AS THE THREE MEN MADE their way back to Beaufort, they were all relieved to have been able to put the disturbed grave matter to rest. Now they needed to pay a visit to Hardy Green.
They had to travel an hour back to the landing for the ferry across the Newport River. Then they had to wait another two hours before Mr. Austin came across with the ferry again. When they finally made it back to Beaufort, it was almost nightfall.
“Let’s just go right to Hardy Green’s house,” said Adam. “Get this thing over with.”
“Sounds like a right good plan to me, mate,” Jones concurred.
The constable looked tired, but he nodded in agreement. He went ahead of them on horseback, as he had the whole way, and they were soon over on Queen Street at the Green residence. Adam and Jones followed the constable up on the porch. The lawman knocked on the door. There was no answer.
Adam tried to look in the window to see if anyone was home, but there was no one that he could tell. He looked over to the nearest neighbor’s house and noticed they appeared to be home.
“I’ll go over there and ask if they have any idea where he is.”
Adam ran across the street and knocked on the door of the neighbor’s house. The constable and Jones waited out in the street.
A young woman answered the door.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” said Adam. “We were just looking for Hardy Green or his wife. You don’t have any idea where they might’ve gone, do you?”
The woman gave him a concerned look. “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t know?”
Adam shook his head. “Know what?”
“Poor Jenny woke up this morning to find her husband had dropped dead sometime during the night. She discovered him on the floor of their sitting room.”
That news came as a shock. “Where are they?” Adam asked. “I mean, where is Jenny?”
“From what I understand, Hardy’s brothers came and got him. They’ve taken him out to his father’s farm north of town so they can bury him in the family plot. Jenny is with them, of course.”
Constable Squires and Ricky Jones must have been able to tell Adam had gotten some surprising news, because they came to join him on the porch to find out what had happened.
Adam told them, then thanked the neighbor for the information.
The men went back over to where the constable’s horse and Emmanuel’s horse cart were waiting.
“I can’t believe this,” said Adam. “What are the chances of something like this happening?”
The constable shook his head. “I don’t have the foggiest idea, but I reckon it’s some kind of divine justice.”
“I reckon it is,” said Adam, “but at the same time I feel sorry for him. What man wants to be a cuckold?”
Both the constable and Jones shook their heads.
“Not me, mate,” said Jones.
“Me neither,” the constable agreed.
“Madame Endora’s right about one thing,” said Adam. “If Martin does get better from that poison, he’s going to have to learn some important lessons. He’s had one too many close calls if you ask me.”
At that, the three men bade each other farewell.
Jones lived close by, so he decided he would walk home. The constable said he’d let the magistrate know all that had happened the next morning.
Adam decided he’d drop by the tavern for a little while before he took the horse cart back to the warehouse. He could use a pint and a good meal, and he wanted to warn Valentine about the oysters at Town Creek. On the way to the Topsail, he decided he’d definitely have to write an article about all that had happened with the gypsies and send it in to the Gazette. Or maybe he would deliver the story himself. He wouldn’t want to risk something happening to it along the way.
“I AM WORN SLAM OUT,” Adam said as he plopped down in his favorite stool at the bar of the Topsail Tavern. The place was about to close and only had one table of patrons left—not surprising on a Sunday night.
“Where’s Mama?” he asked.
“She went to bed just a few minutes ago. I told her I’d see those fellows out.” Valentine was drying pint glasses and putting them on the shelf behind the counter.
“She’s not feeling sick, now is she?”
“Nah. Just tired,” said Valentine. “I’m surprised to see you here. Heard y’all were going after those gypsies. Didn’t figure you’d be back until at least tomorrow.”
“Oh, it’s a long story,” said Adam, “but we didn’t even have to go more than an hour on the Bridge Road once we got across the Newport River.”
He proceeded to explain everything that he had learned about the robbed grave and the gypsy woman who had brought the barrel to town two years earlier. Then he told Valentine what he had found out about the oysters and warned him against getting any from the spot near Town Creek. He said that the constable would be putting a sign out there the next day to warn folks off of fishing along that little stretch. Finally, he explained about what had happened with Martin, including Hardy Green’s death.
“Well, you never know,” said Valentine. “Could be just the thing to shake a knot him—get him to screw his head on straight. He and Jenny might end up together, or it could be that the interest will be gone now that it’s not a forbidden affair. You never can tell with folks.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Adam agreed.
“If you’re still hungry, you can go on back to the kitchen and see if there’s some fried chicken. I know there was right much of it left when your mama went upstairs to bed.”
Adam smiled. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”
He went into the kitchen and fixed himself a plate piled high with everything he could find back there that still seemed edible, then came back out into the dining room and poured himself a pint of cider and sat back down at the bar.
“You know,” he said, “I’m relieved we know what was causing all that sickness. And I’m relieved to know the truth behind what happened with that grave, but I’ve got to admit I still feel a little uneasy… like something big is about to happen.”
Valentine waved his hand dismissively at Adam. “Ah, that’s just you. I’ve always told you, you think too much. And seems like the older you get, the more you worry.”
Adam swallowed his mouthful of chicken and took a sip of cider. “Maybe it’s because the older I’ve gotten, I’ve seen just how crazy this world is. There are so many bad people out there, you know? Some folks just act like they don’t care anything about anybody but themselves.”
Valentine nodded. “That is very true.”
“Does it ever get better, or is this just what it’s going to be like?”
Valentine looked up from what he was working on and seemed pensive for a moment. “The world is going to hell in a handbasket. That’s nothing new. That’s been going on since Adam and Eve first listened to that damned snake in the garden. I figure all any of us can do is just try to make wise choices and act right, and hopefully things will all work out in the end.”
A philosopher Valentine Hodges was not, but somehow his simple observation was comforting to Adam.
“You know,” said Adam, “I’m thinking about writing an article about all that’s happened here recently with the gypsies and the graveyard and all and sending it to the Gazette.”
“Huh.” Valentine raised his eyebrows and seemed genuinely impressed. “Is that a fact?”
Adam nodded and finished swallowing another mouthful of food before responding. “Mm-hm. Mr. Davis told me when I went there to pick up that letter back in February that he’d welcome any stories that might be of interest to readers.” He took another sip of drink. “Tell me, you take the Gazette. You think that’s the kind of story folks might like to read?”
The old man thought about it for a minute, then gave a thoughtful nod. “I think it would be. In fact, if I hadn’t been here to witness it, I don’t know that I’d believe it myself. It’ll entertain folks, that’s for sure—and maybe it’ll make ’em think twice before going to some gypsy fortune-teller.”
“Maybe.” Adam chuckled.
He finished his meal, and he and Valentine chatted for a while longer before he bade him farewell for the night.