September Wind (13 page)

She retrieved the bucket of grain and took it to the horse’s stall. The opportunities to ride Star had never been enough. Even now, all she had time for was a quick goodbye, and then she rushed from the barn, nearly colliding with Steven.

             
“
Hey! Watch where you’re going,” he said, pushing her aside. “You done in there?”

             
She moved back to the door and placed a hand against the frame, as if that would stop him from going inside if that’s what he wanted. “They’re all fed, watered, and content as could be. Listen to them, not a peep.”

He gave her an odd look. “That was quick.” He mumbled something about the blasted truck they were using to haul hay, and then headed toward the toolshed for a “Damn wrench”. She walked around to the side of the barn, and looked out to the field where Timothy had his head under the hood of the truck. Confident that’s where Steven would go, she went back to the house and up to her bedroom where she gathered her stained clothes.

Picking up the trash on the way out of the house, she went to the burn barrel that sat to the far side of the barn. She lit a match and watched evidence of the dreadful morning go up in flames.

             
With smoke still rising, she walked around the corner just in time to see Steven go into the barn. She scrambled to the entrance, and when she peered inside and saw him climbing the ladder, she let out a shriek.

             
He turned to the commotion as she rushed toward him. “What in the...?”

             
“
Th… the cat,” she said, pointing to Kidders who peered down from the loft. “I was about to check on her. I… I think she’s having kittens.” She pushed past her uncle and headed up the ladder. “What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

             
He sighed and stepped from the ladder. “Bring down a pitchfork then. But make it quick.”

             
Up in the loft she scooped Kidders into her arms. When she checked around for a pitchfork, she realized that besides the one jammed into Claude’s chest, there was only one other up against the wall next to the stacks of hay bales, just beyond where
he lay.

“Emily!” Steven called from below. “What’re you up
to anyway?”

             
“
I’ll be right down,” she said, letting the cat jump to the floor. She looked down at the mound of hay, horrified, yet wanting her necklace back. This moment, she told herself, would end, but the necklace would be hers forever.

She rushed over and knelt at Claude’s ankles. Brushing straw away, she frantically fumbled for his left jean pocket. When she felt the bulge, she reached in and pulled out her necklace.

              “
I’m coming up!” Steven hollered.

             
“
Don’t bother. I’ve got it!” She stuffed the necklace into her skirt pocket, jumped to her feet and darted to the wall.

             
Already hearing Steven climb the steps, she grabbed the pitchfork and headed back across the loft. Midway there, she stepped on the end of the pitchfork planted in Claude’s chest. She screamed so loud Kidders bolted down the ladder, she close behind. She met her uncle halfway down. “I-I stepped on the cat’s tail.”

             
He snatched the pitchfork out of her hand and stomped back down the steps. “And you’re concerned she’s having kittens? There’s really something wrong with you, ya know?”

             
She sank to a step just in case he thought of something else he wanted from the loft.

             
Kidders scampered back up and rubbed against her legs. She stroked the cat’s fur, and watched her uncle poke at a bale of hay and fork it into one of the pens as if he had all day. She felt the presence of Claude at her back and she wanted to scream at him to hurry.

             
Finally, Steven leaned the pitchfork against a wall and headed for the door. “Let’s go,” he called on his
way out.

             
She leaped to her feet and bound down the steps to the doorway, where she turned back. A mouse had already distracted Kidders, and Caesar lay on a stack of baled hay looking like a king. Thankful for their indifference, she rushed outside and climbed into the pickup.

             
The engine rattled to a start and they began to move across the yard.

             
Just when she was ready to breathe a sigh of relief, Steven pulled up to the house and shut the motor off. He didn’t explain, just got out, and went inside.

             
She made an effort to concentrate on the dogs playing on the front lawn, temped to go over, but her attention had to stay on the road, watching for the old man. He didn’t make her wait long. His pickup rumbled into view about the same time she remembered the tomatoes she was supposed to have picked.

             
He parked no more than two feet away, and like a deer caught in a headlight, she watched him walk in front of Steven’s pickup, cut across the lawn, and up the front steps. He turned around and took the last drag from a cigarette, then tossed the butt into a pail of sand that stood next to the wooden sidewalk. He watched it burn for few moments, and then looked over at her.

             
Their eyes met in a flash, and only then was she able to pull hers away.

             
Steven came out onto the porch and exchange words with his father – something about a new engine – then he headed down the steps to the driver’s side. His hand was on the door handle when his father called to him. He peeked over the hood of the cab, heard the old man out, and then poked his head through the open window. “Pa wants to know if you picked the tomatoes.”

             
Emily thought of the half a dozen or so jars of tomatoes left from the previous year. “They’re all in the basement.”

             
Steven looked back over the cab. “She said they’re in the basement.”

             
Grandfather raised an indifferent hand to Steven and disappeared into the house. Emily pictured him going straight down to the basement to see for himself.

             
The ’52 Ford made its usual sputters and coughs as they left the yard and headed up the long drive. They passed Aunt Francine’s old property, and when they turned onto the main road heading for Watseka, she took a breath and sighed. “Finally.“

             
Steven glanced over. “Mm? What’d you say?”

             
“
Nothing. Nothing at all.” If only she could leave it at that, but she knew there was a whole lot of something she was going to have to deal with in her own mind, and as much as she wanted to, she just couldn’t reveal any of it to him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

From her first trip to Watseka, which only occurred two or three times a year, the novelty had never worn off. Although, now instead of the usual excitement when they hit town, she was in a state of turmoil and terrified the police would grab her before she had a chance to catch the bus out.

              She had to find a phone booth as soon as possible, get the bus schedule, the address, and then make sure she caught the next ride to Chicago. Eyes peeled for a Bus Sign, she looked nervously up ahead, and then down each street to the left and right.

             
Steven didn’t seem to notice her distress, and appeared to have even forgotten her odd behavior back at the farm. His mood was more upbeat than usual. “I’m going to stop at Joe’s Tavern later,” he said. “The new movie hall is just down the street. Thought I’d leave you there for a few hours.”

             
“
Oh, that’ll be fun, thanks.” She tried hard to sound excited.

The only movies she’d ever seen were
The Three Stooges
and
Love Me Tender
. A number of years back, Timothy made the run into town with her and Steven to see his favorite trio. And then since Steven had always been an Elvis Presley fan, when his first movie
Love Me Tender
came out, they were in town that day and he surprised her with a trip to the movies.

At first, she was disappointed he chose that day of all days to let her see another. Although, after some thought, she realized that with him thinking she was at the movies, she would have more time to catch the bus.

              They turned into the store parking lot.

             
Steven climbed from the pickup and stood, studying the sky. “Looks like they’ve had some thunder showers.”

             
She closed the door on her side and followed his gaze, hoping the next shower would hold out until she was safely on the bus. She noticed the phone booth next to the street was empty, and decided that as soon as she could slip away, she would retrieve the bag from the grocery bin, hide it in the bushes, and then make a call to the bus depot.

The minutes ticked by as she waited for the right moment. Then, when the grocery cart was almost full, she made her move. “I need to pick up some personal things,” she told Steven as they neared the back of the store. With a nod from him, she made her way up the aisle, checking to make sure he didn’t see her head for the exit.

              Outside, dark clouds had moved in and a rush of warm thick air swelled in her throat. She looked across the parking lot and noticed a man in the phone booth. Thunder rumbled in the distance as she hurried to the pickup and pulled her bag from the grocery bin. She went around to the side of the building and replaced the necklace in its case and into the bag. Then she crouched beside a patch of aster plants, and pushed her bag into the underbrush.

She lingered outside the store and waited for the man to get off the telephone, but when he dropped more coins into the slot, she headed back inside.

              On her way through the doorway, two boys looking to be in their early teens rushed out, nearly knocking her over. “Sorry, ma’am,” one of them said. She waved him off and walked inside just as Steven was paying for the groceries.

             
I thought you were picking something up?”

             
“
I just took it out,” she said, nodding toward the door.

             
Back outside, the muggy air was enough to make her sweat, and her uneasiness made it even worse. She wiped her clammy palms on her skirt and climbed into the cab. Everything had to go as planned now, no interruptions.

             
Steven loaded groceries into the bin as she watched through the back window. It didn’t feel right leaving her bag behind. Sweat trickled down her forehead. She swiped it with a sleeve. As she sat back, she noticed the teenage boys were bouncing a ball off the side of the building. If only she had gotten the address for the bus depot before today.

             
Steven secured the lid on the grocery bin, the cab door swung open, and they were on their way. On most of their trips to Watseka, the routine was to buy groceries, and then stop for farm supplies either on their way in, or on the way back out of town, sometimes delivering milk or eggs at the same time. Today things were different, and whatever side of town Joe’s tavern, and the new movie hall were on, it was clear she was lost.

             
Her attempt to catch the names of streets developed into even more confusion with turns that seemed to take them back down the same street. Finally, her uncle took a sharp right and pulled over. She looked around in amazement and realized that she’d never really been to town.

             
Steven pointed to the theater across the street. “There it is... bran’ spanking new.” He pulled a dollar and a quarter from his pocket and handed it to her. “Should be enough for candy and popcorn.” This surprised her as much as that first time he gave her money. Of course, she had nearly embarrassed him half to death right in the middle of the store before he got the hint that a young woman needs to pick up some things on her own. He wasn’t consistent in handing her money, and she had learned to be frugal and to expect dry spells.

             
“
I’ll meet you back here in about three and a half hours,” he said.

             
A breeze rippled through her hair as she stepped from the pickup. She closed the door and looked at him through the window as he shifted the gears and pulled away. Although they had never been close as in “let me tell you my secrets”, she felt a pang of sadness as he drove away.

             
On her own for the first time, her spirits were low and her feet heavy on the pavement. She thought of how the day had begun with such promise. Now for all she knew the police were already searching for her. She looked over her shoulder when a car approached, wishing she had brought her hat for camouflage.

             
Thunder rumbled closer now and it wasn’t long before it began to sprinkle.

             
She picked up her pace, and when a sudden chill filled the air, she took off running.

             
A few blocks up, she stopped for a rest next to a building. When she heard laughter inside, she peered through the doorway into a dimly lit tavern. She recalled sitting in the pickup a few times when the men were in a bar, and having only peeked inside, she had always been curious.

             
A pool table stood just a few feet beyond the doorway. Behind the counter stood a fleshy man with a red face and a cigar clenched between his teeth. He was rinsing out a stack of beer glasses. When she noticed a telephone in the corner, she slipped inside and approached him. “May I use your phone?”

             
He puffed and chewed on his cigar as if it were lunch, pointing a wet finger toward the end of the counter.

A bald-headed man with years of toil on his face sat a few seats to the right of the telephone. His ankles were wrapped around the legs of a barstool as if he were using them for anchors.

              “
Aay, sweets,” he said as she walked by. He unwound his feet and dropped to the floor. She thumbed through the phonebook trying to ignore him.

             
“
Wanna drink?” he asked, easing closer.

             
“
No, thanks.”

             
Just when it looked like he would fall, he regained his balance by wedging himself between the counter and the stool to his left. He fumbled for a pocket. “I’m gonna buy both of us a drink.”

             
Emily was about to tell the man she wasn’t staying, when she heard the clunkidy, clank of boots on the hardwood floor. She looked around as a young man approached. He shoved back his wide-rimmed cowboy hat, and then with one swoop, he lifted the drunk by his shirt collar.

             
She moved herself and the book down the counter.

             
“
Hey, baldy,” the cowboy said, “you’d best leave this one to me.” He dropped the man back onto the stool, and then turned to Emily with a crooked smile and a tip of his hat.

To the delight of the older man, the jukebox blared a
Johnny Cash
tune. “How ’bout a dance?” he said, slinking off the stool and promptly landing on the floor.

Emily closed the phonebook, stepped over him and headed for the exit, her curiosity about the inside of a bar fully satisfied.

By now the ominous cluster of clouds were sending down buckets of rain. She ran through the unfamiliar streets, taking cover now and then under tree branches. When a thunderous crash of lightning burst through the downpour, she nearly tripped over a black cat as it darted in front of her. She stopped for a moment to watch it run up a sidewalk onto a porch, where it snuggled in a corner.

             
“
You don’t know how lucky you are, cat,” she said as she took off running again. She wondered how it would feel with nothing to worry about but a little wet fur and where to wait out a rain shower.

             
A block and a half later, she recognized a gas station and crossed over to the other side of the street. She passed a couple of bored-looking attendants who stood just inside the doorway. They turned their attention on her as she jogged up the street with rain dripping off her nose, her hair plastered in waves against her cheeks, and her chest heaving beneath a wet and clinging blouse. She snapped a quick disapproval, folding her arms crossways, moving faster up the sidewalk. Thankfully, the rainstorm ended as swiftly as it had rolled in. When she reached the store parking lot, the clouds had parted enough to let the hot sun begin to evaporate the puddles.

             
The vines were still wet as she reached into the bushes. When she didn’t feel the bag at first, she wasn’t too worried and kept poking around. But it wasn’t long before she realized she must’ve miscalculated the spot because the bag wasn’t there.

             
By now, her heart was pounding as she moved further down, trying again, but to no avail. Suddenly she was diving in and out of the vines, frantically probing, flailing her arms in desperation. Her search was futile.

Everything she owned was gone, and without the money, she couldn’t even leave town. Choking back tears, she pulled herself from the bushes. She paced alongside the building, glancing up one way and down the other, hoping to spot something she had missed.

              Then it hit her. The boys who played ball earlier must’ve found her bag. She yelped with delight, primping her hair, and then brushed off her skirt the best she could. She went into the store and approached a clerk.

             
“
Sir,” she said, pushing back a strand of hair from her face. “I-I lost my bag. Well, it’s a purse but it looks like…”

             
“
Why don’t you try the office?” he said pointing her in the right direction.

             
“
Excuse me, ma’am,” she said to a woman sitting behind a partition. “I misplaced my bag, and I think someone must’ve brought it here.” Her heart raced with excitement, certain she would soon have it back.

             
The woman looked at her curiously. “Auh, no one brought a bag here.”

             
“
But…”

             
“
I would’ve seen it.”

             
“
But, I’m certain that it’s here. It has to be.”

             
The woman didn’t share her optimism, although she made an attempt by taking a quick look over each shoulder. She turned back to her paper work, glancing up. “Like I said, it’s not here.”

             
“
Please ma’am. I saw two boys outside the store earlier. I just know they found my bag.”

             
The woman looked up, obviously irritated.

             
However, Emily was desperate. “Maybe you know them. They’re about this tall.” She raised a hand to show the boy’s height. “One had reddish hair a... and the other had brown – ”

             
“
May I help you?” a voice broke through the tension.

             
A middle-aged man brushed past Emily and stepped into the office.

She noticed a
Manager, Jack Smith
badge pinned to his shirt. “Oh, thank you, I hope so. I’m looking for a blue bag.” She took a breath, trying to contain her excitement. “You can’t miss it. It’s–”

The man raised a hand. “I think I’ve got what you’re looking for. Two boys were in earlier. Alex and Ethan. Nice boys. They come in with their mother once in a while.” He reached down into a cupboard and pulled out her bag. “They found this when their ball rolled into some bushes.”