The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 41

“I want you to stay here tonight,” Carl told Edna.

It was 6:30 and the two youngest Bentwood boys along with the two remaining girls were at the supper table with their parents. Carl knew that she wouldn’t protest with the children sitting there.

“Where ya goin’, Daddy?” Evan asked.

“Daddy’s got to go to town later,” Edna spoke for her husband.

“Can I go?” Evan asked.

“No,” Edna said. “You’ll be in bed asleep.”

Evan showed disappointment for a moment then remembered the chocolate pie on his plate.

Once the exchange with her son was finished, Edna looked at Carl and he knew that she was not going to be staying at home.

Cubby Lawrence poked a tablespoon full of white beans and cornbread into his mouth and chomped as if on a mission. He took a white onion ring and shoved it in onto the bean mixture in his mouth, then bit a couple of inches off a stogie-sized dill pickle. He sat at his kitchen table alone.

“Sally June!” Lawrence added his daughter’s middle name when he didn’t want to repeat something.

“Yessir,” Sally called from Jenny’s “room.”

“You’re gonna stay with that kid!”

“Yessir.” Sally knew this is what he would demand of her.

“When we get back, she better still be here.”

“Yessir.” Sally said aloud, then under her breath, “Don’t count on it.”

She had already made up her mind that she was going to get the girl out of there. And since it involved total defiance of her father, she, herself, was going to “escape” as well. The best place for her to make a new start was Memphis. It was far enough, big enough and indifferent enough to let her get lost there.

She could finally leave the stink of the hogs and the stink of Cubby Lawrence far behind.

At 7 p.m., Marshall and Conners drove through England, Arkansas. They were making good time and Conners had mentioned that they would probably be in Wynne by about midnight. When he said this, it was virtually the only words spoken between them in the previous two hours.

“Ya got any kids?” Marshall asked which surprised Conners.

“Uh, yea,” He said. “I’ve got two boys, Larry and Jackie. Larry’s the oldest, he’s twenty-one. Jackie’s eighteen, ‘bout your age.”

“James was eighteen.”

Conners frowned for a moment then remembered and nodded his head.

“Ya mean your brother?”

“Yea,” Marshall said.

“Would’a been nineteen next month.” Marshall said, then changed the subject. “How much longer do ya think it is till we get there? Still be about twelve?”

“Probably,” Conners answered, pulled out his pocket watch and snapped it open. He glanced at then snapped it back closed and slid it back into his watch pocket. “It’s 7:15 now and it’s maybe another hundred and fifty miles.”

“Sooner the better.”

“Who’ve you got commin’?” Lampkin spoke into the phone to Talmadge.

“Me and two more,” Talmadge answered. “Steve Frost and Jim Champion. Gonna be you and Ralph?”

“Yea,” Lampkin said. “Five should be enough to handle anything. “

“Maybe!”

“What?” Lampkin asked. “You think that an old man and two girls’ll be a problem?”

“Like I told ya before, that “old man’s” just plain mean.” Talmadge said. “I’ve crossed his path a few times, county taxes and things like that. I’ll tell ya, I wouldn’t put anything past ‘im. And I always had a suspicion that he had to leave Georgia. I bet the law was after ‘im.””

“I still think five is plenty,” Lampkin said. “Plus, if it gets hot, that Ranger’ll help us, too.”

“Well, I just hope we’re ready. I’ll see ya ‘bout 10:30.”

Sully’s was a half mile from the courthouse and a mile from the police station. On that Friday night at 10:30 p.m., Gerald was the only person under fifty in the place. It had been two weeks since the confrontation with Prichard and Lawrence and a week and a half since he had talked to Marshall.

He had played probably ten or twelve games of pool alone to hone his skills, he told himself. In reality, he wanted to be there when Marshall got in. Regardless of what his friend said or did to him, he still wanted to be there to support him. Especially since he had done so much to hurt him. Gerald took his cue and placed it back in its rack then put his jacket on.

“Callin’ it a night, Borden?” Sulley asked around a black cigar.

“I think I’ve had it for tanight, Mr. Sulley.”

“Have ya heard anything about ya buddy, Bentwood?”

“No sir.” Gerald lied. “Not a word.”

“Bad about his sister. They got any idea who nabbed her?”

“No, sir, not that I know of.” Gerald lied again. He wasn’t like Marshall had. Lying was no problem for him. “I’ll be seein’ ya.”

Sully nodded as Gerald opened the door and stepped out into the brisk air. He noticed that it felt like it might snow. Even though snow was rare in Eastern Arkansas, especially in March, it was not unheard of.

Gerald pulled his jacket tighter around him and began walking toward the courthouse. He didn’t know where Marshall was supposed to come to, but he could begin there at least. The moon was full, but only peaked out occasionally due to the incoming clouds from the north. The sporadic light it cast along with the dim streetlights projected a melancholy hue to the street.

Gerald got close enough to the courthouse so he could see cars and hear voices. Deciding this was close enough, he turned and stepped into the alley where James Bentwood had been killed. He stood, relatively hidden, looking around the corner at the three-story municipal building. It was 11 p.m.

Carl pulled into the courthouse parking lot and turned the Studebaker sedan off. Edna was with him.

“We may have a long wait.” He was still trying to convince his wife that she didn’t need to be there.

“That’ll be fine,” She didn’t look at him. “I can wait as well as anybody.”

It was one of the few times in their twenty-two year marriage that she had taken a stand. She was determined to see her boy, though, so Carl knew there would be no stopping her. She would have walked to town if necessary.

“Is that snow?” Carl asked as a flake settled on the windshield and instantly melted.

“Sure was,” Edna smiled. She loved snow. Not when it got ten inches deep and caused a body to freeze in their own house; or when you had to go out and knock the white stuff off the fire wood so you could stoke the stove or fire place.

No, Edna loved snow when it was coming down as heavy as rain, but as silently as the whispering flight of a butterfly. And she loved it when it was settling in the trees and on the dunes and gullies of the Ridge. What she really loved was seeing a coating of white through her window as she lay in her bed late at night.

Carl, on the other hand hated everything about snow other than the fact that it was imperative to have at least one good snow and ground freeze every winter. It helped to get rid of a lot of the bug and fungus infestations that were there waiting for the next Spring’s planting. Or at least that’s what farmers in the area, including himself, had always believed.

Now, though, was not the right time for snow. He was already in the fields trying to prepare and plant. Snow wouldn’t be as bad as rain, but too much of the stuff would still cause problems and he already had enough of those.

Then a minute after the first flake fell, as if to let Carl know that nature didn’t go by his needs and demands, the snow began in earnest. In fifteen minutes close to a half inch of wet snow had fallen. The moon had disappeared and an eerie, cavernous calm began settling on the streets and buildings as the snow gathered in the available light and reflected it back in all directions.

Edna didn’t say anything, knowing full well, Carl’s opinion, but sat reveling in the beauty she saw all around her. Then she suddenly hated herself for the happiness she felt.

What of James and Jenny and Marshall. What of her children. How could she forget so easily? How could she push her sorrow from her mind in such an effortless way? How?

“What’s the matter,” Carl saw the tears streaking down Edna’s face. “I thought you like this stuff.”

“I miss ‘em,” Edna said then began sobbing.

Carl’s face softened and tears came to his own eyes.

“I know, I miss ‘em, too.” Carl said, his voice cracking. “But, Marshall’s comin’ home in a little while and we’ll have Jenny home soon, too.”

At that moment, Carl saw movement on top of the bank building across the street. He turned full face toward it still holding Edna, but saw nothing else. Snow must be playin’ with my eyes, he thought. But then he saw a glint and knew it wasn’t the snow playing tricks.

“Stay here,” Carl whispered as he opened the car door.

“What’s the matter,” Edna said, sniffing.

“Nothin’, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He walked the few steps into the sheriff’s office on the ground floor and found both Lampkin and Talmadge sitting at a table near the front window of the office. They could easily see outside from their positions. Each man had a cup of coffee in front of him. Beside the cups lay a shotgun apiece. The sight of the guns surprised Carl.

“Evenin’, Carl,” Talmadge said.

“Carl,” Lampkin said with a nod.

“What’re the guns for?” Carl said without returning the greetings. “My boy’s comin’ in cause he wants to. You don’t need them.”

Lampkin and Talmadge looked at each other, then at Carl.

“They’re just as a precaution, Carl,” Talmadge said.

“Precaution about what?” Carl was suddenly irritated. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Take it easy, Carl,” Talmadge stood. “There’s a chance that the ones that have ya little girl might try somethin’ tonight when Marshall get’s here.”

“What’da’ya mean ‘try somethin’ No body’s supposed to know he’s comin’ in, right?”

“Word got out, Carl,” Lampkin also stood and touched Carl’s arm.

“Got out,” Carl pushed Lampkin’s arm away with his elbow. “What’re you people doin’? They’ve threatened to kill my little girl and’re waiting to kill my boy, but all ya’ll are doin is sittin’ in here drinkin’ coffee.”

“Carl,” Lampkin put his hand back on Carl’s arm. “We’ve got men positioned outside. They’ve got guns and they’re ready in case anything happens.”

Carl stared at Lampkin, a moment, then relaxed and sat down. Both men also returned to their seats.

“That’s why I came in,” Carl said calmly now. “I thought I saw someone across the street on the roof of the bank.”

“That’s Jim Champion,” Talmadge said. “Steve Frost is on the ground beside the courthouse.”

Carl nodded, then asked, “Where’s Ralph?”