Oh, I needed her. I needed Duncan and Will. But only I could do what had to be done. And I had to do it alone. “I love you,” I whispered as I stood tall to kiss her cheek. “I love you all so very much.”
I turned away, catching sight of the gravediggers as they lifted the red earth and shoveled it into the grave. “I love you,” I said again as I started to walk the short distance back to town.
If I had looked back once and they had signaled me, I could not have kept walking. So I didn’t turn around. I left Will to say his good-byes to his wife and daughter, and I headed for Redemption Road. At the corner of Mercy and Redemption, I went east, to the boot shop. The window had not been replaced after the storm. A large board had been nailed over the broken glass, but through the door I could see that the interior of the shop had not been cleaned up. I pressed my cheek to the door, cool in the October chill, and tried to remember. Try as I might, though, I could not conjure up the picture of Floyd at work. He was gone. Even his memory had departed. The black riding boots he’d worked on with such love were on the feet of Tommy Ladnier, and the other boots, the ones Duncan had helped him design, were also gone from the shelf in the window. They had taken his handiwork, along with his life.
I walked along the street, noticing that Mara was in her shop baking. She waved a floury hand at me as I passed, her smile sad and old. Nodding at her, I turned back and retraced my steps, willing myself to confront the other side of the street.
The barbershop was dark and closed. Elikah had lost a day’s business thanks to Will’s beating. He would lose more than a day. I would see to that.
I crossed the street and walked by Gordon’s. Olivia saw me, hesitated, and bent to straighten some boxes beneath the counter. I walked on, noticing that several wagons waited a block away at the courthouse. Had Will made it to the jail? How long would it be before Jeb arrived with the lawyer? My footsteps echoed softly in the packed dirt and it seemed that all around me time had stopped. The clock ticked only for me. The beating of my heart marked the seconds.
If Elikah wasn’t at the shop, he was at home. My feet turned in that direction, but what waited in the back of one of the wagons stopped me with the power of a punch to the stomach. Quincy Grissham was standing beside a wagon that contained a big black box of some type. Two of his henchmen were lifting a chair from the wagon. In the quiet streets, the buckles on the leather straps of the chair clanged and jingled.
I had never seen anything like it, but even at first glance I knew it was sinister.
Grissham’s laugh cut through the street as sharp as a slap as he lifted a coil of wire and threw it. The black line snaked out, up to the barred window of a cell, where a hand reached out suddenly and caught it.
I forced my feet to walk, to take the long, sure strides of JoHanna.
As I passed Jeb Fairley’s house I heard two mockingbirds argue. Jojo came to mind and I realized I had not thought of him in days. My only regret was that I couldn’t kill him when I killed Elikah. It seemed a shame to let him live. Maybe I’d make a desperate getaway and take the train to Meridian to finish my bloody spree.
I was smiling as I walked across the lawn and up the front steps of my house. The front door was open, and I walked in. Elikah sat at the kitchen table, his hands a swathe of bandages and his face a swollen mass of bruises. The skin at the corners of his mouth whitened when he saw me.
“Hello, Elikah.” I went to the cabinet and got a glass. From the pitcher on the counter I poured some water and drank half of it before I turned to look at him again.
“What do you want?” His eyes held suspicion, and something far more satisfying. Fear. He glanced out the kitchen window, alert. He thought Will had come with me.
“I’ve come home.” I put the glass in the sink and went to the icebox to see what was inside. “Would you like some stew for supper?”
He didn’t say anything. His eyes darted to the window, then to me, then toward the front door.
“How about a nice beef pie? With crust just the way you like it? Since the weather has cooled, a hot meat pie might be just the thing.” I got the flour and lard and reached up on the shelf for a mixing bowl.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m home.” I couldn’t look at him. He would see my hatred and know it was a trick. As I reached up the shelf I could feel John Doggett’s derringer pressing against my leg.
“Where’s that McVay slut?”
I finally turned, pressing my hands against the counter, holding myself back. “JoHanna’s gone,” I said softly. “They’re moving away.”
A smile notched up one side of his mustache. “So, they left you.”
I shrugged and turned back to begin making the crust for the pie.
“Once they moved along, they wouldn’t take you with them.” Satisfaction oozed from him. “Yeah, they left you behind like an old rag dress. Well, her boyfriend is going to get a big surprise. A historic moment for Jexville and the state of Mississippi.”
Something in his voice made me turn back to look at him. There was a secret in the quirk of his lips, in his hot eyes.
“Ever heard of ‘the chair’?”
I didn’t answer because I couldn’t. The jangle of the straps and belts on the chair that Sheriff Grissham was unloading came back to me.
“It’s a new form of execution. A portable chair with a generator. They’ll strap Doggett in that chair and fasten those conductors to his head and heart. When they send that jolt of electricity through him, he’ll jump and buck. I’ve heard it boils a person’s blood. Sort of like being struck by lightning, only worse.”
I cut the lard into the flour with a fork. I couldn’t afford to let him know how he affected me.
My silence allowed him to expand, taking up more of the room. “He won’t be such a pretty boy once he’s fried. I guess JoHanna made the right decision. Her husband came home, and she cut her losses. Left old John Doggett to take the rap for killing that family. She realized the stakes were too high for her, so she ran.”
I glanced up at him. His fear was completely gone. Surrounded by bruises and swollen tissue, his eyes were hard, angry. I couldn’t help myself. “You know John Doggett didn’t kill those people.”
“Do you think that really matters?” He leaned back in his chair. “Doc Westfall said all of their lungs were full of water, except the man. His neck was broken.” He scraped his chair back from the table. “The bank was getting ready to foreclose on them. Put me on a pot of coffee.”
Pushing back the bowl, I wiped my hands on a towel and checked the wood in the stove before putting the kettle on to heat.
“What was the family’s name?”
“Spencer.” He slipped his suspender down one shoulder.
“Did you know them?” I got the rolling pin and moved the bowl to the table where I could roll out the dough. Almost as much as beating me, Elikah loved to gossip.
“They weren’t from around here. Took over the Dalton place last year. The sheriff said they stayed to themselves. They didn’t have any neighbors out on that dead-end road.”
Behind me the kettle began to boil, and I poured the hot water into the pot. Elikah liked his coffee strong. Strong and black. I knew exactly how to fix it. When it had dripped through, I poured us both a cup and sat his before him. I couldn’t help but look at his hands. “Can you manage?”
He snorted. “I’ll manage. And when my hands get well, I’ll settle the score with Will McVay, if have to track him down to wherever he’s running off to.” He looked up at me, knowing without asking that I wouldn’t tell him where the McVays were headed. “I’ve got a score to settle with you, too, Mattie.” He spoke softly, but his intention was clear. In the past, it would have been enough to make me cower. I dropped my gaze and went back to my cooking. I got out onions and carrots and potatoes and set them on the table to be peeled and cut.
Holding the cup with both hands, Elikah drank the coffee and watched me work. He signaled for a refill, and I poured him more coffee and finished putting the pie together. After I slid it into the stove, I turned to him. “Would you like me to draw you a bath? I could put some more water on to heat. It might take some of the stiffness out of your muscles if it was good and hot.”
“Well, well.” He grinned. “The dutiful wife.”
I stood completely still, casting my gaze down to the floor. If I looked at him I might shoot him on the spot.
“Look at me, Mattie.”
Very slowly I looked up, shifting along the floor to his feet. I made a small sound. Elikah wore the boots Floyd had designed for Sheriff Grissham.
His laugh was soft, cruel. “You like ‘em? Floyd did fine work, didn’t he? He was nothing but an idiot, but he could make a boot. The sheriff said I should have them for all my skill. Floyd didn’t object much. He was too busy trying to stop the flow of blood …”
“You cut him, didn’t you?” I grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself and looked at him. I wanted to hear him say it. I couldn’t look away from Elikah’s eyes. They were burning with emotion.
“I always wanted to be a surgeon.” He smiled. “Now put that water on for my bath.”
“Why did you shoot him in the back?”
Quick as a cobra, Elikah leaned forward and swept the bowl and rolling pin onto the floor. The heavy crockery shattered and little pebbles of dough scattered across the floor.
“Because he tried to run.” Elikah stood up. “He couldn’t believe I’d cut him. When he finally realized it, when the shock wore off and he started to feel it, he tried to run. None of us wanted to chase him down, so Clyde shot him.” He shouldered off his other suspender. “It was a kindness.” He stepped toward me where I stood, unable to move, air whistling through my teeth as I tried hard to breathe. “Now put that water on. I need a bath and a shave. Tommy’s coming by for me later. We have some business. Now that Will’s stepping aside, Tommy sees opportunity in the import-export business.” He raised his eyebrows at the look of confusion I wasn’t quick enough to hide. I had never thought to question what it was that Will sold on his trips.
Elikah chuckled, his delight an unexpected bonus. “You didn’t know Will was a bootlegger. A high-level one, to be sure. Booze opens a lot of doors in real high places, Mattie. With Will out of the way, Tommy’s star is going to rise.”
No matter the consequences to me or John, I could not wait to kill Elikah. It had to be done now. I needed time to think, so I refilled the kettle and put it on. I had not counted on Tommy Ladnier’s presence in the house. Tommy would recognize me as the girl who’d been at his house to sell sandwiches. I couldn’t allow Elikah to become suspicious of me. He was cruel, not stupid.
“Mattie, get the tub.” He walked into the bedroom. “Then get in here and undress me.”
“Yes, Elikah.” I gave him my meekest voice.
If I could have willed the water to boil, it would have been bubbling off the stove. I set up the tub and got out his shaving tools. The handle of the razor was crusted with a small, dark stain, and I knew it was Floyd’s blood. It was something I couldn’t dwell on. I had to turn my mind in another direction. Revenge. That was what I had to focus on. Cool, satisfying revenge. To see Elikah grovel and beg before I blew his brains out. To watch the blood seep up in the water of the tub. The image calmed me and I patted the derringer in my pocket as I put the flat iron on the stove to heat so I could press a shirt for Elikah while another kettle of water heated. The bath was almost ready. Time ticked in my head as I listened to him, naked, walking about the bedroom, waiting for me to serve him.
At last the water boiled and I added the second kettle to the water I’d already drawn. Dipping my wrist into it, I tested the temperature. “Perfect,” I said.
“It had better be.” He stepped into the tub, easing down into the water with a sigh. “You’ll have to shave me.” He held up his bandaged hands. “Thanks to you, I’m an invalid.”
I lathered the soap in his cup and carefully applied it to his bruised and swollen face with the soft brush. He tilted his head back, eyes closed, confident that I would not dare to inflict the tiniest pain.
When I lifted the razor, I thought how easy it would be to slit his throat. How terribly easy. Would I ever feel any remorse? I couldn’t be certain, but I didn’t think so. I stroked the razor across his cheek, scraping away the soap and stubble. The blade inched below his chin. The only thing that stopped me was the idea of shooting him in the privates. I wanted that satisfaction. The blade would be too quick. And sitting behind him, I couldn’t see his eyes.
I finished shaving him. “Let me get you a hot towel,” I said, rising. My intention was to go into the kitchen and come out, gun in hand. To watch him as I walked up to the tub as he realized what I meant to do.
I was halfway across the room when I heard the footsteps in the hall. Panic froze me as I watched Tommy Ladnier walk into the kitchen, white shirt crisp, black boots gleaming.
His eyes brightened with recognition. “Hello, little sandwich girl.” He grinned as it all clicked into place. “Well, well, when you buried that idiot today, you forgot the most important part of him. Ah, the missing part.” Laughing, he brushed past me and went into the bedroom.
“Tommy.” Elikah’s greeting was warm. “My wife was just getting me cleaned up.”
“Your wife is an interesting woman.” While I stood helpless, Tommy started to tell Elikah about my appearance in his house.
My brain finally started to work. Pulling the gun from my pocket, I went to the doorway. Tommy had taken a seat in the chair I’d used to shave Elikah. He was behind Elikah’s head, but I could still hit him. And then Elikah. It wasn’t what I’d planned, but maybe it was better. Two for the price of one.
Neither of them moved when they saw me in the doorway. Tommy’s light eyes looked me over without a hint of emotion. “I think you’re going to have to kill her,” he said, his voice conversational. The water in the tub sloshed as Elikah started to rise.
I lifted the hand with the gun. The barrel was silver and it caught the light from the bedroom window. “Sit down or I’ll shoot.” The trigger pressed back against my finger, a slight tension that I liked.