The Rented Mule (31 page)

In a tone suggesting that this all had been a complete misunderstanding, he said, “I’ll pay, man. All of it. I’m sorry. I’ve just been tied up with some unexpected business… that’s all. I promise. Relax, dude.”

“Don’t tell me to relax. Just pay me all my freakin’ money. Today! Am I clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, I… I… I just need a few hours, that’s all. I’ll call. I swear.”

“You’ve got two hours, and then I’m comin’ for ya.”

“It’s not a problem. By the way, great job with the media. I’m really impressed with your work.”

“Shut up! You’re wastin’ time! Now you’ve got an hour and fifty-nine minutes,” Clarence said angrily and hung up the phone.

Clarence wanted out. His back and kidneys hurt, and he needed to rest for a few days, without all the stress and worries. Nobody ever thinks about criminals having problems. He chuckled as he remembered a burglary he was committing where his cell phone rang at the worst possible time. It was an ex-wife calling to inquire about an old tax return.

The Client stared at the small phone and knew he had to think of something pretty quick. He had enough cash; he just hated parting with it. Turning the television volume up on a CNN report, his spirits were instantly lifted as he learned that the Montgomery police now considered Cooper Dixon
a person of interest. This news energized him, although he hadn’t slept in four days. Smirking as he admired his own brilliance, he grabbed a small travel bag and began planning to make it look like it was packed full of cash.

C
ooper didn’t know where to go or how to get started, so he drove around aimlessly on side streets. He found himself close to the police station and struggled with whether he should see Obermeyer. He then drove downtown, past the Capitol building and the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Montgomery-based organization that helped bring down the Klan. Seeing the Law Center reminded him that he better get a good attorney.

Cooper couldn’t go home, couldn’t go to the office, and couldn’t use a credit card. There was no doubt that in the next few hours everyone in Montgomery would know his face. Hiding in town was going to be nearly impossible, so he drove to the only place he felt secure. It was remote, and no one would think to look for him there.

When he pulled into Millie Brown’s long gravel driveway, he felt the truck slightly shift as Dixie excitedly paced in the bed.
Shit, I totally forgot she was back there!

Millie and Haywood Brown’s home was a well-maintained, old shotgun-style house with a tin roof, located far off
the old part of Wares Ferry Road. In the late fifties, prior to the tragic car accident, when their kids were just babies, the family moved from their farm—the property Cooper wanted to buy. The Browns sought to get their children into a good school system and hoped to find good paying work.

The area around the Browns’ home was once part of a huge plantation that the expanding metro area of Montgomery was slowly absorbing. Most of the cotton fields had been replaced with subdivisions, but the suburban creep hadn’t quite reached the Browns’ property. Spanish moss was blowing in the breeze as the sun set across the field.

Walking slowly toward the house, Cooper eyed the large cur dog that walked a worn path and barked aggressively from inside an old chain-link fence. Both Millie and her husband were home. Their only vehicle, an old Dodge pickup was parked under the tiny carport. Cooper jumped back when he noticed a dead snake hanging near the gate. Giving it a wide berth, he also carefully watched the dog as he knocked on a raw wooden column. Dixie barked, too, but knew better than to jump out of the truck.

“Rolex! Hush up!” Millie said as she opened the door and swatted her leg with a rolled newspaper. “Lordy Cooper, whatcha doin’ here?”

“Miz Millie, I… I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said obviously stressed but managing a smile.

“They’s saying all kinds of crazy things ’bout you on the TV.”

“I know… but I didn’t do any of it,” he replied, watching the growling dog.

“Honey Child, I know that.”

“Can I stay here tonight? I need to figure out what to do next.”

“You sure can, Precious. Come on in here… shut up, Rolex!”

“First, is there someplace I can hide… I mean park my truck, so it can’t be seen from the road?”

“Sure, pull it round behind the barn. Shut up, Rolex! She ain’t used to white peoples.”

“That’s okay. Thank you, Miz Millie.”

“Lord, child. I done raised ya… I’d do anythang for ya. You ain’t gotta thank me. Go park that truck, and I’ll fix you up some supper. You look hungry.”

“Yes, ma’am. That sounds really good.”

“I’ll tell Haywood you’s here. Lord have mercy, Cooper; you in a peck a trouble, but I’ze proud you’s here.”

Cooper hid his truck behind the old barn, between two bushy fig trees. He instructed Dixie to stay, promising to bring her some food and water later. Cooper shook his head, wishing he had noticed that the dog had jumped in the truck earlier—when he could have taken her back home. Dixie was always sneaking into his truck and rarely, if ever, obeyed him. The overweight Lab loved to smell the world as she rode in the back.

Walking slowly back to the Browns’ house, Cooper knew he was safe for a little while and needed whatever time he had to plan his next move. By now, he expected that the media would be destroying him.
How’d my life get so crazy? Why in the hell would someone kidnap Kelly? Why hadn’t they asked for a ransom? It’s easier to get my head around her being off ’cause she thought I was cheatin’.

As he opened the Browns’ screen door, Rolex erupted into another outburst of barking.

“Hush up, Rolex, or I’m gonna knock ya into tomorrow with this here broom! Come on in here, Cooper,” said Millie excitedly.

Cooper slowly stepped past the dog and was thankful when the door shut. The house smelled of fried foods. The furnishings were old and simple. Mr. Haywood Brown was sitting in a well-worn recliner, watching the news, shelling the last butter beans of the year. He stood up and shook Cooper’s hand, welcoming him into their home. The floor shook and pictures on a wall rattled when Cooper walked inside.

The house was exactly how he remembered it from his youth: small, warm, and comfortable. Each Christmas Eve his parents would deliver gifts to the Browns, and Cooper always rode along. Since marrying Kelly, Cooper just gave Millie a gift at his house, which suddenly felt insincere.

“Good evenin’, Mr. Brown.”

“Evenin’, Cooper.”

“Guess you’ve heard about the mess I’m in.”

“Them news peoples seems to think you been pretty busy,” Haywood remarked with a sly grin as he rolled up the butter-bean hulls in yesterday’s newspaper.

Cooper nodded at the newspaper. He knew his picture was in it, but he couldn’t bring himself to read what was being said, so he asked, “Is it bad?”

“Well… I say they don’t know you like we do, Son,” he said with a comforting smile that Cooper appreciated.

“That’s right. Now Cooper, come on here and sit down. I gots cream peas, cabbage, fried okra, and fried chicken,” Millie said as she tied on a white cotton apron and continued, “and some biscuits with homemade fig preserves.”

“That sounds mighty good, Miz Millie; I wish I was hungry,” he said, sitting down at the worn oak table. The chair creaked under his weight. Millie was old and slow, but in the kitchen she floated with grace. She smiled, obviously enjoying preparing the meal. Cooper hadn’t realized how
hungry he was until he saw the chicken. He hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days.

“Haywood and I ate ’bout thirty minutes ago, but I always makes too much,” she explained, wiping her hands on her apron. “It’s hard cookin’ just for two.”

“Rolex eats real good though,” Haywood said from across the room, and then added, “The peas need salt. She don’t never put enough salt on ’em.”

“Now Haywood, you knows I‘s watchin’ yo pressure.”

Cooper smiled. The meal was a cholesterol-scale tipper, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Here’s one of them little Co-Colas you likes so much,” Millie offered as she sat the six-ounce bottle on the table. “But they ain’t from Mexico though.”

“Thank you, Miz Millie.”

“Haywood likes ’em too,” she said, smiling at her husband. Cooper noticed the love in her eyes.

“I have a six-pack of Mexican Cokes in my truck that I’ll leave with you; he’ll love ’em,” Cooper whispered to her.

“Oh thanks, Honey Child. He’ll drink ’em all. Now here’s ya food.” Millie set the plate of reheated food in front of Cooper and smiled at him. “Now, I’m gonna tell you just like I’d told my own chirruns. Iffin you gonna eat my food, you gotta listen to me talk. I’s been round a long time, and I’s knows things.”

Cooper nodded his understanding and consent, though he was mentally exhausted and didn’t want a lecture. The food’s aroma was too much to resist. He was now starving and would have agreed to any terms she demanded. But deep inside, he knew Millie had something worth hearing. He certainly didn’t have the answers, and she was by far the happiest person he knew.

As he picked up his fork and scooped up some peas, Millie started saying grace. He set down the fork. After blessing the food and Cooper’s health and praying for his safety, protection, and future, she nodded at his plate, indicating that he could eat.

Millie sat down and smoothed the tablecloth in front of her. Her hair was solid gray, and her hands bent from arthritis. She was overweight. Cooper had never seen her wear anything but a cotton dress, white stockings, and a sweater.

In a sweet, calm voice she began, “Now Cooper, let me ax you, what’s goin’ on wit you and Miz Kelly?”

Cooper chewed a second forkful of peas as he looked around the kitchen and then said, “Miz Millie, I don’t have any idea what happened to her or where she is.”

“Mmhhmm. You got to knows somethin’. Be straight wit me.”

“Honestly, I don’t know anything,” he said as he salted and peppered his peas.

“Cooper, I knows you as well as anybody. I done practically raised you my ownself. I’s been with you since the day your parents brung you home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His mind flooded with images of growing up under her watchful eye and his earliest memory as a little boy, holding onto her leg when frightened, her gently stroking the top of his head. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Now tells me the truth. I’s not gonna judge you.”

“Miz Millie, our marriage has gotten stale. Boring would be the best word. I just feel like I’m goin’ through the motions, and I’m sure Kelly feels the same way. It’s like we went from being best friends to being too busy for each other. We’re tired of each other.”

“Hhmmuff,” Mille grunted.

“The kids are great. They’re what’s holdin’ us together, but it’s gettin’ tougher every day. We fight about every little thing.”

“I know that’s right. So where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Cooper exhaled. “I swear. On Sunday, I thought that she had run off, finally had enough of me and just left. You know? I was sure of it. But now the cops are sayin’ she’s been kidnapped, and they think I did it! I’ve just been standin’ around waitin’ for somethin’ to happen, and now I’m about to be arrested. I can’t believe this. Somebody’s settin’ me up!”

Cooper was stress eating now. He hoped that Millie didn’t ask him a bunch more questions. He just wanted to eat, preferably in silence, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was wishing he had somewhere else to go. Her eyes were making him uncomfortable.

“Okay, Cooper… now you gots to listen to me.” Millie paused and waited for Cooper to look at her. When he did, she continued, “You’re a good boy. But you been so busy tryin’ to get ahead, you missed out on livin’. Happiness ain’t about how big your house is or what kinda cars you got or about wearin’ all them fancy clothes. MMhhnnn. No, sir. And I knows you was raised better than that.”

Cooper wanted to run, but he respected Millie too much to interrupt and leave.

“You ain’t promised nothin’ in this life. You ain’t promised health, happiness, or money. You bustin’ your tail workin’, and she’s bustin’ her tail tryin’ to be all Miz High Society—somebody y’all ain’t. And what for? And I know you ain’t got much money… you bounce checks to me all the time.”

Cooper was taken aback. He had no idea they had ever bounced a check to Millie. Kelly kept the family checkbook.

“And I’ll tell you another thang. That Gates fellow, he ain’t no good a-tall, and he thinks of you like a rented mule. That’s all you is to him: a rented mule. He’s tryin’ to get all he can outta you. You know ’bout rented mules, don’t you?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t want to rent yours out. Ain’t that right, Haywood?”

“Amen,” Haywood answered, while watching a muted television show.

“Nowadays, most folks believe iffn you don’t own it, you ain’t got no reason to take care of it. Just work the hell out of it. Forgive me, Jesus.”

Cooper stopped eating to listen. Her words were ringing true—each comment stinging a little more than the previous.

“You be Gates’s rented mule… and Miz Kelly treats you ’bout the same way. But you listen here… you don’t treat her no better. She needs you to talk and to listen to her. That’s why she does all that she does… ’cause she don’t get the love she needs at home. She’s fillin’ a hole in her life. Y’all done both screwed this up. I been watchin’ and bitin’ my tongue, but I can’t no mo.”

Cooper knew she was right about all of it, but hearing it was painful. He looked over at Haywood who was nodding his head in agreement. Cooper turned back and stared blankly at the tabletop. Millie touched his hands and smiled.

“Now, look here,” Millie continued. “You can fix this. I don’t know where she is, but you gotta find her. Y’alls need to get back to takin’ care of each other, pillow talkin’, plain cars, plain house, savin’ money, workin’ less; yeah, you heard me… ain’t no need fo you workin’ that many hours every week. You just don’t wanna be at home.”

“You’re right. You’re right. You’re right about all of it.” Cooper put his face into his hands.

“Me and Haywood done been married sixty years, and we love each other more now than when we’s started. Don’t mean we ain’t never been mad, and Lawd know we had a hard time when them blessed chirrens died. But we talk, and we work on it. Marriage ain’t always easy, Son. Problem is, you workin’ harder at work than you is on bein’ married. You hearin’?”