The Pilgrim Song (36 page)

Clint turned half away and shook his head. “Go back to your family, Hannah. I’m going down, and the only thing I can think of that’s worse than going to prison would be to take you down with me.”

Hannah stayed for ten minutes longer, but nothing she
could say would shake Clint. Finally she turned away so that he could not see her face. She called out for the sheriff, and when he came and unlocked the door, she turned and whispered, “I meant what I said, Clint.”

“Good-bye, Hannah.”

Hannah followed the sheriff out of the cell area and into his office. “I don’t believe he did it,” she told him.

Sheriff Beauchamp had seen the hard side of life for many years. He had watched women stick with men who had gone to prison, and now a great sadness touched him, for he knew this woman’s gentleness would not survive what was coming. “Come on, Miss Hannah. I’ll take you home.”

****

The house seemed to be asleep. Certainly everyone had gone to bed long ago. Lewis had lain in his bed for what seemed like hours thinking about Clint. When he had told the rest of the family, they had received the disastrous news as he had expected. Josh had been pale and silent but said almost nothing. Kat had burst out weeping and crying, “It’s not true! He didn’t do it! He wouldn’t do a thing like that!” Jenny had exchanged glances with Hannah and said, “We’ll have to help him all we can.”

In the glance between his daughters, Lewis had recognized that Hannah had strong feelings for the man who had been such a godsend to them. Lewis was very grateful that Clint had come into their lives when he did. For without his mechanical skills to get the truck in working condition and without his knowledge of farming, where would they all be?

Now as Lewis lay beneath the blankets in the silence of his room, he felt helpless. He had not realized how much his affection for Clint Longstreet had grown; he was almost like a second son to him. Lewis did not believe that Clint was involved in bootlegging. It was simply not in character with everything he knew of the man!

Finally he threw the covers back and pulled on his pants and
then his heavy coat. He slipped into his shoes, thinking how different even this was. Back in New York he would have been wearing pajamas and then would have added a warm robe and fur-lined slippers. Now that was all like a vague dream.

Moving softly, he opened and shut the door carefully, then went downstairs. He stopped as he entered the living room, seeing that the fire was still going. Hannah was sitting on the floor in front of it, staring into the flickering amber flames as they danced and sent fiery sparks upward with a sharp staccato sound.

When Hannah turned to him, he walked over to her and said, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Hannah got to her feet and for a moment seemed about ready to flee. Lewis saw that her face was drawn and she had been crying.
Strange,
he thought.
She’s been so sad all her life, yet I don’t remember seeing her cry since she was a child.
He stepped closer to the fireplace and watched the flames dance. Hannah was silent, and he finally turned back to face her. “We’ll stay with him, Hannah. We’ll do all we can. I’ll write to my brother, Aaron, and see if he can lend us the money for a lawyer. I hate to ask for help, but I know he wasn’t hurt so badly in the crash, and if he can help, I’m sure he will.”

Hannah fell against him, wracked with deep sobs. He held her in his arms, patting her shoulders gently and whispering words of comfort. When her grief was spent, she stayed still in his embrace, then stepped back and crossed her arms. “Father, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anybody.”

Lewis blinked with surprise but said quietly, “Whatever it is, daughter, we’ll be all right.”

“You remember when Preston Banks was courting me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Everyone thought we were going to be married. You did, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, you didn’t really know him, Father. I didn’t know him either.”

“What do you mean?”

“He came to the house one day when no one was there except me. I went upstairs to change while he waited, but then when I had pulled off my dress, he came in and . . . and he grabbed me. I tried to fight him off, but he was like a crazy man. He said since we were going to be married, it wouldn’t matter if we went to bed together. But I wouldn’t, and he began to beat me. But not in the face.” Hannah’s expression grew icy. “He knew better than that. He hit me over and over again, but I kept fighting him. Finally he hit me so hard I collapsed. I suppose that scared him. He had broken one of my ribs, although I didn’t know it at the time. I just knew I couldn’t breathe. He didn’t even try to help me . . . he just glared at me and then left.”

“He didn’t—?” Lewis could not finish the sentence, but he saw the answer in her eyes.

“No. All he did was beat me terribly. I went around for weeks in terrible pain while my broken rib healed.”

“We all remember you behaved so strangely. We thought you two had had a quarrel. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I was so ashamed.”

“Ashamed! But it wasn’t your fault.”

“But I was so in love with him, Father! He was everything to me, and after that happened, I just froze up every time a man came near me. I know it was foolish, but I couldn’t help it. If I was so terribly wrong about Preston, how could I ever trust another man?”

Lewis pulled her close again and stroked her hair. “I think you should have told your mother and me. Things might have been different.”

Hannah knew that her father was right. She had let her shame and anger at one man’s cruelty embitter her whole life. There was no telling what might have been different if she had confided in her parents and allowed the wound to heal. Now as she leaned against her father, she whispered, “I’m going to have to tell Clint.”

Lewis had hitched up the wagon to the mules and now pulled it to a stop in front of Missouri Ann’s house. He had not slept at all, and at daybreak he knew he had to talk to someone. As he stepped out of the wagon, Missouri came out of the house to greet him.

“Why, Lewis, I didn’t expect to see—” Missouri broke off upon seeing his face. “Come into the house.”

Lewis walked numbly beside her, and she insisted he sit down at the kitchen table while she fixed coffee. She poured two cupfuls and handed him the sugar bowl. She noted that his hands were not steady as he stirred the sugar into his coffee, but still she did not inquire.

“I’ve got to talk to somebody, Missouri. I don’t have any right to dump my troubles on you, but you’re all I’ve got.”

“What is it, Lewis? Is it about Clint?”

“In a way it is. At least he’s tied up with it. It’s really Hannah I’m most worried about.”

Missouri listened while Lewis explained the things Hannah had told him the previous night. He spoke in a tense, unsteady voice and finally said, “I feel like such a failure. I should have found out. We all knew something was wrong with her when she broke off with that man. I thought she had talked to her mother about it, and I suppose her mother thought she had talked to me. But she never told anybody. I’d like to kill him! I probably will if I ever see him.”

“No, you won’t do that,” she said firmly, putting her strong, well-shaped hands flat on the table. She knew Lewis Winslow loved his daughter deeply, and a great pity welled up in her as she saw the pain in his eyes. She’d had a hard life herself and in her deep wisdom knew it was the hard things that made a man or a woman what they were. She often said to those who were having a difficult time, “Raking is easy, but all you get is leaves. Digging is hard, but you might find diamonds.” She found, however, that she could not speak like this to Lewis.
“Some things you can fix, Lewis, but some things only God can fix, and I think this is one of them. We’ll pray.”

Lewis had known this would be the answer she would give. He bowed his head and put his hands on the table. He felt hers fall on top of them and found warmth and comfort in them. He could not pray aloud himself, and he was surprised when Missouri prayed in a soft and gentle voice. He had heard her pray in a voice that could make the heavens ring, but now there was such gentleness in her tones that just the sound of it comforted him.

After her final amen she said, “We’re together in this, Lewis.”

“Missouri,” he said, “you’re a comfort to me. I’d better be going back now. I don’t want to leave Hannah alone.”

Missouri walked with him out to the wagon, and when he climbed in, she looked up and said, “I won’t be coming to your house much anymore, Lewis.”

Lewis blinked with surprise. “Why? Have I hurt you?”

“No, it’s not that. I think it’s best.”

Lewis felt a sinking sensation as he watched her turn and walk back into the house. Feeling empty and hurt, he slapped the reins and the mules stepped out. “What have I done?” he whispered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Right Man Takes the Blame

Hannah sat in the living room crocheting and listening to the radio, which had become a fixture in the Winslow home—the only real rival to the movies. Hannah couldn’t help feeling that they were all spending too much time with it, and she almost got up to turn it off when she heard the new song “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries.”
How ironic!
she thought. Seeing that the country was suffering one of the worst depressions of all time, the song seemed almost irreverent. Yet America had largely turned to entertainment to take its mind off of the bread lines and shantytowns that the poor and dispossessed had been forced into. President Hoover had not helped any when, in the first year of the decade, he declared that prosperity would return within two months. “What our country needs is a good big laugh,” he said. “If someone gets off a good joke every ten days, I think our troubles would be over.” Hannah shook her head, thinking about the country’s woes and how Hoover’s blind-eyed optimism had driven his presidency into ruin. She remembered seeing a hitchhiker recently with a sign that read, “Give me a lift or I’ll vote for Hoover.”

The radio continued with a softer tune, “Embraceable You,” followed by one that always made her feel a little better, “On the Sunny Side of the Street.” Hannah looked up as Lewis entered the living room. “What would you like for dinner tonight, Father? We can have rabbit stew or fried rabbit or rabbit sandwiches. And whichever you choose, I’ll serve it up with plenty of sorghum molasses.”

Lewis sat down heavily and tried to smile. Indeed, he was not in good spirits. “Rabbit anything is fine, dear. Did you tell Clint what you told me?”

“Yes, I told him. And I also told him that I love him, and no matter what happens I’ll wait for him.”

“That’s like you, Hannah,” Lewis said gently. “You were always a faithful girl.”

Hannah studied her father’s face. He had always been a handsome man; he used to be a little overweight, but now he was down to a bare minimum. She remembered how careful he had been of his attire in New York, but now he wore overalls like most men in the South, at least out on the farms. His squarish face had always been unlined, but she noticed that his hair was turning grayer now. It gave her a little shock, for she had not thought of him as growing older. Now as she studied him, she saw that he was troubled. There was a shadow in his eyes, and it went straight to her heart. Things had been easier since she had told him of the cause of her withdrawal. Now, wanting to cheer him up, she said, “Father, I feel so much better now that I’ve told you what troubled me for so long. I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you before—and I know Mother would have listened. I suppose we hate to talk about the bad things.”

Lewis shook his head. “Yes, we do. I’ve got some things in my own past I don’t want to think about.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully and looked at her with a wistful wisdom. He was starting to relax now, and his smile was a white streak against the bronzed tones of his face. “There was a man in our outfit who went up San Juan Hill with me. He lost a leg there. A few years after the war I heard he’d gone back. I never could figure out why a man would want to visit a battlefield where he’d been crippled.”

Hannah said wistfully, “I guess all we can say is we see through a glass darkly.”

“That’s right—we understand so little of this life, but God
gives us so much in this world to be thankful for. Given in good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over.”

The two sat comfortably in the silence, and finally Hannah spoke again. “What’s wrong, Father? You’ve been very troubled lately. Is it just what’s happened to Clint?”

Lewis shifted in his seat. “No, I’m worried about that, of course, but I’ve been worried about something Missouri Ann said to me.”

“What was that?”

“She said she wouldn’t be coming to see us as much as has been her habit. I don’t understand it. I asked her if I had offended her, and she said no.”

“I can tell you what’s wrong, Father.”

Lewis lifted his head quickly. “Has she talked to you?”

“No, but it’s easier for a woman to see than for a man,” Hannah said slowly. She sat there trying to frame the words in a way that would not offend her father, the sunlight sliding across the auburn surface of her hair. “Missouri Ann is a woman, Father.”