Chapter Sixty-Five

CELIA COUNTED IT A GOOD THING that Miss Lill was the one who took the word to Reverend Willard. He’d believe her quicker than he’d believe Celia. And he loved Miss Lill in his way. Even Celia could see that.

“This is quite an accusation, Celia. You’re certain you can identify him? It was dark out there in the woods.” Reverend Willard held Celia’s eyes.

“There was torchlight enough and that burning cross made it bright. I saw his shoes when the horse reared. Why a fellow’d wear fancy shoes to do such a thing, I don’t know, but he did.”

“Arrogance, because he believes he can get away with it,” Miss Lill said as if she knew.

“The quicker we get him behind bars, the better for everyone.” Reverend Willard pushed long fingers through his hair. “But I’m not sure about pressing charges. Ruby Lynne’s still a minor. So much depends on Rhoan.”

“I was wrong about Rhoan Wishon—at least about that. But he’s her father; he’s got to step up, for his daughter’s sake. We can’t let this go on longer. Ruby Lynne’s vulnerable every minute. That wicked man will just hurt her again and again, don’t you see that?”

Miss Lill’s combination of anger and fear overwhelmed and perplexed Celia. She half feared she’d set them all on a wild wagon ride down a steep and rutted mountain trail that they’d never get off. What will Ruby Lynne’s daddy do to keep us all quiet? What won’t he do?

Celia worried about that from the moment Reverend Willard telephoned Doc Vishy, asking him to bring his car and medical bag to the parsonage, but not saying why. She knew he didn’t trust their “tele-Mae” operator to keep quiet, and quiet was of the essence if anything good was to be accomplished. It was clear they couldn’t count on the sheriff. How they’d stop things with no authority—and Rhoan Wishon the most powerful man in No Creek—Celia had no idea.

By the time Doc Vishy drove Reverend Willard, Miss Lill, and Celia into the lane at the Wishon farm, it was well past one. Apparently the Wishons had already enjoyed their Sunday dinner, as Rhoan and Troy were leaning against the front porch steps smoking Camels.

“What brings you all out here, Reverend?” Rhoan’s voice took a sharp edge.

“We need to talk, Rhoan. I’m glad you’re both here.”

Troy straightened up. Rhoan tossed his cigarette into the shrubbery.

“Might we come in?” Doc Vishy asked as politely as if he’d come to make a house call. “The ladies ought not to stand in the cold.”

Rhoan glanced at Miss Lill, took in the bandage on her head and the way the reverend guided her up the stairs. He looked as if he was about to object but saw no way clear of letting a bandaged woman escorted by the preacher inside his house.

Celia scooted close after Miss Lill.

Ruby Lynne came out of the kitchen, her eyes wide, drying a skillet and wrapped in an apron that pulled too tight across her growing middle.

“You go on, Ruby Lynne,” her father said. “This won’t concern you.”

“As a matter of fact,” Doc Vishy said, “it most concerns Ruby Lynne.”

“I believe you’ll want Ruby Lynne to stay, Rhoan.” Reverend Willard spoke as if they were friends.

“Don’t you reckon you’ve all done enough damage?” Troy stood unwavering by the door. “Buttin’ into things not your business—”

“The welfare of members of the church is my primary business,” Reverend Willard cut him off. “And I believe Ruby Lynne’s condition requires the attendance of Dr. Vishnevsky.”

“Why’d you bring this woman to my home?” Rhoan lit another cigarette and blew smoke right at Miss Lill. “You know what I said about her.”

Celia could feel Miss Lill tense for a fight. Every word from Miss Lill—even her presence—rubbed Rhoan Wishon the wrong way. Celia slipped her hand into Miss Lill’s palm and squeezed, hoping to settle her down, persuade her to let Reverend Willard do the talking. They needed Ruby Lynne’s daddy to listen.

“We’ve learned the father of Ruby Lynne’s child, Rhoan, and we’re here—”

“We all know the father!” Troy shouted. “And it would have been taken care of if you and your Jew friend didn’t butt into things not your business.”

“Marshall is not the father.” Reverend Willard held firm.

“Says you,” Troy snorted.

“You say you’ve learned who the father is,” Rhoan challenged. “Ruby Lynne tell you?”

Ruby Lynne cowered by the door.

“No,” Reverend Willard continued, “but I’m hoping she’ll verify the truth we all know.”

Everyone stared at Ruby Lynne, who stepped back, looking like she might puke. “Don’t ask me. I won’t say. I’ve told y’all that. I won’t say.”

“Because it’s that thievin’ n—!”

“He’s not a thief!” Celia shouted. She wouldn’t let Marshall be accused one more time because of her cowardice. But this time Miss Lill squeezed her hand.

“Because you’re sweet on him, ain’t you, girl?” Troy ignored Celia and pushed, mocking.

Ruby Lynne shook her head—not so much to deny it, Celia thought, as to refuse to answer.

“The father was overheard last night, a confession clear as any a courtroom might require.” Reverend Willard looked steadily at Rhoan.

Rhoan straightened. Everybody knew he could be a mean drunk, and Celia wondered if he feared what he’d done in a stupor.

“Nobody’s accusing you, Rhoan, of anything but jumping to the wrong conclusion—and of not being here to protect your daughter.” Reverend Willard did not back down. “Isn’t that right, Troy?”

Troy shifted, his eyes caught in disbelief. But he recovered quickly and feigned bravado. “I never accused Rhoan of nothing. All along I’ve said it was—”

“It was you!” Miss Lill nearly spat. “You raped your niece when your brother wasn’t here—and you did it more than once!” Then she glared at Rhoan. “While you were off running moonshine, no doubt.”

Rhoan flinched. “Now, look here, woman—”

“Yes, see here!” Miss Lill all but shouted. “Your own daughter’s been too afraid to tell you that your brother—”

“Lies!” Troy shouted. “Pack of lies! Rhoan, you know you can’t believe this slut! She ran off from her own husband.”

“You better have proof, Preacher,” Rhoan threatened. “Comin’ into my home, accusin’ my own brother—”

“I heard him.” Celia’s words came out hollow. Everybody turned to her and she turned to Troy. “I heard you last night, at the hanging.”

“Goes to show she’s lying—there was no hanging!” Troy laughed too loud.

“Because Reverend Willard and Doc Vishy stopped it when your gun went off!” Celia was mad now.

Rhoan blinked. “How do you—?”

“I was there. I hid in the back of Doc Vishy’s car and followed Reverend Willard into the woods. They didn’t even know I was there till afterward.”

“Little brat’s makin’ things up.” Troy stubbed his cigarette on the floor.

“I heard you say you’d make half a dozen babies with that girl—and not one would see the light of day.”

Ruby Lynne’s face flushed bright and her red-rimmed eyes flared in fear, then anger. She looked from Troy to her father, everything in her turned to pleading.

Miss Lill groaned.

Rhoan looked as if he’d been slapped awake, the air sucked right out of him. “Troy?”

“Lies! You know I’d never—”

“Ask her!” Doc Vishy ordered. “Ruby Lynne, you must tell the truth. Now is the time.”

“Ruby Lynne, you’ve got to say!” Celia pleaded. “Tell him. Your daddy won’t hurt you—he’s askin’ you. Tellin’ the truth is the only way to stop Troy from doin’ it again.”

But Ruby Lynne didn’t look convinced. She looked terrified and most of all like she wanted to seep into the floorboards.

Rhoan took his daughter’s arm. “Ruby Lynne. Is what this girl says true? Answer me.”

Troy stepped forward. “Now, Rhoan—”

“Shut up!”

The room grew quiet.

“Ruby Lynne,” Troy started, “you don’t want to be turning on family just because you’re sweet on some—”

“I’m not sweet on anybody!” Ruby Lynne near exploded. “I never was.” Now she spoke to her daddy but stared full at Troy. “He came when you were gone—always when you’d gone up to Asheville or wherever you go for—” She stopped.

“The girl lured me, Rhoan. You know what a vixen she can—”

“You raped me!” Ruby Lynne whispered, whimpered, but her tears were lost when Rhoan pushed her aside and rushed his brother, shoving him to the floor. He pummeled Troy’s face with his fists.

“Rhoan! Rhoan!” Reverend Willard grabbed Rhoan’s right fist in midair and Dr. Vishy grabbed the other, pulling him off Troy before he beat him to death.

Miss Lill swept Ruby Lynne, weeping uncontrollably, into her arms. Celia was left standing on the sidelines, not knowing what to do or where to look.

“Let the law handle this, Rhoan.” Reverend Willard kept hold of the man.

“He won’t live to see the law!” Rhoan wiped his mouth on his sleeve while Troy pulled himself to a sitting position on the floor. “Don’t even think of running out that door. I’ll shoot you dead before you cross the yard!”

“We need to calm down.” Reverend Willard stood between Rhoan and Troy.

“I’ll kill you,” Rhoan threatened Troy.

“And go to jail for murder!” Miss Lill’s voice surprised everybody. “That won’t help Ruby Lynne. You being gone is the worst thing in the world for her. That’s what gave your brother the opportunity in the first place! She needs your protection, Rhoan Wishon, not your anger.”

“Then you best call for the sheriff before I do him in. I’ll see you put away for the rest of your natural life, Troy. Ruby Lynne will—”

“There’s got to be a better way than dragging Ruby Lynne through a court of law and all over the front page of the newspaper.” Reverend Willard relaxed his hold on Rhoan.

Rhoan turned on him. “Then you tell me what that is, Preacher. He ain’t goin’ free.”

Doc Vishy loosened his tie. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Please!” Miss Lill spoke despite Rhoan’s glare.

“Reverend Willard made a good point last night. Young men are needed to fight Germany and Japan.” Doc Vishy turned to Troy. “Enlisting would get Troy away from No Creek for however long this war lasts—at least. Longer, if he promises never to return to the county.”

“You can’t do that! You can’t make me!” Troy attempted to rise from the floor, wiping blood from his nose, but only got as far as his knees.

“How old are you, young man?” Doc Vishy asked.

“He’s twenty-one,” Rhoan answered for him.

“I’m not going!” Troy’s eyes widened. “You can’t make me. We agreed to pay—”

Rhoan pushed Reverend Willard aside and grabbed his brother by the shirt collar, jerking him to his feet. “You’ll enlist tomorrow morning first thing or you’ll leave here today with a bullet between your shoulders.”

“If you stay, Troy, you’ll go to jail for rape,” Doc Vishy said. “I will testify to the beatings and violation I’ve treated Ruby Lynne for over the last months.”

Troy fumed.

Rhoan winced at the doctor’s words. He wiped his jaw, considering. “You’ll enlist, and no matter what, you’ll never set foot in this house again—not anywhere in No Creek. You hear me?”

“Rhoan,” Troy pleaded, “you got to understand—”

Rhoan jerked Troy’s collar upward until Troy stood on tiptoe to keep from choking. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Troy was strong and muscled, but he was no match for his work-hardened older brother. “I got it.”

“Until then, Rhoan, perhaps you can ask Sheriff Wilkins to give your brother a room in his jail tonight.” Doc Vishy’s solution surprised them all. “For everyone’s safekeeping.”

Reverend Willard placed a hand on Rhoan’s shoulder. Rhoan dropped Troy to the ground.

“I’ll telephone the sheriff,” Doc Vishy spoke quietly and stepped into the kitchen for the phone.