Memories Of Another Day Part 24

He looked past me at the cornfield. "Five, six weeks. 'N'en we begin the harvestin'."

"Need help?"

He shook his head. "We kin manage."

"When is Betty May expecting?"

"Two more months, we reckon. 'Bout the time we begin to draw the bead ofif'n the 'shine."

"Are you going to sell it then?"

"No. It's too raw. I'll barrel it over the winter. It'll be good then. I'll git top dollar. Raw whiskey ain't wu'thnothin'."

The door to the shack opened. Anne came out. *'Supper's ready."

Jeb Stuart got to his feet. "We're acomin'."

The steaks were not too bad, but Anne was disappointed. Betty May and Jeb didn't seem to care too much for them. They looked aghast at blood pouring from our steaks and put their own back on the fire, leaving them to cook until they were burned almost into pure coal. Then they seemed to be satisfied. We were having our coffee when we first heard the roaring rhythmic sound coming near.

Betty May paused, her coffee cup in hand. *'What's that?"

I didn't look up. "A chopper." I knew the sound well. My father had had one which he used for quick trips. Then I saw the puzzled expression on Jeb's face. *'A heUcopter," I explained.

The roaring sound came closer. "She's pretty low over us," I said.

"Mebbe I better take a look-see." Jeb got to his feet, picked up his shotgun from where it leaned against the wall and opened the door.

We followed him out. The helicopter was coming in low over the cornfield, heading for a small clearing not far from the shack. We could see the black painted letters on its side as it hovered for a moment, then settled to the ground. POLICE.

The side port opened and two men dressed in khaki uniforms, wearing troopers' hats, got out. The pilot sat in the cabin behind the controls. He too wore a uniform, but no hat. The late sun glinted from the silver stars pinned to their shirts as they turned toward us.

Jeb was the first to speak. "Howdy, Sher'f."

A note of surprise came into the bigger man's voice. "That you, Jeb Stuart?"

"None other."

The sheriff smiled and came toward Jeb, hand outstretched. The other policeman stayed near the chopper. ''Right glad to see you, Jeb."

Jeb nodded as he shook hands with the sheriff. ''We was jes' finishin' supper. Yer in time to jine us fer coffee."

"Thank you. I sure would appreciate that." He turned to the policeman behind him. "Everything's okay. I'll be back in a bit."

He followed us into the cabin. This time Betty May did not join us at the table. Quickly she put a mug of steaming coffee in front of the sheriff.

The sheriff took a sip. "Fine coffee, Betty May."

She smiled without answering.

"I'm suah glad to fin' you up here," the sheriff said. "We got reports that they was squatters up heah fo' more'n a year now, but until we got us the new helicopter las' week we didn' have time to check it out. We was all set to roust some nigguhs off'n the place."

Jeb nodded without speaking.

"We all kind of wondered where you disappeared to," the sheriff said. "It's more'n a year an' a half since anyone in town saw you."

"I been wu'kin' the place," Jeb said.

"I kin see that. You got about three acres o' com out there." He shot a shrewd glance at Jeb, "O' course, you got a proper leasehold on the place."

Jeb hesitated, glancing at me. I nodded. "Yes," he answered.

'' From the lawful owners?"

I spoke for the first time. "That's right."

The sheriff looked questioningly at Jeb, "This yere's Jonathan Huggins," Jeb said. "Big Dan's son. Jonathan, Sher'f Clay, Fitch County."

We shook hands. "Sheriff Clay."

The sheriff nodded. "Yer daddy was one of us. We all had great respec' fer 'im. My condolences."

"Thank you. Sheriff," I said.

"You're the legal owner?" he asked.

''Yes. You should know." Then, suddenly, I knew. There was no way he could know. 'The papers are in the county office."

He looked uncomfortable. "Of course."

"In Sentryville," I said. "This property is in Sentry County."

The sheriff nodded.

"That's sixty miles from here," I said. "You're just helping out the sheriff up there since we're close by. That right?"

"That's right," the sheriff said quickly.

I leaned from my chair, picked up Jeb's shotgun from against the wall, laid it across the table, the muzzle against the sheriff's belly, and released the safety. "You're trespa.s.sing, Sheriff," I said. "I could squeeze this trigger and blow you in half and there isn't a court in the land that wouldn't uphold my right to do it. You have no authority and no business here."

He stared down at the gun, his face suddenly white. The others seemed frozen in their chairs. Jeb began to rise.

"Don't move, Jeb!" I snapped. I looked at the sheriff. "Now, suppose you tell us why you came up here."

He gulped. "Jeb's wife has a warrant out^fer him an' Betty May fer unlawful fornication.''

"Not good enough to make you jump county lines," I said. "Try again."

He was silent.

"Couldn't be three acres of com," I said. "A green patch in the middle of wasted land that you saw from over the highway. Could it?"

He was still silent.

"And maybe there would be black people you could roust. Three acres of com could be worth a lot of money. You're the sheriff. You know the people who could handle it."

A grudging respect came into the sherifTs face. ''You're right," he admitted. " Tain't none o' my business what goes on up here.''

I took the gun from the table and put it back against the wall. "That's where you're wrong," I said. "You and Jeb have important business to talk about." I rose to my feet. "Anne and I will go outside and leave you gentlemen to talk it."

The sheriff looked up at me. "F'om what I heered about yer daddy, you got to be the spit an' image of him."

"I'm nothing like him at all," I said, and went outside.

Anne followed me, and I leaned against the pickup and lit a cigarette, pa.s.sed it to her and lit one for myself. "We'll be leaving tomorrow," I said. "After we get the flower seeds planted."

"Where are we going?" she asked.

I closed my eyes and stared through time. "Farther south."

She was silent for a long moment. "Will you be coming back here again?"

"Yes. On my way back home."

"I'm going home tomorrow," she said.

Time dropped out. I opened my eyes and saw the helicopter. The pilot had gotten out and was talking to the deputy, and they were staring at us. I turned to look at her.

"I'd like to come back here with you someday. May I?" There were tears in her eyes.

"You know you can," I said.

Her hand reached for mine and held it tightly. "The sheriff. He was right. You are your father."

"That's not what the sheriff said."

"It's what I said."

I did not tell her that it was what my father had said also.

"I've seen so much of him just since we came here.

That's why I want to go home. I don't want to see any more. Fm frightened. I think it would blow my mind."

I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it.

''You're not angry with me?" she asked.

''No." I looked at her. "It's okay."

The door behind us opened, and Jeb and the sheriff came out. They walked around the pickup to where we were standing. Jeb was smiling. "The sher'f 'n' me come to 'n agreement."

"Good," I said.

"There'll be no trouble now," he said.

I turned to the sheriff. He spoke quickly. "No way could Jeb do it alone. The nigguhs and the Eyties already had him pegged. They was jes' waitin' fer him to do the work afore they moved in."

I nodded.

"Goin' to stay around, son?" the sheriff asked.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

He squinted up at the sky. The sun was beginning to fall into the west. "Better be gittin' back. Still don' trust them things in the night." He turned to Jeb. "Y'U kin come on into town on Satiddy. I'll have that warrant quashed fer you."

"Thank you, Sher'f."

The sheriff looked at me again. "How old are you, son?"

"Seventeen."

He nodded. "That's what I kep' thinkin' all the time you had that shotgun in my belly. Seventeen. That an' the expression on yer face. That's the way yer daddy must of looked when he blew Old Man Fitch in half in the back of the general store close on to fifty yeahs ago. He was seventeen then. They sent him up to reform school until he was eighteen. But he didn' stay. They was a war, an' he enlisted in the army an' went to Europe. He never come back to Fitchville until twenty years atter the war. Then, one day, he showed up at the railroad station in a wheelchair. He was all broke up. Couldn't walk. There was a woman with him. 'Twam't 'is wife. They heered somewhere out West he had a baby son. The woman bought a car from the Dodge dealer fer cash an' they drove up yere into the hills. After that, n.o.body saw 'im, on'y the woman when she come into town to do the shoppin'. Then 'bout six months atter that, he shows up at the railroad station, kisses the woman goodbye, gits on the New York train an' that was the las' time anyone in town ever seen him theah."

*'And the woman?" I asked.

*'She waited till the train pulled out of the station; then she drove off an' n.o.body ever seen her again either."

*'Did you ever see my father?" I asked.

''No. But I heered the story f'om my father. He was the sher'fs depitty in '17 an' the sher'f in '37. An' I must of heered the story myse'f a thousand times, 'cause ever' time yer father's name came up, my father used to tell the story." He looked at me. "He used to be very proud o' yer father. One of our boys becomin' one o' the most important men in the country." He squinted up at the sky again, stuck out his hand. "If you wanna read about it, the Ubrary in town has all the back issues of the Fitchville Journal back to the War Between the States." We shook hands. "If you need anythin', jes' call me."

"Thank you. Sheriff," I said.

We watched the helicopter lift off and race into the setting sun. When its noise stopped bouncing around in the hills, we went back into the shack.

I picked up my sleeping bag and Anne's. "It's been a long day," I said. "I think we'll let you two get to bed early."

The sky was still gold when we sat down in the cornfield. "I didn't know they weren't married," Anne said.

"Neither did I."

Silently she rolled a joint, lit it, then handed it to me. I took a couple of tokes and leaned back on one elbow. I could feel its tranquillity moving through me. I gave the joint back to her.

''Jonathan," she said, the smoke curUng from her nostrils.

''Yes?"

'' Come home with me."