Рита Браун - Tall Tail

“Tuna?” Pewter stood on her hind legs, patting Harry’s knee with her paw.

“Not now.” Mrs. Murphy swatted at her.

“This is a terrible time. I need to keep my strength up.” Pewter did, however, drop to her four paws.

“G-Mom, is Mother with you?” Susan, hearing an affirmative answer, said, “Come home. G-Pop has passed. Harry and I found him. There’s nothing you can do. The ambulance is here and so is the Sheriff and Cooper. But come home.”

“Where are they?” Harry asked, when Susan ended the call.

“Down at Barracks Road.” Susan named the shopping center.

“I’ll wait with you. Let me go out to Rick for a minute.”

As Cooper left them, Susan slumped in her chair. “It’s not like we didn’t expect it, but”—she paused—“I guess you’re never ready.”

“No. No. Especially for him. He was a force of nature,” Harry consoled her.

Susan nodded, then added in a small voice, “That’s why it was so hard to see him go down. He fought it hard. He faced death with courage.”

Harry reached across the table, taking her hand. “He’d faced death before. He’d seen a lot of it.”

—

Later, back at the farm, Harry jumped when her cell rang. Fair jumped, too.

“Is she all right?” Harry asked Susan.

“They think Mignon suffered a mild concussion. Her sight is blurry in one eye, but she seems clear in her mind. She remembers nothing, doesn’t think she heard anything. I wonder if G-Pop heard her get hit over the head, got up and tried to follow whoever did it?”

“I don’t know. How’s your mother and grandmother?”

“Philosophical. Accepting. They don’t know why he went outside, but pretty much G-Pop did what he wanted.”

“Do you need anything? Fair and I will zip right over.”

“Thank you. Ned’s here. The kids will be here tomorrow. If I had to find my grandfather, I’m glad it was with you.”

Susan’s son and daughter, adults working in big cities, would bolster her. Anytime she saw them, her spirits lifted.

After ending the call, Harry relayed the message to Fair. “I have a funny feeling.”

“It doesn’t appear simple, does it? And where is the computer?” He wondered at this as well.

Harry called Cooper, home from work now. “Coop, it sure was good to see you today.”

“Mignon will be okay. It will take time. Sometimes a person’s memory returns.”

“Susan called me. I’m calling you because there are four things which don’t add up. I’m sure you’ve thought of them, too. First off, Mignon being hit over the head. Second, her computer is missing. Third, the governor struggling to the graveyard, and four, the marks on the mown grass. He grabbed grass to pull himself along and I fear died in pain.”

“Rick and I have talked about that. Mrs. Holloway requested his body be taken directly to the funeral parlor. Pushing her for an autopsy might not be wise.”

“Here’s what I can’t get out of my head. Why did the governor go to the Avenging Angel? He’s trying to tell us something.”

No one had noticed the small squares scratched onto the base of Francisco Selisse’s tomb. Placed there over the centuries, they called down curses. Could it be that a curse, undetected, had haunted the Holloways for more than two hundred years?

Sunday, April 17, 1785

Ewing Garth stared into the fire in his large sitting room. “It will be another frost tonight.”

Gathered around him, his two daughters and sons-in-law agreed.

John listened to the comforting crackle. “I thought we had harder winters in Massachusetts than here, but maybe I was wrong.”

“Most years I plant by now, but this year I am inclined to wait. After the last frost is the time.” Ewing sighed. “Charles, what hear you from your brother?”

“Parliament involves him more than he anticipated, though he likes it. Our father weakens but refuses to surrender his rounds of sociability. Nigel reports that France is embroiled in outrages over lavish expenditures by the queen, the nobility. Perhaps it’s human nature to shine, to be fashionable in address and dress.” He slightly smiled.

“Who spends more, men or women?” Catherine raised her eyebrows, ready for everyone’s response.

“Oh, women, indisputably.” Ewing placed his folded hands over his abdomen. “The cost of lace alone!”

Rachel laughed. “Father, who had to have a brocade waistcoat?”

“Now, dear, I can’t look raggedy when called upon to do business. A man is judged by his appearance.”

The sisters laughed, then Rachel replied, “So are women, and even more, Father, men are judged by the appearance of their wives, daughters, even their sisters.”

“Well, now—” Ewing tried to find something with which to counter this.

Filled with humor, John said in his deep voice, “I believe the ladies have a point.”

“Well, they do, but consider our wives, they need no adornment. Jewels pale next to them,” Charles added.

Rachel reached over to pinch him. “Very flattering, but jewels do not pale.”

“Sweetheart, what is a ruby next to your lips or a sapphire next to your eyes? Naturally, I am proud when we go in public and you wear such bewitching clothes, but I admire both you and your sister. You are not vulgar. Nothing is overdone.”

The two sisters liked hearing this but wondered if this would come back to haunt them if they happened to find an alluring bauble.

“He’s quite right,” said Ewing. “Your mother would wear her silk dress, the dark blue one with the bit of lace.” He patted his upper chest. “Her figure was beyond compare.”

“She also wore the diamond-and-sapphire necklace and earrings you bought her when I was born.” Catherine grinned.

Meekly, he agreed. “Yes. But, well, I don’t expect you girls to understand, but I found your mother most beautiful in the morning. She’d sweep up her hair with a ribbon, wear her flowing housedress, and when she walked, the skirt would move just so. Oh, what an apparition.”

The two young men nodded, then Ewing changed the subject. “Hiram finally removed the leaflets with the reward for information about Dennis McComb’s disappearance. Isn’t that odd? Nothing. You’d think someone would have at least found the body. Hiram believes Dennis found Moses, and was then killed by him. That’s a good story and certainly serves the purpose of pushing for more constables and at a higher salary.”

“He does have much territory to cover,” Rachel blandly replied.

“He does, but we must take care of our own problems.” Ewing held up his hands, palms outward. “I’m not saying we don’t need constables any more than I’m saying we don’t need a militia, but who is to pay? It seems every legislature in every state froths at the mouth, always over money.”

John and Charles had never told their wives what really happened on the way to York. Nor did they discuss it between them. Had to be done and that was that. Apart from stories about York, they mentioned that on the return trip they passed the farm wherein they’d spent a night. A beautifully carved sign now hung on a pole: TWILIGHT ACRES. The wives enjoyed that story.

“It is vexing,” John agreed, then added, “I know I am in the small numbers, but I believe we need a standing army and a navy. As long as the Europeans fight among themselves, they will leave us alone, but I believe once they realize the natural riches here, they will be back.”