Full Dark, No Stars

“And every time we went to see that old fel ow, my mama told me to plug my ears, because every other word that came out of Pop Brad-lee’s mouth was a cuss or something filthy.” In a sour sort of

way, I was starting to enjoy this. “So natural y I listened al the harder. I remember that one of Pop’s favorite sayings was ‘Never mount a mare without a bridle, because you can never tel which way a bitch wil run.’”

“Am I supposed to understand that?”

“Which way do you suppose my bitch ran, Mr. Lester?”

“Are you tel ing me your wife has… ?”

“Absconded, Mr. Lester. Decamped. Took French leave. Did a midnight flit. As an avid reader and student of American slang, such terms occur natural y to me. Lars, however—and most other town

folks—wil just say ‘She run off and left him’ when the word gets around. Or him and the boy, in this case. I natural y thought she would have gone to her hog-fancying friends at the Farrington Company, and the next I heard from her would have been a notice that she was sel ing her father’s acreage.”

“As she means to do.”

“Has she signed it over yet? Because I guess I’d have to go to law, if she has.”

“As a matter of fact, she hasn’t. But when she does, I would advise you against the expense of a legal action you would surely lose.”

I stood up. One of my overal straps had fal en off my shoulder, and I hooked it back into place with a thumb. “Wel , since she’s not here, it’s what the legal profession cal s ‘a moot question,’ wouldn’t you say? I’d look in Omaha, if I were you.” I smiled. “Or Saint Louis. She was always talking about Sain’-Loo. It sounds to me as if she got as tired of you fel ows as she did of me and the son she gave birth to. Said good riddance to bad rubbish. A plague on both your houses. That’s Shakespeare, by the way. Romeo and Juliet. A play about love.”

“You’l pardon me for saying, but al this seems very strange to me, Mr. James.” He had produced a silk handkerchief from a pocket inside his suit—I bet traveling lawyers like him have lots of pockets

—and began to mop his face with it. His cheeks were now not just flushed but bright red. It wasn’t the heat of the day that had turned his face that color. “Very strange indeed, considering the amount of money my client is wil ing to pay for that piece of property, which is contiguous with Hemingford Stream and close to the Great Western rail line.”

“It’s going to take some getting used to on my part as wel , but I have the advantage of you.”

“Yes?”

“I know her. I’m sure you and your clients thought you had a deal al made, but Arlette James… let’s just say that nailing her down to something is like trying to nail jel y to the floor. We need to remember what Pop Bradlee said, Mr. Lester. Why, the man was a countrified genius.”

“Could I look in the house?”

I laughed again, and this time it wasn’t forced. The man had gal , I’l give him that, and not wanting to go back empty-handed was understandable. He’d ridden twenty miles in a dusty truck with no

doors, he had twenty more to bounce across before he got back to Hemingford City (and a train ride after that, no doubt), he had a sore ass, and the people who’d sent him out here weren’t going to be

happy with his report when he final y got to the end of al that hard traveling. Poor fel er!

“I’l ask you one back: could you drop your pants so I could look at your goolie-bits?”

“I find that offensive.”

“I don’t blame you. Think of it as a… not a simile, that’s not right, but a kind of parable.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Wel , you’ve got an hour back to the city to think it over—two, if Lars’s Red Baby throws a tire. And I can assure you, Mr. Lester, that if I did let you poke around through my house—my private place, my castle, my goolie-bits—you wouldn’t find my wife’s body in the closet or…” There was a terrible moment when I almost said or down the well. I felt sweat spring out on my forehead. “Or under the bed.”

“I never said—”

“Henry!” I cal ed. “Come over here a minute!”

Henry came with his head down and his feet dragging in the dust. He looked worried, maybe even guilty, but that was al right. “Yes, sir?”

“Tel this man where’s your mama.”

“I don’t know. When you cal ed me to breakfast Friday morning, she was gone. Packed and gone.”

Lester was looking at him keenly. “Son, is that the truth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Poppa, can I go back in the house? I’ve got schoolwork to make up from being sick.”

“Go on, then,” I said, “but don’t be slow. Remember, it’s your turn to milk.”

“Yes, sir.”

He trudged up the steps and inside. Lester watched him go, then turned back to me. “There’s more here than meets the eye.”

“I see you wear no wedding ring, Mr. Lester. If there comes a time when you’ve worn one as long as I have, you’l know that in families, there always is. And you’l know something else as wel : you can never tel which way a bitch wil run.”

He got up. “This isn’t finished.”