1
There was something
wrong with a man in his forties sitting in a small, crowded
confessional telling the priest that not only had he taken the
Lord’s name in vain, not only had he missed mass several times in
the past few months, but also that he’d defiled himself. That was
the term Kittredge had been taught, “defiled.” Kittredge had a
prostate problem. The damn thing got boggy as a rotten apple. This
was because of Mae, of course; ever since Mae had miscarried, she’d
shown little interest in sex, and Kittredge never felt like forcing
himself on her. He felt sorry enough for her as it was, what with
the sheets a bloody mess that night and Mae not quite right about
anything ever since. He’d tried whorehouses twice but afterward he
felt disgusted with himself. There he was liquored up and laughing
with some woman who had no morals at all and there was Mae at home
in the shadows of their little house, her hands all rosary-wrapped
and her gaze fixed far away on something Kittredge had never been
able to see.
Earlier this morning,
just after waking, the day in the open window smelling of impending
rain, these were the thoughts Kittredge had.
Soon after, he went
downstairs and scrubbed and shaved for the day. He took the clothes
Mae had set out for him and tugged them on and then went into the
kitchen where she had two eggs, two strips of bacon, and a big
slice of toast waiting for him. She sat across from him, watching
him as he ate. This always seemed to give her a peculiar
satisfaction he could not understand but found endearing. She would
have looked even more fondly at their child eating, he knew. Maybe
that’s what she pretended, watching him this way, that he was their
child.
“You got any special
plans today?” she said.
“Sloane says there’s
no work. Thought I might go down by the creek and do some fishing.
Maybe I can catch us something for tonight.”
She smiled, watched
him stand up and go to the door. “Maybe I’ll bake us a cake.”
“Now I know I’m gonna
have to catch us a fish.”
“A chocolate cake
with white frosting.”
It was his favorite
kind. He walked back to her and took her face tenderly in his hands
and kissed her gently on the lips. “You’re a good woman,
Mae.”
“You keep on tellin’
me that often enough, Dennis, I’m likely to start believin’
it.”
This time he kissed
her on the forehead.
***
Two hours in, he’d
caught nothing. He sat on a piece of limestone. The day was hot but
overcast. The water was cloudy. A wild dog came by and tried to
steal the lunch he’d brought along but he shooed it away, though
for a few moments there the damn animal had scared him some. The
county had been infested with rabies just a year ago and doctors
everywhere were warning folks to be careful.
His favorite time to
fish was autumn, when the days were gold and red and brown with
fall colors and the nights were silver with frost. Then he worked
fyke nets and basket traps and moved downriver in his johnboat
where he made driftwood fires to keep warm. The autumn embraced him
and held him in a way furious summer did not. There was solace in
autumn and in summer none.
Ryan pulled the buggy
into a copse of poplars. The soil there was red and sandy, the
bunch grass brown from heat. His hangover was still pretty bad. He
had to stop every mile or so to pee, and he kept thinking he had to
vomit. The food hadn’t helped all that much.
He left the
Winchester in the buggy and set off across the woods to Kittredge’s
house.
Almost immediately
after he knocked, a small, worn-looking woman came to the
door.
“Mrs.
Kittredge?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Special Deputy
Forbes.”
“Special
deputy?”
He knew instantly she
was alarmed. It was just what he wanted her to be.
“I need to speak with
your husband.”
“With Dennis?”
“Yes.”
“Has he done
something wrong.?”
Ryan shook his head.
“Not at all, ma’m. Not at all. He may have seen something the other
day and we need to get his testimony.”
“Seen something?” She
still sounded suspicious, wary.
“An incident in
town.” Ryan smiled. Now he wanted her to ease up some, relax.
“Something was taken from the jewelry store. We’re told your
husband was standing in the middle of the street at that time. He
may have seen the thief.”
“Which jewelry store
would that be? I didn’t know we had no jewelry store.”
It was Ryan’s
intention to remain calm. He inhaled sharply, put the smile back on
his face, and said, “Forgive me, ma’m, I’m down from the state
capital so I’m not all that familiar with the town here.”
But she wasn’t trying
to trap him. In fact, she helped him out of his dilemma. “Ragan’s
sells jewelry. That’s the general store. They keep some jewelry in
the back. Maybe you mean Ragan’s.
“That’s exactly what
I mean. That’s exactly the name the sheriff used.”
He saw her face
slacken, the heavy worry lines fading some. She shook her head. He
thought he even detected a small, oddly bitter smile. “Wouldn’t
that be just Dennis’s luck?”
“Ma’m?”
“Goes over town on a
completely innocent errand and gets himself mixed up in some kind
of robbery.”
“I see.”
“No offense, but you
know how it is when you get tied up goin’ to court and
everything.”
“Yes, ma’m, that’s
one thing I’m very familiar with.”
“Poor Dennis. He
won’t be happy to hear that.”
“No, ma’m.”
“But I s’pose it’s
his civic duty.”
“Yes, ma’m.” He
paused and said, “Where might I find him, ma’m?”
“He went
fishing.”
“Do you happen to
know where?”
“He’s got a favorite
spot just north of here. Up near the bluffs.” She pointed in the
direction of ragged clay hills. “He’ll probably be back in a few
hours.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can
find him, ma’m.”
Wariness showed in
her eyes again. “You seem to be in a pretty big hurry to talk to
him.”
“Just like to get
this settled so I can head back on the evening train.”
“And you say you’re a
special deputy?”
“That’s right,
ma’m.”
“Working with the
sheriff?’
“Yes, ma’m. Down from
the capital to help on the jewelry investigation.”
“Never heard of such
a thing.”
Ryan smiled again.
“It’s an election year, ma’m.”
“Election
year?”
Ryan nodded. “The
governor makes his special deputies available to anybody who
asks.”
“I see.”
“Good politics,
ma’m.”
The suspicion died in
her voice again. “I suppose.” She put her face up into the air the
way a small dog might. “You can smell rain coming. Dennis’ll
probably get soaked.” She nodded to Ryan. “You tell him I’m working
on that cake I promised him.”
“I’ll tell him,
ma’m.”
She gave him a
curious look, then. “And tell… tell him I’m thinking about
him.”
Ryan knew that she
really wanted to say “Tell him I love him,” but that she was too
inhibited. Somehow she knew, Ryan saw; knew what was really going
on, much as she tried denying it to herself.
Ryan tipped his hat.
“Good luck with that cake, ma’m.”
But she was still
giving him that curious, wary gaze. She didn’t say good-bye. She
just nodded and wiped her hands on her apron again and went back
inside the house, closing the door behind her.
***
By the time Ryan went
over the hill to his buggy, the first drops of rain had begun to
fall. Plump, clear drops that were hot against the skin. He wished
he hadn’t liked the Kittredge woman as much as he had. He felt
sorry for her. What he was about to do would destroy her life
forever. He wished she could have been mean or stupid or offensive
in some way.
He got in the buggy
and started up the dusty trail that wound into the red clay
foothills.
He kept thinking of
the Kittredge woman. Maybe because he saw some of his own sorrow in
her. They were not unalike, the two of them. Maybe that was
it.