Hell With the Lid Blown Off Read online

  When Miz Tucker and all of us arrived at her daughter’s house, Doc Addison’s wife, Ann, was already there. Everybody called her Doctor Ann even though she was a midwife and not really a doctor. She had delivered near to every baby in town under the age of twenty-five, including me.

  Alice’s husband, Walter, was nowhere to be seen.

  Now, I liked Walter Kelley. He was the busiest barber in town, with a three-seat shop right on Main Street and a real nice house over on Second. He could tell a good story like nobody I ever knew, and after five minutes in his chair you’d be laughing until you were in tears. But the look that came over Miz Tucker’s face when she saw that Walter was missing caused me to figure there were limits to his charm.

  Not that he was avoiding the birth of his first child on purpose. Seems he was unaware that the event was imminent when he left his wife alone and went to play cards with his buddies.

  I never did see Alice. She was already in the bedroom, and none of us fellows had any desire to go in and say howdy. Miz Tucker and Martha followed Dr. Ann in, though, while Gee Dub and Ruth and me made ourselves to home in the parlor. I was itching to leave, but Ruth decided she wanted to stay for the duration and I had no idea how long that would be. I still had a notion that I could see her back to Miz MacKenzie’s house before it got entirely too late.

  That’s when Miz Tucker came out of the bedroom and waved Gee Dub and me over. Her sour expression could have curdled milk. She told Gee Dub that Walter was on her bad side and she had no particular desire to inform him of what was happening, but Alice had seemed to want him there and we should go get him. When Gee Dub asked where Walter had gotten off to, his ma pulled him close and whispered into his ear. Gee Dub nodded, but I couldn’t tell what his opinion of the situation was. That’s the way that boy was. He played it close to the vest. All he said was, “Come on, Trent.”

  Since I was only there because of Ruth, I didn’t really want to go, but I wasn’t foolish enough to cross Miz Tucker right about then.

  “If you run into Daddy, best say nothing about Walter’s whereabouts if you can avoid it, son,” Miz Tucker said to Gee Dub as we headed out to fetch the prodigal husband. “We don’t want Alice’s child to be an orphan before it ever sees the light of day.”

  Wallace MacKenzie

  As the church picnic wound down, a childhood friend of Wallace’s had invited him and Randal over for a visit and Beckie had urged them to go. “Y’all don’t need to accompany me. Marva is at the house,” she told them.

  So Wallace and his two friends had gone off, looking like a peacock and two wrens walking down the street together, and left Beckie to make her way home on her own.

  The young men didn’t stay at Wallace’s friend’s house long. Just enough to fill each other in on what had happened in their lives over the two years that Wallace had been away.

  But it had been a long afternoon and a busy day. Randal had met as many strangers as he cared to, and Wallace was hot and itchy in the wool tartan and had had enough sport to satisfy even him.

  The sun was well to the west by the time they got back to Beckie’s. They could barely see the man who was standing in the deep shade beside the carriage house. A glowing point of orange arced through the air as he removed a cigarette from his mouth and let it hang casually at his side, dangling from his fingers.

  Wallace felt goose flesh rise on his arms. He stopped at the bottom of the steps at his grandmother’s back porch. “Who is that?”

  “He looks familiar,” Randal said, loud enough for the stranger to hear. “Like an odd-shaped scarecrow, Wally. Like the man you mortally insulted today at the church potluck. That Beldon fellow.”

  The shadow man detached himself from the carriage house wall and strolled toward them.

  “Looks like he wants to talk to us,” Wallace noted.

  “So it does, Wall, though I cannot imagine what the likes of him might want to say to the likes of you.”

  Wallace moved closer to his friend and dropped his voice. “I think we’d better dust off our knuckles, for I fear we may be needing to use them pretty quick.”

  “He seems to be alone and there are two of us,” Randal observed, “so I’d be surprised if he’s here to pick a fight,”

  The two young men stood their ground and made no attempt to meet Jubal Beldon halfway. Neither did Jubal seem to be in a rush to reveal his purpose when he finally stopped in front of them. He took a long drag on his cigarette, dropped it, and ground it under his heel before he spoke.

  “Been waiting for you.”

  “So it seems, Mr. Beldon. I can’t imagine you’re here to continue our reasoned exchange of ideas, so what can I do for you?” Wallace’s tone was heavy with sarcasm.

  Jubal smiled. “Nothing. There ain’t nothing you can do for me. There ain’t nothing you can do at all.”

  Had it been anyone else in the world who had uttered these words, Wallace would have asked him what he meant, or laughed, or been annoyed, but the sultry weather, the crooked smile, and the satisfied tone of Jubal’s voice combined to cause Wallace a stab of irrational fear.

  Randal saved him from the effort it would have taken him to speak. “What do you want?” He barked out the sentence, betraying his own fear.

  “I’m on my way to the sheriff’s office. Going to let him know that we’ve got us a couple of perverts in town. Then I’m going to pass the word around town. I reckon y’all will either be on your way to prison or lynched by morning.”

  There was an instant of stunned silence before the two young men spoke over each other.

  “You can’t…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The snaggle-toothed smile was accompanied by a low chuckle this time. “I knew right away, when you come tripping into the Masonic Hall in your darling little frock there, MacKenzie. Why, I should have figured you out years ago, you pansy. Then you come back to town with your sweetheart in tow. Yes, it hit me like a brick. Then I seen y’all. Right there behind the hall, sitting on a stump with your heads together, canoodling. There ain’t no use to deny it. I ain’t blind. I stood there for quite a spell. If them ladies hadn’t come by there’s no telling what you might have got up to.”

  Wallace MacKenzie may have been a spoiled and self-indulgent man, but he was neither stupid nor a coward. Randal made a noise, and Wallace put his hand on his friend’s arm to silence him. “You’re insane, Beldon. Yes, you’ve purely lost your mind, that’s how I see it, because you didn’t see anything. Do you think for a minute that anybody is going to believe such an outrageous lie? Why, most of the folks in this town have known me since I was knee-high. And there isn’t anybody in the county who doesn’t love my grandmother. Now, we both know what everybody thinks of you. So who do you think the sheriff is going to believe?”

  “Oh, times have changed, fancy boy. There ain’t nobody going to take a chance that there’s a cancer living among us. They’re going to cut it out. Or string it up.” Jubal pantomimed the jerk of a noose around his neck and emitted another nasty chuckle. “And don’t fool yourself, you filth. Even if there wasn’t a war coming, folks love to believe the worst. Nobody likes you that much, anyway.”

  Wallace felt the tremor that passed through Randal’s body. He dropped his hand from his friend’s arm and took a step forward. “Why are you here, Beldon? Why come here alone and wait in the shadows, without your posse, to warn us of what you intend to do? If we’re such a danger and blight, why not gather all your slimy brothers and thimble-headed friends, grab us up off the street and string us up? Could it be that you want something?”

  “I want you to know. I want you to be a-waiting for the law or the lynch mob. I want you to know that you’re finished, both of you, you sodomites.”

  “Are you stupid? Now that you’ve warned us, we’ll be gone before you can bring anybody back for us!”

  �
��Oh, you can run, but I don’t expect you’ll be able to get too far. Sheriff’ll put out wanted bulletins on y’all. No more college for you, or the Army, neither. You are ruined and so are your families. Your rich snooty old grandma ain’t going to be able to hold her head up in this town ever again, MacKenzie.”

  Jubal didn’t sound angry or righteous when he delivered his message. He sounded downright pleased, and that was the worst thing of all.

  Wallace felt curiously calm. He felt sorrier for Randal than for himself, and more sorry for his grandmother than for either of them. “How much will it take for you to keep your mouth shut?”

  Jubal growled. “I don’t want no money.”

  “So you say. But men have been known to change their minds when they’re staring at a pile of greenbacks.”

  A pile of greenbacks. Jubal took a breath, preparing to fling a dusty reply at him.

  But nothing was forthcoming, and had his very life not been hanging in the balance, Wallace might have smiled. He seized his opportunity. “I’ve got our trip money upstairs, almost two hundred dollars. ”

  Jubal thought for a moment. This was not his plan. He was not a blackmailer. He purely enjoyed knowing things about people, things that they wouldn’t be proud for anyone to know, and now he had the power to act upon his knowledge. People were afraid of him, he knew that. His neighbors, people who had always despised him and his brothers, and thought they were better than him, were afraid of what he could do to them. The fact pleased him.

  When by sheer accident he had seen Wallace and Randal together, he knew he had hit the jackpot. It didn’t matter if it was true or not. The very accusation would mean the end of both of them. This piece of information had given him the power of life or death over two human beings, and for the past hours he had been savoring his knowledge and carefully considering the best way to use it to his own advantage. In the end he had decided it would please him most to see this smart-mouthed, spoiled rotten ponce spend a few years in prison, or maybe even something deliciously worse.

  But two hundred dollars. That gave Jubal pause. He could get clean to China with two hundred dollars. Or fix up the farm and buy another quarter-section of land. Folks might look at him with a little respect if he had two hundred dollars.

  Wallace and Randal stood together in the eerie light, silent and still as deer watching a panther, while Jubal Beldon thought. What he thought was, There’s no reason I can’t see them two swing and have two hundred dollars to boot.

  “Let’s see this money,” he said at last.

  “It’s up in my room. I’ll have to fetch it.”

  “Go on then, and make it fast. Not you!” Jubal pointed at Randal as the two turned to head up the steps. “You stay right here till he gets back with the money. If both of you go, I’m heading for the sheriff.”

  Wallace barged up the steps alone and fumbled across the enclosed porch, through the back door, and into the kitchen. The sky was pale and white as the sun sank toward the horizon, but inside, the house was already eerily dark. Marva was in the kitchen, and Wallace tried to look as normal as possible as he waved at her in passing. He felt his way through the hall, and up the stairs, unwilling to turn on a light lest he alert his grandmother. He closed his bedroom door behind him and pulled the chain on the electric lamp by his bedside. His hands were trembling so much that he could hardly open the drawer that held his leather wallet.

  He removed two hundred dollars, folded it, and stuck it into his sporran before turning off the light and slipping down the stairs and out the back door.

  Randal and Jubal were standing just as he had left them, eyeing one another suspiciously. Randal’s posture was stiff, his fists clinched at his side. Jubal’s stance was an insolent slouch. Wallace expected it was a good thing he had hurried because he knew Randal well enough to know that he was almost at the end of his tether.

  Both men turned their heads to look at him as he opened the screen and stepped out. He reached into the sporran, and saw Jubal start. He probably thinks I’m going for a gun, Wallace thought, and fervently wished he was.

  He extended his hand and two hundred dollars unfolded like a fan. Jubal’s eyes widened at the sight. He snatched the money, licked his thumb, and began counting. Wallace was unnaturally aware of every detail—the look of concentration on Jubal Beldon’s oddly proportioned face and the combination of fear and burning hatred on Randal’s.

  “It’s all there,” Wallace said.

  Jubal looked up but didn’t reply. He stuffed the wad of bills into the back pocket of his trousers and turned to walk toward the horse he had tethered at the side of the carriage house.

  “This means you’ll leave us alone, right?” Wallace called after him.

  Jubal looked back at him over his shoulder. “Might.” And that was all he said before he mounted and rode away.

  Wallace didn’t move. He didn’t speak or look at his friend, or even think for a very long time. The sun was low on the horizon now and the wind was picking up. He could see that there were clouds building to the southwest. Not a good sign, he thought, especially at this time of day. Probably a storm coming.

  “Do you think he’ll keep his mouth shut?”

  Randal’s question roused Wallace out of his reverie. “What I’m wondering,” he said, “is why I just stood here like a fool and let him go? If I’d have knocked him in the head nobody would mind much. I expect my folks would rather I was a murderer than a sodomite, anyway.”

  Randal was not quite so sanguine. “Are you insane, Wallace? What in God’s name are we going to do? He’s right. If it gets in people’s heads that we’re sodomites we’ll be lynched, or at least run out of town on a rail! We could go to prison! Oh, Sweet Jesus, what if my father hears of this? He’ll never speak to me again.”

  “Calm down, Randy, and let’s think. I reckon we’ve bought ourselves some time, at least. Even if he has no idea of keeping his end of the bargain, even if he was going straight from here to the sheriff, it’d take him a quarter hour to get into town and another ten minutes or so to get to the jailhouse. If he’s aiming to round up a mob, it’ll take him even longer. No matter which, I intend for us to be long gone. We’ll have to borrow Grandmother’s rig. We can leave it at my father’s house in Muskogee.”

  He turned, but Randal grabbed his arm. “Wallace, why run like a pair of scared geese? There’s two of us and one of him. We might be able to catch up with him and put the fear of God in him.”

  “You don’t know him, Randy. If we beat him up that’ll just make him twice as set on ruining us.”

  Randal didn’t respond. The two young men gazed at one another in silence for a long moment. Finally Randal said, “Do you know where he lives?”

  “I know where the farm is, yes.” Suddenly Wallace made a decision. His jaw set with determination. “You go hitch up Teacup and I’ll throw our things in the cases. I’ll leave Gran a note. Now, get on. We may not have much time.”

  Randal headed for the carriage house as Wallace hurried up the steps. Squares and rectangles of evening light painted the wooden floor and illuminated the side tables, potted plants, and wicker chairs that Beckie had arranged on the big, screened porch in order to create a cool and pleasant place to sit and drink iced tea on a summer day.

  Sitting in one of those wicker chairs was Beckie herself, her hands folded in her lap. She was already clad in her quilted dressing gown and crocheted slippers. Her hair hung over her shoulder in a thick, silver-gold braid. The sky blue eyes were staring at Wallace out of a face as still as marble.

  Wallace nearly fell over his own feet when he saw her. “Gran!” To his embarrassment, his voice squeaked. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  “Get out,” she said.

  A cold sweat broke out on Wallace’s forehead. “You heard.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Get out and never come back.”


  “Gran, you can’t believe…”

  “Take your things and your … friend, and never come back here. Don’t write to me or telephone me.”

  Wallace caught his breath. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.”

  Wallace felt his face flush. He was hot, feverish with fear and shame. “Aren’t you going to ask me if it’s true? And even if it were, don’t you love me any more than that?”

  Tears started to Beckie’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, my boy. Don’t you understand? If folks think a thing, it is so. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. Your reputation is ruined. Because of that man, you have no life here anymore, and neither do I. We both must go far away and start anew. Now, grab what you can and go. Go. Take the buggy. There’s a train to Muskogee at eight-thirty, but you need to get out of here without delay. Go to your father’s like you planned and leave the buggy with him. I’ll pack a bag and tell Marva not to come in for a few days. I’ll take the train in to Muskogee tonight after y’all are well away. You and Randal can be out of the state by dawn.”

  Wallace couldn’t speak. What was there to say? The earth had suddenly fallen out from under him and there was nothing he could do about it. He turned and went into the house.

  Beckie turned her head to stare out into the yard. She was sure her son Junior would take care of selling the place. Still, she loved this house, and was sorry that she would have to leave Boynton forever.

  Trenton Calder

  It was getting late in the day. It was still hot, but clouds had rolled in on the wind and the sky was overcast. Me and Gee Dub had both left our mounts at the hitching post out front of the Masonic Hall, only about a block from Alice Kelley’s house.