The Glorious Prodigal (37 page)

“No, you’ve been working too hard. Those pigs take all of your time. I declare,” she laughed, “I’m getting jealous of them.”

“Well, if that don’t take the rag off the bush!” Stuart grinned. He turned around and winked at Raimey. “There’s a woman jealous of pigs. How about that!”

“Daddy, can we go to see a picture show?”

“I don’t see why not,” Stuart said. “I hear Mary Pickford’s got a new one out. What do you say we get our shopping done, get that new knife for Raimey, get you a new bonnet, get your mama a new dress, and then we’ll go.”

“What about you, Dad? Don’t you want anything?”

Stuart reached back and pulled Raimey’s cap down over his eyes. “I’ve got you and your sister and your mama. What else could a fellow want?”

Stuart was feeling good. April had brought fine weather, and the pig venture was working out better than he had dared to hope. As he drove along waving at neighbors out the open window from time to time, the thought crossed his mind,
I never thought I’d be happy over a few pigs, but I am.
He glanced over at Leah, pleased with the serenity in her features. She turned to face him, and she seemed to grow prettier as he watched her. He was struck again at how her features were often a reflection of her thoughts. Laughter and a love of life these days seemed to lie behind her eyes waiting for release. The gray dress she wore set off her figure, and with one hand she reached up and caught her hat, which nearly blew off.

“That’s a foolish hat,” he said.

“Don’t you be taking my hat in vain,” Leah said. “I paid a dollar and a half for this hat at Montgomery Ward’s.”

“We’ll get you a better one in town.”

Her lips became soft. She shrugged slightly, then suddenly reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. The thought of a smile touched her lips, and everything about her pleased him. She was looking at him silently, and he wondered what thoughts filled her mind. But Stuart Winslow knew that a miracle had come to him in these last days. The awe of it now filled his mind, and he felt a thrill of excitement at how God had delivered him from all that he had been and restored his family to him.

“Look, the town’s full up!”

“Sure is,” Stuart said as he drove slowly down the main street. “It’s not Saturday, is it? I don’t reckon they’re having a cattle sale or anything.”

Pulling up to the curb, Stuart got out and saw Luke Garrison leaning against the wall of the barbershop. “What’s going on, Luke?”

Leaving his position, Luke came over and said, “You haven’t heard? Congress has declared war.”

Leah had come up, and she grabbed Stuart’s arm. “War! Is it certain?”

“Yes. It’s all set. Not gonna be nice, either. War never is.”

“No, it isn’t,” Stuart said soberly. He turned and walked slowly along the Winslow Mercantile Company, his thoughts on the battlefields so far away. “There’s gonna be some good Americans dying in that war,” he said.

Leah did not speak. She could not tell him what was on her heart. More than once she had breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that out of all the trouble that Stuart had, at least he would not have to go to this war!

They entered the store, and Richard immediately came forward. He leaned over and picked up Merry with a laugh and said, “I know what you want. Candy.”

“Yes! Lots of it, Grandpa!”

“Well, we’ll have to see about that. What about you, Raimey?”

“I been savin’ up the money for that deer knife, Grandpa. I got almost enough. If you’d just give me a little discount, I could take it home today.”

Richard Winslow laughed. He doted on these grandchildren, and now he said, “A discount, is it? Well, I can see you’re going to be a businessman. You go look at that knife, and I’ll be right there.”

Still holding Merry, Richard said, “You heard about the war?”

“Yes,” Stuart said. “Too bad.”

“Well, it had to come.” Richard shook his head sadly, then turned to Leah. “Why don’t you go pick out a nice new bonnet?”

“What’s wrong with the one I’ve got?” Leah said.

“Every woman ought to have two bonnets.”

“All right. Come along, Merry. We’ll get you some candy, and then you can help me pick out a bonnet.”

The two men stood there and, as usual, Stuart felt uneasy. His father had never completely relaxed in his attitude toward him, and Stuart was saddened by the wall he still sensed between them.

“How are things out at the farm?”

“Nothing much to raising pigs. I hope there’s a good market for them.”

“There will be. With this war going on, there’ll be lots of salt pork shipped overseas.”

The two men talked for a time, then Richard said, “Well, I’ve got to get back to work.”

He left abruptly, which grieved Stuart. He longed to be closer to his father, but he did not know any way to heal the breach between them.

When they left the store an hour later, everyone had something. Raimey had the deer knife in a brand-new sheath on his belt. He would pull it out, admire the brightness of the
metal until his mother said, “Put that thing away. You’re going to hurt somebody.”

Merry had candy and a new outfit for her doll, and Leah had a new hat and a dress to match. Stuart had bought a razor, and as they left the store, he said, “Let’s go get some ice cream. I feel like chocolate. What about you, Merry?”

“Vanilla.”

The four made their way along the sidewalk, the sun warm on their backs. They were nearly to Richardson’s Drug Store when suddenly a voice drew them up shortly.

“Hey, Winslow!”

Stuart turned, and his eyes narrowed as he saw Hack Wilson approaching. Wilson’s eyes glinted, and there was a cruel smile on his face. Instantly Stuart grew cautious. He had had trouble with this man long ago in the past. The two had never liked each other, and now he saw at a glance that Wilson was half drunk. “What do you want, Hack?”

“I just want to talk,” Hack said. He came up and stood directly in front of Stuart, and the odor of alcohol, tobacco, and rank sweat burned Stuart’s nostrils.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Wait a minute! You’re not going to walk off and leave me!”

Stuart tried to edge by, but Hack had reached out and put his massive hand on his arm. “You think you’re better than I am? You’re nothing but a stinking jailbird!”

A crowd had begun to make a small circle, for Hack Wilson’s reputation was well known. Leah said nervously, “Come on, Stuart. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Hey, lady, don’t you want to know what kind of a man you’re married to?”

Stuart knew at that moment that there was more to this than was apparent. Wilson’s eyes were not those of a man completely drunk. He was crafty and vicious, and a coldness went over Stuart as he tried desperately to think of some way out. He had been strictly warned about getting in trouble with the law again, and if he had one fear in life, it was of going
back to the penitentiary. Now that he had been restored to his family and things were going well, he determined at that instant that nothing would change that.

“We’ll just move along, Hack,” he said. “No trouble.”

Hack reached out suddenly and grabbed Stuart by his shirt-front. He held him there and said, “No trouble! You’re nothing but a yellow-bellied coward, Winslow! You always were!”

Stuart reached up and grabbed Hack’s wrist and ripped it away, but at that moment a tremendous blow caught him in the temple. The world seemed to be full of rockets going off, and he had the taste of metal in his mouth. He heard Wilson’s taunting as he fell to the ground.

“Get up! Show this kid of yours you’re not a coward, Winslow!”

Stuart shook his head and got to his feet. “I won’t fight you,” he said, and even as he said it, he knew it was hopeless. Another blow came to him. He managed to slip it and could have at that moment delivered a killing punch into Wilson’s face. When he did not take it, he suddenly was driven backward by a barrage of blows from the burly Wilson. They came from every direction, and Stuart barely kept his feet. He heard Leah crying out for Wilson to stop, but he knew now that Wilson never would.
I’ll have to take a beating, but that’s better than going to prison. . . .

Wilson stopped and laughed at Winslow’s bleeding face and bruised lips. “What’s the matter with you? Ain’t you any kind of a man at all? Come on. You were so tough a few years ago.” He looked over and saw Raimey Winslow staring at his father, his face pale. “You don’t want your kid there to think you’re nothin’ but a coward, do you?”

“You know I can’t fight you, Hack.”

“I don’t know anything about that, but I know I’m going to beat you to a pulp if you don’t.”

Hack threw himself forward, and a blow caught Stuart in the chest. The force of the man’s power was behind it, and Stuart fell over the curb, sprawling out headlong. He saw
Hack draw his foot back and curled himself up. Wilson’s boot struck him, and pain shot through him, making him gasp.

“You’ll fight or I’ll kick you to pieces!” Wilson roared. He drew back his foot, but the kick was never delivered.

Ace Devainy had come running when someone had told him that Winslow was into it with Hack Wilson. He arrived just as Wilson delivered his first kick. When the burly man drew back his boot again, Ace quickly reached out and picked up a heavy cane-bottomed chair from the outdoor café outside Richardson’s. He raised it high in the air and brought it down with all of his force on Hack Wilson’s head. The force of the blow drove the man to the ground and opened up a cut in his skull so that a gush of red blood flowed out. When Hack tried to get up, Ace raised the chair again and brought it down. This time he splintered the chair with the force of the blow. Wilson was driven down face first to the ground, and blood seeped into the street.

Breathing hard, Ace reached over and pulled Stuart to his feet. “Get your family out of here, Stuart.”

Stuart took one look at his friend’s face. “Thanks, Ace.”

“Get out of here. Don’t stop.”

“This’ll be trouble for you. You know Hack.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Ace watched as Stuart moved along with Leah clinging to his arm. He saw them get into the car, start it, and then leave town. Only then did he turn back to Wilson. The man was stirring, and Ace looked up to see Luke Garrison, who had joined the crowd. Luke did not say a word, but his eyes were watchful.

Hack rolled over, grunted, and got safely to his feet. Blood was running over his ear and left a crimson track down his face. He stared at Ace in confusion and then down at the remains of the chair. “Did you do that, Devainy?”

“Sure I did,” Ace said. He stepped closer to Hack and had to look up at the other man. “Leave Stuart alone, Hack, or I’ll rub you out.”

Hack shook his head, sending drops of blood flying. He growled and said, “We’ll see—” He suddenly halted, for Luke Garrison had come around his line of vision. Garrison did not say a word, but his eyes were fixed on Hack Wilson. Something in them gave Wilson pause. With a muttered curse he wheeled and turned and elbowed his way through the crowd.

“That’ll be trouble for you, Ace.”

“You know what he’s doing, don’t you, Luke?”

“I know, but there’s not much I can do about it.”

The two men stood considering each other, and finally Garrison said, “If I were you, I’d start carrying a gun. You know what Hack’s like.”

“Not a bad idea, Luke. I think I’ll do it.”

****

The scene with Hack Wilson had shaken Leah. None of them had spoken on the way home. Merry had cried, but Raimey had sat bolt upright, his face pale, his lips drawn in a fine line.

When they had arrived home, Stuart had changed clothes and said, “I’ve got to go see about a little fence mending.”

As soon as he was gone, Raimey turned to his mother and said, “He could have fought back, Mom.”

Leah turned to Raimey, her face set in an angry mold. “You don’t understand, Raimey. Your father’s still considered an ex-convict by most people of the law.”

“I know that.”

“Do you know the conditions of his pardon? If he ever gets into a fight with anybody, he’ll for sure have to go back to prison. Can’t you understand that?”

Even as she spoke, Leah saw the resentment and pain and grief in her son’s eyes. She understood the code of honor that her son saw all around him constantly. Men who would not fight were cowards. Already there was no gray area. A man either fought or he didn’t. If he did, even if he lost, he was a man. Leah knew this code existed even on the school
grounds and that a boy who would not fight was a sissy by everyone’s definition.

Now reaching forward, she put her arms around Raimey. “You’ve got to try to understand, son. Your father
can’t
fight.”

Raimey looked up in her face, then tore himself away. “He’s a coward!” he said bitterly and then ran out.

****

Stuart looked around and was surprised to see his father. It was almost dark now, and he had been walking in the woods for some time. Bitterness had taken over his spirit, and there had never been a time when he had felt less of a man. With one side of his mind he knew that he had done the right thing, but still it had taken every ounce of self-control not to fight back and defend himself in front of his family. But he knew it was better to have been beaten into the ground by Hack Wilson than to have fought back. The thought of prison was still a grim horror that never completely left his mind.

“Hello, son,” Richard said softly. He came up to stand beside Stuart and was silent for a moment. He saw the grief in the eyes of this son who had given him so much trouble, and now for a minute he was uncertain how to go on. Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I heard about the trouble in town with Wilson.”

“I guess everyone’s heard about it.”

Noting the bitterness in Stuart’s tone, Richard said quickly, “Everybody understands that you couldn’t fight him.”

“Not everybody. Raimey doesn’t.”

“He’s just a boy.”

“That doesn’t change it any. He still despises me.”

Richard shook his head and was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Son, I was proud of you.”