The Saints of Swallow Hill(71)

His eyes swiveled back to Rae Lynn, and the heaviness she used to get each morning when she had to worry about making numbers returned. She had to remind herself he couldn’t do nothing to her anymore, and she owed him nothing. Let him say what he wanted. She fought against showing any reaction. Why couldn’t he go on and leave them alone?

His eyes bored into hers. “I got a question’s been bothering me. Was what you done pretend, or real? Acting like a man?”

What he was implying went in a whole other direction, and she found herself flummoxed by the question.

Cornelia nudged her aside. “I don’t see as how it’s any of your business.”

“Ain’t you the mama hen? Can’t she speak for herself?”

Rae Lynn touched the back of Cornelia’s arm.

“Come on, Nellie. We got work to do.” But Cornelia continued staring him down.

Crow said, “It don’t matter. I seen enough to make up my own mind as to how things is. Sure, I can see it real clear. Y’all have a nice day.”

He went down the steps whistling off tune and meandered off toward the distillery.

Rae Lynn mumbled, “He scares me.”

Cornelia said, “He scares everybody. Even Otis, though Otis says they’s friends. If you can call sitting around agreeing to whatever the man says being friends. Come on. Let’s not let him ruin the day.”

They went back to the kitchen and resumed work, but Crow’s sudden appearance and comments left Rae Lynn unnerved. She stopped wiping out ajar and turned away from Cornelia.

Cornelia said, “Rae Lynn, you all right?”

Rae Lynn stared at her shortened finger, thought how it wasn’t so long ago she’d lived in a little shotgun house under the whispery pines in North Carolina alongside a loving husband who’d provided for her, took care of her. They’d loved each other the best they knew how, and were certainly devoted, without a doubt. Since coming to Swallow Hill, she’d made an effort at keeping her thoughts on the present, not the past. She didn’t want to dwell on what happened, it made her too sad, and she’d hoped the worst part of her memories would fade eventually. She’d never figured much beyond getting here and making do. She’d not counted on someone like Crow making it harder than it already was.

Rae Lynn sorted her thoughts while her friend stayed quiet. If she told Cornelia the real reasons she was here, what would she think? For a split second she considered it. How she and Warren met, got married, what they’d accomplished, or tried to, and how it had ended. As was habit, she rubbed her half finger, worrying the stub over and over until Cornelia grabbed her hands and held them still.

She said, “Aw, honey. It’s gonna take time for you to get over what all you been through. It’ll get better. Main thing is, don’t worry about him. He can’t do nothing.”

Rae Lynn let Cornelia think that’s all it was.

“I reckon you’re right.”

“About this, I am.”

The women stood quiet, both caught up in their thoughts when the slow creaking of a wagon drawing near came to them, and they raised their heads simultaneously and looked toward the window at the front of the house. There went Otis, trundling down the main path, his shape like a giant tree perched in the seat. Cornelia dropped Rae Lynn’s hands and without another word, hurried to the stove and began dragging out cooking pots. Rae Lynn could hear her mumbling something. She looked out the window again, at Otis heaving himself down off the wagon. The sight made her gut clench almost as bad as when Crow appeared at the door. Rae Lynn could only imagine what it did to Cornelia.





Chapter 25


Del


Rae Lynn stayed on his mind most days. He couldn’t quite figure why or what it was about her that made him want things he’d never had. Her and him together back home in North Carolina, or anywhere, for that matter, would be all right. He got to pining for them sons he’d thought of a time or two, only now the idea came often, like his thoughts about what life might be like with her. Or daughters. Hell, if they were scrappy and brave like her, he’d want lots of girls too. There was only one problem with all this dreaming: she appeared about as interested in him as yonder bird sitting in a tree, and what good did them dreams do him nohow, with a compass that no longer faced north?

He sat easy on Ruby, listening to the men give their final calls of the day, their voices ringing out from all directions, his pencil softly scratching as he kept count. When the last one came, he marked it and closed his tally book. Right on time Clyde brought the wagon. Clyde had gotten used to him and his work hands getting done about five o’clock. The mule’s head swung left and right, pulling the wagon along the narrow path while Clyde leaned against the back of the seat letting him determine the best way as usual. Right behind him came Peewee, Crow, and Woodall. Peewee threw up a hand, and Del responded, while Crow and Woodall didn’t bother.

Peewee hollered out, “How’s it going?”

Del said, “We’re done.”

Crow said, “Hell. Got an hour or so a daylight yet.”

Peewee said, “Well, that works out good. We got to talk about where we going next and about how we gonna manage these men from here on out.” He turned to Del and said, “Your hands been getting them crops done quick. Working faster than most in this camp, turning in high numbers to boot.” He faced Crow and Woodall. “Reckon y’all can learn something from him,” and he tipped his head toward Del.