had
beaten him again—this time bad enough to break some bones in his
face.”
Althea lowered her eyes. She felt scalding
tears gather behind her lids and she couldn’t bear to look at
Jeff’s impassive expression while he told her this awful story. Her
heart ached for the battered child she’d never even known.
“ He said he was leaving then, that
night, and he needed money to get away. He couldn’t stay with his
father another minute. If I tried to stop him, he’d shoot me. I did
everything I could think of to get him to put down that gun and
surrender. I promised to get him another place to stay, to protect
him from Cooper—”
Glancing up at him, Althea broke in, “Why
didn’t you just arrest his father?” How could Jeff let the man
continue his torment of his own son?
Jeff’s eyes held a peculiar, dead expression.
“If a man mistreats an animal—a horse, a mule, whatever—there’s a
law on the books against that, and he can be arrested for it. But
he can beat his wife or children, and no law can touch him. Not
around here anyway, and not in a lot of other jurisdictions. The
idea is that a man’s possessions, including his wife and kids, are
beyond the reach of the law and he can discipline them as he sees
fit.”
“ But that’s horrible! What kind of law
is that?”
Jeff shrugged. “A common one. The world is a
hard place.”
“ And that’s that? Couldn’t you save
that young man?” Althea was dumbfounded. But then, she’d lived a
life isolated from many of the daily events of Decker Prairie, much
less the world.
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“Well, ma’am, I tried. Wes refused all of my offers. He wanted to
go far away, some place where his father wouldn’t find him. He said
he’d kill me if I tried to stop him, and he raised his gun even
higher. I’d seen that trapped, desperate look in a man’s eyes
before—I should have known he meant what he said. But I still
thought I could reason with him, and I tried again. He pulled the
trigger and the bullet grazed my chin.”
“ Oh, no!” Althea realized that a
narrow, bright pink scar crossed the side of his chin; his beard
had hidden it until this morning, and he had so many razor nicks on
his face she hadn’t noticed it until this moment.
“ He cocked the pistol again and kept it
aimed at me. That’s when I figured he was going to kill me and I
guess my instinct to survive took over. It all happened so
fast . . . so damned fast. I fired once and hit
that boy square in the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.
It was self-defense, plain and simple.” He shook his head in
wonder, then he met her eyes straight on and Althea thought she saw
a glitter of tears before he looked away. “But if you think it was
murder, I guess that’s all right. I’ve thought so too, every day
and night since.”
She started to reach out to touch Jeff’s arm,
but held back, uncertain. “Mr. Hicks, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was
tight and whispery with remorse for him. “You didn’t murder that
poor boy.”
He turned his head and quickly swiped the
back of his broad hand across his eyes. “It’s in the past now,
ma’am. At least for Wes it is, and there’s no changing it. Believe
me, I wish I could. I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.”
~~*~*~*~~
Later that afternoon, Althea stood in the
kitchen getting a chicken ready for the oven. She sprinkled a touch
of pepper over the bird and the little potatoes surrounding it in a
blue enamel pot. The weather had turned hot, and she paused to
touch the back of her wrist to her damp forehead. It had been a
hellish day, long and emotionally trying. In the parlor, Olivia
played a slow, mournful rendition of “Greensleeves,” and it seemed
to fit Althea’s mood.
Althea had always believed that life was
either black or white. There were no shades of gray, and no room
for compromise. A man was either good or bad, guilty or innocent.
Those had been her father’s
beaten him again—this time bad enough to break some bones in his
face.”
Althea lowered her eyes. She felt scalding
tears gather behind her lids and she couldn’t bear to look at
Jeff’s impassive expression while he told her this awful story. Her
heart ached for the battered child she’d never even known.
“ He said he was leaving then, that
night, and he needed money to get away. He couldn’t stay with his
father another minute. If I tried to stop him, he’d shoot me. I did
everything I could think of to get him to put down that gun and
surrender. I promised to get him another place to stay, to protect
him from Cooper—”
Glancing up at him, Althea broke in, “Why
didn’t you just arrest his father?” How could Jeff let the man
continue his torment of his own son?
Jeff’s eyes held a peculiar, dead expression.
“If a man mistreats an animal—a horse, a mule, whatever—there’s a
law on the books against that, and he can be arrested for it. But
he can beat his wife or children, and no law can touch him. Not
around here anyway, and not in a lot of other jurisdictions. The
idea is that a man’s possessions, including his wife and kids, are
beyond the reach of the law and he can discipline them as he sees
fit.”
“ But that’s horrible! What kind of law
is that?”
Jeff shrugged. “A common one. The world is a
hard place.”
“ And that’s that? Couldn’t you save
that young man?” Althea was dumbfounded. But then, she’d lived a
life isolated from many of the daily events of Decker Prairie, much
less the world.
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“Well, ma’am, I tried. Wes refused all of my offers. He wanted to
go far away, some place where his father wouldn’t find him. He said
he’d kill me if I tried to stop him, and he raised his gun even
higher. I’d seen that trapped, desperate look in a man’s eyes
before—I should have known he meant what he said. But I still
thought I could reason with him, and I tried again. He pulled the
trigger and the bullet grazed my chin.”
“ Oh, no!” Althea realized that a
narrow, bright pink scar crossed the side of his chin; his beard
had hidden it until this morning, and he had so many razor nicks on
his face she hadn’t noticed it until this moment.
“ He cocked the pistol again and kept it
aimed at me. That’s when I figured he was going to kill me and I
guess my instinct to survive took over. It all happened so
fast . . . so damned fast. I fired once and hit
that boy square in the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.
It was self-defense, plain and simple.” He shook his head in
wonder, then he met her eyes straight on and Althea thought she saw
a glitter of tears before he looked away. “But if you think it was
murder, I guess that’s all right. I’ve thought so too, every day
and night since.”
She started to reach out to touch Jeff’s arm,
but held back, uncertain. “Mr. Hicks, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was
tight and whispery with remorse for him. “You didn’t murder that
poor boy.”
He turned his head and quickly swiped the
back of his broad hand across his eyes. “It’s in the past now,
ma’am. At least for Wes it is, and there’s no changing it. Believe
me, I wish I could. I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.”
~~*~*~*~~
Later that afternoon, Althea stood in the
kitchen getting a chicken ready for the oven. She sprinkled a touch
of pepper over the bird and the little potatoes surrounding it in a
blue enamel pot. The weather had turned hot, and she paused to
touch the back of her wrist to her damp forehead. It had been a
hellish day, long and emotionally trying. In the parlor, Olivia
played a slow, mournful rendition of “Greensleeves,” and it seemed
to fit Althea’s mood.
Althea had always believed that life was
either black or white. There were no shades of gray, and no room
for compromise. A man was either good or bad, guilty or innocent.
Those had been her father’s
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