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Mack met up with Nonny about two o’clock, by chance, not plan. At his own front door, talking to his very excited mother.
“What’s going on, Mama,” he said, stepping from his Bronco.
“Sister’s taken off. I thought she was napping like she does in the afternoon, so I didn’t miss her until right now.”
“Do you know how long she’s been gone?” Nonny asked.
“No, I don’t. She might’ve left when Bessie did. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hear her drive off.”
“Drive off?” Mack said.
“She took the car and Whitey.”
“Bet you she’s looking for those mules,” Nonny said.
Mack motioned his mother and Nonny to his Bronco. “Let’s go find her.”
“She has to be close.” Nonny helped Ruby into the front seat and climbed into the back. “None of those places I marked are too far from here.”
“You know which ones you already checked, Mama, so you have to guide me.” Mack slowed to a rolling stop at the county road. “Which way do we go?”
“Right, go right. We went left yesterday.”
“That makes sense,” Nonny said. “Several of the plots on that road were lined up. It would make sense, she’d go that way.”
“That dark pickup follow you again today?” Mack looked at Nonny through the rearview mirror.
“How’d you know about that?” She frowned slightly. “But yes, it did. Early on, but I didn’t see it later in the day.” She paused. “So you saw George?”
“Dark pickup?” Ruby said. “Billy Joe Turner drives a black pickup and he stopped us on the road yesterday.”
“He what—? Why didn’t you tell me about that, Mama?”
“I don’t know, just didn’t seem important. Is it important? I mean, he was just warning us not to trespass— Look, up there. That’s my car.”
Mack pulled up behind his mother’s gray sedan and spotted a little woman in muddy clothes and boots standing in front of a gate. The old white dog was next to her, mud caked to his belly. His mother and Nonny beat him to Sister’s side.
Sister looked confused as the trio surrounded her. “Lord help, what’s wrong? Is it Pa?”
Ruby threw her hands in the air. “You’re what’s wrong! Why’d you take off like that? What’s got into you, Pearl Anderson.”
“I’m tired of sitting on my butt, that’s what’s wrong with me!”
“You fall down, Sister?” Nonny checked the little woman over. “You’re muddy to your knees.”
Mack gave his aunt the once-over, too. “You trying to prove a point because I teased you about your age, Sister?”
Sister clapped her hands over her ears. “Would you all just hush. You’re getting me all confused.”
“Give her some space,” Mack said. “You gave us a scare, Sister, that’s all. Now promise me you won’t go looking for those mules again by yourself.”
“No need to. I found ‘em.”
“What?” Ruby said. “You found Bill and Jack?”
“Not exactly, but I’d bet a dollar to a donut, they’re in there.” Sister pointed beyond the gate to the pastureland beyond.
“So you haven’t found them!” Ruby wagged her head. “Sister, you’ve got to stop this nonsense.”
“Nonsense! See that padlock on the gate? I checked three other places before I got here and none of the gates were locked. And none of those we looked at yesterday were either.”
Mack studied the gate, made of heavy-duty rolled steel attached to metal posts set in concrete. “And I didn’t find any padlocks on those I checked either.”
“Nor me,” Nonny said.
“You ever see so many posted signs?” Sister pointed to the fence line. “And look at that field. Hasn’t been a brush hog on it in years. Thickets taking over, grass taller than Whitey. This is the only place that hasn’t been overgrazed.”
Mack scanned the brushy acreage. “You’re making sense, Sister.”
“And it’s close enough Pa could have visited it real quick. He could walk it in ten, twenty minutes, he was to cut across the hill from our house.”
“Like we were talking about last night,” Ruby murmured.
“And listen.” Sister held her finger to her mouth, then pointed to Whitey, whose ears were cocked forward.
Mack looked in the direction the old dog was looking. “What is that? Wind chimes?”
“Not wind chimes,” Sister said. “That’s the sound of a doubletree clanking against trace chains. We’ve been looking on the ground and Pa hung it in a tree. Looky there.” The little woman pointed to a clump of trees not too distant where a hinged object swayed between two hickories.
“You did find them.” Ruby gave her sister a quick hug. “Come on, let’s have a look. We can squeeze through the wire right down there.”
As Ruby made her way through the stiff grass along the barrow ditch, Nonny grabbed her arm. “Wait, Ruby. There’s something else you need to know before we go in there.”
Mack noticed the troubled look on Nonny’s face. “What is it? You find something else?”
“I tried to tell you a couple of nights ago,” Nonny said, talking to Ruby. “But you have such hard feelings against your mother and I just couldn’t understand how you could feel that way. You know, be so judgmental. So . . . unforgiving.”
“What are you saying,” Ruby said.
“It’s Grace. She’s out there, too.”
“We know that,” Mack said. “You’re the one brought the paper saying she was buried in Beulah Land.”
“Yeah,” Sister said. “And we’re looking at Beulah Land right now.”
“But you don’t know that Pa bought her a grave marker and had it inscribed.”
“Inscribed? What’s it say on it,” Mack said.
“It says, ‘Grace, God Grant Forgiveness to Thee and Me.’”
“Forgiveness?” Sister said. “Forgiveness for what?”
“Oh, my Lord.” Ruby looked at Nonny. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I tried, Ruby. I wanted to.”
“That’s why they let that grass grow up so tall.” Sister resumed her tramp down the fencerow. “But why wouldn’t the Turners want us to know Grace had a tombstone out there?”
Mack looked up and down the road to make sure the coast was clear, then pulled the strands apart so Sister could climb through the fence. “You’ve earned the right to be the first one to step onto Beulah Land, Sister.”
After his mother and Nonny crawled through the fence, he stepped over it and he walked up next to Nonny. “So, you saw that pickup this morning?”
“Yes, early this morning. Could’ve been Billy Joe, I suppose. He works the afternoon shift at the pen.”
“What about Junior? He’s supposed to be managing the properties. Why haven’t we seen him?”
“He’s down with the gout,” Ruby called over her shoulder. “I heard that just last week, can’t remember who it was mentioned it. One of the ladies getting a perm, I think.”
“Thank Heaven for small blessings,” Sister said, following Whitey who had taken the lead. “Maybe the enemy won’t see us.”
Minutes later, the entourage congregated beneath a pair of hickory trees where the remnants of an old doubletree was strung between chains. The bark on the trees had grown around the chains so they became part of the trunk, securing the hinged wood bars between them. The oak bars were white with age but still solidly attached to the two metal rings that linked them. The entire contraption made a harsh musical sound when it rattled in the wind.
Mack stood between his mother and aunt, staring at it. “Now that took some effort,” he murmured. “Bet those mules are buried right where we stand, laid out like they were still hitched to that doubletree.”
“I’m surprised it’s still of a piece,” Sister said. “Wouldn’t be, cattle was let run.”
Mack nodded. “Cattle would’ve used it to rub the flies off. And cattlemen would’ve put it to use for just that purpose, hung bags of fly repellant from it. What surprises me is the Turners didn’t.”
“Must be because of Grace.” Sister looked around. “It’s a right pretty piece, idn’t it? I can see why he called it Beulah Land. I bet he planned to put a house right there.” She pointed to a spot beyond where the two mules were buried. “And plant a crop on that back piece.”
“That would make sense.” Mack surveyed the plot of land, thinking a drilling of alfalfa seed would enrich the grass tenfold.
“Well, here she is.” Nonny pulled clumps of grass away from a headstone.
Mack joined her. “Stone’s a mess. What is that stuff?”
“Lichens.” She rubbed her hand over the lettering. “You want, I can do a rubbing so you can read what’s on it.”
Sister joined them. “Why not just wash it down good with bleach?”
Nonny shook her head. “Bleach would ruin the marble, but there’s other ways to clean it that wouldn’t. I can read up on how it’s done, you want.”
“Idn’t that something.” Sister stared at the stone. “All these years and this is the first time I visited my mother’s grave.”
Mack turned toward his own mother, who was still standing beneath the two hickories. “Mama, don’t you want a look?”
“I just don’t know what to think,” she called across the distance. “I can’t believe she’s been here all along . . . and with a tombstone.”
“And all alone,” Nonny murmured, running her hands along the marble inscription.
Mack eyed Nonny, recalling her mother had passed away when they had been in high school. “Does she make you miss your own mother, Nonny? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Mama? No, why would you think that?” She rose quickly and stepped away from the stone. “It’s just so isolated out here, that’s all.”
“Ruby, get over here and take a look,” Sister called out. “You’re being foolish.”
“In a minute,” Ruby replied. “I need a minute.”
Mack walked to where his mother stood and took her by the shoulders. “What is it, Mama? Most people would want to pay their respects to their mother. I’m just not getting it.”
“Now isn’t that surprising!” Ruby made her way to the tombstone, leaving Mack standing.
Suddenly, the wind jangled the contraption hanging in the tree, startling him. Studying the oak bars that made up the doubletree, he felt in his pocket for his knife. Taking hold of one of the pieces, he dug around until two objects fell into his hand. Bullet fragments.
What the hell happened here? He studied the ground, looking for shell casings. Finding nothing, he rejoined toward the others, listening to their conversation as he approached.
“Must’ve cost Pa a pretty penny,” Sister said. “That’s a fine-looking stone.”
“Almost a thousand dollars,” Nonny said. “For the stone and the casket.”
“A thousand dollars—” Ruby turned to her sister. “Where in the world would Pa get that kind of money?”
As his mother and aunt debated the cost, Nonny walked up beside Mack. “What’d you find in that doubletree?”
“Some, uh, some old nails.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Mack Barlow. What’d you find?”
Reluctantly, he opened his hand. “What’s that look like to you?” Two lumps of metal rested in his palm.
“What is that?” Sister joined them and picked one of the small pieces of metal. “Piece of carriage bolt?”
“It’s not a bolt.” Nonny picked up the other piece. “That’s a bullet, what’s left of one. Geez, what do you figure the caliber to be?”
Ruby joined them and examined the piece Sister handed her. “Target practice more than likely. Or kids hunting.”
“Pretty large caliber for target practice,” Mack said. “And the only thing people would be shooting out here would be squirrels or rabbits, using a .22. Anything else would’ve blown a small animal to pieces. Anyhow, from the looks of these slugs, they’ve have been in that oak a long time.”
Mack heard Whitey’s low growl and looked toward the road where a passing car had slowed. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s get back to the house. Don’t want to alert the enemy we been here.”
*****
Nonny took charge of Sister, helping her through the tall grass, and Ruby followed behind the pair. Mack stayed behind to hide their passing and straightened the fence wire after everyone had crawled back through. Ruby drove Sister back to the home place while Mack followed close behind, Nonny beside him and Whitey in the backseat.
“What do you figure?” He looked toward Nonny, who sat quiet. “You deconstructed this mess yet?”
Nonny’s response was caustic. “What do you think?”
He sat silent, long enough for Nonny to look his way.
“What do you think, Mack?”
Mack hesitated. “I think I’ve troubled you enough with this business, Nonny. We couldn’t have done it without you, but I can’t ask you to do anything more.”
“Oh no you don’t, buddy,” she snorted. “Not after I come this far. Now, what do you think?”
Knowing the battle was lost, Mack put his mind on winning the war. “Those records, did we check everything there was to check? Find everything there was to find?”
“At the Genealogy Society and courthouse? I can’t think of anything we might’ve missed.”
“What about those arrest records? Would there be any more like that? Maybe a police or a missing person’s report?”
She grew thoughtful. “Not there. Still, anything of significance should’ve been listed in that book you looked at. What else would there be?”
“Well now, that’s the question, isn’t it.” He paused, rubbing fingers across his mouth. “Anything that might smack of being odd, out of the ordinary?”
She sat quiet a minute. “Well, around here anything unusual would have made headlines . . .” She paused, blinking rapidly. “And the newspaper keeps microfiche archives. Go on.”
“What do you think a plot of land the size of that one back there would go for fifty, sixty years ago? Maybe a couple hundred dollars?”
“At most— Oh, you’re thinking Pa sold off Beulah Land for the money to buy the casket and stone.”
“Right. And why do you figure anyone as tight as old Washburn would give Pa that kind of money for a piece of land worth two hundred bucks?”
Nonny smirked. “You’re getting pretty good at this deconstruction business, Mack Barlow. I’ll check newspaper records.”
Recalling Chester Barnes’ concern again, Mack did some quick reconnoitering. “No—you’ve done enough. You need to get back to . . .” Mack waved a hand in the air. “To whatever it was you were doing before I dumped this mess in your lap.”
Nonny frowned. “Such as?”
“Your job. And jelly. Helping Chester out. Taking Henry Carter gumdrops—”
“Chester?” Nonny jerked upright. “First you go see Uncle George, then you go to the shelter? You checking up on me, Mack?”
“No . . . Well, not with Uncle George anyway.” He blew out his breath. “Aw hell, I’ve run into a situation with this duplex deal, the one I’m buying for Mama and Sister. The only way the builder will make the changes I want is if I can sell both sides. I’m looking for someone to buy the other half of it.”
“And you thought Uncle George might be a good candidate?”
“He’s not a spring chicken anymore, can barely get around.”
“What did he tell you?”
“I figure you know that already.” Mack pulled to a stop behind his mother’s car. “That’s the honest-to-God truth, Nonny. Uncle George isn’t getting any younger. Believe it or not, I’m just trying to do the right thing here.”
Nonny laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah well, I used to think I had all the answers, too. And Chester?”
“Curiosity, pure and simple. Just wanted to see what kind of a guy turned your crank these days. He’s a nice guy, for a . . . you know.”
She smiled. “Yeah, he is. And?”
He hesitated. “And he’s worried about you. Says something’s put you into a blue funk the last couple of days and he’s afraid you might . . .” He rubbed his mouth. “Aw hell, he’s afraid you might fall off the wagon.”
She stopped smiling. “What else did he tell you?”
Mack looked out his side window, saw his mother and aunt walking up the steps to the house, then faced Nonny again. “He said alcoholism led to your getting fired from your teaching job.”
She remained silent.
“Look, I didn’t go there to pry.” Mack studied Nonny’s face, which had turned to stone. “Chester volunteered the information.”
“It was actually the other way around,” Nonny said, talking slow.
“What?”
“The classroom led to the drinking.” She got out of the Bronco. “I’ll run by the newspaper office on my way back to the post office,” she said. “And I’ll think on who might be a likely candidate for the other side of that duplex.”
Watching Nonny drive off, Mack scratched Whitey’s ears. “Damn,” he muttered. “All I’ve done since I got here is kick over one can of worms after another.”
“Mack, did you hear me?
He turned toward the house. “What is it, Mama?”
“I said I called your grandpa to tell him we found Bill and Jack and the nurse said they can’t wake him up. They think he’s gone into a coma.”
Hurriedly, Mack opened the car doors for his mother and aunt.
“I thought you went by to check on him today, Mack.” Sister settled in the backseat.
“I did. He was sleeping.”
“And you didn’t try to wake him up?”
“Didn’t see any reason to. I thought they might’ve started the shots again, to make him sleep through those spells. So I checked in at the nurse’s station, then left.”
“Had they?” Ruby said, hope in her voice. “Give him another shot, I mean?”
“No. That’s why I figured he was asleep.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ruby mumbled. “He just has to know we found them mules. I’d never forgive myself if he died not knowing.”
“Or dies before we can get our hands on Beulah Land,” Sister said.
“What?” Ruby turned to her sister.
Mack followed suit, looking through the rearview mirror to where his aunt sat. “What do you mean, get our hands on Beulah Land?”
“How else are we gonna bury Pa next to Bill and Jack if we don’t get our hands on Beulah Land?”
Hell, Mack thought. Sister’s right again. We still have that fly in the ointment.
