Page 20 of Magnolia Summer

Celia wasn’t sure what to say to the schoolteacher, and the silence soon grew awkward. Finally, Lizzie left to join friends who beckoned her to join their huddled whispers beneath a nearby shade trees.

Almira took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her lips.

It seemed best to change the subject. “I hope my mother will be herself again soon and Will and Lizzie will be able to get back to school.”

“Yes, that would be good. I hope so too.” Almira nodded, gratitude in her smile. “Education is so important.” Again, her eyes took on a faraway look.

“So many people feel women should be confined to household chores and shouldn’t pursue education—or business. I’m an oddity, I suppose, since I don’t intend to be imprisoned in such a way.”

Almira’s eyes sparkled. “Amen and pass the gumption.”

They both laughed. Celia was going to like Almira.

* * *

Truett’s heartbeat fast as he crouched behind a bush in James’s father’s back yard. Through the darkness, Truett could just make out the little wooden shack Cato Burwell shared with his brother Ben. The structure leaned to one side and smoke rose from a crooked chimney. A lamp shone through the curtainless window.

About a hundred yards from the house, his black gelding Colonel waited in the woods. Truett couldn’t risk him being closer, lest someone recognize his horse.

He didn’t have to wait long. Sheriff Suggs rode up with another man, possibly his son, Curtis. He couldn’t see their faces, but he recognized the sheriff by his rotund shape. Since there were only two of them, he could handle those odds.

Suggs banged twice on the back door, then flung it open. They stepped inside.

Truett drew his two Colt revolvers and made his way across the back yard, past the hen house and the garden, past the outhouse, the clothesline, and the root cellar. The back door was open. He eased inside without making a sound.

The smoky kitchen was empty, but male voices drifted from the next room.

Truett sneaked through the open passageway, then stopped and stood against the wall just outside the living room.

Curtis was holding the two black men down on two straight back chairs, one hand on Cato’s neck, the other squeezing his brother Ben’s. Fear widened Cato’s clouded gray eyes as he faced toward Truett, unseeing.

“Where is he?” the sheriff demanded, bending from his six-foot height to glare at Cato.

“He’s gone.”

“I know he’s gone. Tell me where, or you’ll get the worst beating of your life.” The sheriff lifted his fist over James’s father’s head.

Truett’s blood thumped in his temples. He stepped forward, pointing a revolver at Curtis, who was facing him, and stuck the barrel of the other Colt against Sheriff Suggs’s back.

“Hands in the air,” Truett said, his voice lowered to a gruff rasp.

Truett tucked one revolver under his arm. He reached over Suggs’s shoulder and took the gun from his hand. He set it on the floor and kicked it to Ben, who bent and snatched it up.

“Who are you?” Suggs growled.

“Get out,” Truett rasped. “If you ever touch these men again, you’ll get worse than a beating.”

He shoved the sheriff toward the back door. Curtis closed his mouth and glared. He began walking toward the back of the house. Truett followed, his gun at Sheriff Sugg’s back. He noted the bulge of a pistol at Curtis’s right side.

“Hands in the air.” Truett pressed his gun harder into the sheriff’s back while keeping his eye on Curtis. Finally, they reached the back door. Curtis pushed it open and stepped onto the top step.

“You won’t get away with this. The sheriff is the law here, and—”

“Shut up, boy,” Sheriff Suggs grunted at Curtis.

“Keep walking, unless you want me to blow your sheriff into the next county.”

They kept walking across the yard toward the horses. Truett veered to the left, still keeping his guns trained on the two men. He made it to the pen where Cato and Ben kept their hunting dogs as Ben came out the back door.