from up your way, ain’t they? That Delbert, he’s more sly than he is smart. And his brother, Donald, I swear a man would get more intelligent conversation talking to a fence post.”

“We heard Rans shot the Pusser brothers,” Eulie said. “Are they … are they all right?”

The sheriff nodded. “Oh, they’re right enough, I suppose,” he said “Donald was shot in the armpit. Doc Turner fished the slug out last night. He’s likely to recover just fine. A bullet grazed Delbert’s cheek. He ain’t quite as handsome as he was, but he weren’t all that handsome to begin with.”

“Thank God,” Eulie whispered.

“Witnesses say that the Pussers cheated the boy out of his money,” the sheriff continued. “They say he only fired when Donald lunged at him.”

“Then it was self-defense,” Moss said. “You do know a bit of the law,” the sheriff answered.
“But no, it’s pretty hard to claim self-defense with a gun against two unarmed men.”

That statement brought an unhappy silence to the room.

“The truth is,” the sheriff continued, “I don’t really care too much about them Pusser brothers. They are cheats and criminals and got no worse than they deserve,”

He paused for emphasis and looked Moss square in the eye.

“But Sam Wainthrop, he’s the owner of that saloon. It ain’t much, but it’s Sam’s livelihood. Your boy done shot up the place something fierce. There ain’t hardly an unbroken piece of glass in the place.”

“How many shots did he fire?”

“Oh, he emptied the gun,” the sheriff said. “It’s a wonder there weren’t a lot more people with bullets in them.”

Moss let his breath out slowly.

“If you could see your way clear to make some reparation on Sam’s damage,” the man continued. “I’d drop the charges down to a misdemeanor and let you take the boy home.”

Eulie’s mouth opened and her eyes lightened with hope. They could take him home. It would be a misdemeanor and they could take him home.

“How much would this reparation cost?” Moss asked.

The sheriff considered thoughtfully.

“Oh, I imagine twenty dollars would probably cover it,” he said.

Eulie swallowed her buoyant expectation. Twenty dollars. That was a near-fortune.

She heard Moss clear his throat. It was a nervous sound.

“The money the boy was playing poker with,” he told the sheriff. “That was my life savings. I don’t have any more.”

The sheriff nodded, understanding. “Too bad,” he commented.

“Could I sign a paper?” Moss suggested. “Agree to pay it in the future? As soon as my crop comes in I’d have some of it.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t think Sam would go for that,” he said. “But you could go to the bank here in town. Maybe they’d take a mortgage on your farm. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“The land isn’t mine,” Moss said. “It’s my uncle’s and it’s all that he has.”

“Ahhh,” the sheriff said. It was all he could say.

The three sat in silence for a very long minute. There were no words. Nothing to express. There was no way to raise twenty dollars.

“What will happen to Rans?” Eulie asked.

“That’s up to the judge,” the sheriff answered. “He’ll be in town week after next and hear the case then. I’m sure he’ll take the boy’s youth and the evidence of cheating into account.”

“Will he go to jail?” Moss asked.

“Not for long,” he assured them. “Maybe a couple of years.”

“Two years!” Eulie nearly screamed out the words.

“Maybe just one,” the sheriff suggested quickly. “And he could get out a few months early if he minds his manners and does what he’s told.”

Eulie endeavored to compose herself. Screaming
and crying would do no one any good. Where was her cheerful ability to look on the bright side?

Deliberately, she forced herself to think of all the good things. At first, she was at a loss, but eventually her mind adjusted to the idea.

Rans wasn’t hurt, and he didn’t injure any innocent bystanders.

The Pusser brothers might have cheated him, but he had stolen Moss’s money. So everything that had happened to him was his own fault. Going to jail was a reasonable consequence for his actions.

Folks always said that adversity builds character. Jail could end up being the making of Rans Toby.

If all that was true, why was her heart breaking? One of the problems of always believing that things will work out for the best is that when they don’t, a person has nothing to fall back on.

“Can we see him?” Moss asked.

“Sure,” the sheriff replied, rising to his feet. “He was pretty shook up at first. That graze across the face that Delbert took bled a lot and I think the boy believed that he had killed him. It’ll do him good to see somebody from home.”

The inside of the jail was dank and dark. Moss followed Eulie, who was wide-eyed and clearly frightened. There was only one bar-enclosed cell. Within it, three men waited for the next visit of the circuit judge.

Rans looked up when they walked in and hurried to greet them.

“You came!” he said. “I can’t believe that you came!”

“Of course we did,” Eulie told him. “The minute that we heard.”

The reality of the situation overrode his joy and he glanced guiltily over at Moss.

“Then I suppose that you’ve heard everything,” he said.

“We’ve heard everything but why,” Eulie told him.

The boy lowered his eyes guiltily. When he raised them again honesty and sincerity shown through.

“I don’t have any reason,” he said. “I don’t have any excuse.”

They were words of truth, the kind that were always so very difficult to admit.

“I stole from your husband,” he continued, “who gave us all a home together.” He turned toward Moss and looked him in the eye, his voice softened with sincerity. “And I know how that really came about.”

Moss took the words for what they were, a late apology, and gave the boy a nod of acceptance.

“I stole from him,” Rans went on. “And lost the money. Then I used a gun to try to get it back.”

“Oh, Rans,” Eulie said, her words only a little above a whisper. She’d grasped the bars, the cold metal against her palms. The boy wrapped his own hands around hers in a protective gesture peculiar to little brothers.

“You know, Eulie, that I’ve always blamed Daddy for everything,” he said “I’ve always blamed him for my life. Blamed him for what people thought of me.”

“Daddy had a lot of faults,” Eulie conceded.

“He did,” Rans agreed. “But in all the days that he lived, Virgil Toby never so much as stole a loaf of bread, he never gambled away anything, and he never raised a gun at another soul.”

Rans lowered his head, full of regret.

“Daddy made his mistakes,” he said. “And he had cause to be ashamed of them. But at least now it’s certain that I won’t never be one of the folks in the world in position to throw stones at him.”

Rans and Eulie continued to talk. She explained to him about waiting for the judge’s visit. She told him that he would probably go to jail.

The boy’s confession and his bravery in the face of his fear impressed Moss. Rans was obviously near to quaking in his boots. But he pretended calm and control. And he tried to comfort his sister with those.

When he turned his attention to Moss, the boy’s demeanor was both respectful and regretful.

“I won’t belittle the wrong I’ve done you by promising that you’ll get all your money back,” Ran said. “I consider that debt my primary obligation, but it could be years before I can even begin to make good on it. And a life savings lost can take a lifetime to replace.”

Moss nodded. He was surprised that the boy understood that. Perhaps Rans knew more of being a man than he had given him credit for.