The Bourbon Thief(86)

Tamara set down her suitcase and opened it. From under a pile of neatly folded shirts, she pulled the handgun she’d taken from her grandfather’s office the night of the flood. Her hand shook as she loaded it. Learning to shoot had taken practice, and as she’d had no teacher, she’d nearly done herself in by accident a time or two in the process. All she could do was drive out to the middle of nowhere and aim the gun at cans set up on tree stumps. The hardest part had been dealing with the recoil. Once she got used to the gun’s kick and the terrible sound of it, she found she was a decent shot. Not great, but she didn’t need to be great. She wasn’t a sharpshooter. All she wanted was to protect herself, and everyone who knows anything knows the things that can harm you are always the things closest to you.

“Hello?” Tamara called out as she wandered the first floor of the house—her grandfather’s sitting room with his big oak bar and his big brass lamp. His big box of cigars was gone. They’d been ruined in the flood and Tamara was glad they were gone. If they were gone, he was gone. Gone for good. The rugs on the floor had been ruined, too, but these new rugs were nicer than the old ones. Persian rugs with swirling patterns of flowers and vines in hues of red, green and gold. Masculine colors, but her mother had picked them out. For whom? All the Maddox men were dead but for Levi, and there was no way on God’s green earth her mother would roll out the welcome mat or any other piece of carpeting for him. She must have done it by habit, buying new rugs Granddaddy would have approved of. That had been her mother’s entire life—doing everything she did for the approval of men.

Tamara went to the dining room and looked around. China cabinet full of fine-boned china. Mahogany table for ten. Sideboard. Curtains drawn. Nothing ripped. Nothing torn. Nothing broken. Everything left in perfect condition. Tamara wouldn’t have put it past her mother to break every dish in the house and shred every bit of fabric. Tamara wouldn’t put anything past her mother, which was why she’d wanted to walk the house alone without Levi.

But everything was fine. Yet it wasn’t fine. How could Judge Headley have fathered her the night of Uncle Eric’s going-away party if he hadn’t been there long enough to take off his jacket? Easy answer. He hadn’t. She reasoned he could have done it the night before. He could have done it the night after. But what was this about Momma being in love with Uncle Eric? She’d never heard that story before. Had to have been an unrequited love. Eric hadn’t been drafted. He’d joined the army as a volunteer. What man in love would do such a thing? A man in love wouldn’t do such a thing. So it was nothing to worry about.

Tamara wandered into the kitchen. Here was something to worry about. Sitting on the kitchen table was an envelope. On the front it read “Tamara and Levi” in her mother’s handwriting and Tamara eyed it like a snake. She eyed it like a snake because it was a snake, more dangerous than the copperhead that had gotten into their house that night. It was the snake that made Tamara want to go in first, without Levi. If her mother were here, lurking, waiting to strike, Tamara wanted to be the one between her and Levi. If anyone or anything had to get shot, Tamara would do the shooting.

Tamara picked up the letter and walked to the sink. Then she dug around in the drawers until she found a book of matches. Tamara set the letter alight and smiled as the paper turned black and curled. As the fire reached her fingertips, Tamara turned on the faucet and drowned the ashes in the drain.

If Tamara knew her mother, and she did, she knew this letter wouldn’t be the only snake in the grass. She raced from room to room, and sure enough she found no less than five envelopes—one in the bathroom, one in her old bedroom, one in the upstairs bathroom, one in the library and one in the master bedroom Granddaddy had slept in. If she read the letters, her mother would win. Tamara would not let her win. She’d lost too much to let anyone else win anymore. Tamara burned them all in the sink and washed the remnants away.

When she finished and they were all gone, she smiled.

That was that. She won.

Tamara heard the happy sound of tires on the drive, and she saw Levi’s truck coming around the bend in the driveway. She laughed when she saw the horse trailer attached to the end of his truck. Today he’d signed the papers that made him a millionaire and all he had on his mind was buying horses. Tomorrow they’d probably go and find Kermit, wherever he was. She had missed that sweet boy of hers.

Levi drove straight to the stables and Tamara packed the gun carefully away in her suitcase again. There was a pleasant, rarely used guest room on the second floor at the end of the hall. Tamara had no bad memories of it. They could sleep there tonight and figure out what to do with the house in the morning. She walked down to the stables and found Levi inspecting the stalls.

“How bad is it?” Tamara asked him from the doorway.

“I’ve seen better,” Levi said. “There’s mold in a lot of the old straw, some dry rot in the doors. But I can get at least one stall cleaned up by tomorrow. I called the farrier, and he said he knew who bought Kermit and the rest of the horses. We can go haggling tomorrow to get them back. Kermit at least if they won’t sell the others.”

“That’s good news,” she said, leaning in the doorway of the stall as Levi kicked old straw around, inspecting the floors.

“How’s the house? Any ghosts? Any wolves?”

“No ghosts. No wolves. No mothers-in-law.”