Tallgrass (31 page)

My bedroom was over the kitchen, and as I lay there awake, I’d seen the light come on downstairs through the grate in the bedroom floor. Mom was moving around. Then Dad came in and told her to go back to bed, and Mom replied, “What’s the use?”

“You want to talk about it?” Dad had asked.

“I’ve told you all I’m going to. Right or wrong, I don’t want us ever to talk about it again. I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want you to talk about it, and I don’t want Rennie to have to talk about it.” And we never did. It would have been easier for me if we had. There was so much I wanted to ask Mom, but I couldn’t. And I couldn’t talk to anyone else, because what had happened was a secret. So I just kept everything bottled up inside me. People back then thought that if you didn’t speak about a thing, you’d forget about it. But that wasn’t true. I never forgot one instant of that day. Still, Mom did what she believed was best for me, and I never faulted her for it.

Now Mom’s face was lined, and there were black half circles, like smudges, under her eyes. “What’s people to say if I don’t show up at church?”

“What do you care?” Dad asked, but that was just it: She did care. And she was right: It would only get worse for her if she waited. And for me, too, although I dreaded going to church as much as she did.

Mom took a deep breath and stood up. “All right. Let’s go. Granny, come along. Rennie, where’s your Bible? Loyal, get the truck keys.” Dad usually drove us to church, then went to the drugstore to jaw with Redhead Joe Lee until it was time to pick us up. Mom gripped the table. I knew this would be a hard morning for her, with people watching and asking questions, demanding details, giving her little pats of sympathy. She’d be the center of attention, with nobody but Granny and me to protect her, and Mom would hate that. It would be hard for me, as well. I didn’t want people turning around in their pews to look at us, kids asking me what had happened. What if I slip up and say the wrong thing and get Mom into trouble? I thought.

Dad pushed back his chair and stood, telling us to wait until he changed his shoes and put on his jacket, and he went into the bedroom. Mom looked at her watch and sighed and said if he took any more time, we’d be late and have to sit in the front pew. “Hurry up, Loyal,” she called.

“Fine and dandy,” Dad replied.

Mom had her back to Dad when he came out of the bedroom, and she didn’t see him until he put out his hand. It must have been when she touched his sleeve that she realized he wasn’t wearing his old jacket, because she turned around, and her mouth dropped open. Dad was dressed in his suit and his good shirt, and he was even wearing a tie. “Why, what’s this, Loyal?” Mom asked.

Dad shifted the truck keys from one hand to another and gave her a dopey grin as he took her arm. “By Dan, I reckon I can go to church with my wife if I want to.”

FOLKS SAID WHAT A
sorrow it was that Danny had been killeci, what a shame for a young man to be taken in the prime of life. The women brought the Spanos enough food to feed them for a month, more food than normal, because they felt guilty that they were relieved Danny wasn’t around anymore. The Spanos and Bcaner were the only ones who mourned him. A few people muttered that Danny was mean enough to murder Susan Reddick. The sheriff told Dad, however, “Danny was home that night. It’s a fact. I couldn’t find no tracks in the snow around the Spano place to show he left.”

“She must have been killed by somebody coming in off the hard road. I expect we’ll never know,” Mom said. “Now why won’t this butter gather? It must be the weather.”

She was in the kitchen with Mrs. Yamamoto, who said, “Let me try.” Mrs. Yamamoto worked for us now that Daisy had mo\ed to Pueblo. The government allowed evacuees with jobs to leave Tallgrass, so Mom had written Mrs. Booth in Pueblo and asked if she could find work for Daisy. Mrs. Booth wrote back by return mail, saying there was plenty of work in Pueblo, and she invited Daisy and the baby to live with her and the Snows. So Daisy and Amy Elizabeth took the train to Pueblo. I cried when she left, because Daisy had been like a sister to me, but I knew it was best for her to move on. The next day, Carl joined the army, “Maybe it is good we don’t know who killed the little girl. It would stir things up again. There is not so much unpleasantness now,” Mrs. Yamamoto said as she turned the butter paddle.

“That’s because without Danny around, Beaner isn’t causing trouble,” I told her. Whatever the reason, things had indeed improved for the evacuees. Signs with cartoons of Japanese faces had disappeared from the stores; even the Elliot Drug had taken down its sign saying Japanese weren’t welcome. More evacuees came to town to shop now, ordering Cokes at the Lee Drug soda fountain and taking in the movies at the Roxie. The evacuees smiled and said hello to people on the streets, and sometimes when Dad was in the fields, the evacuees walking down the road from the camp leaned on our fence and talked to him about crops. More and more farmers were hiring Japanese boys for spring planting.

Mrs. Yamamoto nodded, adding slyly, “And you people don’t mind taking credit for our victories.” She was right about that. The 422d Regimental Combat Team, made up of Japanese-American soldiers, was in the newspaper all the time because of the battles it had won in Europe. Some of those soldiers were Tallgrass evacuees, and Ellis always did like to claim winners.

A few weeks after Mrs. Yamamoto came to work for us, Mom took the train to Denver. After Danny’s death, she’d been quiet, melancholy even, and Dad had worried about her. “You ought to go stay with Hazel for a time. That’ll whistle away your sadness,” he’d told her.

“Oh, I couldn’t leave. You’ve got to break in a new crew for planting.”

“I can do that, Mother,” he said. “I reckon Marthalice would be glad to see you.”

What he meant was that Mom and Marthalice needed to talk. “You understand why I can’t take you?” Mom asked me as she was packing, and I did. I hoped Marthalice would tell me about the baby one day, but until then, I’d never let on that I knew why she had moved to Denver.

Mom was still at Cousin Hazel’s the day Dad and I walked into Ellis carrying a box of things we had put together for Buddy. I’d saved up a month’s worth of “Terry and the Pirates,” and Mom had left behind a cap and vest she’d knit for Buddy. Dad put in some books, a carton of cigarettes, and a little sack of licorice. “I imagine he’s hungry enough just about now to like it,” Dad said.

“If some German doesn’t eat it first,” I told him.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. Maybe your mother’s right; we have to believe that Buddy will get this box.”

After we mailed the package, Dad gave me a nickel for a Coke before heading for the feed store. I went into the Lee Drug and sat down at the counter, where Helen Archuleta was the fountain girl now. She wore a white uniform with a green collar and a little white paper hat like a soldier’s cap. She looked as smart as a WAVE, and I told her so.

Helen saluted me. “You hear anything from your brother?” She put crushed ice into a glass and filled it with Coke. Then she squirted in a dash of cherry syrup, placed a napkin on the counter in front of me, and set down the drink.

“Dad says it’s good news if we don’t hear until the war’s over. That means Buddy’s probably okay.” I wasn’t sure Dad believed that, but it was a nice way of explaining why we’d received no letters.

“I hope so. I always did like Bud . . . .” Helen stopped, and her mouth turned into a thin, straight line.

I took a straw out of the round glass container and put it into the Coke and sipped. When I looked up, Helen was still staring past me.

“What do you want?” she asked. I wondered if one of the evacuees had come in. Some people in Ellis were still scared of them, although it would have surprised me if Helen was among them. After all, she’d given Daisy Susan’s baby clothes.

I turned around. Helen wasn’t staring at an evacuee. Bobby Archuleta stood behind me, grinning. He was still good-looking, although he was older, his skin less baby-fine. A scar ran from the corner of his eye almost to his ear. He had a little moustache, and smiling at Helen, his eyes glinting, he looked like Clark Gable. That smile could unhinge a beet drill. I thought it was romantic that Bobby had come back even though I knew he was no good. I wondered if Helen thought so. After all, she’d loved him enough to give up her family for him. He might have changed. I thought maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “Hey, Helen,” Bobby said, his black eyes crinkly.

Helen looked at him as if she’d just tasted sour milk, and she didn’t reply.

Bobby pretended to pout then. “Come on, you’re not sore, are you, honey?”

Instead of answering, Helen picked up a rag and began to wipe the counter with it.

“Come on, baby,” he said.

Helen threw the rag into the little sink behind her. “What do you think? You ran out on me, Bobby. You left me all by myself.”

Bobby looked like a naughty boy now. “Okay, that was a dumb thing to do, but I didn’t want to get drafted. Besides, I come back, didn’t I?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have stayed away.”

Bobby shrugged and said softly, “I didn’t want to get killed in no war. You wouldn’t want me to get killed, would you?” When Helen didn’t answer, he added, “Besides, I couldn’t come back. I was in the pen in Iowa, up at Fort Madison.”

“What for?” I blurted out. When the two of them looked at me, I was mortified that I’d spoken.

Bobby saw me for the first time and asked, “You think this is your business? Get lost.”

The way Bobby looked at me scared me, and I knew he hadn’t changed. Although I hadn’t finished my Coke, I swung around on the stool to leave. But Helen put her hand on my arm and said, “Stay.” She might have been afraid of Bobby, too, and felt safer with me there. The only other person in the store was Redhead Joe Lee, but he was on the phone in the back and couldn’t hear Bobby and Helen. I turned back to Helen, watching Mr. Lee in the mirror behind the soda fountain, wishing he’d come over. But Helen and Bobby were none of his business. Or mine, I thought as I stared at the scratches on the Coke glass, embarrassed at being caught between them. I hoped Dad would come soon.

Bobby acted as if I weren’t there then, and said, “Hey, I brought you something.” He held out a box to Helen, but she wouldn’t take it. He set it on the counter. “It’s a bracelet, real gold. You like gold, don’t you?” He had such a pleading look on his face that I was surprised Helen didn’t give in.

“Aw, come on, Helen. You can’t be mad forever. Let’s get out of here, maybe go to Denver and have us a good time. You always did like a good time.” The look he gave her was a leer.

“I’m not like that anymore, Bobby. I have to think of the baby now.” Helen didn’t look at him. She kept glancing at the door, as if she were hoping someone would come in. There still was no one else in the store except for Mr. Lee, and he didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Yeah, I forgot about that.” Bobby raised his chin and flexed his arms. “So I’m a father now. What’s his name?”

“Her
name. The baby’s a girl. I named her Susan.”

Bobby frowned. “Susan, huh?”

“After my sister.”

“Yeah, I’m real sorry about that.”

“Are you?” Helen’s answer was so sharp that I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck.

Bobby ignored her tone and asked, “So where’s the kid?”

“Where you’ll never see her.” Helen glared at Bobby then. She didn’t seem afraid of him anymore.

Bobby narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, his heavy arms on the counter. “I asked you where she’s at.” He reached out and grabbed Helen’s arm.

In the mirror, I saw Mr. Lee start forward, but just then, Sheriff Watrous came into the drugstore and walked up behind Bobby. “Let go of the lady’s arm, bub.”

“Don’t you ’bub’ me. She’s my wife.”

“No, I don’t believe she is. I believe she’s your former wife. Is that right, Helen?” The sheriff stood a little behind Bobby, his legs apart, rocking back and forth.

Helen nodded. “I got a divorce. We aren’t married anymore, Bobby.”

“Since when?” Bobby loosened his grip on Helen, and she pulled away, rubbing her arm.

“Since last year,” she said.

“You can’t do that unless I say so.” Bobby flexed the muscles in his arms, which were as big as truck tires. There was a tattoo of a naked lady on one.

“She can, and she did,” the sheriff said. “She’s an independent lady with a job now.”

“Doing what, working nights for Jay Dee?” Bobby asked it in such an ugly way that I was embarrassed for Helen. She worked hard at the drugstore to provide for Susan, and she stayed home at nights, although plenty of men would have taken her out dancing and drinking.

“You keep a civil tongue,” the sheriff said.

“And you butt out of this, Sheriff. This ain’t your business. It’s between me and Helen.”

“What did you say?” The sheriff held his arms out a little from his sides, and he had stopped rocking.

“I said keep your nose out of it. I’m not afraid of any hick sheriff. Maybe you ought to be afraid of me.” Bobby jutted out his jaw and gave Sheriff Watrous a nasty smile.

“I guess that’s about right. Me and the whole town’s been afraid of you, but not anymore. You best come along with me now.”

“Why’s that?” Bobby clenched and unclenched his hands as if he were about to punch the sheriff. But before Bobby could move, Sheriff Watrous yanked a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and slid one end over Bobby’s right wrist. Then he pulled Bobby’s cuffed hand behind his back and placed the other cuff over Bobby’s left wrist. “What the hell!” Bobby said.

The sheriff gripped Bobby’s arm so that he couldn’t move.

“Shut up, Bobby. You’re under arrest . . . .”

“What’d I do? You can’t arrest me for talking to my wife.”

“This isn’t about Helen. I’m arresting you for the rape and murder of Susan Reddick,” Sheriff Watrous said. “You can come along peaceable, or you can make a lot of noise, so that the men of this town know why I’m taking you in. I expect it wouldn’t be too hard for them to overpower me. Helen, I’ll call on your folks and tell them we caught the fellow who did it.”

“He
killed Susan?” Every single day for more than two years, I’d thought about who’d killed my friend. Each time I saw a Japanese man, I wondered if he’d done it. And despite what the sheriff had said, I’d still suspected Danny was guilty. But I’d never even considered Bobby Archuleta. He hadn’t been seen around Ellis since he ditched Helen. I slumped on the stool and laid my head on the cool marble counter.

“That’s about right, Squirt,” Dad said. He’d slipped into the store without any of us seeing him. He turned to Sheriff Watrous then and told him, “I heard at the feed store that Bobby just got into town and was asking about Helen, so I came right over here, but I reckon you’ve got things under control.”

“I thank you for it anyway. He’s a mean one.”

The sheriff led Bobby away, and Mr. Lee came over and patted Helen’s shoulder and asked, “You all right, honey?”

Helen’s arms were covered with goose bumps, and she folded them over her chest. “I’m glad he came here instead of the house. I saw you call the sheriff.”

“We figured he’d want to swagger a bit. It’s a good thing we were right.”

“Bobby Archuleta killed Susan?” I asked again. “Did you know that, Daddy?”

Dad nodded. “I’m afraid so—the sheriff, Mr. Lee, Helen, me. We were the only ones. Even the Reddicks didn’t know. If the word got out and Bobby heard we were onto him, he wouldn’t have come back. We figured he’d show up one of these times.”

“How did you know it was Bobby?”

Mr. Lee looked at Helen. “You up to telling her about him?”

Helen moved away from Mr. Lee and stared at the counter, touching a wet spot with her fingers, then making a circular motion as she swirled the water around. Without looking at me, she said, “Bobby hit me all the time. The night he left, he beat me up bad. He said if I told anybody, he’d kill me, kill my family, too. I don’t know why he hurt Susan. Maybe he was drunk and went there to threaten Dad. Bobby hated him because Dad called him ’a no-good Mexican.’ When I heard about Susan, I knew it had to be Bobby, but I was afraid to tell the sheriff. I thought Bobby would come back and kill us. Besides, why would Sheriff Watrous believe me? He’d just think I was trying to get even because Bobby ran out on me.”

Helen set her hand down flat on the wet spot and began to rub it again. “Last winter, Bobby wrote me a letter from Iowa. He said he was coming back, and that if he found out I’d been carrying on with another man, I’d end up in a haystack just like my sister. That was a dumb thing to write, because how would he have known what happened to Susan if he hadn’t done it? I mean, somebody could have written him or something, but Bobby didn’t have any friends in Ellis. And he never read a newspaper in his life. That’s when I went to the sheriff.”

“By then, Sheriff Watrous was pretty sure it was Bobby,” Dad said. “But there wasn’t any proof until Helen gave him that letter. I had a hunch about him, too, because Bobby’d worked the beets for me. I knew Bobby had a cruel streak, because he once took a knife to a beet worker’s wife.”